𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃!|| 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖. ( Rewritten!)

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍!

Though the eyes of hers,

I stood there, nothing running through my mind as I stared down at the unconscious man before me. I didn't know what to do, and all I could do was stand still.

I was only brought back when a clap of thunder crashed down, goosebumps cake my skin. Adrenaline pumps through my blood, my own body moving on its own as I open my window—somehow struggling to unlock it. But I got it to open, jumping out the window as I landed on the fireplace part of the building. The same spot where the men dress in red, green, and yellow is laid out.

My hair gets wet once more, and my loose clothes stick to my body as I struggle to carry the heavy man inside my bedroom. Groans escape from his mouth, that's a good sign.

'At least I know he's still alive and not dead'

Puddles of water are left behind, not once does Honey let her guard down. Her growls only worsen when I place the unconscious sidekick on my bed and I can only stare down with not much of a breath left in my lungs.

Why the hell is he so heavy anyway?

"Honey...." I shushed, her growls slowly faded away, and she sat right beside my bed. Lottie was nowhere to be seen, but she was probably hiding. I finally catch my breath and lean up against my wall—facing the unconscious male.

He didn't look like he was roughed up, a few scratches here and there, and his leather uniform seemed to be missing a few patches. Part of it was covered in more red, which I had assumed was his blood. My eyes stared up a bit longer, scanning his chest—watching it go up and down.

Thank god he was still alive. I don't think I can explain to my dad how a dead sidekick ended up in my bedroom......

I make sure he's comfortable—before I leave to go get some towels from my bathroom. Honey stays behind, and honestly, I don't blame her for acting the way she is right now. If I was a dog I'd act the same way...

About three pastel pink towels are in my hand as I walk back to the known sidekick. I place them right beside my nightstand right by his body. It's still pouring out, and with the help of the moonlight and my flash which is barely living off the batteries, I get a better viewing of the man on my bed. All I can do is stare down.

Robin is much more peaceful when he's asleep and not beating the living crap out of a criminal out on the streets. For some reason the more I stare the younger he becomes. There's some speculation going around, whether the sidekick is some short thirty-six-year-old man or a boy who's no older than eighteen.

And honestly, I think he's thirty-six.

But he could pass for a nineteen-year-old.

I don't notice it until now but the edge of his green mask is missing, and it's barely holding on by a thread on his face. I let out a sigh as I open my nightstand digging through the trash h have in there until I grasp a handkerchief. I fold it neatly until it shapes into a long rectangle. My fingers pinch the ends of Robins's mask, and I told my head back. Staring at my ceiling as I peel it back with ease and place the fabric over his eyes to keep his identity hidden before I can look back down.

I grab one of the towels and wrap it around my hair, twisting it and pulling it back up to dry my hair, the other is used to place under his head to keep my pillow at least a bit dry and the last towel is used to dry away any water from earlier that still lingers on his skin.

I can't let Gotham's vicious sidekick get sick on my watch!

The matter from below me moves a bit and I turn my head to the edge—spotting nothing but pure white fur I smile. Lottie finally shows herself again and she doesn't hesitate to walk up to Robin's unconscious form. She sniffs him once before she's nudging herself in the crock of his neck. Taken aback, I can only raise a brow confused, it's not normal for Lottie to cling herself to other people.