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Description
Bruce wasn't sure he could do it anymore. It wasn’t fair, not to her. For him to be here, to be near her. It wasn’t fair to her, but it wasn’t fair that he couldn’t have the one thing he wanted. Her. Thanks to the other guy, that monster, it was impossible. Impossible to always hold her hand, to see her smile, and hear her voice. He fights back the urge to punch the wall, opting instead to shove his freshly packed suitcase onto the floor and plopping down on to the bed mentally exhausted. With two fingers at his throbbing temple, Bruce looks over to the clock. His flight leaves soon. A one way ticket to Calcutta. He slips his head into his hand and sighs, paying no mind to the wetness on his hands nor the cold breeze from the open window.

I've been away a year and a day
You recognize love after the fact
You did what you did and that was that

The first time he met her one winter was at a small coffee shop in downtown London. It’d been a rough day—running and hiding and all—and a cup of coffee sounded heavenly at that point. He’d run right into her spilling coffee everywhere. He’d apologized a million times already before she could even get a word out. Hurriedly he kneeled down to hand the woman her personalized coffee cup, fully expecting her wrath. Instead he was greeted with a smile and a handkerchief. Bruce eyed her uncertainly and she laughed, melodic and sweet.

“Well aren’t you going to take it?” she teased playfully, a gentle smirk upon her lips.

Absentmindedly Bruce takes the cloth and wipes the spilled coffee from his winter coat and she nods at the sight.

“I really am sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” she elegantly waves a hand as if shaking off the absurdity of his apology, “Life goes on and the world still has more coffee. Your coat on the other hand…”

“This old thing? Nothing to lose sleep over,” Bruce jokes awkwardly as he looks down to the worn jacket.

“I’m (y/n), by the way,” she stretches out a hand and Bruce eyes it curiously before a slight smile graces his lips.

“Bruce. Pleasure to meet you.”

Don't say words that you don't mean
When I'm gone, please speak well of me

Bruce could honestly admit that he was smitten. She was perfect. She was sweet, thoughtful, fun, and she always laughed at his terrible jokes. He’d never been much of a believer in fate and destiny and the all the likes, but the development of this relationship seemed too good to be true, planned even.

She liked to dance and when she danced Bruce found he liked to dance himself too.
Bruce taught her how to really cook and she showed him the wonders of being a pâtissier.
She didn’t understand a lick of his work, but she loved to listen to him talk about it.

Bruce enjoyed going down to her bakery on lazy Wednesdays and watch her bake, flour on her hands and cheeks and smile plastered on her face. And she liked the feel of his eyes on her as she worked. She was also rather fond of the look of flour in his hair. They’d often require long showers when they got home to remove the baked good essentials from their hair and person.

Bruce loved when her hair was wet, the way he could run his fingers through curling locks. She quite liked his het wet too. It always meant she’d get to blow dry it and Bruce always looked like a puppy when she did so.

Bruce loved her eyes, her hair, her smile, and everything that came with her and you felt the very same.

And all this bliss because of a spilled cup of coffee.

Looking back now
I only wish I had been kinder
Did I ever know love, did I ever know love?
And could I have been blinder?

Eagerly you throw the front door open, setting you purse and keys on the long table by the door. Slipping off your coat as you grinned to yourself. You’d manage to find some free time down at the bakery in order to make mocha cake the doctor was so keen on. You’d noticed the man had seemed ever so down lately and you wanted to cheer him up as best you could.

“Bruce! I have a surprise for you!” you called out as you hung your coat on the rack before locking the front door and taking the cake to the kitchen, humming as you went.

When Bruce didn’t answer, you called for him once more, a curious smile slipping onto your face. Perhaps he’d had a long day back at the lab and opted for a nap when he returned from work. Quietly you make your way to the bedroom, secretly eager to see Bruce’s sleeping face.

The room felt…vacant and not just because Bruce was nowhere to be found. You made your way over to the window, shivering as you went, to shut the cracked window before turning to lean back on it. There was a churning in your chest, a pang of foreboding. Bruce wasn’t here and it felt as though he never would be again. With a trembling sigh you searched about the rooms, going through drawers and the closet, visibly shaken. The darkness was creeping and sinking in—dark, betraying, and lonely.

Was it something you did? Something you’d said, perhaps? You sat down heavily on the bed with increasing difficulty with breathing. Through the rush of your aching mind you noticed the (f/c) envelope on the pillow. You quickly take into to hand, carefully pulling it open and the contents out. A letter written with his flawless penmanship.

