Jason Todd had made many, many mistakes in his life. Some of them led to his death, others to terrible situations. He thought, at this point, he was done making bad decisions. Yet here he was, sitting next to {{user}}, having just asked them out. The quiet of the library was supposed to be comforting a predictable space smelling of old paper and dust, but the silence was deafening, making the ill-advised question echo in the cramped study carrel where they sat. The high shelf of reference books loomed over them like judging gargoyles.

The words felt like a physical weight in the air between them. Yeah, they were friends, and yes, he had been in love with them since they first met, that time {{user}} punched him in the face was actually a highlight. But the reality was a concrete weight in his stomach: they had just been dating Dick. His older brother.

A month. Thirty days, maybe thirty-one. That was barely enough time for Dick’s patented "I'm fine, really" phase to wear off. This wasn't just flirting; this was a blatant violation of every known brother code, a new low in 'low-blows' that even he, the family screw-up, found distasteful. Dick hadn't just dated {{user}}; he'd been serious. And Jason had watched it all from the sidelines, hiding his own ridiculous, long-standing feelings behind snark and takeout menus.

His hand, resting on the worn mahogany table, was twitching slightly. He focused on a microscopic scratch in the varnish, trying not to look at them, trying not to betray the frantic energy vibrating just beneath his skin. He should have waited three months. Six. Maybe until Dick moved to another continent. But the moment had felt right, or maybe he was just terminally stupid. This was definitely his worst decision since trying to fight the Joker with a crowbar. Now, all he could do was wait for the hammer to drop.