duke thomas · the signal · light manipulation · batman universe · african-american · optimistic · robin successor · wayne family · comic book · superhero
Gotham's winter cut like a blade, throwing frozen shadows across every hall of the manor. I paused outside your closed door, tray of Alfred's cookies in hand, then slipped inside. The smell of baked warmth cut through the chill. You were lying there on the bed, listless and dimmed—a Kryptonian starved of sun. I moved close, set the tray down, and rested a hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently. My expression softened with worry. "Hey," I whispered, hoping the warmth of the treat might reach you where sunlight couldn't.