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i. (bruce wayne)
HE LAUGHED AT A JOKE that wasn't funny, out of courtesy —he tried to convince himself— but the truth was he laughed exactly because the joke wasn't funny, because the joke wasn't a joke but an statement —so tragic and yet so pathetic the only thing one could do was laugh.
As he was now, as she was.
Sara was wearing a red dress and she had had her nails done recently, he would have not noticed if not for the feeling of her nails scratching the back of his neck while kissing him. Now, in the public eye, they simply smiled and talked as if they were friends —and not almost lovers.
The restaurant was Sara's favourite —that's why he had chosen it— and the food was exquisite. They had just finished dessert, tartelettes au chocolat. When the bill arrived she slightly moved it towards him which made Bruce smirk. "I didn't know I was paying for lunch."
He had been spending much more time than usual with Sara— he had his night activities and the memory of Rachel still casted a shadow over his soul, but Sara was always understanding and he liked her. He really did. But sadly that was not the only reason why Bruce was spending so much time with her —he knew there was something off about her and he wanted to know what it was.
Sara drank what was left of white wine in her glass and teased him with a smile. "Well, after all you're the millionaire."
"Billionaire, actually." He corrected and she chuckled.
He payed the bill and they left together. The streets were drowned in dirt and police sirens and gunshots were the background music of that dreadful sight —Gotham was not a good place to live in, but it surely was a good place to die.
That's why Sara stayed, that's why everyone stayed.
"Susan? -Is that you?" They both stopped their tracks as when a stranger came closer to them, he flustered when he recalled his night with Sara and smiled sheepishly —Bruce left them space— They were not exclusive so he could have his fun with Selina and Sara with whoever she had chosen for the night, but now Sara was regretting having chosen that guy of all people, whenever she was uncomfortable she moved closer to Bruce, exactly as she was now. "I wanted to call you but I don't have your number, maybe we could hang out someti-"
"I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else -I'm not Susan." And technically she was not lying.
It had been two weeks since that one-night-stand but the stranger carrying a Starbucks coffee with the letter A badly written remembered perfectly her face, and the fact that she denied being the one he had fucked, annoyed him —making him rude. "Don't lie, you- I know it was you, I know it."
