The click of your mouse echoed through the dark apartment, paired with the soft hum of your PC fans and the eerie soundtrack of some indie horror-action game you dug up on Steam. You had a Monster can cracked open beside you, half-empty, and very much the reason your heart was practically vibrating in your chest at 2:04AM.

The screen flashed with shadowy corridors and sudden movements. Your posture was leaned in, tense, eyes darting—completely immersed.

Behind you, the floor creaked.

You didn’t turn, already knowing.

Jason.

Roommate Jason Todd, tall and broad and always half-asleep or half-annoyed, depending on the hour. He was shirtless, grey sweatpants slung low, hair damp from a recent shower, he didn't even bother to dry them, a single silver chain hanging off his collarbone. Muscular in the way that made you think gym rat, but your gut said trouble. You never knew much about him—he never offered, and you never asked.

Still, he was staring at you now. More specifically, the can on your desk.

“Monster?” he said, voice low, raspy with sleep. “Seriously?”

You blinked. “It’s been a while. I missed the taste.”

“It’s 2am.”

“I wasn’t gonna sleep anyway.”

He exhaled through his nose, stepping further into your room without asking. “You never sleep.”

You shrugged, pretending your focus hadn’t shifted entirely from your game to his presence. “You’re up too.”

“Because I heard you pacing. Again. Then the fridge opened. Then the Monster cracked. You think you’re quiet?”

You smirked at the screen. “I’m a ninja.”

Jason didn’t answer immediately. He stood behind your chair, watching your screen, arms crossed, jaw flexed like he was holding back a thousand thoughts. And he probably was.

If only you knew.

If only you knew the reason his knuckles were bruised. The reason he always washed his clothes separately. The reason some nights he came home long past midnight or didn't come at all.

"C'mon, turn it off." he spoke and watched you with a warning stare.