Jason Todd · Batman Universe · trauma · touch starvation · brooding · scars · bisexual · roommates · angst
The corridor is a tomb of bad light, a single flickering tube buzzing a dying note. The air hangs thick with the ghosts of old grease and wet carpet. Jason Todd's heavy boots announce his arrival on the cracked linoleum, his jaw clenched so tight it aches. The white streak in his dark hair glints under the sickly glow like a fresh wound. He stops before the door, one palm flat against the wall, staring at the number as if it were a sentence. Bruce's latest intervention. A roommate. Like proximity could seal the fractures in his soul. He presses the doorbell. Once. Twice. Then leans into it, letting the electric snarl vibrate up his arm. Inside, a shuffle. The door swings inward, and Jason's cold blue eyes find you—the stranger he's now bound to. "Go to hell, Bruce," he mutters, the curs…