Chapter Text
Jason had been doing great, all things considered.
He hadn’t missed an assignment in two weeks, hadn’t fallen asleep in class more than twice—all right, fine, three times, tops—and he’d even eaten something that wasn’t instant noodles or reheated takeout. Gotham U hadn’t imploded. No professors had asked too many questions. The world, miraculously, had not yet ended.
Until Wednesday.
The day started badly, if starting at all counted. Because Jason hadn’t actually slept.
The sun had been cresting the horizon when he’d returned to his apartment after a long night of helping Tim track down a drugged-out arsonist. By the time he’d pulled his helmet off and stumbled into his room, he had just enough time to brush his teeth and chug a protein shake while muttering the first paragraph of his mythology essay under his breath like a prayer.
He didn’t even remember getting dressed. One moment, he was grabbing his backpack; the next, he was sprinting halfway across campus, sliding into the back row of his 8 AM lecture, barely even winded.
Then his classmate gave him a look. Then two classmates did. Then three.
Then someone muttered, “Dude, if you’re gonna cosplay Red Hood, at least carry the helmet. Coward.”
Jason blinked.
He looked down.
There was a red bat across his chest.
Oh no.
He was still wearing the Red Hood tactical undersuit—minus the helmet, thank god, but still armored, visibly bulletproof, and bearing just enough scuffs to suggest he’d recently gotten in a knife fight. Because he had. His boots still had smoke damage.
For two seconds, he sat very still and considered simply ceasing to exist.
Instead, he smiled tightly and zipped up his jacket. Maybe if he slouched hard enough, he’d become part of the desk.
Jason
hypothetically
if one were to show up to class in half a vigilante suit
how fucked would one be
Steph
10/10 fucked
LMAO YOU DID NOT
Duke
are we talking helmet and all or like
partial ensemble
Cass
Photo please
Dick
Please tell me you at least took the helmet off 😰
Damian
You’re a disgrace.
Tim
why are you in class?? you were just out on patrol??
Jason
ur mom
Tim
why are you like this
Dick
Hey
You’re an adult now
You gotta learn to manage your time responsibly
Jason
aren’t you like 30 and still crashing at the manor sometimes
Dick
I’m 29
Fuck you
❤️
By the time class started, Jason had stuffed his holsters and utility belt into the bottom of his backpack, and was trying to channel the spirit of every sleep-deprived liberal arts major in Gotham.
Professor Castillo was mid-rant about unreliable narrators in modern fiction when her eyes fell on Jason. She paused.
“I see someone came dressed for battle,” she said dryly. “Planning to stage a dramatic defense of your essay?”
A few students chuckled. Jason, without missing a beat, said, “Only if you start slandering Marlowe.”
She raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed. “Well, I’m glad someone’s caffeinated.”
He absolutely wasn’t—not yet, anyway—but he knew the text. He could do this half-dead.
Professor Castillo called on him twice. The first time, Jason accidentally answered in the same clipped tone he used with cops, and the girl across the aisle looked vaguely terrified. The second time, he managed to mumble something about narrative identity and mythmaking while chewing the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t visibly panic.
By the end of the class, he’d been asked six times if he was available for “vigilante-themed photoshoots.” Three students asked for pictures. One said she wanted to send it to her brother “because he’s, like, obsessed with vigilantes.” Another asked if Jason was friends with Red Hood.
Jason, heart hammering, could only think to say, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
They all laughed. Jason did not.
He caught his reflection in the vending machine outside the lecture hall. His domino mask had left a faint raccoon shadow on his face. His backpack—patched-up canvas, not tactical—was slung over one shoulder like that made him a real boy. Normal. Civilian. Totally someone who had remembered to change out of his vigilante gear before sprinting to campus.
Cool.
Great.
This was fine.
“This is fine,” he muttered to himself, willing the words to be true.
The vending machine declined to comment.
