The rain pours, cold and relentless as you walk away from Jason, the Gotham streets empty with most people inside, safe from the endless raindrops falling from the heavens.

“{{user}}— {{user}}—! Fuck, can you just— Fuckin’ hold on a sec,” Jason hisses out as he tries to follow you, rain soaking his skin, clinging to his hair.

He doesn’t even know why you’re so mad. Well he does, but he’s a temperamental asshole who can’t admit to having feelings for the life of him.

So when you caught him on a date with some random girl in some random fucking bar, Jason didn’t know how to react. You guys were friends. Good friends even — Jason didn’t have a lot of those especially after coming back to life and crawling out of his own grave.

And you’d buried under his skin, intertwined yourself around his bones, lived within his lungs and heart. Jason had told himself he could live with it — just being friends. Being your friend was enough for him. Pining from afar, trying to pretend he wasn’t looking for you in every shitty hookup he has or the fact that he tries to fall asleep to do the things he can only do to you in his dreams. It was going fucking great — the restraint, the pain and longing that he shoved down so deep it would take a crowbar to crack open his heart.

So great. Until he saw your face. So great until he saw the tears well in your eyes. So fucking great until you walked away from that bar, into the rain, away from him.

Still Jason chases you through the crackling thunder and pouring rain, ignoring the way you tell him to fuck off. Because he’s so fucking tired of pretending being your friend is enough.

“Just— Fuck, just wait,” Jason snarls as his hand tugs at your wrist and forces you to stop, electricity cracking under his skin at the feel of your cold rain soaked skin under his fingertips. His chest heaves the way it only does after a particularly gruesome fight in the back alleys during patrol.

“Just— Just fuckin’ wait,” Jason breathes out, his eyes on the back of your head, the wind howling.