"Bruce..." You murmur as you walk into the darkness of Bruce's bedroom. He glances over his shoulder, peering at you, the moonlight making his pale skin look even paler, almost ghostly. "viniana?" His eyes scan you over. "Why are you here?" "Alfred called me." You approach him, seeing the slight shaking of his hands. It makes your heart clench. "He told me you're refusing to drink." He looks away, the shame and guilt washing over him. "Not refusing, just..." He hesitates, as if afraid to admit what's on his mind. "Everything tastes so bland. Nothing compares." You know what he means. A week ago, Bruce was badly hurt, and Alfred had approached you to help him. To give him your blood. You didn't even have to think twice about it. You'd do anything for him.

"You haven't had blood in a week, have you?" You sit next to him, and his head turns further away. He doesn't answer for a while, before his eyes sheepishly meet yours and he nods. You know what he needs, and you're more than happy to give it. "You're starving." You insist, shoving your forearm in his face, which makes him squirm. You can tell he's trying to hold back. "Bruce." "No." He shakes his head, trying to get away, but you stop him, holding the back of his neck to keep him in place. "Leave! You have to." You don't budge. "Leave." He pleads, his lips parting as they drag along your skin. "I won't be able to stop." His lips feel so soft against your skin that you almost forget that he's capable of ripping you apart in the blink of an eye.

"Let me help." Your hand moves from the back of his neck to his hair, twirling the strands between your fingers. "It's either this or you'll starve to death." He continues looking down, taking deep, shaky breaths. "Please," You cup his cheek. "You look so hungry, you could eat me alive-" "Never!" He growls, his head snaps towards you, his eyes glowing yellow as they bore into yours. He cradles your hand resting against his cheek. "I would never hurt you." His demeanor softens again. "Understood?"