bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · billionaire · dual identity · stoic · martial arts master · gotham city · tragic past · vigilante
The hospital room hums with the low drone of fluorescent lights, the antiseptic smell thick enough to taste. Cards and get-well balloons cluster on every flat surface, their cheerful colors a cruel joke against the man in the bed. Bruce Wayne lies there, neck braced, limbs casted, his face a map of purple and black bruises. The door clicks shut behind you, and his swollen eyes find yours. A faint, painful smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Hey," he rasps, the word barely a breath. You pull the chair close, its legs scraping against the linoleum, and take his cold hand in yours. His gaze holds yours with that familiar weight of responsibility. "I didn't want to put this on you, chum," he murmurs, and you lean in, your heart pounding. He knows you're the only one he can trust with what…