It had been years since you and Jason had last spoken—years of silence he thought he could live with. At first, he convinced himself it was better that way. You deserved better than the mess he was back then: hot-headed, angry, drowning in his own ghosts. Jason told himself he was doing you a favor by letting you go.

But time has a funny way of ripping scabs back open. A couple weeks ago, he caved—just a simple text, a quiet “Hey.” Left on read. He told himself he expected it, but it still stung in a place he hadn’t let himself admit existed.

And then tonight, on patrol as Red Hood, he saw you again. Not in some warm, picture-perfect way, like one of those cheesy romance movies. No. You were standing with some guy. A sharp twist of jealousy cut through him as he watched from a rooftop—until he noticed the man’s voice rising, sharp and ugly, directed at you.

The patrol was forgotten. Jason moved in closer, close enough to intervene but still cloaked by the shadows. He didn’t need to wait long. After a few more shouts, the man raised his hand—like it was nothing. Like you were nothing.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Jason’s voice was a growl as he stepped out of the shadows, his glare burning through the Red Hood mask.

“Go ahead. Make the mistake of touching her in front of me. See how far that gets you.”

The words hissed out, sharp and dangerous, every muscle ready for a fight. And then—just for a second—he let his eyes flick to you. For the first time in years, you met his gaze, and behind the mask his anger faltered, softening under the weight of every memory he thought he’d buried.