I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 2 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)
You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.
And you hate that.
IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.
A/N: We start to take a few liberties from the original in this one, folks. chapter 2 might have been my least favorite chapter in the old version, which is why this one is almost a complete revamp with lots of new scenes and dialogues, being written in Jason's perspective instead of Y/N's, and their chemistry being completely different. I hope you like this version better because I definitely do!!
WORDS: 4596 WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF INJURY
MASTERLIST
----
“You don’t understand, Alfred.” The whispers thundered. “I’ve never seen a boy so young… do that to a human being.”
Human beings. Killers. Criminals who deserve more than what they get. Bruce decides to overlook the bad when it comes to the pests who don’t matter and never sees the good in those who do.
He could try a lot harder to whisper in a house that big. But if he wanted Jason to overhear, he was doing a fantastic job.
“It’s his first few months with his identity, Master Bruce. The boy will learn.”
“Dick never pulled a man’s jaw out of his head, Alfred. I never worried he would.”
“It might have been an accident.”
Like his fist landing on a jaw that many times would be an accident.
He walked up the staircase out of the cave. He’d heard it all before. Darkness in his eyes, Bruce always says. Barbara mentioned it. Dick’s seen it. It’s all they see in Jason.
“No, Alfred. I don’t think it was.”
He didn’t care if they heard when he slammed the door out of the cave.
---
Jason might have been the first in school to send another kid to the hospital, but the emotional torment you left behind were like footprints from your combat boots.
Already by the first ten minutes in the library, you’ve messed up another shelf just shoving whatever you could into whatever space you could see.
Jason had never seen you wear anything that wasn’t in the depressing end of the color spectrum. You hid a piercing in your lip, too tiny for the school to notice. And the combat boots, heavy enough to break a skull, he believed were what you’d use to break into flesh if you didn’t have anything sharp in you.
A boy started to approach you.
He made sure you wouldn’t hear his feet come up from behind and waited until you’d turn and take notice of him. Smart kid.
“E-excuse me, Y/N?”
He was squirming like a mouse. “Uhm, I’m Jake. From Math c-class.”
Jake’s hands looked like they’d fall off his wrists. You haven’t said a word, and he looked like piss was about to run down his leg. You had a whole cart of yellowing books to place in the wrong shelves. This was not the time to be bothered.
“You, uhm, borrowed my notes.”
You tilted your head to the side, eyes narrowed.
“Can I have them back, please?” Jake squealed.
The only other time Jason had seen a person so afraid to talk to someone else was a henchman telling Joker news he didn’t want to hear. And it was followed by a bullet.
It looked like that was exactly what you were about to do. Your nostrils flared like a dragon’s snout, and Jake frantically backed away.
“I-I’m sorry. I just… You can keep them! Oh fuck!”
Then he backed away too hard, your stone glare locked into him, and slammed into Jason’s chest.
Jason didn’t flinch, but Jake looked like he was on the verge of imploding the minute he caught Jason’s eyes. If he was frightened by you then, he looked absolutely terrified now.
“Jason!?” The boy went white. “D-don’t kill me. I’m so sorry. I’ll go now.”
He could be nice. This school was the most normal thing he had since he was born.
He could put some effort into repairing his reputation.
“Here.”
You looked like you wanted to hit him with a hardbound when Jason grabbed your schoolbag from the seat and took out a dark red notebook.
Jake’s brain must’ve told all his muscles to freeze in place to survive. He stood motionless, only moving his head to look back at you. But you were no longer looking at Jake. Your eyes were on Jason.
Jake clutched the notebook to his chest, pushed everyone out of his way, and ran out of the library before you could do or say anything about it.
You looked like you were about to set him on fire.
Just to piss you off even more, Jason grabbed a book you just shelved and shoved it into the correct section. He made sure you were watching.
“I will make sure these books end up in your stomach by the end of the day, Todd.”
Ms. Peterson’s shrieking shush rang painfully into your ears. Your black nails dug into the covers of the books, and your jaw looked like it hurt from gritting so much. Jason took the book from you before you’d tear it apart.
