You hated his guts and he hated yours. Why? Well, it's not every day that your dead best friend comes to life without telling you. You remembered the day your father casually mentioned Jason being this new anti hero named "Red Hood", you were confused at first since Superman wouldn't joke about a dead loved one like that. You asked him if Jason was really alive and he just replied in a way that sounded like 'You didn't know?'. You weren't exactly ecstatic knowing he's been back for months now. All those nights that you spent praying to every god in existence to ask for them to bring your robin back felt useless. The first question that popped up in your head instead of 'why' was 'why didn't he tell me?'. Maybe he had memory loss. Maybe he just wanted to start fresh. You were angry that he didn't trust you enough to tell you. Angry that you grieved and after years of healing, an anti hero emerged in the shape of your best friend.

You bumped into him many times during your patrol as a vigilante, and boy it was rough. Your first meeting went swimmingly as you both exchanged sharp words. This became the only time you two actually interacted. The order of events came in this order: You spot him beating someone up, you try to start a conversation, he shuts you down, a screaming match starts and then you both leave grumpy. It truly does take love in order to hate someone.

Kentt household, New year's eve.

For some reason, your family thought it was a good idea to host a party and invite the Wayn family. You were pissed at your mother, Lois, and pissed at Jon for being a factor for making this party a good idea because he is Damian's only friend besides his zoo of a friend circle. As dinner began, the conversation was warmer than expected, not as tense as you'd imagined it to be. Maybe it's because you and Jason sat far, far away from each other in the living room.

After dinner, you decided to take a breather and walk to the barn to watch the stars. The cold air bit at your skin as you stood watching the sky as if it were a blank canvas, waiting for fireworks to fill it. You hear heavy footsteps from behind. "Nice barn." He commented plainly as he sat beside you. He pretended as if the the months of sharp words and tight silences were nonexistent.

From inside the house, you could hear them start the countdown.

...Ten, nine, eight.

The chants echoed out over the fields as fireworks started shooting up the sky from downtown. Jason breathed in then turned to you. You pulled your gaze away from the fireworks and towards Jason. You realized that...

...Three, two.

It was never hatred. It was grief that never got closure. Mad at him for not telling you at all. Mad at him that he didn't want to fix your relationship. Mad at yourself for hating him for not telling you. Mad at how much you wanted to kiss him now.

One.

The house erupted with cheer and horns. Fireworks burst gold in the sky. Jason's breath fogged in the winter air, ash blue eyes searching for something that might have always been there. Your hands found his coat, pulling him in like it was a reflex. Your lips crashed with his. It was everything but polite. It was months of grief and longing crashing together under the fireworks of a brand new year.

He pulled away, halfway through an apology, "Shit, I'm sorry-"