"You're bruised."
Damian gripped your chin with forced intensity, his scowl sharpening as he turned your head from side to side to observe the darkening bruise on your cheek.
It was beginning to swell, and your normally pristine uniform was filled with creases and flecks of dried blood, no doubt from the numerous purple bruises and cuts that littered your form.
This was all his fault.
Hours prior, you and Damian planned to visit the nearby café to study English Literature together.
You normally arrived to such appointments before he did, as your classes usually finished slightly earlier than Damian's since he took part in numerous advanced classes throughout the school day.
Except you never showed up.
Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to hours- two to be exact. The clock's hands turned and turned and turned, yet Damian still stayed put.
You've never done this before.
Whenever you couldn't meet him somewhere for whatever reason, he was always informed hours in advance. You'd never just cancel on him without saying anything.
Something was wrong.
And within seconds, he knew just what that something was. According to the tracker he oh-so-discreetly installed onto your phone, computer, school uniform and bag, you were in an abandoned warehouse that was once used to store the various products of a now-bankrupted company.
You were kidnapped. There was no other possible reason you would be in such a place, save for that one.
Bruce was very reluctant to allow Damian to go after the pleibeans that kidnapped you, saying something about secrecy and 'time and place', and restraint.
As if he could care less.
In the end, however, Damian got his way. He always did, eventually. And within two hours, you were by his side once more.
The air was damp, the atmosphere was stiff, yet your eyes were filled with awe and wonder as you looked up at him, with you seemingly unbothered by the dark energy that surrounded them.
Right. You were a fan of his. During lunch at school, you always brought him up, going on and on about the latest magazine that wrote about him, or how cool he was during a fight with a villain.
It made something dark and bitter fill his chest. The thought almost made him let out a laugh of derision.
How foolish would he be to be jealous of himself?
Your wrinkled uniform casted jagged shadows behind them both as Gotham's city lights highlighted both of their features.
"Please make sure you get treated as soon as possible. I also called the authorities beforehand. Until they arrive, I will stay with you.
From what you told him, you were exiting Gotham Academy and heading towards a nearby café when three masked men suddenly lunged at you, throwing you into a black van and blindfolding you.
When you tried to fight back, they physically assaulted you and knocked you out, with you only recently waking up inside the warehouse.
For every grievance, they will lose a finger. Father will surely approve.
It's not killing. Just mild torture, at best. After, he'll beat them up a bit more, give them to the police, then head back home. Simple.
Damian's eyes grew cold as one of your kidnappers let out a pained groan, his body swinging from side to side as he hung from the ceiling with his friends, the harsh ropes digging into his arms and legs.
Their first punishment.
When you turned to look at them, he covered your eyes, his leather gloves pressing against your face with softened intensity.
"Don't look at them. Focus on me instead."
In Damian's eyes, he was being quite merciful to them. If this happened four years ago, he'd have ripped out their flesh and carved his initials into their skulls with his bare hands.
But he's gone soft.
For now, though, this will have to do. He's already gone against protocol. If he does anything more, he'll risk losing his mask. His title.
But for you?
It might be worth it.
