If I can't be everything to you.....you will be nothin to me

betrothed with a third wheel

It had been sudden, a text she received the night before as she’d fixed herself upon her bed and called for Titus and Alfred (the cat, of course) to join her.

No patrol, just supper, alone at the dinner table with Alfred (the butler) standing just off to the side, boiling a pot of water for the Earl Gray tea bags.

She should have been unbenched, by now, should have been exploring Gotham with her mask on and her hood pulled over her face to hide the fool she’d become.

She hadn’t been benched again, Grayson had reassured her on Father’s behalf, “Bruce just thinks you need some time to yourself, since you’re getting married soon.”

An excuse. A poor one, at that, one Grayson had to have known he’d seen through.

Father had been at arm’s length from the wedding preparations the entire duration, a fact of which did not elude her. He’d attended the dress fitting, offered his opinion, where he’d first sought it out as a test, on the venue.

A small grunt, if one wondered, and a “Seems nice.” Father must have… thought so little of her that giving his only blood daughter  away was little more than an inconvenience.

It would be nice, she’d thought as she tucked herself under thick layers of duvet, to finally have a family who was proud of her, who showed her off.

It would be nice to have a man at her side who loved her, despite it all, despite how she’d pushed him away. Marcel’s eyes flashed through her mind, bright, blue , focused on her with a soft  smile. Her stomach twisted.

She’d grabbed her phone, just to check, to see if maybe Father requested backup.

No such luck.

Instead marcel had sent her a kissing emoji  the way he’d done a thousand times to Dahlia  in the past .
" remove it before I remove your hands "she texted

Marcel rolled right over that text, not that she had expected a response of any kind. She’d rolled hereyes and moved on. The next image was a pair of amusement park tickets, 8am, My Love ?

Dahlia clicked her tongue, glanced down at her watch as she approached the wide gates of the park, sparing the guard a bare second glance as he flashed her pass.

A date? Did marcel  want to take her on another date? How childish compared to their first, to take her to an amusement park. Seems like something-- her breath hitched. It seemed like something Jon would do .

Jon would want to take her to an amusement park, want to ride the tallest roller coasters, want to share a tall cup of soda with her and push in the creases on the lid.

Jon would want to eat cotton candy and ride the ferris wheel with her, and he’d inch his fingers over like he didn’t notice, and he’d slip their pinkies together and squeeze.

Because that’s what Jon did the last time they went to an amusement park together, the way all of their secret dates ever went .

Her eyes watered at the thought, so she snarled and squeezed her eyes shut until the burning, burning subsided. None of that mattered anymore. Jon had let go of her, hadn’t he? Perhaps he should consider doing the same…

“Damian! My Love!”

She groaned. She knew that tail-wagging, ears high voice anywhere, knew that cadence. In the direction of the ferris wheel, no less. He turned, expecting to find marcel-- and he did, he did find marcel .

Bouncing blue hair  that jutted with every overenthusiastic wave of his arm, blue eyes like poison, bright like magic in the early morning sun.

Clad in black, from head to toe, long coat heeding his every step, dressed for death like the caped hand on a scythe. He was all smiles, one hand cupped over his mouth to herald the sound of his voice, like he wasn’t annoyingly loud already, other hand waving in full half circles over the broadside of his shoulders. He stood at the water fountain, round and tall, climbing into the heavens with its jets. “Dahlia!”