Don't hold back all your love for someday, for someday

The tears pooled and overflowed as you clutch the letter to your chest. The sound of the front door opening sent you to your feet and out the room.

“Bruce!”

Throwing yourself into his arms, the man barely managed to prevent a nasty fall. Your grip about his waist is fierce as you mentally and physically vow to never let him go.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” he asks gently, running a timid hand through your hair.

You take a step back and smile, wiping the tears from your eyes, “I’m fine. Now that you’re back, I’m fine.”

You laugh aloud as you take him in. His face, his brows that always furrowed when he ever he was deep in thought, the lips that could kiss you unlike any others. All of it—all of him—was there, as it should be.

“I noticed we’d run out of milk, so I made a quick run to the market.”

“Of course! Yes, of course!” you exclaim only just now noticing the plastic bag in his hand.

He looks at you curiously and you grin widely, “And this?” you ask holding up the letter.

A heated blush spread across his cheeks as he awkwardly turns his attention to removing his coat to avoid looking at you as he spoke.

“Well, I’d noticed how tired we’d both been lately and I thought why not. I started packing my things but I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer to take, being a woman and all. So I thought I should wait for you to get back. I mean I don’t know how many out—!”

You cut him off with the passionate press of your lips to his and he willingly follows your lead, pulling you close with a hand in your hair.

I would say that I'm sorry if it would do any good
But to never regret means you have to forget
and I don't think that I could

You pull back and laugh and laugh and laugh. It’s almost painful how relieved you are.

“Really? Is everything alright?”

“Alright! Everything is better than alright. I thought you were leaving me! Instead I find two tickets to Maui! Maui, Bruce!”

You laugh again as you throw your arms around him, “I really thought you were gone.”

Bruce frowns as he inhales the scent of your (favorite fruit) scented shampoo. He shakes his head and holds you tightly.

“No. I’m still here.”

You chuckle into his neck and reaffirm you grip, standing on your tiptoes to lessen even more distance.

“I don’t think I could leave you if I tried.”

Don't say words that you don't mean
When I'm gone, please speak well of me

Description
Bruce wasn't sure he could do it anymore. It wasn’t fair, not to her. For him to be here, to be near her. It wasn’t fair to her, but it wasn’t fair that he couldn’t have the one thing he wanted. Her. Thanks to the other guy, that monster, it was impossible. Impossible to always hold her hand, to see her smile, and hear her voice. He fights back the urge to punch the wall, opting instead to shove his freshly packed suitcase onto the floor and plopping down on to the bed mentally exhausted. With two fingers at his throbbing temple, Bruce looks over to the clock. His flight leaves soon. A one way ticket to Calcutta. He slips his head into his hand and sighs, paying no mind to the wetness on his hands nor the cold breeze from the open window.

I've been away a year and a day
You recognize love after the fact
You did what you did and that was that

The first time he met her one winter was at a small coffee shop in downtown London. It’d been a rough day—running and hiding and all—and a cup of coffee sounded heavenly at that point. He’d run right into her spilling coffee everywhere. He’d apologized a million times already before she could even get a word out. Hurriedly he kneeled down to hand the woman her personalized coffee cup, fully expecting her wrath. Instead he was greeted with a smile and a handkerchief. Bruce eyed her uncertainly and she laughed, melodic and sweet.

“Well aren’t you going to take it?” she teased playfully, a gentle smirk upon her lips.

Absentmindedly Bruce takes the cloth and wipes the spilled coffee from his winter coat and she nods at the sight.

“I really am sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” she elegantly waves a hand as if shaking off the absurdity of his apology, “Life goes on and the world still has more coffee. Your coat on the other hand…”

“This old thing? Nothing to lose sleep over,” Bruce jokes awkwardly as he looks down to the worn jacket.

“I’m (y/n), by the way,” she stretches out a hand and Bruce eyes it curiously before a slight smile graces his lips.

“Bruce. Pleasure to meet you.”

Don't say words that you don't mean
When I'm gone, please speak well of me

Bruce could honestly admit that he was smitten. She was perfect. She was sweet, thoughtful, fun, and she always laughed at his terrible jokes. He’d never been much of a believer in fate and destiny and the all the likes, but the development of this relationship seemed too good to be true, planned even.

