Jizzman (batman x jesus)

🎂🎀Chapter 1: The Shadows in My Head⭐️🎀

I don't know exactly when it all started. The feeling that I was... different. Not the kind of different that people notice, like the loud kid in class who always gets detention. No, I was the quiet kind of different. The kind where people only see you when they need something and ignore you the rest of the time. It's like I was made of shadows, fading in and out of people's lives. And maybe that's what I became. A shadow.

It wasn't like I wanted to be invisible. But after everything, it just felt easier. I'd watch the streets at night, hood pulled up over my head, eyes focused on the sidewalks and alleys where bad stuff happened. I'd seen it all: people sneaking out, graffiti sprayed on walls, and even the occasional fight under the glow of the flickering streetlamps. It was like the city was sick, and I was the only one who could see the disease spreading.

My name is Wayne, but at night, I'm someone else. When the streetlights buzz on, I become Batman. I don't know when I came up with the name; it just sort of... fit. Shadows don't really have names, after all. And I liked the way it sounded, almost like a whisper.

Life wasn't always like this. Before everything went dark, I had friends, a family that cared. But things changed, like the snap of a branch in a quiet forest. My parents split up, and I bounced back and forth like a tennis ball, never staying in one place long enough to feel like I belonged. Mom moved out of the city, and Dad—well, he got too busy with work to notice when I came home or left.

So I started spending my nights outside, blending into the streets, hoping for... I don't know, something to make me feel real. But night after night, it was the same. Just me, the broken bottles on the ground, and the cold air biting my skin.

One night, I saw a group of guys huddled under the bridge near the train tracks. They didn't see me, obviously; nobody ever does. But something about them made me stop and watch. They looked rough, like they didn't belong here any more than I did. They were laughing about something, but it didn't sound happy. It was the kind of laugh people make when they're covering up something bad.

One of them looked my way, and I ducked behind the concrete wall, heart pounding. I'm not afraid of much, but something about their eyes... it was like they could see right through the shadows. I held my breath until they finally turned away and left, their footsteps echoing as they walked off into the night.

That's when I heard a voice.

"Lost?"

I jumped, nearly slipping on the slick pavement. Turning around, I saw someone standing there, cloaked in a plain robe, just as shadowy as I was. His face was gentle, calm, like he was really seeing me for the first time. No one had looked at me like that in ages.

"Who... who are you?" I asked, my voice cracking like dry leaves.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached out a hand, palm open. "Just someone who's been watching the shadows, too," he said with a half-smile.

I stared at him, unsure. Part of me wanted to run, but another part... felt like maybe he was what I'd been looking for all this time.

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I stood there, frozen. I didn't know what to say. The streetlamp behind us cast long shadows on the ground, and I felt like mine stretched on forever. But this guy—he wasn't just standing in my shadow. He was right there, reaching out, like he could pull me out of it.

"I'm good," I said, shoving my hands into my pockets and turning away, pretending like he hadn't just shaken me up.

But he didn't leave. Instead, he chuckled softly, his voice low and warm. "Sometimes we tell ourselves we're fine, even when the shadows get too heavy to carry alone."

I rolled my eyes. This guy sounded like he was out of one of those self-help books my mom always tried to get me to read. But something about his calm, steady voice kept me from walking away.

He noticed and started walking slowly beside me, hands folded in front of him. He wasn't like anyone else I'd met in this city. There was something old about him, like he'd seen it all, yet he was still patient.

We walked in silence for a bit, his footsteps somehow keeping pace with mine, even though I kept changing speeds to shake him off. I had so many questions, but I didn't want to seem desperate. Finally, I muttered, "You didn't answer my question."

"And which question was that?" he asked, still looking ahead, as if he already knew.

I stopped, pulling my hoodie tighter around me. "Who are you? And why do you care?"

He paused, studying me. The silence stretched out, and for a second, I thought he might just disappear into the night, leaving me alone again. But then he spoke.

"My name doesn't matter. But you can call me whatever you'd like," he said, his voice almost like a whisper. "And as for why I care... well, that's because I see something in you, something powerful, even if it's hidden behind a lot of pain."

That hit me harder than I wanted to admit. I wanted to laugh it off, tell him he was wrong. But there was something in his eyes—something that made it impossible to hide. I looked down, kicking a pebble into the gutter.

"So... you just go around giving random strangers therapy?" I asked, trying to sound tough, but my voice was softer than I'd meant it to be.

He chuckled. "Sometimes, if they need it."

The quiet was heavy again, but it felt... different. Like maybe this silence wasn't just me hiding. I was actually sharing it with someone.

I looked up at him. "I guess you see a lot of messed-up people, huh?"

His eyes softened, and he nodded slowly. "I see people who feel lost, people who carry burdens they think they're alone with. And sometimes, just sometimes, they find the courage to let someone help them carry it."

We kept walking, and before I knew it, I was telling him things I hadn't told anyone. About my parents splitting up. About how I felt like I didn't fit in at school, like I was just this empty shadow people ignored. And about how, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was invisible, drifting through the nights without a purpose.

He listened without interrupting, just nodding now and then. When I finally stopped talking, I realized my throat was tight, like I'd just confessed some big secret. And in a way, I had.

"You know," he said after a while, "even shadows have light. They wouldn't exist without it."

I scoffed. "Sounds nice, but what does that mean?"

He looked at me, his eyes glinting with something wise and almost... hopeful. "It means that maybe you're not just a shadow, Wayne. Maybe you're looking for the light you think you lost, but it's still there, waiting for you to see it."

I didn't know what to say. It was like he was peeling back layers I didn't even know I had. We walked in silence for a while, his words turning over and over in my mind.

As we neared the edge of the park, he stopped and turned to face me. "Wayne , I know things feel heavy right now. But remember this: you're not alone, even if it feels that way. There's always someone who sees you, even if you don't see them."

For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like just a shadow. I felt... like someone was really there with me.

As he started to walk away, I called out, "Wait!" He turned, that same patient look on his face.

"Will I see you again?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled softly. "Whenever you need to find the light, I'll be here."

And with that, he turned and disappeared into the night, like he was part of the shadows himself. But this time, the shadows didn't feel so lonely. They felt like... a part of something bigger, something I was only beginning to understand.

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Word count: 1388