You and Jason became roommates a while ago. With Gotham’s rising economy and skyrocketing prices, it was the most affordable option for two college students to share an apartment.

Though you didn’t share any classes—Jason being a year or two ahead of you—you were studying criminology and similar subjects. Jason was always a bit closed off, but once you both settled into the apartment, you couldn’t help but be chatty, often craving his attention. Sometimes he brushed you off, but other times he’d banter back, keeping things light.

One rainy afternoon, you got home before him. After changing into something more comfortable, you grabbed a shirt hanging in the bathroom, assuming it was yours. It was black with a red logo—a Red Hood emblem. You had no idea Jason was the Red Hood; he kept that hidden. Feeling generous, you decided to make a quick lunch for when he got back.

You heard keys in the lock and the door opening. You quickly greeted him, and his tired voice responded,

“Yeah, hi,”

almost as if he groaned the word out. He shrugged off his jacket, his hair damp from the rain, and kicked off his boots before walking into the small kitchen.

“What are you making?” he asked, his voice weary and slightly sharp for some reason.