In the fog of sleep, Edward jolted against the commanding pressure of his own body—against how limp his dream-limbs felt, so lifeless and unbearable, crushed beneath the weight of the frightening nightmare that held him hostage. He was so used to these dreams, these patterns, these misshapen figures that tormented him. Edward wished—prayed—that like shadows they would fade with time, but the sad truth was that he could never forget them, even within their foamy forms that hardly stood for anything they once had in his hazy past.
Edward knew, from the clarity delivered from surges of adrenaline, that he was a prisoner within a dream, that these peoples and places had long faded away, that the claustrophobic walls of the orphanage were no longer cocooned around his sleeping body. Even though he trembled with the desire to wake, moaning weakly against the fist of his unconsciousness, he remained a helpless witness to the machinations of his own memory. He could sense his lips, reaching through his consciousness for the heat of his body, turning all of his attention he could sway so desperately towards his fingers. His muscles could barely shiver under the curtain of their frozen rest, despite how anxiously he demanded it.
Edward’s eyes fluttered, breath feverishly heavy. The creatures of his nightmare seemed enraptured by his futile struggle, swelling in power as if fueled by Edward’s suffering, drawing out that feeling from all directions of Edward's psyche. Edward groaned distantly, weakly, mouth capable of only fumbling over the word ‘help’ no matter how much he felt like he’d shouted it.
All at once, before Edward could slip into total despair, a tender warmth wrapped around him, pressing up close to his body. Strong, muscled arms pulled around Edward’s petite frame, cradling him. The solace of that familiar, welcome feeling released all the tension that Edward hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The gentle, possessive pull into that solid chest was enough to finally break Edward out of it, to release him.
With immeasurable relief Edward sighed, eyes finally opening to witness the bedroom he practically lived in now.
As he adjusted to this still-unfamiliar view, Edward worked to steady the pace of his breathing. It was an attempt to soothe the racing of his own heart, something he was still embarrassed about as he felt his pulse drum hot and frantic against Bruce Wayne’s stoic body. Edward’s eyes traced the lines that Bruce’s elegant décor made across the walls, the way that the long, dark drapery rolled down to the floor, gently filtering through the early morning breeze that made its way through the window.
Bruce languidly brushed his large, worn hands in long strokes up and down Edward’s arms, even though he was still half asleep himself. Edward felt instinctively comforted by the way that he slotted neatly into Bruce’s larger form like the piece of a puzzle, how comfortably small and delicate Edward felt within the frame of such physical power. He had never known such a sensation in all of his boyhood, and he had no idea it would be so critical to his heart and his desires until he’d felt it the first time from Bruce. Here, he felt safety in a way that soothed the howling anxiety that still raced through him, a stability that was all encompassing.
“Nightmare again?” Bruce’s voice was even quieter than normal, low and distant. Edward let himself sink into this embrace, let the tension in his muscles release as Bruce pet him so gently.
“How could you tell?” Edward laughed at himself a little, both in frustration at himself and at the disbelief he always felt in situations like this, in moments where he was reminded once again that Bruce Wayne loved him. The idea that any human was capable of such kindness still shocked Edward. The fact that the tenderness he had always longed for, that he’d hunted for his entire life, came from the heir to the Wayne Empire was a puzzle greater and more ironic than Edward could have ever imagined.
Silence billowed between them. The heaviness of Edward’s thoughts was palpable, drawing around the couple like a fog that loomed and spiraled over the dense wall of slumber that held Bruce at the edges of sleep.
“You’re alright.” Bruce gently whispered. The tone he used was something special, only used for Edward. “It’s alright. I’m with you.”
Edward laughed again, quietly, self-deprecating and defeated by how much Bruce’s words could pacify him—just by hearing them, Edward could feel parts of his body unravel, sinking into a peaceful surrender. He hadn’t realized how tightly his fear had coiled him. Edward clenched his teeth, drawing a sharp breath through his nose. Did he really deserve this? Could someone like him ever deserve this?
Edward waited silently for an answer, for something different to stir within him that wasn’t the same old chorus, fueled by self-hatred that reinforced all of the trauma that he had been through. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he found himself lost following the curves of gold across handsome frames of creamy paintings that decorated the walls, comparing their rich colors to the bleakness of the room within the orphanage he always assumed he would wake up in.
How different it all was, how, in a way, disturbingly hilarious life could be. The boy that Edward had hated—that he had loved—was now all his own, the anchor that finally let him reach solid ground.
