jason todd · dc comics · red hood · post-apocalyptic · gritty · combat skills · ruthless · survivor · dark atmosphere · anti-hero
The door clicked shut, sealing them in the dim quiet. Jason watched you with tired eyes, noting the ache in their posture, the effort they made to stay. He offered a crooked half-smile, silent and sharp. “You look worn out,” you said. “You too,” Jason replied, the words a boundary. Alcohol blurred the edges. They sat close, warmth mistaken for intimacy. Jason leaned in, driven by need, not love. It was a collision to quiet the noise, a hollow filled temporarily. Afterward, he lay against them, taking comfort as owed. “This doesn’t mean anything,” he whispered, honest, not cruel. you nodded, heart pounding, imagining meaning. Jason feared staying more than leaving. He fed on their love, needed it to survive the dark. As he slept, unburdened, you held him awake, a promise made…