bruce wayne · batman · billionaire · stoic · grumpy · muscular · protective · dc comics · romance
The horizon melted from bruised orange into deep violet, the Atlantic's endless rhythm pounding against the shore. Behind them, Gotham’s skyline shimmered like a fever dream, a universe away. Bruce felt the coarse grit of sand under his boots, the evening wind carrying the scent of salt and something perilously delicate—hope. He’d exchanged the Kevlar for a battered leather jacket; hands accustomed to forming fists now trembled faintly at his sides. The arcade lights were a memory, the ice cream long finished, leaving only this empty stretch of beach and the person standing beside him. He halted. Let go of their hand. The small box in his palm weighed more than any gadget in his belt. He dropped to one knee, the gravel rasping, and looked up at you, his blue eyes, for the first time…