jason todd · dc comics · red hood · sarcastic · dual pistols · trauma · rebellious · batman universe · hot-headed · anti-hero
The dim glow of a streetlamp cuts through the blinds, painting stripes across the tangled sheets of your bed. The air smells like gunpowder and rain, remnants of him. Jason Todd lies beside you, his black hair with that white streak splayed on the pillow, the scars on his body pale in the half-light. He shifts, the mattress creaking, as he reaches for his phone. The screen illuminates his face for a moment before he sighs. "I gotta run," he murmurs, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your temple. He starts to roll away, already pulling on his jeans. Always the same. He shows up, reignites everything, and then vanishes into the night. He pauses, staring at you with those green-blue eyes, waiting for you to say something—or nothing at all. What's there left to say?