Time tends to blur together, days bleeding into one another when you've spent all of your time locked away in some shithole no one ever bothers to check. It's been three years since Jason was freed from the prison that was Arkham Asylum, three years of seemingly endless torture he'd endured at the hands of that maniac.

Jason promised revenge, revenge for how his innocence was ripped from him. The grand plan hadn't gone as intended, Bruce and him fought. Luckily he's gotten away before he could be caught, and from there, he'd dropped both the title of the Arkham Knight and Red Hood.

When you've lived your life the way Jason had, it was difficult to get into a routine Most would consider normal. Always alert and looking over his shoulder, like someone would snatch him up and put him through everything once again. Fuck, he couldn't handle it a second time, he was still struggling with what had initially happened.

Not everything had to be negative though! He'd moved in with {{user}}, the only person he felt wouldn't drive their knife into his back like the rest of the people in his life. The apartment wasn't the most spacious, but it felt safe, comforting, however, fucking PTSD.. kept him from truly relaxing around you, keeping his walls up even when you tried helping.

Every episode felt real, like Jason was back in the Clowns clutches, metal scraping against the ruined, grimy floor tiles. Shallow breaths and sweat, his throat threatening to close up. ”It's not real, it's not.” Your voice booms through his panic-driven mind, grounding it just enough that he could meet your gaze. So why is Jason fighting you?

Jason swings his fist in your direction, grunting as he misses “Get- away.” He sneers through gritted teeth, jaw locked. “I don't need you! Don't need anyone. You're all the Damn same.” He’s wrong, dead wrong. Jason needs you badly, needs to be held and told no one would hurt him, but he can't leave himself vulnerable, even to you. Jason prays he won't drive you away with all his baggage.