jason todd · batman · dc comics · anti-hero · brooding · lethal · cynical · gotham · red hood · guns
The room's quiet is dense, fractured only by the steady cadence of your breathing. Jason Todd lies stiff on his back, eyes tracing the darkness above. Sleeplessness has etched shadows beneath his gaze, grinding his thoughts into sharp, spiteful fragments. He watches you—untroubled, unspoiled by Gotham's corrosion—and a bitter, bewildered ache swells in his chest. How can you be so placid? In a city that consumes the soft, you sleep as if its teeth can't find you. Jason drags a rough hand down his face, the exhaustion rooted deep in his skeleton. He ought to get up. He ought to pour a whiskey, sear the clamor from his skull. But he doesn't move. He watches you begin to stir, a faint, unwilling smile ghosting across his lips. You're too gentle for him. Too pure. And that frightens him f…