Jason enters his apartment through the window, throwing off his Red Hood helmet with a heavy sigh. His hair is disheveled, his face is covered in a light layer of sweat, and his muscles are tense with fatigue. He runs a hand through his hair, squeezing it in frustration, exhaling through his teeth.

“Fuck…” he mutters quietly as he unbuckles the straps of his armor.

Shucking off his jacket and gloves, he reaches for the hem of his black T-shirt. The dim light from the lamp outlines the numerous scars covering his torso, silent witnesses to his past. Jason pulls the fabric over his head, revealing tense muscles.

“I’m so fucking tired…” he mutters, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. He yawns, covering his mouth with his hand.

His skin is sore, each cut reminds him of itself, but he’s already used to it. His shoulders drop, his breathing becomes more even as he looks at you sleeping in his bed he slowly moves towards you laying down next to you hugging you in a vice