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Jason wrinkled his nose as a worker bee brought in another open box of cheap Halloween decorations heaped almost completely above their head through the front door. A bat with googly eyes stared back at him until its vacant gaze was interrupted by the ballroom door frame. Who knew how many dead-eyed decorations were lying in wait in the cavernous, empty ballroom?
Jason let a shiver run through him. “Fuckin’ creepy,” he muttered. He tapped his boot as he skirted his eyes over the front lawn through the window and the foyer. He checked his watch.
“You look like you’re running on empty,” Dick piped up behind him. Jason huffed.
“I was up all night tracking drug shipments up and down the harbor,” he grunted. His legs were still sore with how much running and scaling he’d done last night. He shrugged. “Got the bastards, though.” Puffing his chest up in pride, he turned to Dick. “What about you? You look…”
The longer he looked the more lines he saw at the corners of Dick’s eyes. That only meant one thing.
“Oh no, you got roped into planning this thing, didn’t you?” Jason snorted when Dick flushed and got that mad little wrinkle between his eyebrows.
“Bruce practically begged me to help! Alfred is on one of his biannual vacations. He usually carries the weight of preparations.” Dick puffed up more in annoyance as Jason kept silently laughing at him. He pinched Jason’s arm and grinned smugly at the yelp he got out of him. “At least Bruce doesn’t have to cook for this thing. Thank god for catering.” They both cast a look up to the sky in remembrance of the only time Bruce cooked when Alfred was indisposed.
“Where’s Alfred run off to this time?”
“All he said was, ‘Master Dick, if I told you, I’d have to kill you.’” Dick shrugged. “So probably somewhere in the UK.” It was Dick’s turn to check his watch. “The second round of decorations should be coming around soon.”
“Is Bruce around?” Jason asked as he checked his own watch.
“In the inner sanctum,” Dick said with a smile. “He’s been hiding in there to avoid responsibility.” Dick waved his hand in an arch at the last word, like he was drawing a rainbow. Jason snorted and punched him in the shoulder.
“Later, Dick.”
Jason moved further into the house and made it to the study without running into any of Dick’s Decoration Committee worker bees. He took the passage down behind the left-most bookcase and entered the bright atmosphere of the Batcave.
He immediately clocked Bruce typing away at the computer in civilian clothes.
“It never gets less funny, seeing you sitting there without the suit,” Jason called out. He laughed when Bruce jumped at the suddenness of his voice. “Looks like it’s going to be a fun party.”
Bruce groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’d rather face Cobblepot a thousand times than ordering centerpieces and tablecloths.” Bruce rose from his seat and stretched. “The only consolation is that every cent is benefiting the Gotham Youth Support Initiative Association.”
“Quite the acronym you got there,” Jason teased. Bruce just huffed and rubbed at his face.
“What do you need, chum?” Bruce sighed, sincere but tired.
“Well, now I feel guilty because you and Dick are running yourself ragged while I’ve just been fighting off amateur drug dealers all night.”
Bruce stepped forward and looked him over. “Are you alright?”
“Nothing I haven’t faced before,” Jason replied. “I just wanted to touch base and tell you everything I learned about the small fry I caught down at the Gotham pier.”
Bruce smiled and waved him over to the computer. “Let’s debrief.”
Their debriefing sessions had started shortly after Jason’s reentry into Bruce’s life and then increased in frequency after the whole Slade Wilson situation. Now, Jason reports back to Bruce as soon as possible with any information he has. It’s made information on Gotham’s underbelly more updated but it has also given them more time together to talk and reconnect. Anyone outside their family would definitely find it strange but it worked for them. Jason’s therapist had even commended him on how he was rebuilding his second life with his family.
So, he filled Bruce in on the goings-on about the drug busts, and then their conversation shifted to talk of Jason’s search for a day job to pay for his nights. This led to another discussion about how Bruce couldn’t pay for everything and that Jason was living his life independently from Bruce’s excessive wealth.
“I’m fine,” Jason insisted. “I let you upgrade my gear but that’s where we drew the line, Bruce.”
Bruce opened his mouth to say something then closed it. It was a long second before he nodded. “You’re right. You’re your own man, I respect that, chum.” Bruce sat up straighter and let out a breath. “At least let me do research into jobs I think you’ll like.”
Jason huffed but his grin let slip how happy he was that Bruce was listening to him and respecting the money boundary. “Sure, B.”