“The next time you stick your hand down my shit, I’ll stick my hand right up your—"
“Wherever you stick your hand in, Y/N, how are you sure I won’t end up liking it?” He let his face close enough to yours so you could smell his breath. Anyone else, even Brandon, would have flinched to some degree. You didn’t.
“You fucking disgusting piece of dog shit.”
“Does it absolutely kill you that I’m not shaking at your gracious presence like that poor guy just did?”
“Maybe for your sake,” you spat.
He laughed. “Do whatever the fuck you want.”
“Watch me.”
“That’s torture enough as it is.” Jason grabbed another book you placed in the wrong shelf and waved it over your face.
“Conan Doyle isn’t True Crime,” Jason retorted.
“I fucking know about Sherlock Holmes, smartass.”
“I’m getting really tired of cleaning after your mess.”
“Well, what we’re doing is cleaning up after everyone else, so really what difference does it make?!” Your hiss was hot against his face.
“Do it right. And do it faster.”
“If I promise to shelf these stupid books right, do you promise to get off my ass?”
“If I could waste a birthday wish on that, Y/N, I would.”
“Okay, asshole. Wish granted.”
You snatched the book harsh enough to sting his still bruised wrist and wheeled your cart over to the other side of the shelf. He knew it wasn’t an accident when the wheel almost slammed itself against his toe.
“Agatha Christie isn’t on True Crime, either.”
You looked at him through the gaps of the shelves and flipped him off.
---
You were far enough away that you couldn’t tell he could overhear, but it would’ve taken halfway across the whole library hall just for him not to catch your hiss of a voice that always found its way to violate his ears.
You only had one friend—the ditziest girl in the whole school and the only one who could deal with your shit, probably because every word you say to that girl would be gusted away by the wind in her ears. Penny, with her sweet voice, whistle-noted her way past the shelves until she was prancing in circles around you. Jason had seen this girl sing at a pep rally a few times. One time, he also saw Penny running down the hallway, screaming as you chased her down the school after you let her to wax your eyebrows, and Penny accidentally tore every pluck of hair off your face. Jason remembered you having to go through a month with no eyebrows on.
“Y/N, why are you arranging books?” Penny asked. It was comical how you were friends when Penny was a human daisy and you were a human cactus.
“Because it’s fun, Penny,” you scowled. “I’m in detention.”
“Is it because you stabbed Maxwell with a pair of scissors?”
“I didn’t stab him!”
“Okay!” The girl looked down at her fingers, curling her wildly red hair. “But you must've done a lot of damage, because you're here with Jason Todd."
“I didn’t do—whatever.”
“I saw the fight he was in.”
“No way, dammit, I really fucking wanted to. What happened?”
Penny’s voice lowered. “I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I saw Jason punch Brandon in the face and almost knock him out. He tried to fight back, but Jason was really… something. He just kept beating him down to the ground and didn’t stop until Jerry stopped them.”
“Cool,” you laughed. “Why do I always miss out on fights?”
Everyone in school was repulsed at the sight of Jason since that day.
The only repulsion he felt out of you, a seventeen-year-old gorgon spawn, was your resentment over the fact that you weren’t there to watch it.
“Brandon just came back from the hospital. He got a nose job and everything,” Penny squealed. “I’d be careful around Jason, Y/N.”
“Please. Have I ever been afraid of anyone?”
“No. But he probably isn’t either.”
“He doesn’t seem that scary to me.”
Jason stared at the empty gap where he was meant to put the book in his hand.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Penny said. “Good luck with the shelving.”
She skipped her way down the bookshelves, then stopped when her eyes locked onto Jason.
A normal life. From 9 am to 5 pm every weekday, his life could actually normal.
Take care of it.
“Hi,” he said.
Penny swallowed. “Hi.”
“I’m Jason.”
“I know,” Penny nodded frantically. “I’m Penny.”
He looked her up and down, jumping on her toes. “You a friend of Y/N’s?”
She quickly nodded. Her eyes met everything but Jason’s own.
“I’m not gonna hurt you.”
She looked back at Y/N, who watched the exchange with her sharp fingers, making dents on a book’s hard cover.
“Okay, uhm, nice to meet you, Jason.” She shook his hand. “Y/N said you were cool.”
“PENNY!”
She squealed like a puppy and ran out the door.
