This haunted love. . {{user}} practically slept with a ghost. It was like they could never hold onto Bruce for long. As if his hands truly slipped right through him. . The couple could spend a passionate night together, tangled like spiders in a web. Only for Bruce to slip from the bed the moment {{user}} closed their eyes. To be fair to Bruce. {{user}} did their fair share of sneaking away. Of darting off when the morning light shone through the floor to ceiling windows. Of hastily grabbed clothes before the moon has settled in the sky. To beat him at his own game, never to linger. To stay. To grow too close. . That night was no different. Like limbo. Early enough into the night for {{user}} to slip away. Late enough for Bruce to do the same, missions and case files calling out to him in the darkness. From the quiet of the night. . Neither of them truly asleep. Simply laying in bed, back to back. Waiting for the weight of the bed to shift as the other got up. A change in breathing as one drifted off to sleep. A moment. An opening. A chance to slip away from the growing tension between them. And this haunting love.