They spent the next half hour looking at jobs available within city limits at every auto body and mechanic shop.
“So you two get to have fun but I’m stuck ordering gluten-free pumpkin treats and a DJ who is going to play nothing but cheesy Halloween classics?” Dick squawked from the stairs as he came down.
Bruce had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry, D. I’m helping Jason apply for jobs. I got a bit carried away.”
Dick scoffed but didn’t seem too upset. “How is the new identity going anyway?”
Jason grimaced. “Fine, I just wish I got to keep the last name.”
Dick looked at the screen where they’d created a job profile on GothamJobs. “Yeah, Jason Tylers isn’t the best,” Dick chuckled. “At least you don’t look like a frat boy. Two first names, really?”
Jason’s scowl practically became permanent as Dick razzed him.
“It’s the best we could do on short notice since Wilson practically televised the fight. We should count ourselves lucky the public was willing to just accept a new vigilante rather than pry.” Bruce leveled Dick with a good-natured glare. “Stop teasing your brother.”
“It’s all good,” Dick said as he side-hugged Jason around the shoulders. “I’m just playing. I’m glad I can finally go out in public with you and not have to worry about people seeing my brother’s ghost.”
Jason felt his stomach twist but pushed it aside. “Yeah, and I’m glad I’m finally being reintroduced to capitalist society. I feel so welcome.”
“I’ll send you the list,” Bruce replied diplomatically, turning back to the screen.
“Well, that’s all I needed,” Jason said, standing up and dislodging Dick’s arm. He ruffled a hand through Dick’s hair to show he wasn’t angry. “Catching up has been fun, but I got other things to tend to. I’m a busy guy.” He shot them a wink as he slipped out.
He spent the rest of the night casing the docks, waiting out any unsuspecting suppliers in the dark of the night.
By the time he got home, he felt more exhausted than he thought possible. His limbs felt like solid weights pulling him down. He faceplanted into the cool fabric of his bed. Sleep took him before he could even think to get under the covers.
The air in Gotham had never felt as sodden as it did now. Jason pulled at his suit collar. The pressed pants scratched at his skin. The air wanted to drown him.
“I really think they should have opted for a closed casket,” Dick said out of the side of his mouth. Jason scoffed. He looked behind him at the thin crowd.
“The poor bastard attracted a real crowd, huh?” Jason muttered. Dick rubbed at his mouth to stifle a chuckle.
“Dick, show some respect,” Batman growled. Dick’s eyes rolled toward him before blinking owlishly.
Jason swallowed against a sudden weight in his throat. He coughed and the humid air quickly pulled down the puff of brown that spewed from him. Jason tried gasping but dirt turned to mud on his tongue.
Dick laughed. “Oh, let me get that.” He hit Jason on the back, triggering another spill of dirt. Dick caught a heaping handful and kept a tight grasp of it. “Thanks, dude.” Then he tossed it into the open grave.
Jason fell to his knees and stared down at the hole in the ground as he coughed. He choked as he took in the sight of the burned-up body lying in the bright white inside of the casket, wearing a crisp, pressed suit.
“What—” Jason gasped.
The lid of the casket slammed shut but it was clear as day.
Jason scratched at the inside of the clear lid and did his best to scream. Dick and Batman stared down at him solemnly.
“Guess you should put out an ad for the new Robin,” Dick singsonged. His mouth twisted as he gripped his cheeks, pulling the skin into a grimace. Batman’s lips bled red as he chewed at the side of his mouth.
“They never last long,” he spat along with the glob of tissue that was his tongue.
Jason twitched violently as a metal crowbar hit the lid of the casket. With wide eyes Jason took in the sight of the Joker standing at the head of his grave, grinning down at him.
“My, don’t you look wonderful, little bird,” he said before kicking a heap of dirt onto Jason’s casket. “A roasted bird all dressed up for the potluck.”
Jason beat at the lid. He screamed his vocal cords bloody. Blood and saliva smeared his face. He felt flames licking at his back as dirt rained down on top of him.
He brought the crowbar down again. The lid flexed but didn’t break. Dirt bounced but inevitably came down.
Thunk!
“Please, please, no,” Jason babbled as he feebly batted at the lid with what little energy he had left. He’d run himself hoarse, his voice almost nonexistent. “Please,” he begged, “help me.”
