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You didn’t know what to expect when Bruce Wayne, the prince of Gotham, adopted you. You’d lived years on the street and ran away from all of your foster homes at least once.
You definitely weren’t expecting him to put you in the same high class snobby rich kid school as his two youngest sons. When you asked why you were going to a “rich bitch school” he told you that you were his son now and that meant you didn’t get any different treatment than his own kids. What a bunch of bullshit. You’re obviously just a charity case. You saw the article in the paper the day after you were officially adopted.
“Bruce Wayne adopts immigrant teenage boy”
You weren’t an immigrant.
You hated the media. Whatever. Soon he’s gonna realize how “troubled” you are and send you back to another home. You’ll run away from there too. You’ll run until they catch and deport you because, apparently, you’re an immigrant.
Your first day of school started out relatively normal. You tried to sleep in but Dick was still staying over and dragged you out of bed. That left you no choice but to get dressed into your uniform. Alfred had cooked you breakfast but you didn’t want any then he drove you, Damian, and Tim to school.
Tim looked like hell. Literal hell. His hair looked like it had never seen a hairbrush and the bags under his eyes could make Louis Vuitton jealous. Damian…well—he was Damian. Snobby, rude, and flippant. His hair was perfectly combed and his tie was tied with precision.
It’s hard to remember he’s younger than you. You were wearing the uncomfortable uniform but your shirt was untucked and your tie was barely hanging on ( it wasn’t your fault you never learned how to tie a tie ).
“You look trashy,” Damian spoke in a clipped tone. “You represent the Wayne Family you can’t just go around dressed like the addicts on the side of the road.” He continued, arms folded.
You rolled your eyes and wondered how much trouble you’d get in if you punched his perfect teeth in. Alfred scolded him telling him how he should be kind to his new brother and that “you were the new one once too”. Alfred was too patient for his own good.
When you finally got to school Tim and Damian immediately left you to go do whatever Wayne sons do at school. Which left you and your school schedule with your locker number and code printed on the corner. As you walked down the hall you could feel eyes on you. People would whisper as you walked by. You acted unfazed—for the most part, you were. When you finally found your locker and managed to get the damn thing open you were shocked to see that there was nothing in it.
Ok ok you know that’s how it’s supposed to be but all the other schools’ lockers either had some mysterious sticky substance or so much rust it could give you tetanus just by breathing near it. But this locker was clean. Clean and empty. You shook from your shock quickly and threw most of your binders and books into it with no particular order. You closed the metal door and locked it again. When you turned around you came face to face with a small posse of sporty-looking guys.
“You the new Wayne son?” He sneered.
“Yeah. What’s it to you?”
“You know you’re just for publicity, right? As soon as you give him lip he’s gonna toss you to the dogs of Gotham.” He chuckled darkly.
You rolled your eyes, great you get to meet the bullies.
“Your breath stinks. Leave me alone.” You say as you shove your way past him.
He grabbed your schedule from your hand.
“Hey! I need that.” You were getting annoyed now.
He shoved you against the locker and left with his posse. And your schedule. Shit.
You hate rich people.
After trying to ask people who wouldn’t give you the time of day you finally found the proper math class and you were only 15 minutes late. The teacher looked away from the board she was teaching on and looked at her clipboard that was sitting on her desk.
“Wayne?” She asked with raised eyebrows.
“Don’t call me that. And yes, that’s me.” You hated that name. It felt gross on your tongue.
“Well Mr. Wayne, have a seat, I’m sure someone will give you the notes you missed.” She sounded less than happy to be teaching high school students.
One look around the room and you knew no one was going to give you the notes. The rest of the day was boring. You are alone at lunch and finished the rest of your classes with relative ease. You needed to get one last book from your locker before Alfred picked you up. Apparently rich schools don’t have buses.
As you walked down the hall you heard attempts to muffle giggles and lots of whispers. Oh no. This wasn’t good. You walked a little faster. When you got up to your locker you stopped. Someone had written with a sharpie in large black lettering over the door of your locker.
GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM
The hall burst with laughter and snorts. You slowly unlocked the padlock and opened the locker. Out poured hundreds of white scraps of folded paper. You picked one up off the ground and read it.
ANIMAL
You briefly looked over several others. More racist comments. Jesus Christ. You grabbed your textbook and slammed the locker shut. You contemplated leaving it unlocked, ultimately you did lock it because you didn’t want someone to steal your stuff.
When you got to the stairs at the front of the school you saw Alfred waiting in the car. Damian and Tim were already in there. You sighed, collecting your thoughts. You got in the car and Alfred took you back to the manor. He attempted to ask how your day was. You were quiet. That was the end of him trying to communicate with you in the car.
The other few days were similar: more scraps of paper, more comments. The days faded into a week and then two weeks. You were getting your books for the homework assigned. You shut your locker and came face to face with Damian…well, face to chin. He was kinda short. Tim was standing behind him.
“Why didn’t you tell us about this?” Tim asked. He was using his gravelly voice. The one he uses when he’s trying to be intimidating.
“About what?” You knew what.
Damian spoke this time.
“You know what.” He scowled.
You shrugged.
“Dunno. Didn’t think to.” That was a lie. You thought about it multiple times. Something stopped you every time you seriously considered telling someone.
Both looked unconvinced.
“We told Bruce.” Tim deadpanned.
Your eyes widened.
“What? No! Why?” You gulped and looked around.
“Because this is racially motivated,” Damian said matter-of-factly.
“Well give the man a cigar! He connected the goddamn dots!” You raised your voice at him.
He growled. Tim grabbed his shoulder.
“You seriously should’ve told us, dude.” Tim looked slightly hurt.
“Whatever.” You grumbled and walked out to the car.
You got in. Tim and Damian soon followed. Alfred drove to the manor.
You got out and hoped to make a mad dash to your room.
He was waiting.
“Not so fast. We need to talk. In my office.” Bruce said sternly.
Fuck.
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“Why didn’t you say anything.” He started.
It wasn’t a question. You shrugged.
“Never occurred to me.” You lied.
“The real answer.” He sounded like he usually does.
“That was the real answer.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Yes, it was.”
“We can go back and forth all day, but the bottom line is that you’re not leaving this office until you tell me why.” He was using a lawyer voice.
You weren’t sure if this was a threat or a promise. Maybe both.
“Did you think the bullying would get worse?”
“No.” You picked at your cuticles.
“Are you protecting someone?”
“No.” You tapped your foot.
“Were you scared of getting hurt?”
“No.” You ground your teeth.
“Then why. Why didn’t you say anything.”
You couldn’t take it anymore.
“This isn't something new, Bruce! This isn't some once-in-a-lifetime thing that I haven't experienced before! Th-…this isn’t—“
Your voice broke. Tears were streaming down your cheeks.
“This is something I’m used to…” You sniffed and wiped your nose.
He hugged you.
“I’m sorry.”
That’s all he said. Not some revolutionary speech about how you’re just as good as anyone else. Just an apology.
But you felt heard. You felt noticed.
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Of course, Bruce had a talk with your school. He wasn’t letting any more of that slide. You noticed that Damian and Tim also started hanging around you at school more often. You weren’t sure if this was Bruce’s doing but it felt…nice…to have your brothers around you every once in a while.
The bullying stopped for the most part. Sometimes there would be a comment or two but they’d always come in the next day with either the fear of God struck in them or a black eye. You didn’t need to know who did it, but you’d guess it was Damian.
School may have been hard but your two brothers there made it a little more bearable.