Everyone thought that Bruce would go black [Comprehensive British and American]

"You know you were almost hit by a car just now?"

Looking at Bruce with a dazed expression, Steve couldn't help but get angry.

He frowned, and pulled Bruce to a safe sidewalk. He had been trying to avoid being the preachy old man Tony called, but for Bruce's behavior of not caring about his own life...

Went to his!

"Did you not see him?"

Just as Steve was about to speak, he heard Bruce say something abruptly.

"See what?" Steve held Bruce's arm firmly, and looked back suspiciously.

Steve felt very strange, he didn't see anything unusual... The traffic flow and pedestrians were orderly according to the traffic order.

Bruce looked at Steve's puzzled face, then turned his head to look in the middle of the road in a daze.

The strange man was still smiling at him.

"It's right there...you see..." He raised his delicate jaw.

Steve followed Bruce's gaze, but nothing changed.

"He's obviously..."

He pinched Steve's clothes for help, he felt something stuck in his throat, and he felt a burning pain in his stomach, which made him want to vomit.

Bruce felt dizzy for a while, he found that the scene in front of him began to blur, and he felt that he could not breathe...

His slender fingers scratched at Steve's clothes feebly, but the strength was no different from that of a cat scratching someone. His limbs twitched slightly and his fingers twitched. Steve could see that Bruce was in a dangerous situation.

"Oops……"

Steve quickly helped Bruce sit on the ground, a situation he was not unfamiliar with at all.

This is due to extreme anxiety and sudden hyperventilation. During World War II, Captain America saw many soft-hearted people suffering from anxiety because of taking the lives of others, or some good people were extremely anxious and depressed when they were about to arrive on the battlefield. Without it, they'd be breathing hard like Bruce.

"How could he be a carefree billionaire?" Steve thought to himself.

Steve couldn't understand Button's words. The Bruce he saw was at a loss and helpless from the very beginning. He didn't believe that such a person would run away from home willfully.

If what Barton said was true, then why was Bruce forced to have respiratory symptoms?

They quickly became the focus of the crowd, and layers of people surrounded them.

"Bruce Wayne?"

Someone yelled in surprise, and there was a commotion in the crowd, followed by the sound of cameras taking pictures one after another, and someone turned on the flash, and the dazzling white light flashed one after another.

"Go away."

Bruce murmured weakly, he tried to cover his face with his hands, he huddled insecurely, curled up in Steve's arms.

He is like a small animal whose shell has been ruthlessly peeled off. He knows that he should have been familiar with being chased by the media and being the focus of everyone.

But he felt panicked, the flames... Where is it on fire?He saw a manor on fire, and countless reporters with short guns were standing outside the fence.

"No...they will be in danger..." Bruce stretched out his hand weakly towards the manor. He saw the manor burst open, and saw the meadow where he played happily with his mother when he was a child burned to a piece of scorched earth.

The surroundings are extremely lively, but Bruce's heart is cold, and he feels that his consciousness is gradually extinguished in this hustle and bustle.

Bruce felt his hand being held tightly by a warm, strong hand, and he barely opened his eyes.

"Breathe to the beat of my count, Bruce!"

"Why does he look so nervous?" Bruce wondered in the chaos.

"Please spread out." Steve pressed Bruce's chest and shouted at the crowd sideways.

"Don't shoot—"

Steve looked angrily at a reporter who almost put the camera on Bruce's face. Captain America has always been teased and called an older sweetheart by his teammates, but everyone knows that when the captain gets angry, even that bastard Tony has to stay away .

Steve's temperament honed on the battlefield radiated out unreservedly, and his alluring aura immediately frightened the reporter.

He shyly put away the camera.

"Anyone have a sedative? A paper bag?" Steve ignored the reporter, scanning the onlookers anxiously. He needed to make a simple device to help him breathe.

"Anyone?" he repeated.

"Here." A middle-aged woman quickly dumped the things she just bought from the supermarket on the floor, "Walmart paper bags are okay?"

Steve took the paper bag and looked gratefully at the middle-aged woman, "Thank you, ma'am."

He carefully let Bruce rest on his chest, supporting Bruce's neck with one hand, and deftly squeezed the paper bag with the other hand so that it could fit over Bruce's mouth and nose.

