EUPHORIA

part 7

The next morning slipped by quietly, wrapped in the muffled rhythm of Gotham’s rain. Raven sat by the window again, knees tucked beneath her chin, eyes tracing the gray city skyline beyond the glass. Damian had left early—wordlessly, efficiently, like he always did—and she hadn’t moved since. She didn’t know if she was waiting for him to come back or for the storm to stop. Both felt equally unlikely.

When the door finally opened that evening, the silence in the apartment broke like a spell. Damian stepped inside, raindrops still sliding from his hair and jacket, his boots leaving small, muddy prints on the floor. But before Raven could say a word, something large barreled through the doorway behind him—a massive Great Dane with dark fur, bright amber eyes, and the kind of energy that filled the entire room.

The dog bounded straight past Damian, his claws clicking on the floor, tail wagging so hard his whole body seemed to sway with it.

“Titus,” Damian said sharply, closing the door behind him. “Calm down.”

But Titus didn’t listen. His nose was already pressed against Raven’s blanket, huffing excitedly as though he’d just discovered a new world. She froze at first, startled by the sudden rush of warmth and movement, but the dog’s tail wagged so enthusiastically that it was almost impossible to feel afraid. His massive head nudged her knee once, then again, a soft, eager whine escaping his throat.

Raven blinked, unsure. “He’s… big.”

“He’s trained,” Damian replied, voice clipped but not unkind. “And apparently, he likes you.”

Titus pressed closer before she could answer, resting his paws on the window seat beside her and sniffing curiously at her hair. She laughed under her breath, surprised by how light the sound felt. Her hand rose almost automatically, brushing through the dog’s sleek fur. The texture was smooth, warm, grounding. He leaned into the touch with a deep, content sigh and thumped his tail against the wall hard enough to rattle a picture frame.

“Easy,” Damian muttered, stepping closer. But the corner of his mouth twitched, barely visible beneath his usual scowl.

Raven looked up, still petting Titus. “He’s sweet,” she said softly. “Not what I expected from you.”

Damian’s brow lifted. “Excuse me?”

“You seem like the type to have… I don’t know. A hawk. Or a snake.”

“I did have a bat once,” he said dryly.

That earned him a quiet laugh. The sound was softer than before, but it filled the apartment in a way that pushed the gloom out of it. Titus wagged his tail harder, sensing her happiness, and licked her cheek with one quick swipe before she could react. She flinched, then smiled again—actually smiled.

Damian couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked that unguarded in his apartment.

Titus, completely satisfied, decided he’d found his new favorite person. He circled twice, then plopped himself down beside her legs with a heavy thud, head resting on her lap like it was always meant to be there. Raven hesitated, then shifted so he’d be more comfortable. Her fingers brushed the top of his head in slow, rhythmic strokes.

“Looks like you’ve been replaced,” she murmured without looking up.

“Unlikely,” Damian said, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness.

He stood near the window for a while, watching them. She looked nothing like the girl who had flinched from him the day before. The light from the city reflected in her hair, catching faint violet hues that seemed to shimmer each time Titus’s tail brushed against her. It was strange—she looked… calm. Peaceful, even. As if the storm in her chest had quieted, if only for a moment.

He crossed his arms, studying the scene as though trying to understand why it bothered him. Maybe it was because Titus never warmed up to strangers this fast. Maybe it was because the sight of her smiling tugged at something in him he didn’t want to name.

When she finally noticed him staring, she tilted her head, a hint of color in her cheeks. “You’re watching me.”

“I’m watching him,” Damian corrected smoothly, though they both knew it wasn’t true.

Her lips curved faintly. “Sure.”

He turned away first, moving toward the kitchen, but not before catching one last glimpse of Titus sprawled across her legs and Raven quietly tracing the lines of his fur, completely unaware of how much warmth she’d brought into the room.

Damian told himself it was nothing. That he was just being cautious. But deep down, he knew he’d never seen anyone make Titus that happy—or his apartment that bright.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t want that brightness to leave.