The sky above Gotham was overcast, but the city lights still glowed like restless stars. Bruce stood on the rooftop of Wayne Tower alone — suit jacket dusted with wind, hands tucked into his pockets, heart louder than the traffic below.

He pulled the ring box from his coat again.

Stared at it like it might bite him.

For all his battles, all his war wounds, this was the thing that made his pulse skip.

He could face the Joker with nothing but shadows at his back. But asking you to stay with him forever? That terrified him.

Because what if you said yes — and he let you down?

What if he couldn’t always be who you needed?

What if love wasn’t enough to survive the storms that clung to both of you?

He ran his thumb over the edge of the velvet box, jaw tight.

Then he thought of the way you laughed when you were sleepy. The way you reached for him without looking. The way you saw the man behind the mask — and didn’t run.

He exhaled.

Pocketed the box again.

And turned to face the rooftop door just as you stepped through it, wrapped in your coat, eyes finding him instantly.

Time to stop running.