♣+ (if u wanna;;)
♣ = discovering them crying
It was on the seventh day that he took off his cowl and cape; the seventh day he moved and bathed; the seventh day where he left his room.
Bruce was having second thoughts, but there was no turning back. Though leaving was the last thing in his mind anyway.
The marble headstone was made simple; nothing but a name, a date of birth, and a date of death. Bruce stood in front of it; stared at it a long time.
The drizzle flourished to a rain, he was slightly feeling the regret that he didn’t bring any umbrella. And when the rain poured heavily, that was the only time he moved and knelt.
He heard Dick’s footsteps but he didn’t turn.
There’s no point in hiding it. That he finally broke, showing that he was weak. But what’s a father to do but grieve?
He wanted to be stronger for Alfred, for Dick, Jason, Barbara, Tim– and for himself. For Damian.
A robin’s cape in hand, he bent. The pain washed him over like waves. He wondered if it was always like this, all cold and sharp. Bruce bent further, pressing his face to the marble.
“My son…….”
It was on the seventh day that he finally spoke.
And on his seventh day, he cried.
