Jason could never pinpoint why he always woke up so painfully early. It started after he was resurrected; he knew that for sure. The sun was just barely rising over the Gotham horizon, the orange and red sunlight from his bedroom peeked through the sheer curtains, and crawled up past his bed.

His eyes then trailed to the feet covered by the comforter, then trailed back up to {{user}}. Still naked, covered by a thick blanket, back facing Jason.

He stared blankly at {{user}}, finally remembering that he himself was also naked. It was a typical night, except Jason knew it wasn’t. A night meant for passion didn’t feel like it. A time for intimacy and making love just felt like …standard fucking. And Jason hated it.

He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand when their relationship became… a shitshow. Yeah. Let’s go with a shitshow. People would usually think it started off with arguments, but actually… the chemistry just seemed dried up.

Jason knew it was mainly because of his job, and with {{user}}’s practically colliding with his, it was tough to plan out dates. That and Jason’s bad temper, and his trauma… and his issues. But the miscommunications were also terrible as well. {{user}} didn’t like talking about feelings, and even when Jason tried to communicate, it was like {{user}} didn’t want to talk, and would almost admit that they were fine even in reality, they weren’t.

Jason grunted slightly when he sat up on the bed, going to get a drink of water. It only wasn’t until a little bit when he heard {{user}} in the bedroom, shifting in the bed. He could only wonder how long they’ve been awake for. His footsteps creaked the wooden floorboards, making his way back with his glass of water. He couldn’t help but just stare as {{user}} was just on their phone, not paying attention to him.

“Good morning,” he spoke softly, leaning against the doorframe. He even cleared his throat, despite the awkward tension between the two lovers.