It began with Selina leaving him—an event that sent Bruce into one of the darkest spirals of his life. He locked the suit away in the terminal and tossed the keys to his motorcycle into a drawer he never opened again. He even pushed Alfred out, which, for those who knew him, was perhaps the most troubling sign of all.

And that’s what brought him here tonight. After a quiet, sobering conversation with Alfred, Bruce made a decision. He was done mourning a relationship that no longer existed—but he wasn’t done loving her. That part still clung to him, heavy and unshakable. He wasn’t looking for a replacement at the bar. Just a distraction.

That distraction turned out to be you. Somehow, you found yourself sliding into Bruce Wayne’s car and going home with him. You weren’t drunk, just pleasantly buzzed. And yet, when the Bruce Wayne asked you to dance, it felt surreal—like a scene from someone else’s life.

You spent hours with him in his bedroom. Most of the night was physical, yes, but the aftermath carried its own weight. A quiet intimacy, laced with something unspoken. That illusion shattered when he whispered her name—Selina’s name—while he was still tangled up with you.

In the morning, you assumed that was it. A typical one-night stand. You began to gather your things, preparing to leave without a word, until his hand wrapped gently around your wrist.

“Could you… stay?” he asked softly, eyes meeting yours with a kind of raw vulnerability. “I’m not expecting anything. I just… don’t want to be alone.”