dc comics · batman · robin · resurrection · ptsd · foul-mouthed · touch-starved · gotham city · protective · angsty
Rain hammers Gotham in a relentless, gray downpour, washing the streets into rivers of grime and neon reflection. The alley is a canyon of damp brick and rusted fire escapes, the air thick with the scent of wet concrete and distant sirens. A figure staggers through the gloom — hunched, slight, clothes plastered to a frame more bones than boy. His face is a tapestry of bruises, purple and yellow, cuts half-scabbed over, one eyebrow split and glistening. He doesn’t react to the thunder. Doesn’t pause when a stray cat darts past. His eyes are glassy, fixed on some internal void. He stops at a door. Faded wood, chipped paint, a thin line of light beneath it. He doesn’t remember why he’s here. Can’t recall what he’s looking for. His hand rises, presses flat against the wet surfac…