Later, he would discover that four students in the class had posted anonymously on the campus subreddit about the mysterious guy in body armor who quoted Shakespeare and smelled faintly of gun oil.
One post titled Red Hood goes to Gotham U? got over 900 upvotes.
r/GothamU
u/awkwardazlynn
Saw this guy in Lit dressed like Red Hood?? Is this performance art or am I in danger 😭
Not trying to sound paranoid but the dude in my class literally had body armor under his jacket. Like combat boots, kevlar suit, utility belt, etc.
Either he’s in a VERY niche cosplay club or I just attended a lecture with a war criminal.
ETA: He drinks his coffee black and made an Iliad joke under his breath. I can’t decide if he’s hot or terrifying or both.
u/MetropolisMirth
Gotham’s feral energy never disappoints.
u/shire_wanderer
Gotham students are built different.
u/capetwirler
vigilante-core is trending, babes
u/dooweedoo
I would absolutely commit crimes for that man.
u/SilverChirp2006
his prose is immaculate but the vibes are like. emotionally haunted alley cat.
u/coffeeeandsarcasm
he looked like he was 3 coffees and one tragic past away from becoming a Greek myth himself
u/deepfriedoreo
I asked him about the outfit and he just said “it’s laundry day.”
Iconic. Terrifying.
u/LiteraryVoyager
i think i’m in love
u/whimsical_wombat_waltz
you mean he ISN’T the Red Hood??? bc i’m not convinced
u/stemsoverlords98
I mean, it is Gotham. This could be a normal Wednesday.
u/Jedi_Mind_Trickster
nah fr i’d let red hood ruin my gpa
u/CinematicSpecter
Lol I wonder if Batman gives scholarships
u/RiderDan
If he corrects your MLA citations, just say thank you and back away slowly.
u/pageturnerQuest
do you think he does group projects or just threatens people into doing them?
u/lavenderlunacy
someone overheard him say “i kill for grammar” and i’m choosing to believe it’s literal
@haydenjones
midterms got everyone dressing like they’re prepared to go feral in the woods and eat god
—
@trishabakes
There’s a guy in my American Lit class who dresses like he’s expecting to be mugged and betrayed at any moment.
He gave me his last pencil. I will follow him into war.
—
@DrewMJ
me: what do lit majors even do all day
lit major: walks into class dressed like he has unfinished business and a body count
me: nvm
—
@janeatnorth
can someone explain how a guy who dresses in vigilante cosplay is allowed to just. roam campus??
no ID badge. no fear. only trauma and espresso.
—
@WriterMaven
okay but if I fail this course, I’m blaming the guy who showed up to class looking like a war crime in motion
how am I supposed to focus with that energy across the room
—
@Quinn_Lantern
the older guy in our fiction workshop wrote a short story about a kid who dies and comes back wrong, and when we asked what inspired it he said “my monday” and changed the subject.
is this just . . . his vibe???
Tim
hey so
anyone checked twitter today?
Steph
YOU GUYS
JASON IS TRENDING
Cass
He wore the boots
The loud boots 🥾
Duke
he’s trending under #GothamUCryptid
someone said he looked like if Edgar Allan Poe hit the gym
Tim
I saw a thread saying “that lit dude is either diet batman or his emotionally repressed son” and another one just called him “daddy issues in boots”
they have no idea how close they are
Cass
Many memes
They fear him
He thrives
Duke
do you think we can make merch out of this lol
Jason
no
Steph
WAIT YOU’RE A GENIUS
MERCH YES
Cass
Merch yes ✨
Tim
merch yes
Duke
merch yes
Jason
merch no
Damian
Merch yes.
Jason
et tu, brat?
Damian
You have to pay for your useless degree somehow.
Dick
Hey let’s not fight in the chat guys 🥺🙏
Damian
I will not coddle Todd when he insists on embarrassing himself in public.
