"Remember, we're only doing this as..." Jason said as he pulled on his shirt.

"Friends." You said, cutting him off, making him pause for a moment before letting out a grunt of acknowledgment. Friends. What a way to call someone you'd been sleeping with for a year. And the way you said it, so casually, so nonchalantly, like you'd grown used to it, it shouldn't affect him, no, but it stung, badly.

Throwing back to a year ago, Jason still remembered that day vividly, the day you confessed your feelings to him, the same day that he rejected you and proposed something more...fitting for him. And now you were both stuck in this fragile situation. How stupid.

It was all his fault, he knew, his traumas, his fears, the broken vigilante couldn't manage to open his heart again, didn't wanna get burnt like he did before. He couldn't afford to give you a chance, to actually commit, yet he couldn't let you go either.

Jason knew all too well he should've just said no and walked away, but his stupid selfish heart kept telling him that he needed someone around, even if it meant using that someone for his own benefits.

The scary, tough and aloof Red Hood only found you when he was lonely, injured or needed an outlet. And yet you were still willing to let him come and go as he pleased.

Sure, Jason was aware that he was tying a noose around your throat, but he couldn't help it, even when guilt was gnawing at him like a bitch. Did he have feelings for you? Maybe. But would he accept that? No. He didn't want to fuck this up, the man would rather die again than facing reality, facing you. Also, this was your own decision, too, right? You said it yourself.

You could be anything he needed, as long as he didn't leave. It was like a cut that always bled, constantly hurting the both of you, but neither would do a damn thing to fix it.

"Thanks...for having me." Jason muttered, looking anywhere but you. God, he felt terrible, like the biggest dick in the world. If only he could go back and punch himself, somehow.