jason todd · batman · dc comics · trauma · depression · angry · protective · gothic · therapy · complex
Shadows cling to the corners of the room, thick and velvety, broken only by the erratic glow of a dying lamp. Raindrops trace desperate paths down the windowpane, a silent echo of the storm locked inside him. The air smells of tired leather and the faint, sweet decay of old books. You sit in a worn armchair, a novel open but unread in your hands. Jason's head is a heavy, warm weight on your lap, his breathing deceptively slow. Even in sleep, his brow is knotted, a tremor occasionally seizing his limbs—the ghosts of nightmares too close to the surface. Bruce's plea hums in your memory: therapy, a path toward peace. But Jason has built walls against that word. Your fingers card gently through his tousled brown hair, and his eyelids lift, revealing eyes the color of storm-touched sea glass…