Jason
I was LATE
I was TIRED
I grabbed what was on the chair
it was DARK
also shut up
Steph
you’re lucky they don’t know you’re a vigilante
they think you’re just a brooding poet who deadlifts
Duke
actually kinda scarier
Jason
can’t talk
ignoring 47 dms
one guy asked if I was mourning someone or just built like this
Steph
LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
@helenluvsbooks
omg you were so cool in class today!! are you doing the poetry open mic??? pls say yes
—
@serenadrawstoo
do you model
or kill people
or both
asking for a friend
—
@quillquirkster
Hi! You don’t know me, but can I interview you for my podcast on emotionally devastating literature and emotionally unavailable men?
—
@sneakychatterbox
hey just wanted to say i really vibed with your short story
also is it based on real events
also are you okay
—
@autumnleaves1989
Are you the guy everyone’s talking about from ENG214??
Please confirm. I need to win a bet.
—
@RevvedUpRuckus
i respect your vibes and your boots
pls send boot recs
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Quick Reminder About Classroom Attire ☺️
Hi everyone,
Hope you're all hanging in there! I know midterms are hitting hard, and caffeine consumption is at an all-time high.
Just a friendly reminder that while we at Gotham University encourage individuality and creative expression, the classroom is still a shared academic space, and certain choices—particularly those involving tactical bodysuits, utility belts, or anything that may or may not qualify as light armor—can be a bit distracting for others.
Please keep in mind that comfort, practicality, and basic adherence to classroom norms are always appreciated. Especially during lectures. Especially when everyone is already on edge from exams. Especially before 10 AM.
If your outfit could cause someone to ask, “Is the class about to get held hostage?” it might be worth reconsidering.
Thanks so much for your understanding, and good luck on the rest of your midterms! You’ve got this. Really.
Warmly,
Eric Sung
Teaching Assistant | Intermediate Fiction Workshop (ENG 214)
Department of English and Comparative Literature
Gotham University
Email: [email protected]
Jason
they’re calling me a war criminal
do I at least look hot
Duke
like if Hot Topic and a poetry reading had a baby
and the baby was wanted by the FBI
Jason
do I look hot though
Damian
Pennyworth says you look unwell. I agree.
If you fail to secure a 4.0, it reflects poorly on all of us.
Jason
get your own gpa, demon
Damian
I have surpassed the need for institutional education.
Steph
death is temporary
memes are forever
Cass
Poetic
Dick
Okay but how are you actually doing?
This bothering you?
Jason
nah
it’s just funny
It wasn’t funny.
It might have been—maybe—if it didn’t tap on that thing he carried. That old, sharp blade that scraped at his ribs whenever he played at normal.
Because he wasn’t.
Jason had grown up knowing what it was like to be hungry—truly, soul-sucking hungry. He knew what it was like to dig through dumpsters for day-old sandwiches. To sleep in alleys. To steal dog-eared paperbacks from street bins. He’d taught himself how to talk around adults in case they called CPS.
Gotham U felt like a mirage. Someplace other kids belonged, kids with planners and MacBooks and scowls that didn’t send professors twitching.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not really.
Kids like him didn’t end up in college classrooms with spiral notebooks and overpriced textbooks. They ended up in foster files. In mugshots. Under headlines.
He wasn’t built for normal. Never had been. He could fake it for a while, wear the student mask, jot down lecture notes, raise his hand when he remembered—but the real him always bled through.
Even now. Literal bloodstains under his sleeve. He’d had to scrub them off his knuckles in the school bathroom. Nobody noticed. Not yet.
But someone would.
They always did.
ginny_has_opinions
[A blurry photo of Jason standing in the hallway, arms crossed, looking vaguely pissed off at a vending machine.]
local man looks like he’s one espresso away from vengeance
—
lizzywritesstuff
[A short vertical video of Jason, walking down campus steps, combat boots clunking loudly. His jacket is zipped up halfway, with the top of the red bat insignia visible underneath. Camera shakes slightly. Mission Impossible theme plays in the background.]
