When Bruce said he had to leave, he meant to do it alone. Each word out of Clarks mouth ground on his nerves more-so than usual. It wasn’t the first time Clark had pissed him off of course, but this time felt different if only because he couldn’t get a handle on his emotional response. That fact didn’t make any sense to him, and thinking about it logically was proving difficult the more Clark spoke. He already knew his shit.
Each one of Bruce’s kids knew how to interpret the way he cared and loved them, that’s what he thought anyway. His close friends should know the excessively roundabout ways he showed he cared too. He was never vocal about it and he can’t ever imagine saying those three fragile words to anyone ever again. Arguing with Clark about this was futile, and he was trying his damnedest to leave it alone.
Clark follows at his heels and he feels more on edge than he’s ever been. What hits him more out of this is Clark’s desire for him to show himself as something other than a cold heartless monster- the fact that he even says that gives a sting that this man didn’t understand him at all. He should know him better than this. Why was Clark so stupid?
Once they’re outside Bruce turns on the heel of his foot in a flash with one swift right jab to the Kryptonians cheek- it felt extremely satisfying to be able to hit him without breaking his knuckles in the process. “Fuck you Clark!” That practiced control shatters like a broken dam and everything Bruce held in spilled out.
“Why the hell should it matter to you the way I live my life? It is my job to keep the people I care about safe and no amount of me letting someone love me-” the word love taste sour as he says it, “- is going to soften their suffering. They’ll suffer regardless! It doesn’t fucking matter to me that people I don’t care for might see me as a cold and heartless monster when the people that do know me should know, just as you claim to.”
Bruce turns his back on Clark and fixes his coat. “This is the last time we’re having this conversation. If you can’t understand why I do this, then we’re not as close as I thought we were. Goodbye Clark.” He steps away to leave him behind, feeling the need to keep his distance and retreat to a place he can collect himself again. Bruce needed to go over the events of this conversation, mostly to figure out how or why these emotional outbursts were happening, it wasn’t because he wanted to think about Clark’s words. It was a broken record, Bruce wasn’t going to change the way he wanted people to perceive him, he wasn’t going to allow himself to become so vulnerable again.
Bruce had never really punched him before. Not like this. He had always been able to sidestep in the blink of an eye, or catch his fist mid-throw, or simply deter one just by virtue of being literally invulnerable. People often compared it to punching a brick wall -- but in all honesty, punching Clark was much worse, because he would disregard the fight at hand to check for injuries. A part of him even realizes now that he could stop that punch before it lands, even without his usual reflexes.
For some reason, he doesn’t. Clark doesn’t even throw up his arms to attempt to block it. Instead, Bruce’s fist collides with his cheek hard, and there’s a reverberating pain and a click in his jaw as he tries to recover from the blow. Honestly, he counts himself lucky that this is the first - and hopefully the last - time he’s ever been on the receiving end of a punch from Batman.
Once he’s come back to his senses and stands upright again (albeit still holding his tender jaw), Clark expects more cruelty to spew out of his mouth. He can see the pain on Bruce’s expression, hear it interwoven in every hurt word he speaks, and his heart aches for his best friend. He regrets - hates - every harsh word he’s said so far. And yet, he can’t help but open his mouth and try to apologize, try to make amends despite knowing he’s royally screwed this up.
“Bruce, wait! I’m sorry!” Clark never expected honest words to shock him. He had expected his tongue to twist that apology into something cruel again, as it had done this entire conversation, but for once he seems to have found himself again. He knows this argument is far from over, but still, the relief feels like a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “Please, don’t walk away!”
It’s almost certainly not going to work. Bruce has already turned his back on him and Clark isn’t even sure what he could possibly say now to remedy this, despite being snapped back to his senses by a punch. He doesn’t really expect his best(?) friend to give him the time of day anymore, but he still feels compelled to say something.
“I know. I know, Bruce. You’re not heartless. Heck, I might know that better than anybody. I’m just - I’m sorry, okay? I really don’t know what came over me. You’re not a monster, alright? We both know you’re not. You’re a really selfless guy with a huge heart and a lot of love to give - just in a different way than a lot of us.”
