Alone
Bruce's sheets were still ruffled from the night before.
But once again, he woke up alone. A vauge part of him was saddened, but the much larger part told him that he couldn't afford a relationship, well an emotional relationship. And as damaging as Alfred thought it was to his mental state, Bruce didn't really mind waking up alone, all the socialites were just a show anyway. He didn't actually care for them.
But somthing inside him did yearn to have the feeling of another person's love, just not the dominant part. Maybe then I won't feel so alone, Bruce shook his head furiously, What? Where did that come from? I'm not alone. I have Alfred. And I could have probably any woman in this town whenever I asked... that's... that's not the same, though is it? Having physical relationships doesn't mean you're not lonely, he closed his eyes and pressed the back of his hands to them.
When he opened his eyes he realised the giant master bedroom around him made him feel small, rather than pride, and he closed his eyes again. He sat like that, with his stomach knotted up with a dark feeling, until he heard a slight knock at the door.
"Master Bruce? Are you feeling unwell?" Alfred creaked the door open slightly. He knew better than to think the random socialite from the night before would still be in the room. He had given up hope of Bruce finding something more than a physical relationship with them, but had found that if Bruce was left to himself after one of them left, he would be in a foul mood for the rest of the day. He would've just sat in the kitchen with his head in his hands. He had noticed that there had been random socialites in his bedroom more often then not on most nights recently, and Bruce always woke up the same way.
Alone.
Alfred knew it was self-destructive. On one hand he knew it was not his place to tell Bruce what he can and cannot do with his social life, but on the other hand he had to watch as the man he considered his son became sadder and sadder by the day.
Alfred is a wise man, and long ago figured out that Bruce used the girls as much as they use him in a way. For a while he forgets the pain of living alone, and they get to brag about being with the billionaire to their friends. But Bruce always woke up with the pain back in his heart, sometimes worse then the night before.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Alfred repeated.
"I'm okay, Alfred," Bruce's reply was muffled in his hands. A short silence filled the room and added to the feeling of Bruce's darkened heart.
"Would you care for breakfast?" Alfred asked hopefully.
"No. Not hungry." Another short silence came.
"Will you at least come downstairs?" Alfred looked pleadingly at the billionaire. Bruce looked back with a similar expression until finally conceeding. He let Alfred lead him to the kitchen in silence.
As they walked Bruce looked at the floor. So many memories floated through his mind. As he passed an empty pedistal outside his room he remembered when he broke the vase once placed there, when he was a child. His parents hadn't been terribly angry, it wasn't an important vase, and his mother helped him pick up the pieces. Bruce's heart ached at the memory.
As they passed the empty doors he was once again reminded of how truly empty the large estate was. Two full time occupants.
When they reached the stairs something in his heart broke a little more as a memory flooded back. When he was seven, he fell asleep in the car. His father took great care to not wake him up as he held him close and ascended the stairs. Bruce stopped walking. He could remember being incredibly sleepy as he buried his head into his father's neck. The memory hurt.
Alfred turned around with a worried expression when he realised Bruce was no longer following him, and was instead looking on the verge of tears at the top of the stairs. No words were spoken from the older man, but he returned to Bruce's side and put a hand on his shoulder.
The tears spilled over in Bruce's eyes.
"I... I need help," he whispered.
"With what, Master Bruce?" I've haven't heard Bruce admit emotional weakness since he was a boy...
"Everything." Alfred moved his hand to the billionaire's back in an attempt to calm him.
"I'm so... hurt, Alfred. But I don't know why, everything hurts." Alfred slowly slid his hand from Bruce's back.
"Why don't we continue to the kitchen, we can talk there." Both hearts were heavy as they slowly made their way to the kicthen, Alfred's hand never leaving Bruce's shoulder.
Bruce sat opposite of Alfred with a sigh, and immediatly put his hands back over his eyes. Alfred knew this would be a long morning. He got up and poured a cup of coffee for Bruce and a pot of tea for himself.
"There's so many sides to me, Alfred. Which one is the real me?" Bruce asked suddenly. Alfred set down his cup and pondered the question a moment before answering.
"I believe they all are, sir. Each one of them joined together make up the real Bruce Wayne." Bruce put his hands on the cup in front of him.
"So the CEO, the lover, and the fighter all wrapped up into one make up the real me."
"Yes, I believe that sums it up." Maybe this morning will not be as long as I thought. Alfred thought hopefully until he saw the billionaire lay his head in his crossed arms. Maybe it will.
"Alfred, I... I feel... lost. I don't know what to do, I don't know how to make it better." The butler took a hold of his tea cup and searched the liquid for answers.
"If you want the truth Master Bruce, I don't know either. I can't take away your troubles, but I can try." This statement made Bruce looked up from his hands.
"Thank you, Alfred," he whispered,"You're all I have left. After... after... they couldn't take care off me anymore, you... raised me, and I... I... appreciate that... so much, Alfred. I really, really do." Bruce had been looking down at his hands until the last sentence, and when he looked up he saw the tears leaving the older man's eyes.
"I know, Bruce. You don't have to thank me," the butler uncharacteristically did not add 'Master' to the young billionaire's name. There was a comforting silence for a moment before the butler spoke again.
"You are Bruce Wayne, CEO. You are Bruce Wayne, playboy. You are Bruce Wayne, the Dark Knight. All of these things make up who you are: Bruce Wayne. And I will always be here for you, you are most certainly not alone."
This time it was Bruce's turn to wipe the tears from his cheeks.
"Please don't do anything rash, Master Bruce." At this comment Bruce looked up at the older man.
"Why would you think I would do something stupid..."
"Master Bruce, it may not be my place as your butler, but it is certainly my place as your guardian to ask you to understand when I tell you, you have been... depressed. In fact now is not the first time I have noticed. The happiest I have seen you lately is during your night work. I have known you all of your life, and I know you are one to do things on a whim. Please think about your life worth, not only as this city's protector, but as someone very close to me."
The tears flowed freely from Bruce's eyes and he did not bother to wipe them away.
"But it's so hard. Being so alone. Being so... fake."
"But as I said before all of those parts are not fake, they simply have to be glued together to make your real personality. And I cannot stress enough that you are not alone."
"I know I can talk to you, I always have, I'm just not an open person. If things get to bad I promise I will come talk to you. I won't do anything I might regret."
He had not truly known until the moment he agreed to not commit suicide, that he really had been thinking about doing it. That realisation struck him to the core, and he swore to himself he would talk to Alfred more often.
Alfred could see the billionaire's face turn ashen. He slowly got up and walked to the other side of the table. He put a hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"It will get better. I know it will."
"Thank you."
"Pardon me, sir, I don't understand what your thanking me for."
"Everything. Thank you for everything."
Author's note:
This is a completly different story then all my others, it's a lot darker. I just kind of had the idea about Bruce being depressed. Of course Alfred had to help.
Thank you for reading! Reviews literally make my day:)