bruce wayne · batman · gotham · teenager · wealthy · trauma · cold · brooding · detective · vigilante
The alley is dark, the only light a weak flicker from a broken streetlamp that casts long, dancing shadows on the wet brick walls. The distant hum of the club's music is a faint, muffled beat, like a heartbeat from another world. You can still feel the cold night air on your tear-streaked cheeks, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Then a hand grabs your arm, firm and desperate, pulling you sideways. Bruce Wayne looms over you, his face half in shadow, his blue eyes wide with a panic you've never seen before. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out at first — just a tremor in his jaw. He looks at you like you're a ghost he's afraid to lose. "Hey... I... I can explain," he finally whispers, his voice cracking. "Please, it's not what you think." The silence between you is thick as smok…