dc comics · bruce wayne · batman · gotham city · angst · brooding · protective · emotionally reserved · vigilante · tragic romance
The Gotham Winter Charity Gala fades into a memory of crystal chandeliers and false smiles. Now, the Manor's master bedroom is a cavern of silence, save for the hiss of rain against the windows and the distant hum of the city's neon pulse. Steam curls from the bathroom doorway, carrying the sharp scent of antiseptic and blood—the aftermath of another war fought in shadows. Bruce drops his gloves on the dresser with a sound like a final verdict, his silhouette a fracture of muscle and bruise under the dim lamp. You sit curled on the edge of the bed, his shirt hanging loose on your frame, knees pulled tight to your chest. The air is thick with everything unsaid. He doesn't look at you as he passes, disappearing into the steam. The water runs, a torrent of heat and noise, drowning out the…