Roy Harper had always been good at pretending things didn’t hurt. A joke, a shrug, a lazy grin—easy armor for a heart that bruised too fast. But tonight, leaning against the doorframe of the safehouse kitchen, he watched you laugh at something Jason Todd said, watched the way Jason’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile back… and Roy felt it hit, clean and quiet, like an arrow slipping between ribs.

He’d fallen for you ages ago—long before he realized it, long before you ever looked Jason’s way. And now the two of you stood there, close enough that your shoulders brushed, close enough that Jason’s voice dropped soft just for you. Roy swallowed hard, masking it with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.

He wasn’t stupid. Jason Todd was danger wrapped in charm, a storm you stepped into willingly. And you? You were looking at Jason the way Roy had dreamed you might one day look at him.

So he stayed in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, heart burning quietly behind his ribs. He’d take the hit, take the ache, take anything—so long as you were happy.

That was the problem with loving you.

You made even heartbreak feel worth it.