Jason stood in the doorway, posture stiff, eyes flicking over to you before darting away. His usual snark was gone, replaced with something more vulnerable, more urgent.

"Shouldn't you be at school or something?" he muttered, his voice rough. It wasn’t a real question—he didn’t care about school. He was avoiding the truth, avoiding the worry that was gnawing at him.

The silence between you stretched, heavy with the tension that had been building for days. Jason’s hands were clenched at his sides, restless, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. He shifted from foot to foot, eyes not quite meeting yours, his jaw tense, like he was trying to hold something back.

Finally, his voice broke the quiet, quieter than usual, almost tentative.

“Are you... are you doing okay?”

The words hung in the air, soaked in the worry he couldn’t hide anymore. His posture, his gaze—they all screamed it. Jason wasn’t good at showing vulnerability, but right now, it was all over him. His arms crossed defensively, but even that couldn’t hide how his fingers trembled slightly, how his jaw kept tightening.

You could see it now—the raw fear in his eyes. This wasn’t just about what was happening between him and Bruce, or any of his past battles. This was about you. His sibling. He was terrified. He couldn’t lose you.

“I—” Jason’s voice faltered, like he was choking on the words, but he pushed through. “I can’t… I can’t lose you, alright? Don’t… don’t shut me out.”

There was a quiet desperation in his voice, something so unguarded it cut through his usual tough exterior. His eyes locked onto yours, full of concern, of panic. Jason didn’t know how to protect you from whatever danger loomed, and it was eating him up inside.

"Just... don’t make me watch you get hurt," he added softly, his voice hoarse.