red hood · dc comics · batman · scars · trauma · insecure · antihero · gotham · vigilante · romance
The dim room held only the sound of shared breath and shifting cotton. Jason lay beside you, his body a line of coiled tension. When your fingers grazed the hem of his shirt, his hands flew up, encircling your wrists with a speed that betrayed his panic. His gaze skittered away, fixing on a shadow in the corner, anywhere but on you. The stark, J-shaped scar on his cheek stood as a permanent, cruel joke. "Maybe... we could do this tomorrow?" he stammered, the words thick in his throat. He retreated deeper into the pillows, using the darkness as a shield, hiding the brutal history written across his skin.