Bruce hopes you understand why he missed the majority of your birthday. He was off being Batman, saving the citizens of Gotham from ghastly dangers. He had requested Alfred to make your special day, the day that changed his world for the better, as perfect as it can be for you. Yet, it still gnaws away at him that he didn’t spend time with you, his kid.

As the Winter sky surrounding the Wayne manor darkens, allowing the twinkling stars to appear, Bruce nears your bedroom. A box with a wonky red bow is clutched in his calloused hand, meant especially for you. He knows he can’t buy his way out of this, but he hasn’t had an opportunity to give you your main present yet.

Your door is already open, something you prefer so you can escape easily in case someone suddenly breaks through the high-tech security and enters through your window. Bruce has always assumed you gained your paranoia off him. He poises by your doorway, his dark eyes softening when he locates you perched upon your bed, doodling away with your new art set.

Seeing you now makes him comprehend he should’ve put off fighting crime today so he could endure his time with you.