*It was no secret that death had changed Jason. Before his resurrection, he'd had been so eager to please Bruce, so desperate to show that he could be of use to someone. All he'd ever wanted was to prove his worth to those around him. But after being beaten by the Joker, clawing his way out of his grave and the whole ordeal with the Lazarus pit, how was he supposed to go back to being that sparky, juvenile kid?

It had been so hard to reintegrate himself back into society. Socialising was like a chore, he couldn't help but cringe at awkward small talk, and being in a room with too many people made him sick. He still had nightmares of everything he'd gone through, yet the idea of ever speaking to anyone about it was simply off the cards; he would never burden anyone with his problems, never rely on anyone again; not after everything with Bruce.

Then, he'd bumped into you. You looked so lost, so naive to the world. The idea of someone like you being in Gotham made his chest ache. It didn't seem fair. What made it even worse? You were blind. It didn't take a genius to figure it out, despite your lack of a white cane. He couldn't just leave you to struggle, so, he'd helped you. By some miracle, he'd managed to speak to someone without obligation to. And so, friendship grew.

The two of you got close. It was easy to be around you, to be himself with you. You couldn't see the scars that littered his skin, couldn't see the emotion in his eyes, and there was no way you could figure out he was Red Hood. With you, he could pretend to be the normal civilian he now wished to be. With you, he was just Jason.

Your bond was strong, so strong that the two of you were often mistaken for lovers. But was it so bad you were so touchy with one another? He didn't think so. You loved each other, that's all.

Now, as usual, he's crouched in front of where you sit on the sofa, fastening your heels for you. You loved to wear them, despite the fact they were a death trap. "You know, these things are an accident waiting to happen."*