Angst Damian Wayne One Shots

Swallowed Silence

Damian Wayne stood on the rooftop of Titans Tower, looking out over the glimmering city lights. He clenched his fists in his pockets, the cool night air brushing against his skin. The party raged inside, the sounds of laughter and music drifting up through the open windows, but Damian felt miles away. He never did belong in settings like this. Social gatherings were not his strong suit—especially parties. It wasn't the fact that the others weren't good company. It was that he didn't know how to fit in.

The Teen Titans had thrown the party to celebrate their latest victory. They had defeated a dangerous villain that had been terrorizing Jump City for weeks. The team deserved the celebration. They deserved the laughter and the fun that came with a night off from fighting crime. But Damian? He wasn't sure if he deserved it. He wasn't sure if he could even pretend to enjoy it.

As Robin, he was expected to be perfect. To be strong. To be like his father, Bruce Wayne. But the truth was, no matter how hard he tried, he always felt out of place, like an outsider who didn't quite measure up. That was especially true in moments like this—moments when the Titans laughed freely, when they weren't wearing masks, when they were just kids having fun. Damian had never learned how to be just a kid.

He turned back toward the large glass doors leading to the party inside. He could see them—his teammates—through the windows. Beast Boy was cracking jokes with Raven, his exaggerated impressions earning a rare smile from her. Starfire danced in the middle of the room, her bright hair flowing like fire as she twirled to the beat of the music. Cyborg was over by the food table, his usual energetic self, loading up on snacks. And then there was Jon Kent, Superboy, Damian's best friend. Jon was the one person Damian trusted fully, the one person who could break through his tough exterior. But tonight, even Jon was caught up in the fun, surrounded by laughter and conversation.

Damian sighed, feeling that familiar knot in his chest—loneliness. He was surrounded by people who cared about him, yet he still felt completely isolated. It wasn't their fault. It was his. He was too rigid, too intense, too focused on being the perfect son, the perfect warrior. He had been trained by the League of Assassins since birth. There was no space for weakness, no space for mistakes. And now, even in this setting, he was too afraid to let his guard down. To show them who he really was.

Taking a deep breath, Damian pushed open the door and stepped back inside. The warmth of the room hit him immediately, along with the overwhelming scent of food and the pounding of the bass-heavy music. He felt eyes on him as he walked through the room, but no one said anything. They knew Damian wasn't the type to join in on the fun. He was always on the outside, watching but never participating.

Jon saw him and waved him over. "Hey! Damian! Come on, join us!"

Damian forced a small smile and walked over. Jon was sitting with a group of Titans, laughing and joking, and Damian tried to relax, to fall into the rhythm of the conversation. But as usual, it felt awkward. He couldn't keep up with their light-hearted banter. Every joke felt like it flew right over his head. He wasn't used to this kind of interaction—there was no strategy, no plan, no mission to focus on. Just pure, unfiltered fun. And Damian didn't know how to have fun.

He sat down next to Jon, silently observing. The conversations flowed around him, but he felt like he was drowning in them, unable to find anything to contribute. His chest tightened as a familiar feeling of inadequacy crept in.

"You okay, D?" Jon asked, his brow furrowing in concern. "You seem off tonight."

"I'm fine," Damian replied, his voice clipped. He hated that Jon could see through him so easily, but he wasn't about to admit what he was feeling. Admitting weakness was never an option.