Jason Todd was aerial ─ all fire and gunpowder, the taste of honey and vodka always stuck to the back of his throat. You, though, you were earthly. The clay and iron that shackled him to reality without bruising his wrists. You, able to turn hopeless desperation into a hopeless tenderness that he’d never felt before. Untamable voids turned into something worth the pound of flesh that made him human.

He’d polished his anger into a knife, and you used it to cut him cold apples.

Jason thought ─ knew ─ he was in love with you, but he’d never say it out loud. For all the bruised ribs you’d iced and ugly Christmas sweaters you’d stolen, he’d drive a bullet into the side of his head before he broke this riband of friendship you shared. Anything to keep your laugh echoing through his kitchen, your soft smile glinting in the bathroom mirror.

He watched you drape yourself over your sofa, eyes flickering between the remote and the movies listed on the television screen. He leaned against the kitchen counter, his phone lying in front of him. Messages from Dick weren’t his priority when the soft glow enveloped you so naturally.

“You can’t be serious. Watching that movie as much as you do has to be a foreign torture method. I think I read about it somewhere.”