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Bruce didn’t want to wake up.
The simple act of opening his eyes took monumental strength and getting ready for the day felt like an overwhelming task.
Sometimes he didn’t even get up at all. He just couldn’t do it, and no one (not even Alfred) could get him out of bed.
Not to say that he was never a morning person. When he was younger and the manor was a bit more full, Bruce was up with the sun, excited for school and whatever else he had planned that day. Ready to join his parents for breakfast, and excited to tell them everything about his dreams.
(He didn’t really dream anymore either.)
Just the thought of having to walk through the almost empty manor (the halls echoing with ghosts he didn’t want to confront) and having to sit at the just as empty dining room table (built for more people than had lived here in years) often made him want to curl up and waste the day away in his room.
But he couldn’t do that.
Eventually his body would refuse to stay asleep, no matter how much he wanted to, and he would inevitably find himself spacing out at the dining room table.
—
Once he was up, the day didn’t get any more interesting. He often found himself doing the most mundane things just to waste time before night fell.
He never left the house.
(Unless, of course, there was a gala, although he didn’t really go to those either anymore).
Alfred, of course, tries many different strategies to get him involved in the world but it doesn’t often work.
It’s ok.
He’s just bidding his time anyway.
---
Eventually, the sun sets and some feeling returns to Bruce. He makes his way downstairs and suits up.
It’s not healthy, and it’s not really what he needs.
But it’s the only reason he gets up anymore.
---
Finally, one day, Alfred draws the line.
When Bruce comes downstairs, Alfred informs him that he has plans today, something he can’t get out of.
No, not even for Batman.
---
Bruce sighs and looks up from his plate of perfectly cooked eggs, “What could possibly be a more important use of my time, Alfred?”
Alfred’s eyebrow raises at the tone of voice, causing Bruce to feel immediately bad and just a little embarrassed. Clearly it shows on his face because Alfred doesn’t comment out loud, and instead moves on.
“Well Master Bruce, it has come to my attention that you do not leave this house”
“Well-”
“Your nightly activities do not count. You do not leave the house and I believe it is becoming detrimental to your mental health.”
Bruce closes his eyes and leans back in his chair. So maybe he hadn’t been leaving the house lately, he hadn’t really noticed.
Alfred continued on,
“Because of this I bought you a ticket to the circus.”
“The circus?”
Bruce’s eyes open in confusion and he looks up at Alfred.
“Yes, Haly’s Circus is in town and I thought it would be good for you to get out of the house for once.”
Bruce sits back and thinks about it for a second. He doesn’t quite want to go to be perfectly honest. The thought of having to put on a happy face in front of all of those people makes him feel a little sick inside. On the other hand, maybe Alfred is right.
Bruce has felt nothing for so long that something in him longs to feel something again. Maybe going out would do him so good. Maybe it would make him feel a little more. . . Awake.
He puts his fork down and looks up at Alfred in defeat.
“Why not?”
---
It’s. . . Bright.
That’s the first thing Bruce notices as he steps out of the car.
It’s bright, it’s loud and it’s a little overwhelming. He suppresses the urge to crawl right back into the car and he takes a step towards the entrance of the circus.
Before he gets too far, Alfred rolls down the window and waves him over,
“I will be back later tonight, I expect you to have fun and I expect you not to get in any trouble”
Bruce stops himself from complaining about being talked to like a child. Alfred won’t care.
So instead he just nods and walks into the circus.
—
Once he’s there, it’s actually not so bad. The actual circus performance doesn’ t start for a while longer so everyone is enjoying the games set up around the circus grounds. Bruce doesn’t actually find himself doing much, but he does find himself interested in watching the other people in attendance.
There’s a wide range of customers, from full families to teenagers with friends to young couples on first dates. Seeing all these people with the people they love makes Bruce feel a strange combination of joy and sadness that leaves an ache in his gut.
He pretends he feels nothing.
Bruce finds himself walking towards the large tent in the center of the circus grounds. There’s still quite a bit of time before the show starts, but he finds himself drawn there anyways.
Suddenly a loud shout breaks him out of his thoughts,
“Tim!”
He turns around just in time to see a toddler moving at a speed that’s actually quite impressive for the kid's size.
The kid, (Tim?), has clearly broken free from his parents with a goal in mind. He is running with more purpose that is usually seen from someone his age, directly towards the circus tent.
This also means he is running directly at Bruce.
Before he even thinks about it, Bruce’s instincts cause him to snatch the kid right off the ground before he can get any further.
Tim looks at Bruce in obvious shock, clearly not expecting any roadblocks in his path to freedom. (Looking at him closer the kid can only be about 3, he’s so tiny)
Before Bruce can do much, Tim’s parents catch up to him. Tim’s parents, who he vaguely recognizes as his neighbors Jack and Janet Drake.
“Thank you so much for catching him! He’s really excited to see the acrobats.” Janet takes Tim from Bruce and explains almost breathlessly at the same time.
At the word acrobat, Tim’s eyes light up and he starts squirming in his mother’s arms, clearly impatient with the current situation.
Despite himself Bruce finds himself smiling.
“That’s ok, I understand,” He leans down so he’s talking to Tim, “I’m excited to see the acrobats too.”
Tim smiles up at him and giggles a bit before patting Bruce right on the face.
Bruce laughs.
—
After the Drakes take their leave (something about backstage passes?) Bruce finds himself entering the tent.
He climbs his way up to his seat and waits a bit for the performance to start.
He is not disappointed.
The whole show is wildly more entertaining than Bruce had expected, to the point that he would even say he’s having fun. (Alfred will be proud).
Finally, Haly himself walks out to thank everyone for coming and to introduce the final act,
“Everyone, it is my absolute pleasure to introduce The Flying Graysons!”
The Flying Graysons are incredible.
Bruce finds himself fascinated with the way they move through the air, they maneuver like they truly are flying. The most impressive one of all is the little boy, flipping through the air right alongside his parents. He seems to almost defy the laws of physics with the way he leaps from swing to swing.
It looks like magic.
But magic doesn't last forever.
—
When the acrobats fall, all eyes in the crowd track it with clear horror in their eyes.
Bruce isn't looking at them.
He can't look away from the poor little boy, the kid that had just been flying like a bird, stuck up on a platform that suddenly feels much too high. But only Bruce is looking.
(That isn’t quite true, somewhere else in the crowd a young boy, no older than three, is looking up in horror. He’d been waiting for the young acrobat to do a trick, he’d promised)
Bruce has a tragic wave of empathy wash over him and he knows, suddenly, exactly what he needs to do.
Hopefully Alfred will understand.