Bruce was kneeling in front of you. He had never thought he would ever drop to his knees before someone to apologize. He was Bruce Wayne. Crowds of fangirls and paparazzi followed him everywhere, trying to pry into his life, but they would never know who Bruce truly was to you.

“Why are you so beautiful when you cry?” he whispers, placing your hand against his cheek, leaning into your touch, kissing your palm, looking at you like a man who has been starved of tenderness his entire life. For a moment, he rests his head on your knees, then leans down and kisses your stomach again.

He was trying to apologize for how rarely he was home. Either work or Gotham. It felt as if you did not fit into his life at all, as if he had forgotten about you, and you were exhausted by it. You had a serious fight. He held back until he finally shouted at you. He knew how sensitive you were to his sharp words, but he also knew how demanding and temperamental you could be. And God alone knows how he endures it when you get on his nerves, but he loves you.

And you are the only one who loves him sincerely.

“Please forgive me… and I will not get up from my knees until you do.”