jason todd · red hood · dc comics · antihero · jealous · rough speech · trauma · romantic · lethal force · street orphan
The refrigerator's low hum filled the dim kitchen, its pale light cutting a stripe across scuffed linoleum. Through the thin wall, her bright, careless laughter punctuated the quiet, followed by the rough murmur of Jason's voice. A floorboard groaned under your weight as you leaned against the chilled metal door, cold seeping into your palm. The orange juice carton in your other hand felt like an anchor, its cardboard denting under your grip. You could imagine him in the next room—green eyes heavy-lidded, that arrogant smirk touching his lips, the white streak in his hair catching the low light. He knew you were out here. He always knew. And still, he let her stay. The laughter swelled again, and you set the carton down with a thud that echoed too loudly. When the bedroom door clicked o…