Consequences
The air in your bedroom shifts the moment he steps inside. He always manages to climb into your apartment without a sound. There was no way you can know that he is there.
But you know. You feel it. A change.
Like gravity tipping. A heavy weight.
Maybe it is all the time that you spent together. All the times you learned to remember and memorize the way the room changed when he entered. You never heard the sound of his boots hitting your hardwood floor. Your body always reacted before you could. A chill running up all the way to your spine.
It was always a good chill, until now. You know something is off before you even lock eyes with him. Instinct kicks in, like it is preparing you for a fight.
And when your eyes lift up, he’s there.
Just standing. Watching you. Taking you in.
His black armor glinting in the moonlight that spills in trough the curtains.
This was always one of your favorite moments. The moment you knew your dark knight had come for you. Climbed all the way up just to see you. And then there was the suit. You would never find out exactly what it was. But it feels different now. It feels cold, distant.
Something is definitely wrong.
His cape is pooling around him, grounding him to the darkness that he adopted. His cowl is on. Strange. There is nothing there that resembles the man that you got to know trough time. All there is now, is the symbol.
Batman.
You tilt your head as you move slowly. This isn’t a good sign. Your body moves to the side of the bed and you sit up. Your eyes watching him like a hawk. You’re too scared to miss anything. Your pulse quickens. You wonder what he is thinking or feeling. Anything really.
“Bruce?”
No answer.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just exists, and somehow that’s louder than anything else. Suddenly, the feeling in your stomach is rising all the way up to your heart, building and latching on to your ribs until it feels like pressure. He hasn’t even done anything and you’re already hurting.
Because you know. You know why he has come. You have been dreading it. Terrified of it. Even spoken about it with Bruce. Multiple times.
You feel your fingers trembling. Suddenly you feel the urge to touch something. Something that will stop you from reaching out for him.
Please tell me I am wrong.
Your voice drops. Gentle. Uncertain. “You haven’t come by in days. I thought maybe…”
You trail off. What do you even want to ask? You are not even sure if you have the courage to even ask…
You don’t finish the thought—because there’s too much weight in it. Too many things you’ve imagined these last few days.
It had been some time since you have seen him. You had spoken to him about it and you had always known that it could take a long time before he would return. Because he is busy with something that can’t wait. That’s what he said to you. So it was normal for him to stay away for some time. But never this long. Never like this.
Maybe he’s hurt.
Maybe he’s dead.
Maybe he’s finally decided that being with you is…
You shake your head. Don’t go there.
You notice a slight movement in his body. Your eyes go to him instantly. He takes a slow step forward. Heavy. Deliberate.
Still silent.
You take this time to look at him closely. His posture is off. He isn’t holding himself like he’s ready to strike or disappear into the shadows. He doesn’t look as intimidating as he usually is. There is no anger to fuel his movements. His shoulders are slumped, like something inside him collapsed. Not from exhaustion. Not pain. More like he has given in. Surrendered. You’ve seen him bleed, bruise, break ribs and keep walking.
Not this time.
Your feet feel cold against the floor and there is not warmth coming from the shirt that you’re wearing. It’s his old shirt, worn and loose- a reminder of all the times you spend together. The laughter. It felt like something stolen from nights that you try so hard to hold on to.
You stand up start walking to him carefully. Slowly. Like trying to walk towards a cornered animal.
You stop when you’re close.
Close enough to feel the heat still clinging to the armor. Close enough to smell rain and something else. Something familiar. Something that will always remind you of him. You are close enough to touch him.
You don’t.
He still won’t talk to you.
“What is wrong?” you ask softly.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He opens hit mouth and then closes it again. Like he is afraid of the words that want to come out.
“Talk to me,” you whisper.
And then finally—finally—his voice cuts through the silence. Low, but soft around the edges. Defeated.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
It hits like a punch to the gut.
No…
You blink, heart stuttering. “What?”.
“I thought I could do it,” he says. “Be with you and still be him. Be what Gotham needs’’.
You take in a slow breath, trying to stay calm. You already feel the panic rising in your throat, but you try to calm yourself.
“You can”.
He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. “No. I’ve been lying to myself. Every time I come here… every time I let myself hold you, stay the night, touch you… I make you more vulnerable. I make you a target.”
Your chest tightens. Your eyes trying to follow his face as he speaks. His emotions pouring through the mask and directly into your heart. He seemed desperate. Heartbroken even.
“So that’s what this is about? You think someone’s going to come after me?”
“They already have,” he snaps. “You just don’t know it.”
The heat in his voice isn’t directed at you. But it still hurts. You breath out. You know what he means. You know the risks. You understand them, accepted them.
“I know we talked about this. You think you understand the consequences of what we are doing. But if something ever happened to you because of me…” His voice falters. “I wouldn’t survive it.”
You stare at him, stunned. Furious and aching. Your heart ready to burst out of your chest. You suddenly want to scream. Yell. Tell him you do understand. Tell him you can make that choice.
“So you’re ending this,” you start slowly. “Because you love me.”
His silence is answer enough.
You take a step forward, heart pounding.
