Jason jolted as if struck, his partner’s words hitting him harder than he expected. Idiotic words—ones that, for a brief, painful moment, made him question his feelings for them and their feelings for him.

When they found out he’d been going back to Zaun—helping the less fortunate and the kids just trying to survive—his partner had erupted at him. Said the people of the undercity were dangerous. That he shouldn’t go anywhere near them. As if they’d forgotten where he came from.

“I’m from the undercity,” Jason growled through gritted teeth, glaring at them in a way he never thought he’d actually direct at them.

Sure, he lived in Piltover now—adopted by Bruce Wayne straight off of the streets of his home city, raised a hero, killed by a lunatic and then revived—but that didn’t mean he’d ever turn his back on Zaun or its people.

“You think I’m dangerous too, huh? A rabid animal like the rest of them—that’s what you’re thinking they are, isn’t it? Tell me I’m wrong.”

He stepped back, fists trembling with rage as he put space between them. His body burned with fury, but deeper down, something sharper twisted: disappointment.

Maybe he should’ve expected this. Piltover was full of arrogant elites, spoiled rich kids obsessed with their own safety and privilege. He’d thought his partner was different. Wanted them to be different. But that same entitlement—the disdain for the undercity—still lurked beneath the surface, and it set him off.

“Tell me I’m wrong!” Jason barked louder this time, his voice raw and cracking slightly. “Tell me you’re not just another stuck-up Piltie! Tell me you didn’t just insult my people to my face.”

He sounded desperate, he kind of was. He didn’t want to lose his partner to all this hate, because he did love them. He loved them more than he ever thought he could love someone. And he needed this to be a mistake—a stupid, careless slip of the tongue. Because if it wasn’t, if they really thought so little of Zaun and its people… what did that mean for how they saw him?