TheGioBlog

i think that should’ve always been the first warning.

because loving a man who built his entire existence around surviving pain is like standing too close to a collapsing building and convincing yourself the debris somehow won’t reach you.

and yet, selina kyle fell anyway.

no one, not even her, knew that she could still be this pathetic.

not for the mask.
not for gotham’s mythology.
not for the billionaire everyone watched from afar with fascination and envy.

she fell for bruce.

for the man hidden beneath decades of armor so carefully constructed that even he no longer knew where the performance ended and the loneliness began.

and maybe that was the tragedy from the start.

because there was something unbearably sad about the way bruce wayne existed in the world.
something permanently exhausted behind the sarcasm, the distant stare and the desperate need to appear untouchable all the time.

selina noticed it far too quickly.

she realized men like bruce don’t disappear because they feel nothing.

they disappear because feeling destroys them.

and god.

she loved him anyway.

she loved the silence.
the gentleness hidden in tiny details.
the way his touch dismantled her entire body with terrifying ease.

not in a vulgar way.

in a painfully human way.

as if every wall her body had spent years building suddenly collapsed every time he pulled her close.
as if her heart, so used to surviving alone, forgot for a few rare seconds how to remain in constant defense mode.

and that terrified her.

because people like selina kyle survive everything.

they survive abandonment.
they survive heartbreak.
they survive becoming cold enough to keep living afterward.

she knew she could survive losing him too.

that was never the problem.

the problem was that bruce wayne didn’t feel like someone she wanted to survive from.

he felt like home.

and people like selina never had a home long enough not to panic when they finally found one.

so his silence turns everything inside her into war.

and she thinks.

god, how she thinks.

she wonders if he hates her.
if he thinks she’s too emotional.
too intense.
too difficult to love.

because loving batman means loving a man who knows how to save entire cities but still doesn’t know what to do when someone places their heart in his hands.

and maybe that’s the cruelest part.

because she genuinely believes they could’ve worked.

there’s no lack of chemistry.
no lack of tenderness.
no lack of desire.

there’s only this tragic detail between a deeply emotional woman and a man who disappears whenever emotions become too heavy to hold.

while she, every time silence arrives, unravels trying to understand whether she’s still loved somewhere inside him.

and maybe the most humiliating part is the guilt.

the guilt of feeling too much.
the guilt of needing reassurance.
the guilt of realizing her entire body reacts to his absence like it’s a physical threat.

because she knows what it means to love emotionally complicated people.

and sometimes she’s terrified bruce looks at her and thinks:

this is too much.

too much responsibility.
too much vulnerability.
too much emotion.

because loving someone like selina requires presence.

and men like batman know how to survive anything except being emotionally needed by someone they love.

still, she remains hopelessly in love with him.

with the different touch.
the different kiss.
the way his body against hers makes every alarm inside her finally go quiet for a few impossibly rare seconds.

with the sadness hidden in his eyes.
with the intimacy that existed between them long before there was enough time to explain it.

and maybe that’s what love after trauma really is.

not butterflies.
not poetry.
not movies.

just the terrifying realization that someone finally made you want to stay when your entire life only taught you how to survive by leaving first.