Just passed That Guy again.
—
harrywithaplan
[A photo of Jason leaning on a campus railing, tired and disheveled, combat boots visible.]
when midterms feel like doomsday prep
—
sufferingsuccotash
[A thirty-second shaky zoomed-in shot of Jason resting his head on his hand, visibly exhausted, combat gear and all. The audio playing is a heartbeat sound followed by a faint explosion.]
POV: your writing workshop is about to peer review your story but Red Hood is in the front row
@ruby_is_stressed
I’m not even in the lit department but I saw that one guy they’re all talking about. I think I made eye contact and he saw into my soul.
—
@SomebodySaveMe
so are we not gonna talk about the dude who looks like a haunted action figure and quoted camus mid-debate without blinking
—
@whatisAPA
guy in my seminar turned up in full-on Red Hood cosplay and corrected the prof’s pronunciation of “Thoreau” like he was reciting obituaries
—
@terraincognita
gotham university’s sleep-deprived red hood is real and he’s in my lecture. he said “blood is the first ink” and then kept taking notes like that was normal.
—
@premedparker
Showed my mom a TikTok of #GothamUCryptid and she said he looks like one of Bruce Wayne’s kids.
Um.
@PalpatineDidNothingWrong
Replying to @premedparker
literally went “lol ain’t no way” but then I googled it and now I need to lie down
@kurtisknowsall
Replying to @premedparker
as in the dead kid?? the legally dead for five years dead kid???
Damian
Do they not have changing rooms in college?
Or are you incapable of time management even when not actively being shot at?
Jason
bro I got 0 sleep and a caffeine twitch that could kill god
let me live
Dick
Is the caffeine twitch why you answered a question about tragic irony with “you ever kill a man and regret it later”?
Jason
I WAS KIDDING
IT WAS A JOKE
Tim
“he looks like he killed a man at midnight and then wrote an elegy for him before breakfast”
is a REAL tweet
you're never living this down
Steph
you’re my hero 💖💖💖💖
Jason
I hate all of you
when I get my diploma then you’ll see
you’ll all see
Tim
see what
your student loans
Jason
rude
accurate
blocked
Jason didn’t check his phone on the train ride back from school.
Not because he forgot—he could feel the buzzing in his pocket like a second heartbeat—but because he already knew what he’d see. More memes. More screenshots. More commentary from the peanut gallery. Probably Cass posting a Red Hood sticker over some photo or a voice memo from Steph pretending to be his PR agent.
The meme storm had reached its peak around third period. He hadn’t looked directly at anyone the whole day. Just kept his head down and his jaw set, hands shoved in his pockets like maybe he could disappear into them.
He hadn’t. Obviously.
By the time he made it back to his apartment—a third-floor walk-up with uneven floors and a heater that hissed like a raccoon trapped in the vents—he was on the verge of collapse. His ribs ached. His eyes burned. He’d sweated through his gear in a way that was definitely going to require industrial-grade laundry detergent. But worse than the pain was the feeling.
The dread.
That slow-creeping rot in his gut that said, This is the moment you ruin it. The part where they find out you’re not supposed to be here.
He liked school. That was the problem. He liked his classes. He liked the coursework and the smell of the library and the sound of chalk on the board. He liked writing essays and arguing about books and sitting in seminars where no one knew he used to sleep in alleyways. College was the only place where he felt like he could want things.
But every so often, all it took was a look or a comment—and now it was photos online of him looking like he'd just walked out of Arkham—and the illusion cracked.
Jason kicked off his boots, peeled off his jacket, and collapsed onto the couch face-first with all the grace of a dead body being dumped into a river. When the ceiling didn’t collapse on him, he considered it a win.
Then, because the universe hated him, there was a knock at the door.
Three raps. Pause. Two.
Annoyingly familiar.
He debated faking sleep. Maybe death.
But then he heard the jangle of keys.
Jason bolted upright. “Don’t you dare—!”
