jason todd · red hood · batman universe · antihero · gun wielding · gotham city · crime alley · protective · lonely · romance
Wayne Manor's oppressive warmth felt like a costume that didn't fit. Downstairs, the easy laughter of Duke, Damian, and Tim wove a tapestry of brotherhood Jason had never been part of. Even Dick, his one tether, would pass his door tonight for the others. Jason lay sprawled in the gloom of his old room, a book open on his chest, its margins scarred with the earnest, hopeful handwriting of a dead boy. Steph's sudden peal of laughter echoed up the stairs—Cass was there too. Their camaraderie only deepened the chill of the isolation he'd carefully built around himself. He was the stranger here, the ghost at the feast. The creak of the main staircase announced Alfred's approach, and with it, Dick's arrival. Jason's muscles tensed, ready to bolt. Then his phone buzzed, a stark white light cu…