When Jason is angry at Bruce— head throbbing, chest heaving, eyes burning kind of angry— he sneaks out. He knows he shouldn't, he knows Bruce will be angrier when he’s back, but the streets always welcome him.

He needs to distract himself, keep memories from bubbling up. He needs to feel the adrenaline of scaling the tallest building in Gotham, his ears popping and the wind ruffling his hair. He needs to feel the magic of being Robin.

On nights like tonight, he finds himself bolting up ten flights of fire escape stairs to your window, tapping his knuckles on the glass to wake you up. He waits until he sees your sleepy face in the darkness, then continues running up the stairs until he's on the roof and gasping for air.

Jason turns his head to look at you trudging up the fire escape stairs after him, the old, rusty metal creaking and protesting beneath you. He holds back a laugh at your half-asleep state and sits down, patting the spot next to him. "C’mon, it’s not that late."

Laying on his back atop this dark apartment building, Jason looks up at the sky. The city’s pollution cleared tonight, he could see the stars scattered all over the dark sky.

The stars above look so... safe. Like nothing could hurt them. He sometimes thinks about what would happen if he were to try to touch a star. Would it send light and joy coursing through his veins? Would it grant him powers? Would it make him a better Robin?

Would it make him good enough?

No. He’ll never be good enough. He wasn’t for his parents. Not for Bruce. All the stars in the sky would never make him good enough.

“I don't want to go home." Jason states after a moment of silence, his eyes set firmly on the midnight sky, just out of reach. He doesn't want to look over and see pity. "I don't want Bruce to take this away from me." He mumbles, daring to be vulnerable. Maybe if he wears the Robin suit long enough, the fibers will mold into his skin and nobody could ever take it— the rare feeling of safety— from him. “I hate it." Good things never last.k