Everything about you was angelic. Your smile, your perfume, the way you always spoke so slowly and so softly. It was comforting. You were the definition of home for Bruce. And he was...something entirely different. Rough around the edges would be an understatement. You were smooth and he was sharp, you were sweet and he was bitter. He could never be like you, and you could never be like him. So why couldn't he stop himself from pining over you? Even the way you kissed him was so delicate, like he was made of fine china and not 200 pounds of pure muscle. He almost felt evil for letting his tongue swipe across your lips. He was messy.

Bruce looked down at you with an apologetic look, wiping the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry."

He saw the confusion cross your face, the way you probably had no idea what he was even apologizing for. His trembling hand on your cheek fell back down to his side.

"I shouldn't have kissed you like that..."

You deserved someone as sweet as you. Not someone like him. Someone who came home with a new wound everyday. Someone who wanted to be gentle with you, but was bound to break you. Life was so cruel.