𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟕- 𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊

SONG: NO HOTEL by Lykke Li

Three more days passed, and Clara had never felt so lonely. Not a word from Batman, or Bruce Wayne, or even her maid. She even called out of work that Friday. She started to wonder if the rest of her life would look like this since she was in Gotham. Without her brother things felt hopeless, especially since she discovered her family's business was being supported by drugs. Every time she left a building she checked her surroundings, and kept her hand on her keys at all times.

At night she began to draw again in an old sketch book that had laid untouched for months. She was good at it.

That night the rain poured down hard over Gotham, and she laid in her bed sketching away by the lamp. Clara had drawn Batman earlier, and now she was drawing Bruce Wayne. He had been on her mind a lot, so she sketched him in pen. She paid attention to his deep set, tired eyes and his sharp jawline. Tired eyes. Suddenly a bright flash of lightning poured through the large doors to the balcony, and she swore she saw Batman's shadow from outside. She threw the book down and jumped up as the thunder clapped loudly. She looked out the door and saw no one, so she opened it and went outside, desperately trying to find the Batman.

"Batman! I know you're out here!" she squinted through the rain as it drenched her. She still saw no one. "I know I'm not crazy!" she cried out in frustration.

Unable to see far through the rain, she decided to go back inside. As she turned around, she was met by the man who had cast the shadow, standing in front of her door. Clara jumped in surprise, gasping. He stared down at her curiously as rain dripped down his cowl. Another flash of lightning came.

"Why are you here?" she called out angrily. "Go inside, you're going to get sick." he spoke calmly. Now more irritated, Clara rolled her eyes and walked past him inside her room. He followed her inside, and they both dripped water all over the floor. "Why are you here?" she repeated, shivering. Batman closed the door behind him, sighing, "I, I..."

Clara scoffed, "You can't just watch me outside my window with no explanation. What do you want?" she asked, scowling. He said nothing, and turned to look to the sketchbook on her bed. "You're good at that." he spoke quietly again. "Can you stop avoiding my fucking question?" she walked over to the bed and snatched up the book. Water from her hand smeared the ink.

"I thought you couldn't keep putting me in harms way?" she slammed the book shut and glared up at him. "I can't." he replied, stepping back some. She scoffed again, walking towards him, "Do you hear yourself?" "I... wanted to check on you." Batman whispered, looking slightly sad. Clara shook her head and turned away. He grabbed her arm, stopping her from walking away.

Saying nothing, he put his hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her shirt aside to look at the wound from a few days prior. It had healed over, but was still red. Clara was silent, breathing quickly as his touch sent chills down her spine. He observed her shoulder as his finger traced the wound gently. He exhaled and looked at her now, pulling her shirt back over her shoulder.

Clara looked back, studying him,

and she decided to kiss him.

She leaned up and kissed the Batman as he still held her arm, and she rested her hand on his shoulder. He leaned down and she could feel his slow breath against her cheek, kissing her back. He placed a finger under her chin as he kissed her bottom lip slowly. Clara thought her heart would beat out of her chest until Batman suddenly pulled away. His hand still lingered on her chin and she looked into his tired eyes.

"Who are you under there?" she whispered, tracing her finger across his cheek. "Someone who shouldn't have come here tonight." he whispered back, clenching his jaw. Clara blinked in surprise, unable to speak. The Batman walked away from her and opened her door. "I'm sorry." he spoke through the rain, before disappearing into the shadows.

The rest of the night Clara laid awake, replaying what happened over and over again. She felt embarrassed and alone, wishing she had someone to talk to.