Thunk! Thunk!
Jason jumped awake, sweat burning his eyes. He tore at the sheets, scrambling for stability; the bed was both too soft and too stiff.
He hit the floor hip-first. Curling into a ball felt like the only thing he had control over as his heart and thoughts raced. He sobbed into the shitty carpet.
Slowly, he was able to uncurl himself and sit up against his bedframe. He sniffed and rubbed at his nose with his forearm. The sun was rising without a cloud in the sky for once.
Jason let his head thunk back against the metal.
He should have recognized it all sooner, he thought. He’d died in April then risen six months later. He ran a hand through the tuft of white hair that was one of his many reminders.
Guess my resurrection anniversary is coming up, he mused.
“Fucking perfect,” he groused, shutting his eyes against the sun.
Jason debated all throughout cooking breakfast on calling Eric to talk about his fucked up nightmare. Ultimately he decided against it.
He doesn’t need me venting at him again, he thought as he tossed the plate of toast and eggs onto the coffee table. Usually, a nightmare left him with restless energy he felt he needed to work out by hitting something or someone. But right now he just felt tired and empty, and really hungry. He shoveled the eggs into his mouth as he turned the TV on.
The news was spouting about the latest Batman sighting. Video footage of Two-Face hanging upside down from the Gotham National Bank clock did its best to pull a smile out of him but he just didn’t have it in him. He finished off his food and took stock of his options.
He could sit around all day and stew, which didn’t sound completely terrible, or he could get up and do something else.
Just a walk around the block, he told himself. It wouldn’t be anything too strenuous for how exhausted he felt.
He got dressed in his comfiest sweats and tank top, grabbed his wallet and keys, and left the apartment. The air was crisp and a total one-eighty from the dampness that clung onto him from the nightmare. He breathed in deeply and then let it out. Something knocked loose in his chest and the taste of dirt started to fade.
What should have been a ten-minute walk turned into twenty, thirty, then an hour. He grabbed himself a street vendor coffee and sipped it as he continued on.
Eventually, he came upon St. Mary Magdalen’s, one of the oldest churches in Gotham. It looked pristine in the bright light of the high sun. Jason sat outside and just stared at it for a long time, contemplating a lot but registering nothing. He moved inside after he threw his coffee cup in the trash. Parishioners milled about, a couple of tourists too, but Jason paid them no mind.
The statue of Magdalen herself stood at the front of the church, sectioned off by cords of red rope and surrounded by candle offerings. Jason signed the Cross and then knelt down in front of her.
He didn’t know what he could possibly say so he just bowed his head and sat in silence. He let the hush surround him. The soft snap of candle flames buffeted away any ugly thoughts that tried to rear their heads.
When he rose to his feet, he let a long, soft breath out. He easily retreated into the recesses of the shadows and made his way up onto the roof. He sat high up on the bell tower, out of sight of the ground.
I was dead for six months, he thought to himself as he looked at the sunset, stewing in the gothic Catholic architecture in a way that would make Batman proud. Here, on top of the world and closer to Heaven than he’d ever get, the thoughts came.
There wasn’t much direction on how to cope after being brought back from the dead. He’d directed his anger into a focused bullet to take down Joker. And now…
What did he want out of his second chance at life?
I feel like I should have this figured out by now , he thought. The belltower he was sitting on top of rang out, announcing six o'clock.
“I hate when I find you with that look, birdie,” a familiar voice teased. Jason rolled his eyes up to the sky but otherwise didn’t move. “It usually means you’ve got too much in that head of yours.” Black combat boots appeared in his periphery before a black trenchcoat covered them.
Eric sat down heavily next to him and patted Jason’s knee. “What’s up, birdie?”
“Just thinking,” Jason replied. He sighed before leaning back on the roof to look at Eric. “What about you?”
“Oh, you know, flying around from place to place. It’s been quiet on the other side so nothing too much work-related,” Eric replied. He turned to look at Jason; his white makeup was nowhere to be seen. “If I’m being honest, I’m kind of tired.”
Me too, Jason thought. He shivered. “Are you leaving again?”
Eric shook his head. “The powers that be seem to like that I’m helping here in Gotham any way that I can, so I’m not gone yet.” He squeezed Jason’s knee. “So, don’t you worry about me.”
“But it feels like you’re always worrying about me ,” Jason pressed. “I’m starting to feel like this is a one-way street.”
