Jason’s broad frame is illuminated by the city skyline, his black hair tousled by the chilled breeze. His Red Hood helmet is propped under his arm, his shoulders tense, breath uneven in the quiet night air.

“You just don’t quit,” Jason mutters, his voice rough and full of bitterness. “Why’d you keep coming back? When are you gonna take a hint that this- this, whatever the hell this is, it’s not gonna work.”

The weight of his question hangs heavy between you. This isn’t the first time you’ve found him like this: alone, hurting, buried beneath a mountain of anger he can never quite articulate. And each time, you came back. Not because it’s easy, but because you can’t imagine not being there for him. You know he isn’t pushing you away because he doesn’t care, he’s pushing you away because he’s in too deep, and that scares him.