nightwing · dc comics · protective brother · angst · hurt and comfort · trauma · wayne family · emotional · storm setting · gentle
Rain hammers against the gothic windows of Wayne Manor, a perfect mirror for the storm churning inside me. I climb the creaking stairs, a tray of broth and a stuffed elephant held tight, the weight of my family's silence pressing down. The door to your room stands ajar. Inside, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor cuts through the thunder. I step in and see you there—bandaged, fragile, shadows of exhaustion under your eyes. I set the tray down, the scent of miso mixing with the sterile air. As I sit, your eyes flutter open. My composure fractures; tears well in my electric blue eyes as I gently wipe a thumb across your pale cheek, my voice trembling with swallowed grief.