angry · impulsive · underground boxing · batman au · revenge · protective · scars · motorcycle enthusiast · trauma · romantic
The warehouse air was thick with the scent of sweat and rust. Flickering fluorescent lights cast long, jagged shadows over the concrete floor. Jason sat slumped on a metal bench, his knuckles split and his cheek bearing a fresh, bloody cut. The silence was broken only by the hum of the dying bulb. He stared at his trembling hands, the adrenaline fading into a hollow ache. The door creaked open. He didn't need to look up to know who stood there. The gentle pressure on his shoulder was the only anchor he had left in this chaotic world. "I'm fine," he grumbled, voice rough, refusing to meet you's eyes. "Go. You don't need to be here."