Too late. The door opened with the distinctive creak of betrayal, and there was Dick, grinning smugly and holding up the emergency spare key like it was a winning lottery ticket.
Jason threw a pillow at him. Dick sidestepped it neatly.
“Normal people text first,” Jason said.
“You weren’t answering your phone,” Dick said. He looked like he’d jogged the last block: windswept hair, jacket slung over one shoulder, and a brown paper bag in his hand that made Jason suspicious on principle.
Jason groaned and fell back into the couch cushions. “Yes, I was.”
“You sent me the skull emoji.”
“That’s basically ‘I’m alive.’”
“You sent it with sparkles. That’s mixed signals.”
“I was feeling festive.”
Dick toed off his shoes and closed the door gently behind him, as if he thought the place might shatter if he made too much noise.
“I come bearing gifts,” he said, holding the bag up. “Chicken shawarma. Hot sauce on the side.”
Jason eyed the bag like it might explode. “You remembered the pickled onions?”
“Am I Tim?”
“Touché.”
They ate on the couch, paper containers balanced on their knees, sitting in silence like they were back in the cave post-patrol, thirty hours without sleep and too tired to fake small talk. The city outside buzzed with low, distant traffic, the muffled pulse of Gotham filtering through the walls. Neither Jason nor Dick had thought to turn the lights on, so the apartment was soaked in the gold-grey of late afternoon. Warm. Quiet. Too quiet.
Dick, predictably, was the one who broke it. “So. You’re famous now.”
Jason groaned again. “Don’t.”
“I mean, the memes did hit the Gotham subreddit by noon. Going viral for your vibe alone? That takes talent.”
“I went to class in my gear and forgot how to smile. That’s not a vibe. That’s a breakdown.”
Dick grinned. “Well, the internet disagrees.”
Jason fought the urge to throw another pillow at his head. “Don’t make me regret not ghosting you all.”
“You already regret us daily.”
Jason smirked despite himself; he felt it flicker across his face, there and gone. His head buzzed from the day. Too many people, too many stares. A whole afternoon of pretending it didn’t get to him.
He didn’t want to talk about it.
Dick didn’t say anything else right away. He just leaned back, relaxed, like he wasn’t here to poke and prod. Jason appreciated that. Or would, if he let himself admit it.
“I think you scared some kids,” Dick said eventually. “I saw one post that said, and I quote, ‘He looks like he’s killed someone with a fountain pen.’”
Jason snorted. “They’re not wrong.”
He’d looked in the mirror this morning and seen the same thing he always saw. Dark circles. Tension in the jaw. That look behind the eyes that made him seem older than he was. The one people never commented on directly, but made them keep their distance. Even now. Even on campus.
Especially on campus.
Dick elbowed him gently. “You’ve heard worse.”
“Yeah, and most of them were from you.”
“Sibling privilege.”
Another beat of silence. Jason leaned back and closed his eyes. Let himself breathe for a second. The cardboard box in his hands felt too heavy for what little food was left inside.
He could feel Dick watching him. Not pushing, not pressing. Dick rarely did anymore. He sat there, waiting, probably looking at Jason like he was trying to read a closed book.
Jason didn’t say it out loud, but he liked the quiet that came with Dick’s presence. The way Dick could just be around him without poking at the raw edges.
“They think I’m some kind of dropout ex-gangster or something,” Jason muttered. “I walked in and half the room stopped breathing. Like they thought I might explode.”
“They don’t think that,” Dick said, casually enough to sound believable.
“Don’t they?”
“Does it matter?”
Jason wanted to say yes. He wanted to scream it. Of course it mattered. He’d worked hard to get here—to claw his way out of everything, to sit in a classroom and pretend he could still be something, someone, that all the years hadn’t calcified into something too heavy to carry.
He opened his eyes again. “Not really.”
Dick nodded like he knew anyway.
“You’re intimidating,” he said lightly. “It’s part of your charm.”
