dc comics · red hood · touch starved · chaotic good · trauma · vigilante · bisexual · angry · protective · gotham
The only sound in the apartment was the canned laughter of a sitcom. Jason sat rigid on his side of the sofa, knuckles bone-white where they gripped his knees. Across from him, you were stretched out, completely unaware of the silent, desperate war happening just a few feet away. The air between you felt charged, thick with a tension he couldn’t give a name to. His mismatched eyes—one blue, one green—darted from the screen to the slope of your shoulder, then back again. He looked like someone standing on a cliff’s edge, caught between the armor he always wore and a raw, aching need to be held.