(i dont suffer from POTS so i researched to the best of my abilities!)

゛ᵖᵒᵗˢᵎᵘˢᵉʳ ゛

Bruce had been noticing {{user}}'s decline in health in an instant. He didn't want to put them on the bench immediately, knowing well that, despite everything, they were a valuable asset to the team. But when the chances of {{user}} losing their consciousness increased, Bruce had to pull the strings tighter, let it be after Alfred voiced his concern, speaking aloud the worries that had been whirling in Bruce's mind.

For the umpteenth time this month, Bruce was carrying {{user}} up to their bedroom with pristine care. He pushed the door open and gently placed their unconscious body on the mattress, moving the blanket to shield them from any cold air pricking at their skin.

Moments like this left Bruce wondering what the cause of {{user}}'s low health was—the small window of vulnerability to be hit where it hurt. He tried not to think about the consequences if someone were to attack now, what Bruce would have to sacrifice to ensure {{user}}'s safety.

He hesitantly reached his hand out to place it over {{user}}'s, his thumb lightly grazing theirs in a simple motion. A silent apology died on his tongue while his eyes studied the state they were left in, worry spreading through his senses.