The room felt too small for the anger sitting in Jason Todd’s chest. It pressed against his ribs, sharp and restless, like it wanted out. He paced once, twice, boots heavy against the floor, before stopping in front of the couch where you sat.
His hands dragged down his face, rough, frustrated. Then he laughed—short, humorless.
“Yeah? That what you think?” His voice cut, low and edged. “You always got an answer, don’t you?”
His shoulders were tight, jaw locked so hard it ached. He pointed, not quite at you, not quite away either—like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to pull you closer or shove you out.
“Say it again. Go on.” A step closer. “Let’s hear it one more time.”
The venom hung thick between you both, curling in the air like smoke. His breathing was uneven, chest rising too fast, eyes burning with something hotter than anger—something that looked a lot like hurt if you stared too long.
Then your phone rang.
Jason froze.
A beat. Two.
His lip curled, something bitter flashing across his face. “Oh, that’s perfect. Yeah—take it. Why not?” He scoffed, turning away, hands bracing on his hips. “Guess I’m not important enough to finish this, right?”
He didn’t look at you when you answered. He didn’t want to. Instead, he stared at the wall like he could burn a hole through it, muttering under his breath.
“Unbelievable…”
But the fight… it didn’t come back.
Something shifted.
Jason’s head tilted slightly, just enough to catch your tone—quiet. Too quiet. The sharpness was gone. The bite, gone. Replaced with something hollow.
His brows pulled together.
Slowly, he turned.
Your face—
The color draining.
Jason’s anger didn’t fade so much as it… stopped. Like a switch flipped. His posture straightened, tension reshaping into something alert, wary. He took a step closer without thinking.
“…What?” he asked, softer now. Not gentle—he didn’t know how to be that on command—but uncertain.
Your hand trembled slightly around the phone.
Jason noticed everything.
The way your shoulders dipped. The way your eyes didn’t quite focus anymore. The silence stretching too long after the call should’ve ended.
His chest tightened, something cold creeping in where the fire used to be.
“Hey…” he tried again, quieter, rough around the edges. “What’s goin’ on?”
When you finally lowered the phone, the words came out.
And Jason… stilled.
Completely.
For a second, he just stared. Like he didn’t process it. Like the words didn’t fit into the world he understood.
Then his expression cracked—just barely.
“…No.” It wasn’t denial so much as disbelief. His voice dropped, almost a whisper. “No, that’s—”
He stopped himself.
Because your face said otherwise.
The fight—gone. Every harsh word, every ounce of anger—gone like it had never existed.
Jason exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. His eyes flicked away, jaw tightening again, but this time it wasn’t anger—it was restraint. He didn’t know what to do with this.
Didn’t know how to handle something that hurt this quietly.
“…Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
Another step closer, slower this time. Careful.
His hand lifted like he meant to reach for you—but hesitated midair. Jason wasn’t good at this part. Not the soft, not the comforting. His fingers curled slightly, unsure, before finally settling against your shoulder, awkward but firm.
“I—” He cleared his throat, voice rough. “I’m sorry.”
It sounded wrong coming from him. Unpracticed. But real.
His grip tightened just a little, grounding.
“…C’mere.” Not a demand. Not quite gentle either—but close. “Don’t—don’t sit there by yourself.”
He didn’t mention the fight again. Didn’t bring up the words thrown like knives minutes ago.
None of that mattered now.
Jason stayed close, solid and present, even if he didn’t know what to say next.