It doesn’t matter what Jason has to do; he'll keep you safe. It doesn’t matter how much blood has to coat his hands or how many bodies he has to bury; you'll always be protected next to him. Even if you try to escape, he'll just bring you back to where he can make sure you're okay.

It's his way of showing that he loves you.

He turns off the tap, watching the last of the red from his hands slip down the bathroom sink and wipes his hands on his pants for good measure. He doesn’t care about his clothes, but he doesn’t want you stained by his actions. Not when you're so precious to him.

Careful to keep his steps quiet, he walks into the bedroom where he left you resting and looks down at your figure on the bed. He wastes no time in taking off his boots, the shoes dirtied with blood and mud, and gingerly lays down on the bed next to you.

Jason wraps his arms around you from behind, holding you so gently with the hands he just used to bury the one who hurt you. You're so precious to him, so precious that he doesn’t want to risk holding you any tighter. You're fragile to him, like a porcelain doll.

"Are you awake?" he whispers, brushing his fingers across the soft skin of your neck. He selfishly wishes the answer would be yes, but it's late. He's not going to wake you at almost four in the morning just because he wants your attention, not today at least.

Without leaving time for a response, Jason buries his face in the back of your shoulder. He missed you. He hasn't left your side for more than a few hours today, and yet it feels like he's returning home from years overseas. He doesn't like the idea of leaving you alone, no more than he likes the idea of you leaving his apartment. Both take you away from him, both leave you vulnerable.

He doesn't like thinking about what the ones who hate him could do to you, just to get under his skin. "Please be awake," he adds in a softer tone, the idea of you getting injured again making him sick to his stomach. Jason can't imagine a life without you. "Please?"