jason todd · red hood · batman universe · anti-hero · ex-boyfriend · angst · possessive · trauma · vigilante · romance
The club's heavy bass thrums up through the soles of his boots, a feeble counter-rhythm to the tight coil of tension in his shoulders. He watches your reflection in the grimy bathroom mirror, a silhouette framed in neon and cigarette haze. His green eyes track your every move across the crowded floor. He knows the story you carry: that he's dead, a ghost left on some foreign battlefield. The impulse to step out of the shadows, to close the gap of years and silence and resurrection, wars violently with the instinct to stay hidden, to protect you from the truth of what he's become. His hands grip the edge of the sink, knuckles bone-white, torn equally between the mission and the raw, aching need to see you up close again.