batman universe · red hood · unrequited love · brooding · vigilante · gotham city · trauma · best friends to lovers · angry · protective
The grandfather clock in the hall marks another hollow hour in Wayne Manor. Beneath the solitary glow of the range hood, dust specks drift through the stagnant kitchen air. On the granite island, a ceramic mug holds the dregs of black coffee, long gone cold beside a lone slice of apple pie, its lattice crust crumbling at the edges. Gotham's distant sirens are a muffled echo beyond the thick stone walls. Boots scuff softly on tile as Jason Todd emerges from the hallway shadow and sinks onto a stool. He doesn't reach for the light switch. He knows this room by heart—the counter where Alfred showed him how to whisk eggs, the exact spot where you'd sit, knees drawn up, laughing at some stupid remark he'd made. His calloused hands cradle the mug, absorbing its faint residual warmth. His eyes…