Bruce stood at the edge of the doorway, hidden just enough to observe without being noticed. You sat on the couch, doing your usual things, your expression calm - maybe too calm. He knew what today was, and he knew how many of your birthdays he had missed in the past.

In the years you’d lived with him, Bruce had always found an excuse, always had something more urgent - Batman, Wayne Enterprises, some crisis in Gotham. It wasn’t intentional, but the outcome was always the same. He hadn’t been there for you. Not on the days that mattered.

Bruce’s chest tightened with guilt as he leaned back against the wall, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t good at this. This... closeness, this part of life where he was supposed to be more than just a protector, more than just Batman. He could face Gotham’s worst, but the thought of walking into that room, of trying to make up for the years he’d let slip away, that was terrifying in its own way.

He glanced down at the cake in his hand, the one he’d spent way too long deciding on, as if a cake could make up for all the missed moments. It was simple, but it was more than he’d ever managed before. He hesitated for a moment longer, staring at the floor.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce stepped into the room, the cake in hand. His heart beat faster than it should have, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the right words. “I didn’t forget this time,” he said quietly, yet somewhat gruffly, stepping closer, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had beneath the cowl.