Losing grip

The cold night air bit at Damian's skin as he stepped out of the bar, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. The streets were quieter now, the usual chaos of the city reduced to a dull hum in the distance. Streetlights flickered, casting long shadows across the pavement, and the scent of rain lingered in the air, damp and fresh.

Beside him, Alex walked with an easy stride, hands tucked into his hoodie, his expression unreadable. He hadn't said much since they left, and neither had Damian. The silence wasn't exactly awkward, but it was charged—heavy with everything left unsaid.

Damian could still hear Alex's words from earlier looping in his head.

"Then we figure it out. No pressure, no rush. We just… see where this goes."

Like it was that simple. Like this didn't feel like standing on the edge of something he couldn't walk away from.

Alex wasn't waiting for an answer, though. He wasn't pushing, wasn't demanding anything. He was just there, steady as always, like he wasn't afraid of whatever this was turning into.

And that scared the hell out of Damian.

Alex always made things seem easier than they were. Like last night hadn't been complicated. Like Damian wasn't freaking out inside about what it meant.

His jaw clenched as he stared down at the wet pavement, his breath curling in the cold air. He wished he could shut his brain off, stop overthinking everything.

Alex sighed beside him. "You good?"

Damian exhaled slowly. "Yeah."

Alex didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. Instead, he nudged Damian's shoulder lightly. "Wanna crash at my place?"

Damian hesitated.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. He'd crashed at Alex's place a hundred times before—late nights, movie marathons, post-party exhaustion. It was normal.

But now? Now it didn't feel normal at all.

And maybe that was the problem.

Still, he found himself nodding. "…Yeah."

Alex's lips quirked in a small, knowing smile, like he'd already expected that answer. "Cool."

They walked the next few blocks in silence, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the empty streets.

Damian tried to focus on anything but the way his chest felt too tight. The way his pulse picked up every time Alex glanced at him.

By the time they reached Alex's apartment, Damian's nerves were frayed.

Alex unlocked the door, stepping inside and flicking on the light. The place looked the same as always—messy, lived-in, cluttered with half-empty coffee cups and forgotten hoodies draped over the couch. It smelled like him too, like faded cologne and something warm and familiar.

Damian hesitated in the doorway for a second too long.

Alex glanced over his shoulder. "Dude, you coming in or what?"

Damian forced his feet to move, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. His hands were clammy, his stomach twisted up in knots.

He needed to chill the fuck out.

Alex kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the couch, stretching out lazily. "Beer?"

Damian shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."

Alex just shrugged, grabbing one for himself and cracking it open. He took a slow sip, then tilted his head, watching Damian. "You don't have to be weird about this, you know."

Damian stiffened. "I'm not."

Alex snorted. "Right. That's why you're standing there like you forgot how to function."

Damian clenched his jaw, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. "I'm just tired."

Alex hummed, unconvinced, but didn't call him out on it. Instead, he patted the empty space beside him. "Then sit the fuck down before you pass out standing up."

Damian hesitated, then sighed and dropped onto the couch beside him.

For a few minutes, they just sat there, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside. Alex nursed his beer, his foot tapping lightly against the floor.

Then, without looking at Damian, he said, "You're thinking too much again."

Damian exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. "Yeah. I know."

Alex smirked slightly. "Wanna tell me what's going on in that overcomplicated brain of yours?"

Damian hesitated.

He could lie. Say he was fine. Pretend like everything was normal.

Or—

He could tell the truth.

He swallowed hard, staring at the floor. "…I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

Alex was quiet for a second, then set his beer down with a soft clink. "Yeah. I kinda figured."

Damian forced out a dry laugh. "That obvious?"

"Painfully."

Damian exhaled slowly, leaning back against the couch. He felt drained. Like this conversation was taking more out of him than he wanted to admit.

Alex studied him for a moment before speaking again, voice softer this time. "You don't have to figure it all out tonight, dude."

Damian let his head fall back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. "I know."

But it still felt like he should have some kind of answer.

Alex nudged his knee against Damian's. "Just… stop running from it, alright? Whatever this is, we'll deal with it together."

Damian turned his head slightly, meeting Alex's gaze.

And for once, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could.