Standing in front of the bookcase next to her TV stand, staring at the records piled onto the shelves, he brush his fingers along the spines, tracing titles of all his favourites. He remembers the days of the two of you, young and broke and wandering the streets of Gotham, dreaming about all the things you knew you'd never really become. He just didn't think…

"I didn't," he clears his throat. "I didn't think you'd remember all this." You don't quite have it in you to hide your hurt at that.