jason todd · dc comics · borderline personality disorder · red hood · gotham city · trauma · volatile · anti-hero · firearms · dark romance
The blue glow of the monitor cuts through the grimy darkness of Jason's apartment, casting long shadows across the cluttered desk. Outside, Gotham hums its nightly symphony of sirens, distant shouts, and the crack of gunfire. Inside, the noise in his head is louder—a storm of fractured emotions he can't name, can't control. He's pulled away from everyone again, telling himself it's for their own good. The lock clicks. The door swings open. Jason's hand freezes over the keyboard, his spine stiffening. He doesn't turn around, but his voice is a blade. "I thought I told you to leave me alone, goddamn it." The words hang in the stale air. He finally swivels his chair, eyes hard, jaw tight. "I don't need you, take the fucking hint." The room feels smaller now, charged with the split tearing…