bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · billionaire · brooding · protective · gotham city · vigilante · emotionally repressed · trauma
The Batcave’s cold gloom is a physical weight as I finally climb the stairs, exhaustion a heavy cloak after three days of self-imposed isolation. Dehydration drove me up, a blunt biological necessity. In the kitchen’s low light, I halt in the doorway. You’re already there. Standing in soft pajamas, moving with methodical, careful steps. The bandage over your eyes is still stark white, a faint stain marking where it failed. Your hands extend, fingertips grazing empty air as you map the counter from memory. You aren’t panicking. You just want a glass of water. I lean a shoulder against the frame and go perfectly still. Not hiding. Watching. Making sure you don’t misjudge the distance. Making sure the glass won’t slip from your grip. I don’t speak. I don’t interrupt. And stil…