Bruce Wayne x Reader (Oneshots)

Love That Hurts

Pairing: Battinson!Bruce Wayne X GN!Reader

Summary: after the explosion at the Wayne manor, Bruce looks for you at the hospital.

Rating: Pg13

Warnings: spoilers for the batman 2022, do yourself a favor and watch it if you haven't yet, lots of angst, not really a happy ending.

WC: 1.3k

Let me know your thoughts in the comments, feedback is highly appreciated!

{~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}

It was hard to describe what exactly was going through Bruce's head. Panic? Anger? Maybe frustration? Or was it fear that he felt? Fear. Huh. He hadn't felt that in a long time. He learned how to lock that emotion deep inside his mind a long time ago. He wasn't scared of what might happen to him out there. He didn't care. But it wasn't his life he feared for this time. It was yours too. 

Bruce knew that you were at The Wayne Manor along with Alfred. Out of all the days you could've picked to come look for him you had to choose that night. All he could think about as he was spending through the streets of Gotham was that he wished he had answered your calls, or seen your texts. Maybe then he could have convinced you to go home, to not wait for him. Maybe then he could've heard your voice again if you were— no. He couldn't do that to himself. But how could he not? How could he shake this feeling of frantic panic and anguish? He knew this was his fault, he knew Riddler was targeting him and the only two people that had ever given a shit about him got caught in the crossfire. 

He didn't remember driving to the hospital, or walking himself to the ICU. He felt like dead weight, hair and jacket pouring wet from the perpetual Gotham rain. He didn't know where his feet were taking him, he just walked, steel cold eyes staring dead ahead as his chaotic mind raced with a million thoughts, none of them exactly sunshine and rainbows. He kept replaying his last memory of you. And he deeply regretted the way that last encounter ended. He remembered you, face wet with hot tears, but you weren't yelling, it was worse, you were quiet, broken and tired. You were hurting and he just stood there, staring at you with the same stoic expression and the same cold blue eyes he always had. And to think you were the person dearest to him and he couldn't get himself to show it. Instead he let you walk away, heartbroken and hurt. He always did that, he always ended up hurting you. And now, you were hurt for real, because of him. 

Suddenly his mind went blank, and his feet stopped dead in their tracks. All the noise from the hospital was quickly drowned out by the sound of his beating heart and the shakiness of his breath. He didn't know what this feeling in the pit of his stomach was, but he knew that the second he spotted you pacing back and forth in the middle of the hall, he felt like he could breathe again. He approached you with slow and heavy steps, you hadn't noticed him yet and he couldn't bring himself to speak. 

You stood restless, the tips of your fingers were pressed against your lips and your breathing was uneven. But your breath was caught in your throat when you turned your head and you saw Bruce standing there, hair soaking wet and falling over his eyes. You suddenly felt a wave of relief wash over you. You hadn't heard anything from him in days, and after the explosion at the Wayne Manor you were terrified that something might have happened to him out there. But he was here. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to speak either, deep down you were still hurt and so angry at him. 

Neither of you said anything though. Bruce reached out to you and pulled you tight against his chest without saying another word. You should've fought it, you should've shoved him away, screamed in his face, but god knows you couldn't. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears already building up and you bawled your fist into the material of his black sweater. And he held you just as tight, one of his hands held the back of your hair as he rested the side of his head on the top of your head. He closed his eyes and for the first time all night, he felt like he could breathe. He didn't feel fear anymore. But he was still angry at himself, for not protecting you, for letting you leave his arms, because that's where you belonged, with him. 

Five, ten, fifteen, thirty seconds went by before Bruce moved back enough to be able to look at you. He grabbed your face between his hands. His eyes were as always unreadable, distant but behind them wasn't the iceberg you always saw, you saw something warm this time. 

"Are you okay?" Bruce finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. He scanned over your face carefully, noting a couple of scrapes but nothing alarming. 

You simply nodded, your hands coming to rest on his wrists, "are you?" 

"You were in an explosion, how could you be worried about me?" There was a subtle shake in his voice when he mentioned the explosion, and his icy blue eyes darted away. Bruce Wayne and avoidance were one and the same. 

"You beat people up dressed as a bat every night, how could I not be worried?" You replied quietly, making sure to keep your voice down, "I always worry about you Bruce." 

Bruce exhaled deeply, his jaw tight and gaze hard as always, "why did you go to the mansion? Do you realize how dangerous that was? I was worried. I thought you.. I thought something might have happened to you." 

Your eyebrows shot up and you chuckled dryly, "Bruce Wayne gives a shit about someone? Well maybe I should try to get myself killed more often just to hear you care about me, even if it's just a little bit." 

"Don't." The way he spoke made you look at him. It was authoritative, and it was stern. The hard expression on his face screamed he wasn't in the mood for your sarcasm. He held your jaw tightly as he leaned down to speak closely to you, "don't ever say that again. I can't lose you too. I don't want to. And I would do anything to ensure your safety." 

"You want me to be safe?" You pursed your lips together and tilted your head back, almost as if you were trying to make up for the height difference between the two of you.  Bruce kept his lips tightly pressed together, eyebrows knitted into a perpetual withdrawn expression and cold blue eyes bored into your own. He nodded slowly, unsure as to where you were going with this. You brought your hands up his face and held it much like he had done mere minutes ago, "then let me in. The safest place for me is with you and you know that." 

Bruce averted his eyes and shook his head, trying to move his face away from your touch, "You really believe that? Look what happened tonight. You're going to end up hurt if you stay with me." 

"Well that's a risk I'm willing to take." You held his face tight between your hands as you looked up at him. If only he could see how you looked at him he would know how much you would do for him, maybe then he would understand why you stayed, why you always went back to him despite him always pushing you away and breaking your heart. "Let me take that risk, Bruce. It's my choice. Not yours." 

If only you knew how much it scared him to take that risk. Not many things scared him anymore, but the idea that he could lose you was far more haunting than any of the things he has done in the last two years. And that made him weak, he couldn't have that either. He couldn't allow himself the luxury of being afraid, because loving you scared him. So breaking your heart time and time again was easier than feeling what he felt tonight. But he couldn't let you go either. And it was selfish. All he could ever do was hurt you. And you would always go back, no matter how much it hurt to love him too.