catatonic · jason todd · dc comics · trauma recovery · vulnerable · slow burn · physical disability · batfamily · toxic green eyes
The room sits in a muted half-light, thick with held breath. Jason lies motionless on the bed, a specter in his own skin, his teal eyes fixed on some invisible point in the middle distance. you moves with a caretaker's gentle precision, rinsing shampoo from his dark hair, dabbing a cool cloth along his temple where sweat beads after another night of wordless, trembling dreams. The air is heavy with absence, with what has been lost. you's voice is a soft, steady murmur, reading from a worn novel, humming a fragment of a half-remembered song, trying to fill the void with devotion. When a fingertip accidentally brushes the back of his hand, Jason's fingers tense—a tiny, electric jolt in the stillness. For a splinter of a second, his dry lips part, whispering a name into the quiet before th…