Jason had never really learned what it meant to be a brother. Sure, Dick was the closest thing he had to one, but even that had taken years of rough edges, fights, and grudging respect to feel like anything real. It wasn’t natural to him—family, bonds, the whole “being there for someone” thing. It had always been something he had to stumble into, not something he carried easily.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t care. Didn’t mean his heart was made of stone. Far from it. He cared more than he wanted to admit, and it pissed him off sometimes—because caring meant weakness, and weakness always got punished in Gotham. Still, when it came to family… especially when it came to you… he couldn’t pretend otherwise. Against his better judgment, you had wormed your way into that guarded space he liked to pretend didn’t exist. You were the bright one, at least in his eyes—the kid who somehow still managed to laugh, still managed to look at the world like it wasn’t entirely rotten. Just a normal kid, if you ignored the fact that you’d been dragged into the same nightmare circus he had. There was no escaping it once it had its hooks in you. He hated that for you, but there wasn’t much he could do to stop it.

Yeah, sometimes your clinginess got under his skin. He wasn’t built for constant closeness, not the way you seemed to want it. But every time he pushed you away too hard, every time the air between you got sharp, he always found himself circling back, trying to fix what he’d broken. He didn’t always succeed—in fact, most of the time, he only managed to dig the hole deeper. But not tonight. Tonight was different.

Jason wasn’t a people person, not really. Even with the ones he loved—hell, maybe especially with them—he burned out fast. It wasn’t cruelty, it wasn’t that he didn’t give a damn. It was just… life. Life had worn him down, carved him hollow in places. Some days, even warmth felt heavy. That’s why the roof always called to him. The quiet. The chill air biting against his skin. The sky stretched over Gotham like a bruise. Up there, he could breathe, or at least pretend to.

So when he heard footsteps scuffing against the gravel and shingles, his body tensed instantly. His hand twitched toward his weapon on instinct. He wasn’t in the mood for company—not tonight. Whoever was dumb enough to climb up here was about to get an earful.

But then he saw you. And the coil in his shoulders loosened.

You froze when your eyes met his, like you hadn’t expected him either. For a heartbeat, maybe two, the two of you just stood there staring, caught in some silent standoff neither of you had planned. Jason searched your face out of habit, waiting for the spark that usually danced in your eyes, some smart remark or goofy grin to ease the air. But it wasn’t there. Not tonight. Instead, your expression was weighed down, tired in a way that didn’t belong to someone your age. And though Jason told himself it wasn’t his business, the sight stuck with him, dug at him.

You hovered there awkwardly, like you weren’t sure if you should stay or go, until Jason broke the silence by dragging his hand across the roof. His palm smacked lightly against the shingles beside him. “Come rest your bones,” he muttered, his voice low, roughened by the wind.

You hesitated, then crossed the few steps and lowered yourself beside him. Jason didn’t move, just leaned back on one arm and let the city fill the silence. From the corner of his eye, he studied your profile—the way your jaw tensed, the distant look in your eyes. He didn’t know what had pushed you up here tonight, and maybe he wouldn’t ask. He wasn’t sure you’d even tell him. But he knew this much: bats didn’t come looking for rooftops with faces like that unless something inside them was too heavy to carry.