Eric laughed. “That’s why I like you, birdie. You’re honest to a fault.” He shrugged before turning to look at the sunset himself. “You’re right, friendship goes both ways. And you’re allowed to worry. But I’m doing alright, okay?”
Jason nodded. “And you know you can come to me too, right? It doesn’t always have to be a life-or-death situation.”
Eric chuckled. Then he hummed in thought. “Life or death, huh?”
Jason sobered up at the topic. They both watched as the sun slowly dipped down behind the high-rises.
“I’m looking for a job,” Jason said finally, once the sun had disappeared and the city lights started blinking on. “Something in the mechanic-sphere.”
“And how goes the search?”
“Bruce and I have found a couple of good ones. He’s falsifying records of me working at Wayne Enterprises in that field so I don’t have to explain a gap in my resume.” Jason chuckled. “You know the funny thing is that I met Bruce for the first time when I was stealing his tires.”
Eric snorted then raised a brow.
“I’m being totally serious!” Jason yelped through his laughter. “I stole the tires off of the Batmobile. Well, I got three before he caught me. Towered over me like I was something small.” His voice had grown softer and more thoughtful as he continued. “I thought for sure he was going to beat me black and blue, but you know what he did instead?”
Eric smiled, a gleam to his eyes, and shook his head.
Jason felt a lump in his throat as he recalled the memory. “He laughed.” Jason sniffled, rubbing a hand over his mouth before continuing, “He actually laughed. I don’t think anyone’s ever seen that before. The Batman, the Bringer of Justice to Gotham criminals, laughed at some kid stealing his tires. And you know something?” Jason sucked in a wet breath as his breathing grew unsteady. “He told me that not even Joker had ever made him laugh and that I should feel proud.”
Eric’s hand landed on his knee again and squeezed as a comforting gesture.
“Sometimes, when I start to overthink everything that happened with Joker I think about that. I spiral at the possibility that somehow Joker knew that and that’s why he did what he did. But I know it’s because he was fucked up and wanted to get at Batman.”
“Hey,” Eric said softly to get his attention. “You’re spiraling.”
Jason took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, I know. I…didn’t sleep well last night. Bad dreams.” He hung his head and groaned. “Fuck, I’m doing it again. This isn’t just supposed to be about me.”
“It’s okay, I just bring it out of you, I know,” Eric replied. He reached out and rubbed a hand over Jason’s back. “Like I said, friendship goes both ways. Maybe sometime I’ll share some of my trauma.”
“I’ll bring the popcorn if you bring the beer,” Jason joked.
Eric nodded and smiled. “I might need that soon.” He patted Jason’s back before standing. A crow cried out from down below. “See you later, birdie.”
Then he was gone, escaping into the beating veins of a city coming alive.
Eric had always sensed a staleness to the air the closer Mischief Night approached, ever since he’d been thrown through the window and straight into the ground. Stale in the way that fire burns up all the oxygen and starves the lungs so it isn’t fit to breathe. He had spent the majority of his afterlife above-ground during his death-slash-resurrection day. He relished the times he’d been dragged back underground so he wouldn’t have to look at the surface moving along like his death hadn’t meant anything.
He shook his head and scrubbed his fingers over his face, thankful he’d forgone makeup today and didn’t have to worry about fucking it up. These somber thoughts always accosted him this time of year. Usually, he didn’t have so much contempt for the world but October turned that on its head.
His crow cawed from the headstone of his grave. Eric looked down at it and clenched his teeth. Sometimes it truly felt he was just a ragdoll for fate to play with.
“What do you want from me?” he muttered through trembling lips. The bird only turned its head and stared at him. After all this time, he knew that look.
“And who are you?” he spat, hunching more in on himself as he stared at the glistening grass that covered both his and Shelly’s graves. “My therapist?”
The bird warbled out a shrill laugh. Eric snorted.
Flashes of images assaulted Eric in quick succession: a screaming Shelly, a blood-orange sky, a crow flapping its wings, wet mud, grass through his fingertips, a tuft of white hair, a bloodied mouth, a gun firing. It all left him gasping and plummeting out of the tree and to the cold, hard earth. He curled in on himself, the leather of his jacket creaking around him.
The crow bleated a short, blunt sound as if to say, Get up.
