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

You're the Sunflower | Reader

Summary: You're not sure why he chose you of all people.

.・。.・゜✭・»»--⍟--««.・✫・゜・。.

The morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, catching on dust motes that floated lazily in the air. The small potted sunflower on the windowsill seemed to bask in the glow, its vibrant yellow petals almost translucent in the warmth.

You had always loved that flower, even when Damian teases you for fussing over it.

But this morning, that warmth you'd always known felt distant, dulled by a question you couldn't shake no matter how hard you tried.

It started with someone else's teasing remark over breakfast.

"What do you even see in them?" they'd asked Damian, tossing the question casually, as though it were just another bit of morning banter.

You'd felt your cheeks flush, a nervous laugh bubbling up as you tried to brush it off. But the words stuck, and somehow, even as Damian stayed silent, they seemed to linger in the moments that followed.

You tried to convince yourself it was silly, that you didn't need anyone else's validation. And yet, that small bit of doubt crept in, wearing down your confidence, making you wonder.

He hadn't answered then, hadn't even flinched, just sat there with that steady, calm demeanor of his, like he hadn't even heard the question. Maybe he hadn't, you tried to tell yourself, but that little thought stayed with you, stubborn and insistent, sneaking its way into every glance, every brush of his hand against yours, every word left unspoken.

An hour later, the question remained, settling in like a weight on your chest. The dishes were done, the kitchen was quiet again, and you found yourself standing by the window, watching the little sunflower sway gently in the morning breeze. Your hands were still, but your heart wasn't, its rapid beat echoing the question you couldn't hold back any longer.

"Damian," you said, eyes still fixed on the flower. "What do you see in me?"

The silence that followed was thick, almost tangible. You could feel it, heavy and unyielding, and for a moment, you almost wished you hadn't asked. But then Damian's voice came, soft but steady, breaking the quiet with a calm assurance that made you turn toward him.

"Well," he began, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "I can't exactly say what it is."

He let the words hang in the air, his gaze thoughtful, almost distant. "All I know is that it's a beautiful thing."

You felt the tension in your shoulders ease just a little, and yet, you couldn't quite let go. You gave a nervous, almost playful smile, trying to lighten the moment.

"So... you think I'm pretty?"

He held your gaze, a spark of warm amusement in his eyes. "I think you are," he said, his voice gentle, before pausing. "But I was talking about this thing I feel-something that's bigger than love."

He looked away, his gaze drifting toward the window, as though searching the sunlight for the right words. "There is something in you that I see... but I don't know what it is yet to convey it."