ANGELS WEEP || bruce wayne

the eighteenth

🦇

Bruce woke up how he always did: screaming.

The soundproofed walls were his idea. After years of Alfred waking in the middle of the night to the sound of someone being tortured, Bruce decided to let him sleep and helped him put up large pads to block the noise. They stood out against the lavish wood carvings, but Bruce had always valued function over looks, even from a young age, so the contrast didn't bother him.

But, for the first time in his life, he regretted it.

He slid out of bed, exhausted, needing more sleep, but he knew that he wouldn't be getting any.

Stacey's door was cracked open, a strip of light streaming into the empty hallway.

He used one finger and prodded open the door, cringing as the hinges squeaked with disuse.

"You can come in, Bruce."

He cursed in his head. He could never hide anything from her.

Opening the door, he slid in, pressing it shut behind him. He turned around, but did a double take.

Stacey was on her bed, knees drawn up under her chin, sitting at the very top left of her huge bed. She looked exactly how she did when they were little. She looked like she belonged there, in that room, in that moment.

Bruce let out a breath. Something in him clicked, and a small part of him didn't want to let her ever leave this room. He wanted to lock her in, keep her safe, never let her out of his sight.

He had only heard snippets of her conversation with Lorenzo. But he had heard him swear loyalty to her. To the Donna Maroni.

The look on her face after he finished his vow made him worry after her, worry about her future. About their future.

She looked up, barely seeing his form against the black door.

"I can't sleep," she admitted, and he nodded, the pale flash of his cheekbone catching the light.

"Me either."

She beckoned him forward, catching his arm when he came to a stop beside her and pulling him onto the mattress.

His movements were jerky, nervous, and he sat kneeling, looking at her on what to do next.

"Bruce, you're allowed to lay down."

"I..." He trailed off at the sight of her bare legs slipping under the sheets, fingers gently lifting the edge so he would join her.

"Maybe we would sleep better together?"

He halted his movements and stared at her, ice-blue eyes melting with panic.

"Or not. It's up to you."

He gulped, and Stacey watched as he slipped his legs under the sheets and laid down, staring straight up at the ceiling, unwilling to meet her questioning eyes.

"You okay?"

He nodded, laying his arm across his eyes.

"Oh, I'll get the light." Stacey leaned over him and Bruce took his arm from his eyes, hiding his hands under his abdomen as they began to shake. The pressure of her stomach against his, her chest pressing down against his side-

He took in a breath as she returned to her spot beside him, laying on her side to watch his cheek burn a bright red.

"Sorry, I should have asked."

He didn't reply. He looked down, his finger making a slow crawl towards her's.

Stacey sighed, watching it. "You know, Bruce, we used to sleep in the same bed all the time."