"Bruce? Can you hear me? Slow down, breathe to the beat of my count—"

"—inhale—exhale—"

"Listen to me, it's okay, everything will be fine." Steve didn't know what happened to Bruce, so he could only repeat his words to comfort Bruce, hoping to ease Bruce's emotions.

"Look what you've become? Oh... what do they know? You can kill 'em as fast as you want, right?"

The clown, who had disappeared for a while, approached again.

"Okay... Bruce, great, you've done it."

"What did I do?"

It took a while for Bruce to recover. He looked at Steve's worried expression and felt an inexplicable annoyance.

He didn't show it, but said gently, "Help me up."

"I don't want to be watched like a monkey," he whispered.

Steve nodded knowingly, and he let Bruce put all his weight on him, took Bruce's arm, and helped him out of here.

"Have a headache?" Steve keenly noticed Bruce showing a look of pain, "I understand the feeling."

"Can't control my breathing, gasping for air and still feeling suffocated... brain pain from lack of oxygen."

He supported Bruce, and slowly sat on a bench. The place was empty and secluded, and no one came.

Bruce is silent, the familiar exhaustion preventing him from speaking.

Steve looked up at the foggy sky, and he relaxed back in his chair.

"Bruce, you may have had some tough times...but it's better to talk about it."

"Why do you care about me?" Bruce asked the question lingering in his heart.

"Because I saw you and you need help," Steve replied without hesitation.

Bruce stared blankly ahead, feeling his stomach throbbing as he checked his watch.

He hadn't eaten for more than twenty hours, and he willfully threw away the food that Alfred sent, and then went out to drink a few glasses of wine with Clark.

But he acted like he was okay.

He knew he was seeing and hearing hallucinations, but his subconscious told him not to tell anyone.

"You want to be locked up like me, Bruce? I'd love to be your neighbor hahahaha."

The clown hooked the strange man's neck and tap danced happily.

"Nothing, I'm a little sleep deprived."

Bruce said softly, he looked at Steve lazily, and pursed his lips nervously.

Obviously I did nothing wrong.

He thought aggrievedly, and I wasn't lying.

Yes, Bruce wasn't lying, he was sleep deprived, and he was insomnia all night long, tossing and turning in that big bed.

He secretly felt that he was not worthy of rest.

Steve stared at Bruce's face, sweat dripping down his face, a gust of wind sending him shivering.

Steve took off his jacket and draped it over Bruce.

He gave up and continued to ask Bruce. The life of a superhero taught Steve a lot, and the first one was not to explore other people's secrets.

No one can really empathize, to dig out the bloody scars of others, to reveal the softness under the scars... This is too cruel.

He stood up, his tall body blocked the sunlight, and Bruce looked thinner and thinner in the shadows.

"Would you like to go for a walk with me?"

Steve pulled Bruce up, "Wait a minute."

He took two steps forward, as if remembering something, and then walked back.

"Don't leave without saying goodbye this time, okay?"

Bruce bit his lip and nodded.

"Wow——" Bruce sat on Steve's Harley motorcycle, and he stretched out his hand freshly, feeling the feeling of the wind generated by the speed.

"Don't you think it's a bit fast?" Bruce said loudly, thinking wind whirly, which made him have to speak loudly in Steve's ear.

Steve's quadruple hearing can naturally hear clearly, but he just smiled and didn't react, watching Bruce liven up, it made him feel a lot better.

"Sit tight!"

He leads Bruce through the traffic, and they're heading out of Gotham, and Bruce feels like he's speeding on clouds.

They quickly crossed a bridge. "Hey, watch out," someone yelled at them from a car window.

Bruce grinned slyly.

They left Gotham's foggy and overcast skies behind them, and strangely enough, the weather had gotten better since leaving Gotham, and the sky above them now looked like the purest Prussian blue.

It was a fine day, breezy and sunny.

Steve took off the helmet for Bruce, and Bruce's extremely delicate hair was pressed by the helmet and blown by the wind, making it look a little messy. After breaking his meticulous hairstyle, Bruce looked even smaller.

"Where is this?"

Steve opened his arms, stepped back a few steps, and smiled at Bruce.

"Welcome to New York!"