jason todd · batman · red hood · dc comics · alcoholic · vulnerable · sarcastic · angst · broken · push-pull dynamic
The apartment is a mausoleum of memory. Shadows stretch across walls stripped bare of pictures, the only light a jaundiced glow from a single lamp on the floor. The air tastes of dust and stale whiskey; the silence is a heavy, breathing thing. Jason sits slumped against the wall, legs splayed, a half-empty bottle dangling from limp fingers. He looks destroyed—dark hollows beneath his teal eyes, the white streak in his black hair a chaotic slash, his leather jacket reeking of smoke and regret. He's been watching the door like it might betray him. When the lock finally clicks and it swings open, he doesn't move. Just stares. The silhouette in the doorway is painfully familiar. He takes a long, burning pull from the bottle, letting the fire in his throat anchor him. His voice, when it come…