She liked to dance and when she danced Bruce found he liked to dance himself too.
Bruce taught her how to really cook and she showed him the wonders of being a pâtissier.
She didn’t understand a lick of his work, but she loved to listen to him talk about it.

Bruce enjoyed going down to her bakery on lazy Wednesdays and watch her bake, flour on her hands and cheeks and smile plastered on her face. And she liked the feel of his eyes on her as she worked. She was also rather fond of the look of flour in his hair. They’d often require long showers when they got home to remove the baked good essentials from their hair and person.

Bruce loved when her hair was wet, the way he could run his fingers through curling locks. She quite liked his het wet too. It always meant she’d get to blow dry it and Bruce always looked like a puppy when she did so.

Bruce loved her eyes, her hair, her smile, and everything that came with her and you felt the very same.

And all this bliss because of a spilled cup of coffee.

Looking back now
I only wish I had been kinder
Did I ever know love, did I ever know love?
And could I have been blinder?

Eagerly you throw the front door open, setting you purse and keys on the long table by the door. Slipping off your coat as you grinned to yourself. You’d manage to find some free time down at the bakery in order to make mocha cake the doctor was so keen on. You’d noticed the man had seemed ever so down lately and you wanted to cheer him up as best you could.

“Bruce! I have a surprise for you!” you called out as you hung your coat on the rack before locking the front door and taking the cake to the kitchen, humming as you went.

When Bruce didn’t answer, you called for him once more, a curious smile slipping onto your face. Perhaps he’d had a long day back at the lab and opted for a nap when he returned from work. Quietly you make your way to the bedroom, secretly eager to see Bruce’s sleeping face.

The room felt…vacant and not just because Bruce was nowhere to be found. You made your way over to the window, shivering as you went, to shut the cracked window before turning to lean back on it. There was a churning in your chest, a pang of foreboding. Bruce wasn’t here and it felt as though he never would be again. With a trembling sigh you searched about the rooms, going through drawers and the closet, visibly shaken. The darkness was creeping and sinking in—dark, betraying, and lonely.

Was it something you did? Something you’d said, perhaps? You sat down heavily on the bed with increasing difficulty with breathing. Through the rush of your aching mind you noticed the (f/c) envelope on the pillow. You quickly take into to hand, carefully pulling it open and the contents out. A letter written with his flawless penmanship.

Don't hold back all your love for someday, for someday

The tears pooled and overflowed as you clutch the letter to your chest. The sound of the front door opening sent you to your feet and out the room.

“Bruce!”

Throwing yourself into his arms, the man barely managed to prevent a nasty fall. Your grip about his waist is fierce as you mentally and physically vow to never let him go.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” he asks gently, running a timid hand through your hair.

You take a step back and smile, wiping the tears from your eyes, “I’m fine. Now that you’re back, I’m fine.”

You laugh aloud as you take him in. His face, his brows that always furrowed when he ever he was deep in thought, the lips that could kiss you unlike any others. All of it—all of him—was there, as it should be.

“I noticed we’d run out of milk, so I made a quick run to the market.”

“Of course! Yes, of course!” you exclaim only just now noticing the plastic bag in his hand.

He looks at you curiously and you grin widely, “And this?” you ask holding up the letter.

A heated blush spread across his cheeks as he awkwardly turns his attention to removing his coat to avoid looking at you as he spoke.

“Well, I’d noticed how tired we’d both been lately and I thought why not. I started packing my things but I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer to take, being a woman and all. So I thought I should wait for you to get back. I mean I don’t know how many out—!”

You cut him off with the passionate press of your lips to his and he willingly follows your lead, pulling you close with a hand in your hair.

I would say that I'm sorry if it would do any good
But to never regret means you have to forget
and I don't think that I could

You pull back and laugh and laugh and laugh. It’s almost painful how relieved you are.

“Really? Is everything alright?”

“Alright! Everything is better than alright. I thought you were leaving me! Instead I find two tickets to Maui! Maui, Bruce!”

You laugh again as you throw your arms around him, “I really thought you were gone.”

Bruce frowns as he inhales the scent of your (favorite fruit) scented shampoo. He shakes his head and holds you tightly.

“No. I’m still here.”

You chuckle into his neck and reaffirm you grip, standing on your tiptoes to lessen even more distance.

“I don’t think I could leave you if I tried.”

Don't say words that you don't mean
When I'm gone, please speak well of me