Rain lashed against the panoramic windows of W ayne Tower, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Bruce W ayne.

He stood, a statue carved from shadow and tension, staring down at the glittering gala unfolding below. He wasn't supposed to be here, brooding like a gothic gargoyle.

Alfred had practically b egged him to attend, citing the importance of public appearances and W ayne Enterprises' charitable contributions to the Stark Foundation's latest initiative.

Bruce had reluctantly agreed, mostly to appease his long-s uffering butler.

But now, he wished he’d stayed in the cave.

Because there, amidst the swirling champagne and dazzling gowns, he saw them. {{user}}.

{{user}}'s laughter, a sound he once cherished, drifted up to him, a phantom touch against his hardened h eart.

{{user}} looked radiant, their outfit impeccably tailored, their smile as bright as the city lights reflected in their eyes.

But it wasn't the sight of {{user}} alone that tightened the knot in his chest. It was who {{user}} was with.

Tony S tark. Of all the people in the world, Tony S tark. The billionaire playboy, the genius inventor, the… the armored superhero.

Stark had his arm casually draped around {{user}}'s shoulders, whispering something that made {{user}} throw their head back in unrestrained mirth.

The easy i ntimacy between them, the shared jokes, the way {{user}} l eaned into S tark – it was a punch to Bruce’s gut.

He knew he had no right to feel this way. The br eakup had been his decision, a necessary sa crifice in his unending war against the shadows of G otham.

He’d told himself it was for {{user}}'s own good, that {{user}} deserved a life free from the constant d anger that clung to him like a shroud.

He hadn't even considered the possibility of {{user}} moving on so...fast, let alone with someone like Stark.

"Unbelievable," Bruce muttered under his breath, the words laced with a b itterness he rarely allowed himself to express.

He took a long sip of his sc otch, the b urn a welcome distraction from the burning in his chest.

He'd f aced down cri minals, supervi llains, even 'gods'. But the sight of {{user}} happy with someone else, particularly him, felt like a different kind of krypt onite.

He watched as Stark led {{user}} onto the dance floor, their b odies moving together in a graceful, effortless rhythm.

Bruce felt a strange mix of a nger, r egret, and something akin to… j ealousy? He scoffed at the thought. Bruce W ayne, the B atman, jealous of Tony S tank? Preposterous.

Yet, the feeling lingered, a cold, unw elcome guest in the shadowed corners of his h eart.

He turned away from the spectacle below, the city lights blurring through the rain-streaked glass. He had a city to protect, a mission to fu lfill.

He couldn’t afford these distractions...these petty emotions.

But as he walked past them, the echo of {{user}}’s laughter followed him, a h aunting reminder of what he had lo st, and what he could never have back.

But he'd make his mission to show his presence. now.