Getting Wishes
A Word: Tumblr request for angsty JayTim.
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The cigarettes would catch up and kick him in the ass one day. Jason knew it even before he'd started getting the constant reminders from various assholes every time he lit up. Didn't stop him from pulling out the last one he had and lighting it up. He inhaled deeply, eyes closing as he felt the nicotine hitting his system. He held the smoke in until his lungs started burning, and exhaled sharply. Opening his eyes to watch the smoke curl up into the dark sky. Gray ribbons that twirled as it spread, like blood pooling along the cracks of a roof.
"Jay-"
Jason shuddered, hunching over his bent knees as another wave of nausea hit him. He clenched his teeth and hissed in a few deep breaths. Trying to cut off the urge to puke his guts out. There was nothing left to bring up anyway, and he hated dry heaving. The filter of his cigarette bent under the pressure of his fingers as he stared at the alley below. Just to the left of the mess he'd let splatter to the ground earlier. Breathing until the wave of sickness passed leaving him feeling wrung out.
"It's ok."
The smoke burned as he sucked down another lungful. Carefully straightening the crumpled stick, already burning close to the filter. One, maybe two more puffs left before it was done, and he was out. Jason brought it up to his mouth and sucked hard. Watching the flare as the paper burned. One deep breath and it hit the filter. Jason savored the last hit before blowing out the last of his cigarette.
"It's not your fault."
Jason flicked the butt out into the alley. Watching the flickering ember of the lit end snuff out as it fell into the puddle of vomit. He stood up, feeling the twinge in his right knee that'd followed him back from the grave and acted up when the weather got cold. He ignored it and the tender spots along his right side as he turned away from the edge. Following the sluggish tendrils of blood back to the middle of the roof, to the crumbled corpse dressed in red and black. Flat blue eyes peering through the ripped mask and not seeing anything.
"You didn't know- you didn't mean- sorry."
Jason crouched down by the lifeless corpse of his replacement and felt raw and empty. Drained completely of the rage that had clouded his thoughts only an hour ago, made him lash out without thought or care. Looking only to share the pain and anger he'd carried since he came back. Taking down Timmy Drake a peg or two was always great for that, a few punches to the face and a kick to the side. Jason reached out and gently pulled out the knife, angled just right to get through a join in the kevlar, and just long enough to reach something vital if pushed in with enough force.
"The League, they sent- It's ok, I don't blame-"
He was covered in blood, invisible in the low lit night and against the black of his uniform. Jason turned the knife in his fingers, not feeling the small nicks opening up on his hands. Waiting for the rage to come back. Waiting for the triumph that should be there at the pretender's death. Waiting for something and only feeling an aching grief that he shouldn't feel as Tim's blood mixed with his own and dried on his hands.
"S-sorry…"
Jason waited through the night and nothing changed.
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