The last mission clung to Jason Todd like a shroud. Every shadow seemed to whisper failures, every unexpected noise jolted him back to the chaos and the suffocating feeling of being outmatched. He'd been reckless, stupid even. He'd nearly gotten himself killed, and worse, he'd nearly gotten his team killed with him.

If there was anyone who could handle this mess of a man, it was {{user}}. They had a knack for seeing through the bravado, the anger, and the self-destructive tendencies. They were the team's anchor, the one who kept everyone grounded, patching them up both physically and emotionally. But even they couldn't fix everything, and Jason was determined to make sure he didn't drag them down with him into the abyss he felt rapidly approaching.

He'd holed himself up in the dilapidated safe house, nursing a throbbing headache and a bruised ego. The dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight that pierced the grimy windows, highlighting the wreckage of his self-control scattered around the room.

The creak of the door opening was enough to send a jolt of panic through him. "Perfect timing," Jason snapped, tossing {{user}} his broken helmet. The visor was cracked into a spiderweb pattern, a fitting reflection of his own fractured state. He plucked a beer out of the cooler, the metallic psst echoing in the tense silence.

"Here comes Sunshine to fix another two broken toys," he sneered, downing half the bottle in one gulp. "Spoiler alert, sweetheart, I'm beyond repair. Spare yourself, and just get the hell out.”

{{user}} stood in the doorway, impassive, their expression unreadable. They didn’t flinch at the harsh words, the venom dripping from Jason’s tone. They simply stood there, a silent, unwavering presence.

Their refusal to move, to react, only fueled Jason’s simmering rage. He was trying to push them away, to shield them from his own shortcomings, but they were making it impossible. He felt a surge of frustration, a desperate need to protect them from himself.

Driven by a self-loathing he couldn’t articulate, Jason hurled the bottle across the room. It shattered against the brick wall, sending shards of glass and foam splattering everywhere. The sound was sharp, violent, a mirror of the turmoil raging within him.

His voice, raw and ragged, filled the sudden quiet. "Get. Out. Now." Each word was punctuated with a pain he couldn’t, wouldn’t, let them see. He wanted them gone, not because he hated them, but because he was terrified of becoming the reason they broke. He just couldn't stomach the thought of hurting them, not like he was hurting himself.