( bruce doesn't say a word. jason can read between the lines, usually. but not like this. he doesn't try. stays tense, waits. keeps his eyes on bruce as he walks up to the window, pulls out the grapple. as the cape flutters out the window, and batman returns to haunting the night.
another breath in through flared nostrils. teeth bite down into his lower lip, and jason lets everything crumble, again. doesn't bother trying to hold himself up this time--bruce is gone, it's been over a year since he'd last seen bruce wayne--batman, and it didn't make it any easier. a gloved hand raises, fingers reaching up to yank on the hair just over his forehead like that'll help anything. it doesn't. his hand drops, he takes one, two steps towards the wall. stops, wringing his hands.
which also does jack shit. he can feel the tension in his shoulders. how his body feels too small to contain him, how he feels three seconds away from--something. falling apart, breaking everything in sight. jason doesn't know, he just knows it feels terrible. fabric compresses back up so it isn't covering his hands, leaves his knuckles exposed so that when he raises a hand up to thrust his fist into the wall, it bites into skin. it hurts, as it should. the wall dents in. jason raises the same hand, punches it again in the same spot, making the hole worse before he--
--leans in against it, shoving his forehead against the wall. yells out a rough fuck and squeezes eyes shut behind the domino mask.
he's not taking it off again. he's fine. just--needs a minute to breathe, to remember he's not bruce wayne's dead kid anymore. that none of this matters, that this isn't even his bruce, it's a fucking brat under the cowl just figuring out who he is. jason's not dead, he's not fresh out of the lazarus pit. he's not so angry he forgets himself. he's--not even the red hood anymore, that's been stolen by junior. same with jason todd. he's no one.
and maybe it'll be easier, to just keep being no one. )
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another breath in through flared nostrils. teeth bite down into his lower lip, and jason lets everything crumble, again. doesn't bother trying to hold himself up this time--bruce is gone, it's been over a year since he'd last seen bruce wayne--batman, and it didn't make it any easier. a gloved hand raises, fingers reaching up to yank on the hair just over his forehead like that'll help anything. it doesn't. his hand drops, he takes one, two steps towards the wall. stops, wringing his hands.
which also does jack shit. he can feel the tension in his shoulders. how his body feels too small to contain him, how he feels three seconds away from--something. falling apart, breaking everything in sight. jason doesn't know, he just knows it feels terrible. fabric compresses back up so it isn't covering his hands, leaves his knuckles exposed so that when he raises a hand up to thrust his fist into the wall, it bites into skin. it hurts, as it should. the wall dents in. jason raises the same hand, punches it again in the same spot, making the hole worse before he--
--leans in against it, shoving his forehead against the wall. yells out a rough fuck and squeezes eyes shut behind the domino mask.
he's not taking it off again. he's fine. just--needs a minute to breathe, to remember he's not bruce wayne's dead kid anymore. that none of this matters, that this isn't even his bruce, it's a fucking brat under the cowl just figuring out who he is. jason's not dead, he's not fresh out of the lazarus pit. he's not so angry he forgets himself. he's--not even the red hood anymore, that's been stolen by junior. same with jason todd. he's no one.
and maybe it'll be easier, to just keep being no one. )