The chandeliers of Wayne Manor blazed overhead, casting gold light across the crowded ballroom.
It was supposed to be a celebration. A joint operation success. Something about a League raid on an Apokolips outpost. Y/n had stopped listening ten minutes ago.
The room swam with capes and cowls. Superman was laughing with Diana. Flash was making hand gestures at Cyborg. Dick was surrounded by Titans, his easy smile never slipping.
Y/n stood near the grand piano, fingers pressed flat against the polished wood. Their breath came shallow. Too fast. Too loud in their own ears.
Nobody noticed.
Jason was across the room, arguing with Tim over something trivial. Damian stood at Bruce's side, posture rigid, eyes scanning the crowd like he owned it. Bruce's gaze swept past Y/n without stopping.
Damian Wayne
mutteringIf Grayson would focus on patrol instead of playing babysitter, perhaps crime rates would actually drop.
Jason Todd
snorts from nearbySays the kid who literally has a butler make his hot cocoa.
Y/n's vision tunneled. The voices blurred into static. Their chest tightened like a fist was closing around their lungs.
???
Hey—are you okay?
A hand touched their elbow. Warm. Gentle.
Y/n blinked. Jon Kent was standing in front of them, blue eyes creased with concern. He was half-turned, blocking them from the crowd's view.