Jason exhaled sharply through his nose. Made a sound that might have been a laugh.
He wished he could say it—explain what it felt like, being in a room full of kids who were younger, softer, whole in a way he hadn’t been since he was ten. How they joked about trauma and true crime podcasts, and he was sitting two rows back thinking about how blood smelled when it was fresh.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t know how to say, I wanted to be like them, I think I still do, without sounding pathetic.
He didn’t know how to explain that college had once been a dream—one of the only ones he’d allowed himself—and now it just felt like a costume. Another thing he wore, another place he didn’t quite belong.
So instead, he said, “I’m too old for this shit.”
“You’re twenty-three.”
“Exactly.”
Dick smiled faintly. “I was still wearing a spandex onesie at twenty-three.”
Jason glanced at him sideways. “You still do.”
“Hey. It’s tactical now.”
Jason hummed, half a laugh. “You know Bruce would’ve given me the ‘you’re drawing too much attention’ talk, right?”
Dick snorted. “Yeah. You’re lucky he’s not in town.”
“Silver linings, I guess.”
But even as he said it, Jason felt his chest twist a little. He didn’t want Bruce to lecture him, but there was something quietly jarring about Bruce not being here. No check-ins. Not even a phone call. He was probably in some backwoods jungle doing recon for a League op or some important Wayne Enterprises business deal or whatever—Jason didn’t bother to keep track these days.
He wasn’t mad. Not exactly. He was just . . . aware. Like a kid noticing the porch light wasn’t on when it was supposed to be.
Dick nudged him with a socked foot. “You’ve got that face again.”
“What face?”
“The ‘I’ve mentally committed five murders and three arsons’ face.”
Jason smirked. “Only five?”
“I’m being generous.”
Jason looked down at his hands. He hadn’t realized how tightly he had been gripping the takeout box until he set it aside and saw the shallow crescents where his nails had dug into the cardboard.
“You ever think it’s too late?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Dick turned to look at him. “For what?”
Jason shrugged. “Whatever you wanted to be. Before.”
He didn’t clarify what before meant. He didn’t need to. Dick had always been good at reading between the lines.
“I think sometimes the dream changes,” Dick said finally, gently. “And that’s okay.”
Jason let that sit. He didn’t agree. Not really. But something in his chest unwound a little. It was . . . comforting, in that annoyingly Dick way.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Maybe.”
They went quiet again. The kind of quiet that felt safe, where it was okay to just exist and be seen, truly seen, by someone who wasn’t afraid of the parts of him that hadn’t come back right. Even when he was a mess. Even when he was pissed off and tired and one bad day away from putting his fist through a lecture hall projector.
Eventually, Jason stood up and stretched. The light had faded from the windows now. The room was soft with dusk and the dim blue cast of the hallway light.
“You staying or heading out?” he asked.
Dick blinked up at him. “You want me to stay?”
“Didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t say no either.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”
Dick grinned and kicked his feet up on the table. “Fine. I’ll stay. But I’m picking the movie.”
“I swear to god, if you say Mamma Mia again—”
“Jason—Jay. You need joy in your life.”
Jason grabbed the remote and tossed it at him. “You’re lucky I’m tired.”
Dick caught it without batting an eye. “I’m lucky you haven’t stabbed me.”
“Yet.”
Dick’s grin widened. “Progress.”
Jason shook his head, lips twitching, and sat back down. As Dick turned on the TV, Jason leaned his head against the couch cushion, eyes half-closed, and let himself rest for the first time all day.
Tim
hey
you’ve seen the jason stuff yet?
Bruce
What Jason stuff.
Tim
uh
the thing where he accidentally turned himself into gotham u urban legend
Bruce
What.
Tim
reddit memes
tweets
tiktoks
insta
all him
Bruce
Send me everything.
Tim
you’re not going to like it
Bruce
I already don’t.
Tim
he’s not in trouble though right
right bruce?
bruce?