Please don’t do this. Let me stop this.
‘’What you’re saying is that you’re too afraid to lose me, so you decide that I have to lose you instead? How does that work?’’
His head lifts slightly. You see his eyes. You try to make him understand. Understand that this is crazy. You try to show him how much this is hurting you. Breaking you.
If you break my heart, it will never mend.
“You think breaking this off keeps me safe, but it doesn’t. It just hurts. It just destroys something good. For what? To punish yourself? To prove you’re still Batman before you’re human?”
“I am Batman,” he says, like a confession. “There’s no version of this life where I stop. Where I slow down. Where I get to be… him, and also yours.”
“You are mine,” you whisper, desperation getting the best of you. “I love you. I love every part of you. I would rather spend a short time with you than a lifetime without you’’.
He stays silent, but his eyes change. He looks sorrowful. Broken. But he doesn’t give in.
Your eyes start to water as you realize that he made up his mind. He made his choice. Your words suddenly meaningless. No way to change the incoming hurt and betrayal that he is causing. Your voice breaks as you speak.
‘’You told me you loved me.”
He flinches.
‘’How is that not enough? Why is me making this choice not enough?’’
“I dream about you dying,” he says suddenly, voice shaking.
You stop breathing.
“Every night. You’re bleeding out on the floor. There is blood everywhere. You’re calling my name and I can’t get to you. I never get to you in time. I dream about you screaming, or already gone. Sometimes I find you too late. Sometimes I watch it happen and can’t move. And I wake up thinking it was real. And I know that I will have your blood on my hands. It will be my fault. I can’t….I can’t do this”.
His voice breaks. Barely held together.
“I’ve seen too much death. I’ve buried too many people. I can’t do it again. Not with you. You’re the one thing I can’t lose to the darkness. I won’t be able to live with myself”.
You step closer. Try to touch him. He jerks away.
“I know what you’ll say,” he mutters. “That I’m pushing you away. That I’m protecting myself. That I’m projecting all my worst fears onto you. But you don’t understand—every person I’ve ever loved has died. I made my peace with that. But not you. Never you”.
“I am not gone, Bruce” you say. “I’m right here. I will stay with you”.
“I won’t let that be your mistake.”
Somehow, those words feel worse than everything that was said before. Something fragile snapping in your chest. Pain so unbearable, you can not imagine him doing this to you. Your mind hanging somewhere between denial and defeat.
“So you’re ending it,” you whisper. “Just like that.”
“Yes.”
It’s not cruel. It’s worse. Your life changed without your input. This isn’t what you want. This isn’t the choice you would make. Ever. You could never.
Even though you try so hard, a sob still makes it’s way out. His eyes following your eye movement. His hand starts to reach out for you before he suddenly realizes what he is doing. His hand falling down before you can barely register the movement.
No, please no. Please don’t leave me.
It’s hollow. Resigned.
You wrap your arms around yourself, the shirt hanging loose on your body. Even the shirt makes you think of betrayal right now.
“Why did you come here?” you ask, barely holding on to your sanity. Your breaths coming out in quick sobs.
His mouth opens. He stops for a moment before he answers.
“I owed you the truth,” he says finally.
You laugh—harsh and bitter. He says it like it’s a blessing. A comfort. Something that should make you feel good. It doesn’t. A quick flash of anger course trough your body and your throat.
“No. You came here to kill this before it could kill you.”
That hits. You see it. His breath catches, just a little. His eyes widening slightly.
“You were never going to stay,” you whisper angrily. “You made me believe I could have something with you. That you would stay. That you wanted it too. A future. A life. Me.”
“I did. I do. That’s why I’m leaving.”
You can barely think. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.
“Say it again.”
“What?”
“Say you love me.”
He hesitates. “Why?”
You blink as your tears fall down your face. “Because I need to know I’m not insane. That this wasn’t just a fantasy.”
He exhales sharply, like he realizes how much this hurts you. Then, softly:
“I love you.”
It didn’t change anything. It didn’t soften the blow. It just made everything even bitter than it already was. Made it more real. Nothing was helping. Nothing would change. Your words and feelings mean nothing anymore. You want to scream at him. Throw your fists at him. Do anything to change the outcome. But you know. This is it. There is not escaping this.
You have been here before. And you know what you have to do.
“Okay,” you say, voice breaking. “Then go.”
He stares at you, stunned. He didn’t expect that.
“What?”
“I’m not going to beg you to stay. I can’t. If this is what you think love looks like—if this is how you think you protect me—then go. Leave.”
He doesn’t move at first. His hand twitches. His jaw works. You look at his face as if you’re trying to print his face into your brain.
Please don’t go
He steps back.
Slowly.
His feet moving like shadows that will haunt you.
Into the shadow.
He turns without another word, vanishing through the open window. His cape vanishing behind him.
You don’t follow. You don’t watch, trying to hold on to the last breath of strength that you have left in your body. You feel humiliated enough. Loving a man that wasn’t even planning on staying.
Only when the glass slides shut behind him do you let yourself crumble. You fall down to the floor.
And for the first time in a long time—
You let the sound of your pain escape your throat.