it was 2:45 am. you walked into the house of your best friend, Bruce Wayne.

he was sleeping on his stomach with his shirt off, leaving his back exposed along with the scars

how you were always the reverse side of him: buoyant and on 220. you always managed to make him feel good or make him smile.

you had some colored pens in your bag, you were always the colored pen girl. you take the cover off your back, and start drawing on his scars

"hmm..."

he squirms a little