“In my dreams I’m still there.” Despite himself, the child within Edward wanted to be seen, wished to feel the connection to Bruce that his adult self felt right now, physically locked in the safety of Bruce’s embrace. “In my dreams no one can save me.”
Bruce paused his path along the smooth slope of Edwards arm, listening so intently to the lonely words that Edward had whispered. Bruce lightly pressed his fingers into Edward’s skin, reassuringly. “It won’t happen again.”
Edward strung his words together carefully as he processed Bruce’s response. He scanned it for hidden meanings, disassembling and reassembling it until he was sure of Bruce’s intentions.
“But it did.” Edward closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Bruce's hands as they made their way skating across his skin, the sound almost like rolling waves. “I can’t ever get that back. The time, those feelings... myself.”
Bruce shifted, sitting up slightly. The dense, embroidered comforter rolled off of their chests when he moved, sinking like water until it fell to their waists. Bruce’s eyes were open now, having realized that Edward needed more from him. Bruce realized that there was something important he needed to instill in Edward’s mind, something that he couldn't bear to leave unsaid, especially after knowing firsthand how sore the scars left by such a regret can feel. It felt right to him in this moment, in this quiet between night and morning where it felt like they were the only two souls in the world.
“I know.” Bruce was always careful with his words. Though their experiences were so different, though they had spent so much of their lives in different worlds, Bruce did know that feeling. He could understand the grief that tormented Edward’s heart.
Edward watched Bruce closely, turning his head against the pillow they shared despite having an immeasurable amount to pick from. Their eyes locked, Edward’s filled with a questioning and Bruce’s with confidence, a conviction.
Bruce gently swept the unruly locks of hair from Edward’s forehead, letting his hand softly pause against Edward’s cheek.
“I won’t let anything like that happen to you ever again.” The way that Bruce said it nearly took Edward’s breath away. “We’re family now. I won’t leave you.”
Edward tried to speak, but his words failed him. Bruce gave him time, maintaining eye contact with warmth to confirm his intentions, to broadcast his sincerity to Edward the best that he could.
“I promise, Edward.” Bruce smiled, not embarrassed to be so intimate with Edward even though he was always the type to be so shy and distant with anyone else. “We can be the family we always wished we had.”
Edward sighed in response. He was overjoyed by such a promise.
“Yeah…” Edward agreed, despite how he wrestled with his past.
Bruce leaned down towards him, kissing him on the brow just once. “I love you.”
Bruce said it without expecting any response, understanding how difficult it was for Edward to repeat such intense words, especially with where his mind was in the moment.
Bruce helped himself up and out of the bed, his feet hitting the floor. “It’s a good time to wake up. How about we have some breakfast? Sound good?”
Edward nodded before realizing Bruce couldn’t see the action. “That sounds really good.”
Edward watched as Bruce shuffled around his room, going for the antique wooden dresser to find a change of clothes for the morning. Edward found the words he wished he could say, looped in his mind. The love that Bruce always granted him shone like a beacon through the dark cloud of his thoughts until he found the nightmares, the orphanage, and his past feelings all so much weaker, so much more manageable than ever before—if only for this short time.
I love you too.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” Bruce smoothed his gray shirt over his frame, running his fingers through his hair. “Come down when you’re ready.”
Even when Bruce left, Edward could still feel his presence—his love—deep in his chest. The difference in his life now was so distinct, so tangible. Despite everything, here he was.
As he got ready himself, he took notice of the way his clothes were folded in that same dresser. His toothbrush was in the same rack as Bruce’s. Everywhere he looked, a space was made for him, a belonging—all physical proof of his presence in Bruce’s life.
No matter how his nightmares felt, this truth—although it was surreal—was finally beginning to sink in for Edward. Family… Such a foreign concept, a topic of such profound longing, had become so bright, something that he caught himself just faintly smiling about in the en-suite bathroom mirror as he got himself dressed to meet up with Bruce, who waited for him downstairs.
Edward made their bed, a force of habit. It restored the room to its perfection. Edward stopped to admire it, to try to let this new idea of home sink in, but also to let the feeling that was swelling within him, this honeyed warmth, to unfurl through him, to blossom.
He let his fingers ghost over the part of the bed where Bruce always slept, the place that was still warm from where his body had once been.
“I love you too.” Edward whispered into the empty space of the room; now that Bruce had gone, he was safe to try out the words that he truly felt but was terrified to admit. The confession felt euphoric.
Edward turned to leave, eager to follow his partner.
As he left, the morning sun began to flicker in from behind the heavy curtains.