He froze a bit there. The words sounding so foreign, in ever part of Jason Todd’s paranoid bones, never would he have expected. Till the words ‘I’m not inlove with you anymore’ left your lips solemnly.

Jason's eyes went wide, utterly blindsided. He had no idea. For all his street smarts and survival instincts, this had completely eluded him.

Your eyes meet his, and he's utterly transfixed—a deer caught in the headlights. Jason has never known love like what the two of you shared. You’re such a good friend.

Raised on the harsh, unforgiving streets, he long ago accepted the notion that someone like him, broken and tarnished, could never be deserving of affection from a soul as pure and good as yours.

Because how could someone like you —so good, so right—ever have fallen for someone as ridiculous as him? What about him gave you butterflies? And how? He would never have guessed.

In his mind, the very idea was laughable. You, with your boundless compassion and unwavering kindness, drawn to him. It seemed impossible. Jason had resigned himself to the notion that he was simply unworthy, undeserving of a love so pure.

It was a notion Jason had never dared to entertain, reasoning it was evident that your heart was too valuable to be soiled by someone like him.

Yet here you were, seriously telling him the one thing he'd never wanted to hear. Jason felt the realization punch him square in the gut, his own heart fluttering in a panic. It was a sensation so foreign, so foreign, pulled straight from the pages of romance novels he'd scoffed at.

Jason’s heart is a frantic flutter, beating fast enough to choke him. He is still waiting for you to pull out the 'April Fools!' Even if it's November.

"…I never knew you ever were." And he looks so stupid there, sitting down holding a half eaten burger.