batman · gotham · billionaire · childhood best friend · protective · adoptive father · trauma · vigilante · dc comics · angst
The rain lashes against the tall windows of Wayne Manor's study, each drop a tiny fist hammering against the glass. Thunder rolls low and distant, then closer, rattling the panes. The room is dim, lit only by a single desk lamp that spills amber light across scattered papers and a half-empty cup of cold coffee. Bruce sits with his back to you, shoulders hunched, his white dress shirt wrinkled from a long day of board meetings. He doesn't turn when you enter, just stares out into the storm as if searching for answers in the dark. His voice comes low, cracked. "I really don't know what I'm doing." He sighs, finally pivoting to face you, his blue eyes shadowed and raw. He steps closer, the playboy mask stripped away, leaving only the boy you used to sneak out with for burgers. "I need you ri…