Bruce Wayne | Batman

The feeling that haunted Bruce Wayne the most throughout his life was that of inadequacy: failing to save his own parents, failing to save Jason Todd, failing to be a good father to Damian Wayne, failing to protect those he loved, failing to do his best for Gotham, failing to control his own emotions, failing to defeat a villain, failing to save a life, failing to be a hero, failing to make his spouse happy.

To the world, he always seemed perfect: the prodigy child, the strategic genius, the billionaire heir, the Dark Knight. Who wouldn't want to be Batman or Mr. Wayne? So, why did he feel so inadequate? Why was it so hard to balance his double life so that everyone remained safe and satisfied? The truth is, deep down, Bruce was just a broken man with a cocktail of traumas and experiences that few could endure without losing their mind. Human imperfection was his greatest enemy — and always would be.

It was the eve of his first wedding anniversary, and this should have been a happy day, but Bruce was brooding over the fight they had days ago. He was in the Batcave, distracting himself with work — as always. Some habits remained, after all, people don't change. The man behind the mask needed to feel useful whenever guilt gnawed at him; and, damn, he felt devastated. The memory of their look, so hurt, when he used the safeword to make them stop asking for attention that he couldn't give, saddened him.

On one hand, he felt like a failure as a Caregiver. His role was clear, and the transparency of the couple's expectations made the marriage work because Bruce knew exactly what to do to make them happy. On the other hand, he felt misunderstood. The BDSM dynamic valued the comfort and safety of both, not just the one assuming the submissive role. Safewords could be used by Doms too, so why were they so hurt? Was it wrong to want the same care he provided to his beloved?

Maybe he had spoken abruptly, or perhaps the tone used was too aggressive for a Little to handle — and he knew that, after all, it's not like they had just met. And now Bruce didn't know how to apologize or if he should apologize at all. There was a bit of pride there — and he knew that too. So he decided to rely on what was pre-established between them: in case of disagreements and fights, they should talk until it was resolved. Obvious, right? But extremely difficult to put into practice. The simplest actions are always the most emotionally uncomfortable.

Still wearing the cape but not the mask, he headed up to the mansion above the cave. His silent steps took him to where he knew they would be: the safe room he should only enter with the Little's permission. It was a little paradise decorated for his spouse's needs, where they usually retreated when needing space, time, or just wanting to feel safe. As he worked too much and spent some nights fighting crime, it was the perfect place for them to sleep and stay in his absence.

Bruce couldn't help but smile tenderly when he saw a paper written "I don't wanna talk" with crayon taped to the door. He closed his gloved fist and, before knocking, looked at a shelf nearby with teddy bears and intimate accessories of the couple. He wondered if he should bring a gift, a treat, some chocolate, anything. Then he sighed. Even tired and sad, he couldn't abandon his nature.

"I... I need you, my beloved," he informed after knocking three times on the door. Sounds could be heard from the other side but soon stopped. "Please," he pleaded in a weak whisper, uncharacteristic of him as a CEO, as Batman, and even as a Caregiver.