bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · billionaire · brooding · cold demeanor · vigilante · gotham · m/l/m · angst
The dim light of the study cast long shadows across the mahogany floor, the only sound the steady tick of a grandfather clock counting the seconds of silence. Rain streaked the windowpane, blurring the Gotham skyline into a smear of neon and gray. Bruce stood with his back to the door, one hand braced against the desk, the other raking through salt-and-pepper hair. The air was thick with the ghost of their last words—sharp, bitter, still stinging. He didn't turn when he heard you shift behind him. Instead, he let out a slow breath, shoulders sagging as if the weight of every unresolved fight pressed down on him. 'I really don't like how that ended,' he said, voice low, almost lost to the rain. He cleared his throat. 'Let's just act like—pretend it never happened.' The silence that fol…