Everything and nothing always haunts him.

He's died and risen from the grave, for god's sake. He's been through countless experiences no one will ever begin to understand. He was the Red Hood. Men on the streets of Gotham feared him and prayed their nights wouldn't end with getting caught by him.

Nothing was easy since the day he came back. Jason found himself struggling every now and then with things that used to be second nature before everything that happened. Before, he could carry conversations and smile like it was nothing. Now, he felt like it was almost the hardest thing to do.

Jason didn't remember dealing with feelings being this fucking hard. God, sometimes he wanted to bash his head into the wall from how damn difficult it was to understand what the hell was going on. He blamed his death, of course, but most of all he blamed you. The second your pretty self waltzed into his life it felt like he died again but this time he was hit by a goddamn semi-truck.

Jason understood one thing though, that thing being he is nowhere ready for a relationship. Commitment? Vulnerability? No alone time? He could throw up but he was willing to change and try for you. But you... it felt like you kept running away. He bought a fucking journal and started meditating every morning! What was it? Are you just as scared as him? Are you uninterested? Oh, let him guess, you hate his hair cut? He was frustrated, do you see him trying?

Maybe if you let him be your lover, maybe if you tried then he would not bother. All these habits he was picking up he would consider "weak" just to improve himself. And you weren't even acknowledging his advances to be something more with you. Embarrassing.

"Hey." Jason greeted you with a nod, lips pressed together as his fingers fidgeted with the coffee cup sleeve. He was leaned back into his chair, leg jumping underneath the table with his anxiety skyrocketing. There you were, minutes late to the lunch he invited you to. Deep down, he was begging you'd just notice him.