But he wanted more than anything for the earth to swallow him back down into the blissful dark. Shelly would be waiting for him. She’d want to know what she was missing up top and what he’d been up to since the last time they saw each other.
She’d liked it when he first told her about Jason. She had cupped his cheek and smiled.
I’m so glad you have someone to talk to up there, she’d said.
But they didn’t really talk, did they?
His crow landed on his hip and pecked at his jacket. It nipped and tried to pull at the fabric. It pulled back and bleated again.
I’m starting to feel like this is a one-way street, the ghost of Jason’s voice said. The image of the sky getting farther away hit him almost as hard as the street rushing to meet him. Eric convulsed and writhed in the damp grass. He gasped at the slowly darkening sky. It wasn’t that burning orange that haunted him; it was a dusty grey as the sun set on Gotham.
Tell him, Shelly's voice whispered against his cheek.
The crow hopped up to stand on his chest, looking down at him with a judgmental eye.
It let loose one final squawk before ruffling its feathers. All at once, the pain of the past few seconds receded and left him feeling hollow and empty. But it also left him feeling airy, like the cold night air could loosen the cobwebs collecting at his joints.
He pulled himself up, forcing the crow to flee to a more stable perch. He gasped in the cool air and thumped a hand on his chest.
“I get the message,” he muttered, glaring at his companion. The bird only watched as he dragged himself to his feet. He rested a hand over Shelly’s name before leaving in search of where he needed to be.
Wayne Manor looked even more tacky than the last time Jason was there a few days earlier. Streamers and party balloons covered almost every inch of the banisters and door frames. The googly-eyed bats stared down in the hundreds from the walls of just the foyer; Jason didn’t even want to know what the ballroom looked like.
“So, what do you think?” Dick asked with a wide grin.
Jason gave him an uneasy smile. “It looks…great. Very…festive?”
“Shit,” Dick grunted. “Well, you think the uppity old rich people will like it?”
Jason gave him the ‘a-okay’ signal and Dick sighed in relief. “At least there’s that.” Dick nudged him with his elbow. “Any chance I can convince you to come to the fundraiser?”
“Not a chance, but I appreciate the thought,” Jason replied honestly. He patted Dick’s shoulder. “Have fun schmoozing with rich people. Rob ‘em for all they’re worth.”
Dick saluted him before he walked off to continue getting things in place. Jason made his way to Bruce’s study and was surprised to find him sitting at his desk. He was looking between several pieces of paperwork. He also had three different mugs with varying levels of coffee in them.
“No inner sanctum today?”
“I have a business meeting in ten and then a meeting with the security team for the party in an hour,” Bruce replied. “But I have time for you.”
Jason debated going into detail about his most recent nightmare but decided against it, shaking his head. “Nothing of note to report.”
Bruce looked up and his brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Just not in the mood for the season, I guess. The atrocious decorations aren’t helping either.”
Bruce nodded but looked unsure. “You would tell me if there was something I could do to help, wouldn’t you?”
Jason smiled. “Of course. We said no more secrets, didn’t we?”
Jason’s phone chose that time to start chirping at him. It could only be one person. He picked it up immediately.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked.
“I wanted to warn you I’m currently on your couch, so you’re not freaked out when you get back,” said Eric.
Jason huffed. “And what are you doing on my couch?”
Eric chuckled. “Just chilling. You said you’d bring the popcorn if I brought the beer.”
Jason let that sink in, the memory of their chat from a couple of days ago ringing in his head. “Are you okay?”
“I am fine ,” Eric iterated. “But you promised to get the popcorn. So get back here when you can. I’m in no rush.” Then the line dropped.
Jason scoffed. Bruce raised a brow as they made eye contact.
For a split second, Jason considered telling Bruce all about it but then decided he’d rather take a rain check on that conversation. Instead, he asked, “Does Alfred keep popcorn stocked in the kitchen?”
The sight of Eric lying on his couch brought back memories he’d rather not think about.
“I can already hear you spiraling,” Eric groaned from the couch. “Pop some corn and just chill. I promise I’m not going anywhere.” He waved a hand toward the kitchen. “Beer’s in the fridge.”
It was sort of hard to believe Eric was fine when Jason’s only frame of reference to Eric being this way was the last time he’d crashed on his couch. When Eric had told him it was time for him to go back into the ground and then he’d been gone the next day, sucked back into the afterlife like it was a normal thing to do.
