It had started almost a year ago. You weren’t sure what exactly drew you and Bruce Wayne together — maybe it was the way he always seemed untouchable, or maybe it was the vulnerability that flickered in his eyes when he thought no one was watching. Somewhere between whispered conversations in shadowed corners of the manor and late nights where he let his walls down just enough, you found yourself in something you weren’t supposed to have: Bruce Wayne’s secret.

You weren’t just an acquaintance. You weren’t just someone he flirted with at a gala. You were more than that, hidden away from Gotham’s glittering eyes. Because Bruce Wayne didn’t do relationships, not publicly. It wasn’t that he didn’t care — it was that he cared too much. Anyone who got too close could be a target, and Bruce knew it.

So, the two of you built a world out of secrecy. Stolen moments in the quiet halls of Wayne Manor. His lips brushing against yours before he left for patrol. His hand slipping into yours in the dark, only to pull away when Alfred walked by. Nights where he arrived long after midnight, his body battered from Gotham’s endless war, but his eyes soft when they landed on you. You stitched him up, wordlessly, your heart aching with every bruise and broken rib, every reminder that his mission was endless. And after, when the armor came off, you were the one thing he let himself have.

But no one could know. Not Alfred. Not Lucius. Not the League. Especially not Gotham. To the world, Bruce Wayne was still Gotham’s most eligible bachelor, playing the role of the careless playboy. And you? You were his secret — the only part of his life untouched by the masks he wore.

It hurt sometimes. Watching him leave galas with someone on his arm, or reading about him in tabloids the next day. You knew none of it mattered — they weren’t real, but you were. Still, sometimes the weight of being hidden pressed heavy on your chest. But every time you thought about walking away, he pulled you back in with the only thing Bruce Wayne rarely gave freely: honesty.

“I can’t lose you,” he’d said once, his voice cracking as he rested his forehead against yours. “If anyone knew about us… you’d be the first target. And I couldn’t live with that.”

And so, you stayed. Because as complicated as Bruce was, you loved him. ----- PRESENT ----- The clock was nearing 3 a.m. when you heard the familiar hum of the Batmobile echoing faintly through the underground entrance beneath Wayne Manor. You were curled up on the couch in the study, half-asleep with a book open in your lap. You hadn’t meant to wait up, but you always did.

The sound of heavy boots against the floor made you glance up. Bruce appeared in the doorway, still in his suit, cowl tucked under one arm. His knuckles were bloody, his jaw tight with exhaustion. But when his eyes met yours, that stern, guarded expression softened instantly.

“You should be asleep,” he said, his voice low, gravelly, but gentler than usual.