The Normal Life Of The Other Demon

School Shopping

Demetria's P.O.V.:

"Near! Far! WherEvEr YoU ArE! I BeLieve that the heart does go on!

"I'm flying!"

"Once more! You Open the door! And you're here in my heart! And my heart will go on and on!"

"Would you two prefer the 24 crayon pack or the 64?" Alfred asks, holding up two different boxes.

We're currently at a supplies store, buying materials for when we go to school on Monday, tomorrow. Today is Sunday, Father's currently off of work and spending this time to help us with 'back to school shopping,' as the boys would call it. Alfred, Father, Damian, and I all stand staring at the shelf with a variety of sized boxes filled with colorful drawing materials.

"You're here! There's noooothing I fear! And I knoOow that my heart will, go on!"

"Keep your eyes closed," Jason says. "Trust me!"

"I trust you!" Dick tells

"We'll stay! ForEVER THIS WAY! You are safe in my Heart! And my heart will go on!"

Behind us, Jason, Tim, and Dick are having the time of their lives. Dick and Jason are riding inside of the cart, standing at the edge. Dick is standing at the front of the cart with his hands out to the sides, in a 'T' pose. His eyes are closed with a smile on his face. Behind him is Jason. Jason is standing behind him, with his hands to Dick's sides, holding his steady. As this all plays out, Tim is pushing the cart, running at full speed while singing at the top of his lungs. They swerve in and out of isles, taking sharp turns around the store.

"If anyone asks," Father says, picking up a boy of colored markers, "we don't know them."

"That's what I've been doing for the past few months," I tell him. I look over to Alfred to find his gaze following the three of them until they're hidden by large shelves. "Are we not going to stop them?" I ask him, once out of view.

"As long as they do not end up dead," Alfred says, walking away from the colored supplies, "I have other things to attend to."

"Such as?" Damian asks, tossing the colored pencils back into the shelf.

"Figuring out whether the young masters would prefer a rolling backpack or a normal one."

"And that is more important than those three, because?" I ask. "Wait," I fix, "nevermind. I wouldn't care about those three idiots either. They're always doing something."

"That," Father says, "and whenever the boys went to school, they always complained about the bag they wanted."

"They're just bags," Damian says. "It's nothing important. Just something used to carry things."

"Then I assume that the young master wouldn't mind this?" Alfred says, grabbing a pick backpack with cartoon fairies. The bag is covered in glitter and rainbows to compliment the fairies. "It's on sale. A true bargain, if I do say so myself."

"I am not using that," Damian growls in protest, crossing his arms.

"And why not?" Alfred asks. "It is just a backpack used to carry supplies," he says, taunting Damian with his own words.

"Tch."

"Is there a specific bag that you would like, miss?" he asks me, putting the pink backpack back onto the racks.

I walk into the aisle, looking at the numerous bags handing to my left and right. I stop in my tracks, grimacing at the bags. "They're all...colorful."

"Black it is then," Father says, walking past me.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred exclaims. "The young masters should decide their bags."