It was supposed to be simple, but when was anything on his life ever simple? Jason died, at the peak age of... seventeen. He died a virgin. Shameful, he knew.

So it's easy to come to the conclusion Jason didn't expect much of his... second life? Yeah, second life. He wanted revenge, then got his head on the right place and decided to just, you know, live. Be a vigilante, eat shitty but delicious food, drive his bike around, read a book or two, the usual thing.

But then that damned mark, the soulmate mark, appeared on his wrist, absolutely laughing at his face. He was in a Justice League meeting and it burned there, which meant his soulmate was there, which meant they got the mark too. He just had to find the other person looking absolutely shocked there and he would find them. But... did he want to find them?

No, Jason didn't want a soulmate. He would just ignore it. He was sure he didn't even deserve a soulmate. He was a killer, a loser, someone barely able to call himself alive.

But he did the bad choice of scanning the room with his eyes, and he saw it. He saw his name burning on their skin, big letters, amazing handwriting. Jason. Yup, that's him alright.

He swallowed dry, looking the other way. Bruce in his Batman suit gives him a known look. Of course the big Bat noticed, that piece of shit. He was in for a long run. What was he supposed to do now?