He knows his fame, in and outside the mask. He knows he is liked by many and that people are interested in him. In being his friend, or his lover, or beeing trained by him. He likes it that way. He likes beeing liked. Must be the performer in him. He wonders though if they would be interested enough to want to truly get to know him, even the things they wouldn't like. If they'll stick around for those. Few do, if any.
But who is he kidding? They are interested. In the good and the bad. If only to have reasons to criticise. While always trying at an open, friendy persona, he is too much his father's son for anyone not to want to nitpick as his every facet. They just don't ask because they know there is no chance of him answering truthfully. Or of them ever figuring out if and when he does.
If they were going to ask anyway though, he wonders what they would want to know. Probably his name to start with, for those that don't know it already, and there are plenty of those. Or they would ask about his family, his relationship with them, especially his ever changing one with his adopted father. Or about his friends. Or, better, what he thinks of them. Of what he likes and dislikes in people in general, of them in particular, the letter probably the most sought after, when he is always too polite to say anything bad about most acquaintances.
They would probably ask him about his love life. He knows there are many rumors out there about all kinds of things and suprisingly enough- he knows he's not a church door- not all of them true. They would ask how many he has dated and who, or for how long, what has he seen in them, what he liked the best-or who, and for what- and why had it ended. They would go as far as to ask who the love of his life is. They'll argue bethween Barbara and Kori, of course, with each of them having equal amounts of suporters. He wonders if they'll ask who his first love is. He thinks not. They'll think they know that answer. Most will pick the first redhead, and that only because he met her first. Some others will argue he had dated the other first.
He laughs. A little fond. A little sad. They would be wrong.
He remembers being that kid with the bright laugh and the fearless determination to do good. Still with the wonder at life itself in his eyes, not yet seeing the ugliest part of the world, even if he thought he had. Oh boy, will he see it soon. He remembers these early teens of his, not the kid that liked playing with stuffed toys anymore, nor the angry young almost adult that wanted his freedom from his controlling environment, but the big boy that felt embarrassed at being tucked in at night, yet still seeking every time the embrace of his father's arms. He still longs for them now, he admits unwillingly. For the safety and simple happiness he felt while his small body was surrounded by them, thinking nothing bad can ever touch him there.
Things were so simple at that age. He though he knew everything. And what he didn't, he could always ask. While being completely obnoxious of course. He liked asking questions, about everything and everyone. Never embarrassed even at personal ones. He remembers asking after the many supermodels that used to spend the night at the manor when he was young. Some were nice, others not. He liked those that ignored him, even when he had to share breakfast with them. Thank god there weren't all that many of those that stayed long enough for that.
He remembers asking who they were, and where they came from. And if he was being mischievous, he woud ask what a moody rich superhero playboy wanted from them. All while giving the perfect innocent look of thinking they were important for some case or another. He would ask what the golddiggers wanted with a moody rich superhero playboy too, in jest. Sometimes, if he were feeling even more naughty, he would ask about their doings, but you know, not at the dates and many parties, but behind closed doors, just so he could watch his father's face grow two shades warmer, grasping at straws for an explanation age-appropriate. If he were lucky he could make him stutter. He can't imagine him blushing, let alone stuttering now. He wonders if it happened at all. Maybe he's remembering wrong.
YOU ARE READING
The musings of a first love(Nightwing one-shot)
Fanfiction"He knows his fame, in and outside the mask. He knows he is liked by many and that people are interested in him. He likes it that way. He likes beeing liked. But he isn't always known. He wonders what they would like to know. They would probably as...
