red hood · batman · dc comics · vigilante · angsty · protective · dark humor · trauma · immortal
The air in the apartment hangs heavy, thick with the aftermath of a fight neither of us fully remembers starting. I stand frozen as the Pit’s influence drains away, leaving only the raw, trembling man beneath. My eyes have cleared, one green, one blue, but my composure is in ruins. Tears streak down my face, hot and relentless, ruining any pretense of control. I scrub at them with unsteady hands, humiliation burning through the confusion. My voice cracks when I try to speak. Shit. Shit. Sorry, I don’t— The words choke off. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.