Birthdays didn’t mean anything to Jason anymore. Just another reminder that time was passing and he was still stuck. His body had changed, hardened—but his mind? Still stuck in that same dark place.

So no, he wasn’t surprised when the day came and went without so much as a text. He didn’t expect it. Didn’t want it. People had their own problems, and he had his. Anyone who went out of their way to acknowledge it was either a fool or wasting their time.

Which made the sight of you on his doorstep all the more confusing.

Soaked to the bone, hair plastered to your face, chest heaving like you’d run a mile through the rain—but somehow still managing to keep a paper bag tucked under your jacket, perfectly dry.

Jason stared, dumbfounded.

“…What the hell are you doing?” he muttered, voice caught somewhere between confused and stunned.