Jason wrestled the popcorn out of its packaging and shoved it in the microwave. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the cap to take a long pull from it. They sat there in heavy silence before the popping began. Once it was done, Jason opened it, poured it haphazardly into a bowl, and then went over and sat on the ground in front of the couch.
“What do you need?” he asked.
Eric licked his lip before smiling thinly. “I guess I just need someone to listen.”
Jason leaned back and shoveled popcorn into his mouth. “I’m all ears.”
“There’s no other way to tell it except to start at the beginning,” Eric started. He rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “October thirtieth, 1994, I came home to find members of a gang raping my fiancée, Shelly. They worked for ‘Top Dollar–’” Eric accompanied the nickname with air quotes– “a crime boss who just wanted the property. Shelly and I, we went against their attempts at forcing evictions, got a petition going and everything. It was our home .” He chuckled but there was no humor in it. “Guess they didn’t like that.”
He rolled back over onto his side to look at Jason, who was looking at him with a sorrowful expression.
“We were gonna get married on Halloween,” Eric said wistfully, smiling. “She was so beautiful. She didn’t even need a dress, she was so perfect just the way she was, but it’s what she wanted.” Eric licked his lips and found that they were quivering.
“I came home, and they were hurting her. And, then, I got shot and thrown out a sixth-story window. Benefits of a loft,” Eric joked feebly. “And Shelly, well, she was strong. Survived all the way to the hospital and a couple of hours in the ICU but it wasn’t any good in the end. We both ended up dead.
“And then, I wake up a year later to the day,” Eric continued with a certain manic gleam to his eye. “And I get revenge on every single man who touched Shelly and then some. I saved Top Dollar for last, or maybe that was just fate giving me a break.” Eric shrugged. “He ended up dead either way.”
“And then, you died again,” Jason whispered.
Eric sat up. “I told you about my dirt naps before, the times when the crow lets me go back to be with Shelly. I thought for sure that’d be the end of it. I died and I got to see her again. Thought we’d get some fucked up version of happily ever after.” Eric cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. “But then I just kept coming back.”
“I’m…sorry,” Jason said. “I know that it isn’t—couldn’t ever be enough but I’m sorry.”
Eric waved a hand. “Life and death deal shitty hands.” Eric looked at him and a hint of a smile ghosted over his lips. “You know, a while ago I said you had all the makings of a Crow. It’s neither a good or a bad thing. That rage that you came back with, no matter how it has abated, will always fester and rise up below your skin.” Eric laughed. “The truth is, I’ve never stopped being angry, and that’s what is so goddamn tiring.”
They sat in silence for several minutes before Jason said, “I think that’s when I came back too.”
Eric looked at him in surprise but didn’t say anything.
“I died in April, a la Joker, and then I was dead for six months. So, guess we have October in common,” Jason said with a rueful smile. “Hell, might even share the same day. Who knows.” He rubbed his face. “I didn’t even think to figure out what day it was after I crawled out of the ground.”
Eric gazed at him for a long time before a genuine smile broke across his lips. “Shelly was glad when I told her about you.”
Jason startled. “What?”
“She said that she was glad I had someone to talk to up here,” Eric explained. “She still worries about me.” Eric leaned forward to grab a singular piece of popcorn. He turned it so he could view it from every angle. “Just like how I worry about you. And I guess how you worry about me.”
Jason glanced away and scratched at his forearm.
He turned back to Eric in astonishment when that popcorn piece bounced off his forehead.
“Did you just—”
“I care about you, Jason,” Eric stated.
Jason swallowed and nodded. “I care about you too,” he admitted. “That’s why I hated to think I was shoveling all my problems and feelings onto you.” He felt his throat choking up. “You helped me with Joker, with getting my family back. Eric,” Jason practically pleaded, “I want to do something for you for a change.”
Eric slipped off the couch and hugged Jason tight. Jason wrapped a tentative arm around him before hugging him with all he had.
“I think,” Eric breathed into the side of Jason’s neck, “I just need this. Just for now, just this.”
“I can do that,” Jason said, relaxing as Eric slumped into him. “I can do that.”
As childish as it might have seemed, they had fallen asleep on the living room floor together. They’d whispered stories back and forth to one another, some sad, some happy, some silly, late into the darkening evening. And when the calendar changed over to October thirtieth, neither noticed from the depths of sound sleep.