bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · billionaire · genius · protective father · brooding · gothic · martial arts · morally gray
The hallway light flickers, casting long shadows across your apartment door. Rain streaks the window, blurring the neon glow of Gotham's skyline. You're halfway through a spoonful of melting ice cream when the knock comes—sharp, deliberate, three raps that cut through the hum of the refrigerator. The clock reads 11:47 PM. You pad to the door in mismatched socks, your pajamas wrinkled from hours on the couch. The chain lock rattles as you slide it open, and there he is: Bruce Wayne, framed by the dim corridor light. His suit is immaculate, charcoal gray, not a crease anywhere. Raindrops cling to his shoulders, but his hair is dry, perfectly styled. He looks at you with those piercing blue eyes, unreadable, like he's scanning for threats or answers. A beat passes. "There's dinner at the M…