The Normal Life Of The Other Demon

Market

Demetria's P.O.V.:

"MAKING MY WAY DOWNTOWN! WALKING FAST! FACES PASS! AND I'M HOME-BOUND! LALALALA—"

"Jon!" Damian yells. "Shut the hell up!"

"AND I NEED YOU!" Jon sings at the top of his lungs as we bike our way to the market. "AND I MISS YOU! AND NOW I WOOONDER!"

"Jon," Damian growls, his eyes tightly shut from the immense headache making its way. "Stop," he demands, rubbing his temples. "You've been singing the same god damn song for fifteen minutes!"

"If I could fly. Into the sky." I bike my way past Damian and Jon without knowing, enjoying the breeze in my face and the green scenery.

"Not you too!" Damian yells.

I blink my, snapping out of my trance. "Huh?" I continue to pedal, turning my head behind me, cocking an eyebrow at Damian. "How did you two end up behind me?"

"You biked ahead of us without realizing it," Jon points out.

"Oh, really?" I ask. I turn my head back to the front, going back into my trance. "Do you think time would pass me by?"

"Stop," I hear Damian growl.

"What?" I ask him. "What did I do?"

"You're singing the damn song."

"What song?"

"The same annoying song that Jon's been singing over and over again!"

"I am?" I ask him, my eyes widening in surprise. "It's annoying, I'll admit. But it's also kind of catchy."

"Do you know the song?" Jon asks, speeding up so that he pedals next to me.

"No," I answer. "It's the first time I've heard it."

"But you know all of the words," he points out.

"Tch," Damian says, pedaling next to me. "It's because you've been screaming the words at the top of your lungs for the whole ride. We have no choice but to hear them."

"A little compliment for my performance would be nice," Jon pouts.

"Your performance is far from nice," Damian argues.

"So it was the best," Jon teases.

"The best at being the absolute worst."

"Mean."

"Is that the only song you know?" I ask him. "Because that's the only thing that you're singing."

"It's the only song currently stuck in my head," Jon explains. "You can blame Dick."

"Grayson put you up to this?" Damian scoffs. "Should've known."

"You know," Jon says, looking at me. "Even though you've only heard it a few times, you actually sound good."

"That's because she's always been good music," Damian mutters.

I turn my head towards Damian, cocking an eyebrow. "I have?" I ask him.

"Yeah," he sighs, staring ahead. "You're always humming something whenever we're alone in our rooms, doing work. Or when you think you're alone, doing chores. Or you would tap your pens, pencils, or your fingers in a pattern." Damian turns his head towards Jon and me, who are interested in his story. "It was annoying at first, but then I got used to it," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"Woah," Jon says. "Do you play anything?"

"Play?" I ask him. "Does killing count as playing?"

Jon visibly pales, his smile slightly dropping. "Not that playing. Like music-wise."