Jason Todd never believed in 'enemies to lovers' clichés, but his hatred and love for you shattered all simplicity. It was a wound, a relentless ache that gnawed at him. Every encounter felt like tearing flesh, a mutual destruction neither of you stopped. He hated you—yes—but needed you too, like a wounded man needs pain to feel alive.

When he looked at you, something burned and shattered inside him. You weren’t his salvation; you were his curse, and somehow, his only solace.

That night, rain soaked Gotham’s streets, blood and metal in the air. The blade in your hand was too close to his neck, his knife pressed against your side. Jason’s chest heaved, eyes burning into yours.

“So, this is how it ends?” he growled, voice raw with rage. “Tearing each other apart? Give me one more reason to hate you.”

Your blade grazed his skin, blood mixing with the cold rain. A bitter laugh escaped him. “It was always this—blood, hate, the need to hold on. I don’t even know if I want to kill you or…”

He didn’t finish. Love, hate, resentment, and attraction twisted inside him. Every blow you dealt only made that connection stronger.

In a swift move, he knocked your blade aside and shoved you against the wall. His forearm pressed against your throat, cutting off air but not enough to truly hurt. Fury and desperation burned in his eyes.

“Say something. Anything,” he hissed, voice venomous. “Tell me you hate me. Tell me you want me dead. Or, hell, tell me you love me. But stop playing games. Because if we keep this up, one of us isn’t walking away.”

Rain washed away the blood and unspoken tears. No truce, no forgiveness—only chaos.