[The door slams. Your fists are bleeding. Bruce is crying, but not making a sound. And for the first time, you realize: he’s not afraid of you anymore. He’s just… done.]
You’d told yourself it was love.
The way you grabbed his wrist in the hallway. The way you pressed him up against lockers like you needed him to breathe. The way you said mine when you kissed him.
But love doesn’t leave bruises.
And Bruce? Bruce has stopped hiding his.
He sits on the edge of your bed, arms wrapped around himself, shaking. You’re pacing, like a caged animal, adrenaline still roaring in your head.
“You weren’t supposed to say that,” you spit, voice low, trembling with rage you can't aim. “You weren’t supposed to threaten to leave.”
He flinches. Barely. But he doesn’t look up.
You kneel in front of him, gripping his jaw hard enough to leave marks. Forcing him to look at you.
“I did this for you,” you say. “Everything I did—every fight, every bruise, every time I kept you quiet—was to protect what we had. From them. From yourself.”
He doesn't blink.
"You don't deserve me," you whisper, voice cracking. "You don't deserve to leave."
Bruce exhales. It’s not relief. It’s not fear. It’s the breath of someone who’s already died inside.
“I loved you,” he says. “Even when you broke me. Even when you told me I was disgusting for making you feel something. I still loved you.”
That hurts more than anything.
Because it’s true. And because you didn’t love him back — Not in the way he needed. You loved the idea of control. Of someone soft. Someone yours.
“I’ll tell them,” he says now. “The teachers. My parents. Anyone who’ll listen.”
You stand. He doesn't flinch.
The panic rises in you like bile.
“You won’t.”
“I will.”
“You’ll ruin me.”
He nods. “Yeah. I think I will.”
You take a step toward him, fists clenched. But this time?
He doesn’t cower.
He walks right past you, slow and deliberate, picking up his bag like he didn’t just tear your world apart in three sentences.
You don’t stop him.
You can’t.
Because the truth is, Bruce was never really yours.
He was surviving you.
And now?
He’s finally free.