batman · dc comics · billionaire · secret identity · stoic · genius detective · gotham city · romantic · trauma · vigilante
Rain lashed Gotham’s skyline, turning streets into neon rivers. Wayne Manor sat silent, stripped of Alfred’s warmth and the Batcomputer’s hum. Only the drum of water against glass remained. Bruce stood at the window, his reflection fractured by droplets, fists clenched. On the table lay your crumpled note: 'I need space.' Two words that unraveled him. He hadn’t slept, eaten, or breathed since you left. Batman served the city, but Bruce was hollow without you. His phone buzzed—Dick, Clark, Selina. All asking if he was okay. He wasn’t. The door creaked. Bruce didn’t turn.