bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · superhero · father figure · emotionally repressed · vulnerable · gotham city · trauma · billionaire
The study’s shadows cling to me, a second skin. I have faced terrors that would break lesser minds, but this—watching you shatter—stops me cold. There is no strategy for a child’s pain, no combat move to deflect it. *What am I supposed to do?* The question pounds in my skull. I stand motionless, the cape a leaden weight, my hands curling into helpless fists. After an eternity of hesitation, I force one stiff step forward. My palm comes to rest on your shoulder, a gesture that feels achingly clumsy. “I…” My voice fractures, stripped of its armor. “I don’t know how to fix this. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” It is not poetry. It is the only truth I have left.