#not me yapping in that note at the end lmfao sorry

[jasonsmirrorball]

honey i'll be dead (it won't always be like this) [756]

thunderstorms, gn!reader, allusions to depression/low mood, angst/comfort

the thunder outside seems a perfect end to the week you've had, booming outside your rickety bedroom window so fiercely you flinch from the blankets you've huddled yourself in. night falls on gotham and you wonder if you will see the familiar haunting glow of the signal cutting through the dense smog tonight. would crime stop for a bit of lightning?

your body locks tight with the next flash of white, tensing in preparation and – there it is, a bellow that makes you twist the sheets under your fingers anxiously. you half wonder if it isn't your own agonies that have manifested into the storm that's washed in over jersey this weekend, grief and fear and rage and seemingly every ugly emotion that had been swimming through your veins all week finally pouring out into the world to torment you once more.

jason comes in just as the power cuts out, lights flickering violently for a brief moment, as though considering whether to commit, before coming to a decision and plunging the apartment into darkness. one quick look outside the window shows it's extended to the entire block. it's silly to feel guilty. you feel it anyway.

the floor beneath his feet creaks – it's deliberate. he doesn't want to scare you, you can tell. there's a murmur of your name and you let out a breath. it's response enough and he crosses the threshold.

"what're you doing alone in here, hm?" it's said casually as he shucks his house slippers – the fuzzy black ones you had bought the first time he'd slept over, laid by the front door in wait of his arrival – and slides into bed beside you.

you shrug. i'm tired. i'm scared. i think i'm going to break. responses that go unsaid hang on the tip of your tongue, but it's weighed down by some invisible mass, and you stare into the space in front of you. the blackness pulses and swirls, shadows shifting as your eyes adjust to the dim light.

there's another roll of heavy thunder outside, so close it sounds as though it's right outside and your face feels taut with stress. your hand reaches for the one next to you, bumping around in the dark until your fingers brush against jason's. his hand curls around yours, one large palm swallowing yours and squeezing.

"'ve got an idea. come here."

you're lifted gently, arms cradling you to him and then the covers are being pulled up over your heads, your body curled up against his. the blanket does little to muffle the sounds outside, the rain beating against the windowpane only sounds marginally softer but he's managed to cut out some of the frigid cold in your apartment, leaking in through the poorly insulated walls. a dry heat settles in the small space and as you slump into him, a pitiful noise escapes your lips.

it's thin, and reedy, and a little wounded, and you can't help the flush in your face that follows, shame washing in like a tide when jason's arms tighten around you. it's dark under the covers, and your face is pressed to his shoulder. he can't see you, and yet he's seen too much in that moment.

"been a long week for you, huh," he mutters, so comfortingly your throat closes up. his hand is heavy on your spine, grounding you as your eyes water.

"so –" you cut yourself off, your voice, barely above a whisper, wobbles tremulously. "so long."

"made it through," he reminds you, but you feel something like a candle burnt too low, smoke plumes curling around a wick struggling to remain aflame. there is nothing in you left to celebrate, only a grief that buzzes in your head and heats your face.

you breathe out loud and it sounds like a sob. jason curls closer to you, and you press your lips together tightly, fingers twisting once more into the fabric within reach – his shirt.

"tell me it won't always be like this," you whisper, and you can feel the tears beginning to leak down the slope of your nose, wetting the pillow beneath your head.

there's a resounding BOOM.

jason's hands come over your ears, stroking the skin behind them. dry lips find your forehead clumsily, and he mutters a vow.

"it won't," he tells you. "it'll pass."

"promise me." it's demanding, and he has no power to wield your fate, but he kisses you as though he does, a reassurance pressed into the seam of your mouth.

"i promise."

me when i listen to it won't always be like this by inhaler whenever things are shit and only listen to that specific line because it feels like elijah hewson is promising me things will be ok. same energy as listening to don't let it break your heart and pretending it's louis tomlinson speaking directly TO ME! anyway i've had the shittiest week and a half and the weather has been so fucking awful and i'm scared of thunderstorms now! a lovely development that is SO useful when the weather decides to come down on us during what is supposed to be SUMMER. this is entirely self indulgent. but also born out of that one very lovely nonnie's thought that jason would come and comfort u during a thunderstorm. and well. if he is also scared, then. we are getting a pair of noise cancelling headphones.

#not me yapping in that note at the end lmfao sorry #this fic is unedited i just needed to write SOMETHING before i went insane #jay my heart #jasonsmirrorball #jason todd x reader