Lost in the Void, Found in the Stars | Damian Wayne Oneshots

Window Seat | Rachel Roth

Summary: Damian never understood beauty until he met Rachel Roth.

.・。.・゜✭・»»--⍟--««.・✫・゜・。.

Damian had always been someone who saw the world in shades of grey-logic and precision guiding his thoughts, his actions. Beauty was a concept he understood only in an abstract sense. People had told him he was handsome, and he'd learned to appreciate the symmetry in nature, in the elegance of a well-executed plan. But true beauty? The kind that made one's breath to catch, or thoughts to stumble? It had always been an elusive idea, too intangible for him to grasp.

That was, until Rachel Roth.

She stood across from him, surrounded by flowers, their soft laughter mingling with the rustle of petals. They didn't often find themselves in peaceful settings like this-a garden far from Gotham's grime. The sunlight poured over them, dappled through the leaves in golden hues. Rachel's dark hair fell over her shoulders, catching the light just enough to make it glimmer.

Damian never really knew what "Beautiful" meant.

He'd seen beauty in the vast expanse of nature, the variety of exotic animals in their purest forms. His mother brushing her hair with an expression softened by time, had mesmerized him at the time. But even then, the word "beautiful" felt hollow. It was something distant, something that didn't resonate deep within him.

But now-now as he looked at Rachel, the word echoed in his mind with startling clarity.

Beautiful, he thought, his heart skipping a beat.

She turned her head toward him, a faint smile gracing her lips, and they continued to laugh about something small, insignificant, but it didn't matter. For once, nothing did. They were simply there.

The train ride back was quiet. Rachel sat next to him, with only the wind in between them. Her gaze kept shifting toward the window, and Damian, ever observant, noticed her struggle. She preferred the window seat; she always had. Her eyes would drift to the passing scene, her expression softening in thought, a look that always melted Damian.

"You want to switch seats?" he offered, breaking the silence. "I know you want the window seat."

Rachel turned to him, "What, are you reading my mind now?" She playfully said.

Damian smirked, shaking his head. "No, you're just predictable."

She chuckled softly, the sound warming the otherwise cold steel of the train. "Fine. If you insist."

They swapped places, and for a moment, Damian was content to stare at the view outside. But his gaze inevitably drifted back to Rachel. She leaned against the window, her chin resting in her hand, eyes distant as they watched the blur of lights and buildings pass by.

He didn't mind switching seats. It was obvious to him; she really wanted to look out the window-and he wanted to look at her.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence before Damian felt the sudden urge to speak. He rarely gave in to such impulses, but tonight felt different.

"Hey, Raven," he said quietly.

She didn't turn her head, just gave a soft hum in response. "Hm?"

He hesitated, "You look beautiful today," he said. His voice was steady, but his heart raced as the words left his lips.

Rachel froze for a moment. Damian wasn't the type to hand out compliments, let alone something as cliché as that. She blinked, slowly turning to look at him, her expression unreadable.

"Oh," she said softly.

Damian didn't expect more than that. Rachel wasn't the type to fawn over words, and he wasn't the type to elaborate. But when he glanced back at her, he noticed something-a faint redness at the tips of her ears, barely visible but there all the same.

How adorable, he thought to himself, unable to suppress the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

They didn't say anything more after that. The train rumbled along, the city flashing by. He knew Rachel would never admit it, but his words had reached her. It was enough. He didn't need more than that.

Damian leaned back in his seat, never really knowing what "Beautiful" truly meant.

But now, he thought he might understand.

End