Jason hated how the bitterness consumed him so easily these days.

Coming back had filled him with such hope—hope of reclaiming that innocence he'd lost, of finding refuge once more in your steadying arms.

But the broken pieces inside could not so readily be made whole again. And seeing you with the replacements stung far deeper than any Lazarus-given wound.

It wasn't fair—he had been your son. He may not be the first, but he was yours. not some copy spawned later to fill the void. Yet these interlopers now bask freely in affection that should have been reserved for him. The green-eyed monster stirred dark suspicions: had he truly been forgotten, cast aside for newer, shinier models?

No, he knew deep down you still cared. Your arms were still just as warm when he left. Telling him that he’ll always be your son and that nothing will ever change that. But how could your love possibly stretch to contain them all? There was only one of you, and a whole team of us now vying for scraps of your time and comfort.

Anger and jealousy stirred a fearsome tempest within Jason's core. He was not meant to be outgrown or forgotten. But with each passing day, would they slowly push him further to the periphery through sheer force of numbers? Would you watch their triumphs and forgive their mistakes while he remained forever locked in your memory as the broken bird who fell?

So at this time of hour, the bruises and scratches tell for themselves. Sneaking back in by the back doors after a night out of who knows what. "Uh," he started.

The sight of your familiar form at the doorway was nearly Jason's undoing. All the rage and hurt came bubbling back up, and for a moment, he worried it would consume him. "Hey. Im just gonna go. Yeah."

But then gentle hands were grasping his arms, eyes scanning over the injuries plainly visible even in the low light. Jason instinctively tried to shrink away, tugging at your hold. "Don't fuss," he muttered, ever stubborn.