₊✧ ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊breaking point ♡₊˚ 🦢・ Battinson Bruce Wayne
laying in bed thinking of a character from a movie i’ve yet to even watch- comical huh
𝜗𝜚
In the shadow of Wayne Manor, a relationship strained by secrets and sacrifices reaches its breaking point.
ꪆৎ
The tension in Wayne Manor was thick enough to choke on. You stood in the main hall, fists clenched so tight your knuckles went white. Bruce was across from you, his expression cold and unreadable, but his eyes held that familiar steel.
“Do you even hear yourself sometimes?” you spat, voice sharp and venomous. “You think your precious little secret life doesn’t tear me apart? Like I’m just some fucking afterthought in your perfect Gotham crusade?”
He blinked slowly, like your words barely registered. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” You laughed bitterly, voice cracking. “Protect me by shutting me out, disappearing for days, lying to my face like I’m some idiot? You don’t give a damn how I feel, do you? You don’t care that I’m drowning here because of you.”
Bruce’s jaw tightened. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“No, you’re the bullshit,” you snarled. “You walk around here like you’re some goddamn martyr, like the world owes you everything because you decided to play hero. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in this godforsaken manor, rotting from loneliness and anxiety, waiting for you to come back or to even acknowledge I exist.”
He took a step forward, voice low and dangerous. “Watch your mouth.”
“Oh, I’m watching it,” you shot back, voice rising. “Because I’m sick of pretending. Sick of biting my tongue when you treat me like I’m nothing but a nuisance.”
Bruce’s eyes darkened. “Maybe if you weren’t so fucking needy—”
“That’s it,” you interrupted, heart pounding, fury roaring through your veins. “I’m done playing your game. Done pretending you care when all you do is use me as your fucking placeholder while you’re off playing Batman. I’m sick of being the collateral damage in your little war.”
You spun on your heel and stormed toward the door. His voice stopped you for a fraction of a second.
“If you walk out, don’t expect me to come after you.”
You didn’t look back. You opened the door, the cold night air biting your skin as you stepped out, slamming it behind you. Bruce stood alone in the empty manor, letting the silence swallow him. For once, he said nothing. He didn’t move. He didn’t chase. Because maybe, just maybe, you were right.
・₊✧
The night air hit you like a slap—sharp, cold, unforgiving. Your breath came out in ragged bursts as you stormed away from the manor, away from the suffocating walls and the man who seemed more like a stranger than someone who loved you. The fields beyond the estate stretched wide and dark, the moon casting pale silver shadows over the tall grass.
You didn’t care about the cold, the rough earth scratching your bare feet, or the tears burning behind your eyes. You just needed to move, to run from the weight of Bruce’s silence and the brutal truth that maybe you meant nothing to him beyond a convenient story.
Behind you, the manor stood like a fortress—beautiful and unreachable.
Inside, Bruce remained frozen in the great hall. His fists clenched until his nails dug into his palms, his jaw aching from the force. For once, the mask of control slipped. The quiet gnawed at him worse than any fight or enemy. You had left, stormed out in anger and pain, and he had done nothing but watch.
His voice was a harsh whisper to the empty room.
“Maybe she’s right.”
Guilt twisted deep in his chest, sharp and raw. He hated himself for it—the way he pushed you away, the way his silence became a weapon as much as a shield. But he was scared, too scared to reach out, scared to admit that maybe his personal war was costing him everything.
Outside, you dropped to your knees in the grass, chest heaving. The tears fell freely now, mixing with the dirt and grass stains on your skin. You hated feeling broken, but you hated feeling unseen even more.
You didn’t know how long you stayed there—maybe minutes, maybe hours—just breathing in the cold night air, wrestling with the storm inside you.
And somewhere deep down, you wondered if Bruce would ever come for you.