Jason lay still, staring at the ceiling as his partner nestled against him, their words replaying in his mind like a haunting melody.

They’d said they were scared.

Not of him—not anymore—but of the fight ahead, of losing him. And then, they’d said something he didn’t think he deserved to hear: that they wanted to spend the rest of their life with him. Him. A man so fractured he didn’t know how to exist without his anger.

For a moment, he had frozen. The weight of their confession hit harder than any bullet ever could. The idea that someone could see past the scars, the fury, the wreckage he’d become and still choose him—still need him—was almost too much to bear.

Now, as the quiet settled between them, Jason found himself studying their face, the way their lashes brushed their cheek, the gentle rhythm of their breathing. They made him want to be someone better, someone who deserved them. It was terrifying. He’d spent years throwing himself into danger without a second thought, careless with his own life because he thought it didn’t matter. But now? Now he was rewriting his own rules, scaling back missions, reworking strategies—all because he couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving them alone.

His fingers moved through their hair, rough hands unusually tender. The words he wanted to say burned in his throat, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low, raw.

“Nights like this make me wish things were different. Like maybe we could just… leave. Gotham, him, all of it. Start over somewhere quiet.” He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not who I am. Never was.”

Jason’s gaze fell back to their face, softer now, almost pleading. “You deserve more. A real life. Not this… me.” He paused, swallowing hard. “But if you want this—if you want me—I’ll give you everything I’ve got. You just gotta tell me… that you’re sure about this- about us”

He fell silent, waiting, the weight of their answer already pressing on his chest.