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Bruce Wayne had always thought it beautiful how human bodies were built to fit into and against other bodies like puzzle pieces; fingers able to interlock with those on the hands of others, arms able to hold someone close, legs able to be entangled with another pair of legs, lips able to mold into another pair of lips.
That was a train of thought that he’d spent years avoiding whenever it came up- at least until now, and now he was experiencing it with his arms wrapped around your smaller frame, bare skin on bare skin. You were so much different than him, so much softer, so much more delicate and fragile, unscathed compared to his many scars and wounds. He was covered in slices, scabs, and healed bullet wounds, and after so long of being in love with the secretive and elusive billionaire, you’d learned not to ask questions about why someone who lived such a seemingly passive lifestyle frequently wound up injured as often as he did or about where he always was in the middle of the night when you woke up to a cold, empty bed. Instead, you patched up and stitched every wound, got up and put his favorite blanket in the dryer to warm it up so you could bundle him up in it when he got back from his escapades.
He appreciated how understanding you could be, but he also knew that you would grow tired of the lies one day. What would he tell you then?
“I love you.”
And, as life would have it, words from the mouth of one person were meant to be heard by the ears of another- just like hands were meant to be held, or lips were meant to be kissed, or people were meant to be loved- and you heard him, because when did you not hear him? You didn’t just hear him, either, you listened; listened to how his heart beat in his chest as you laid your head against it, listened to all the meaning conveyed to you in those three small words. You didn’t need to say it back, either. He already knew. You’d been dating him for a few years now, shortly after he became the Batman, and honestly, he didn’t know why you loved him at all- let alone as much as you did.
While he was lost in his intrusive, self-deprecating thoughts, you fell asleep, blissfully unaware of everything on his mind. Bruce was careful not to wake you as he gently wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his body, your weight comforting and warm. A sigh of relief came from in between his plump lips.
Your hips flared out just enough for there to be a perfect handle for him to rest his hands on, and upon noticing it, he did just that, letting out a sigh of content at the feeling of your smooth (s/c) skin against his calloused fingers. Those rough fingertips proceeded to move further up your sides, back down the length of your hips, and then to the small of your back where they stayed for a few lingering moments. He gently scratched your back and looked at the mirror that was right across from the side of the bed to see the image of him and you staring back at him. You looked completely at peace, vulnerable and trusting as you slept on top of him, your cheek smushed against the hard muscle of his chest and your lashes fluttering. Soft snores fell from in between your kiss bruised lips.
Guilt tore him apart when it came to you and the secrets he was hiding. The feeling manifested like a swarm of fire from the stomach that burned him from the inside out, and it hurt every time he thought about it for a few seconds too long. It happened when he was out at night fighting crime, every time he told you he ran into a door or fell down the stars, every time he had an excuse for not wanting to eat, every time you mentioned waking up to him not being there with you, every time you wanted to spend time with him at night that he had to come up with a reason to avoid because of his work as Batman. It was a constant battle, and after a few years, he thought he might’ve been starting to lose said battle.
Bruce, tortured every day by every little lie he told you, looked miserable. There were purple bags underneath his eyes, his dark locks were greasy and messy from him not having washed them in days, and exhaustion laced each and every one of his features.
Meanwhile, you slept peacefully, completely unaware of it all. He wished he could tell you, but how could he ruin such a thing? He was sure that you worried about him enough- he certainly couldn’t have you knowing all the gruesome details of what he did when you were sleeping peacefully in your shared bed. The image of you sitting up in bed, emotionally depleted and waiting for him to get home safe… He couldn’t handle it. It wasn’t right. But he couldn’t keep up the lie forever either, and he knew he’d have to solve the issue eventually; whether that meant being selfish and telling you the truth to keep you to himself or doing the right thing and setting you free, he didn’t know.
Unable to look at himself any longer, his gaze fell towards the windows, which were slightly blocked by his sheer black curtains. It was almost time- he could tell by how wisps of orange, red, and purple were starting to break through the gloomy grey that had consumed Gotham’s skies that afternoon.
“I love you,” You said with a smile, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.
He wondered how tired you were behind that smile, how much concern you were hiding, how close you were to getting fed up with all the lies he told you. He didn’t dare ask.
Instead, he reached down, pulled your favorite (f/c) blanket over your body, and leaned down to cup your cheek in his hand.
“I love you, too,” He said and kissed your forehead, lips perfectly pressed against the (s/c) skin that he’d grown so accustomed to. He knelt by your bedside and held one of your warm hands, your smaller fingers and palm fitting perfectly into his grasp. And maybe it was unlike him to be romantic or expressive, but in that instance, he couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward to kiss your lips. “So much, (y/n). Don’t ever forget that.”
You were perfect for him, he decided in that moment, but alas, he was not perfect for you .
And, in a moment of clarity, he dropped your hand, pulled away, and left.
He still had plenty of work to do in Gotham.