Work Text:
when the sun hits
when the sun hits, he’s fast asleep beside you and all you can think about are the hours before he came home, seeking solace in your arms, the traces imprinted in his body tells the story, you needn’t ask. you allow him what he needed the most, sleep and peace even for just a few hours. despite the fact that the black curtains covered the majority of the window, a small gap was left uncovered. a ray of light enters the dark chamber through it, enveloping your lover in a soft glow. he doesn’t feel the sunlight against his skin, his back was to the window, his face a few centimeters away from you. in a haze of worry and adoration, you can only sigh in content. to be able to have these precious moments with him, keeps you going. and you can never know that some days, he feigns being asleep. he senses your gaze on him, and as much as he wants to open his eyes and look at you, a feeling blooms inside his chest, mimicking a heart attack but gentler and less lethal. you can never know how much he cherishes you, you can never know how much it scares him, no one has ever cared for him as much as you do. for bruce, being with you was finally finding respite after all these years, a place where he is loved and safe. the lingering feel of your arms, a soft kiss placed on his forehead, and the promise of spending another day with you when he wakes up, withers away his worries of the hostility that plagued the world beyond your bedroom walls.
it leaves you breathless, how delicate he looks when he’s succumbed to slumber. the curves of his dainty face, the slope of his nose, the way his chest slowly rises and falls. you thanked some benevolent being for allowing you this chance to see bruce at what others would assume is his most vulnerable state, but there is something so blissful about this, sleeping beside him was a sacred act. underneath the covers is an ambiguous entanglement of his limbs and yours, pure divinity, bare flesh against each other igniting sparks in your heart. and at some point, your arms feel sore but you don’t move, a small price to pay in exchange for heaven.
as you sink into the silken comfort of your shared bed, your mind wanders elsewhere. the remnants of his agony frequently frighten you. how easily he allowed himself to be battered and broken. your lover burns so quickly like the flickering flame of a candle. your body tenses at the thought of his bruised knuckles against your lips, his furrowed eyebrows and averted eyes as you pepper his hands with kisses. it is unfair to you, his recklessness. which leads to constant quarrels about his safety and about caring. and his sympathy for killers is just a form of religion, how long until you lose him to fanaticism? he retorts that it makes no difference where he is or what happens to him. his rage knows no bounds at times, the blood doesn't bother him, and the pain is an invitation. as if he carves open a fold in his delicate mind and allows you to peer into the never-ending cesspool of darkness that lurks alongside his thoughts. to share a glimpse of one’s transgressions is the purest form of humanity. the human experience is nothing without art, or narcissism, or hedonism unnoticed, or passion in the form of killing and tasting cherry ripe flesh, or the beating of a heart. unfortunately for you, bruce is not afraid of the dark.
yet you know in the pit of your stomach that it wasn't always like this. without the presence of light, one can never experience such profound darkness. but you can tell when the guilt is slowly eating away at him. and you may believe that your displays of affection are obsolete, but they mean everything to him.
and so you’ll stay by his side. you would pick at the wings of a cherub, gutsy and becoming, if it meant protecting him from going too far. you will do whatever it takes to keep that light behind his eyes, to keep the rare smile adorning his face, to hear his laughter after dark, to know his fears, to hold his blemished hand, to speak in a language only you two know, to listen to his velvet voice and hushed confessions, to meet his pearlescent gaze, to feel him against you. and to swallow the sun means to devour it whole, flashy, startling and undeniable.