---
Ten minutes to closing time, just when he’d gotten used to this silence away from each other’s unmarked territory, you came up to him again. And he thought he could get through this day without hearing another god-awful word out of your mouth.
You handed him a book, looking everywhere but at him.
“I don’t know where this goes.”
You looked exhausted. Your hair was a mess. You looked defeated by your library cart and your pride must’ve shriveled away into coal. He, too was exhausted to make fun of you for it anyway, so he grabbed the book and placed it into the right shelf for you.
“What did Brandon say to you before you punched him in the face?”
He almost slammed a book into his forehead.
“I thought we agreed to leave each other alone.”
“Just tell me what happened.”
“So you can gossip to your little friend?”
“No. I’m just naturally curious about all things violent that happen in school.”
“It’s none of your business.”
He took the last five books in his cart and started shelving them while you uselessly trailed behind.
“I told you what happened to me. Now it’s your turn.”
He wouldn’t look at you and focused on the shelves.
“That fucker deserved it.”
“What did he say?”
“Does it matter?” he snorted. “Everybody saw me throw the first punch, but apparently, everyone was blind and deaf when Brandon talked shit to me before that. Watson wouldn’t believe me.”
“I do. I hate that guy. I wish I had sent him to the hospital. All I’ve done is send him to the nurse’s office for a patch of hair I pulled out of his scalp.”
A harsh breath escaped his nostrils.
“Who’d you fight next?” You leaned against the shelf.
“Excuse me?”
“Those bruises.” You pointed at his temple, where a fresh purple mark formed just from the night before.
He shoved the book hard into place.
“How many times do I have to tell you to mind your own damn business?”
“Next time you pick a fight, make sure it’s on my free period.”
Jason never meant to be so keen on details, but his eyes caught so much that he’d end up with information no one was meant to know. You only pulled out your phone for a second, and already he caught the text from your mom. ‘Dad is here, Y/N. He’ll pick you up in a few mins.’
You hadn’t read it yet. At five minutes until close, you shoved your cart to his hip and waved your hand over his face. “You got the rest of those books, don’t you, Todd?”
A human cactus.
You were out the door before he could throw you another throng of curses.
He assumed you looked at your phone just after that, because Jason heard a metal trash can being violently kicked by what sounded like your combat boots. He walked out of the library, seeing garbage all over the mowed grass just outside the school doors. Jason watched you storm out of the campus, walking to the next intersection. It didn’t look like you wanted to wait for anyone to pick you up.
---
“Now.” Ms. Peterson’s shaky hands placed a cart full of books on Jason’s side of the table, with you sitting right across from him. She wheeled over an empty cart to you, then handed you a clipboard.
“I don’t trust you—" she pointed her finger at you. “—to do this yourself. I don’t care if you don’t get along; you two have to do this together. These books were returned this week, and these kids read like they’re tossing them around the fucking house. List down the damages and place them back into the shelves.”
You slowly turned your head to Jason. It felt like bile about to come out of his throat.
So much for leaving each other alone for the next nine weeks.
Maybe if the old woman tried to be in the same breathing space as you for two hours a day, she’d know better than to force him in your proximity out of pity.
You picked up an old book from the pile. “How are we supposed to look for new damages? These are older than I am.”
“Just look for any crumples on the covers, and flip through them if you see any rips.”
His thumb went through a whole book in seconds, and he gave the book to you. “That one’s clean. Take the clipboard and list it down. Then place it back in the cart.”
“Fine.” He heard you mumble a curse word, but he wasn’t even sure what it meant.
“The Picture of Dorian Gray. All good.”
You ticked the box on the clipboard beside the title and got the book from his hand, placing it on the cart. While you did that, he picked up another, went through the cover, flipped through the pages, then gave it to you. “Around the World in Eighty Days. All good.”
Another tick. You placed it on the cart.
You could be civil. Or not. Your next move was as predictable as Gotham’s rain showers. But even after checking thirty books, you haven’t commented on the heat, the dust on the pages, or even Ms. Peterson’s blabber. You went through a whole half hour without saying a word.
If only you were this quiet every day, this job might be enjoyable. Flipping through books and getting to read an excerpt before he placed them back on the shelf was nothing he didn’t already do at the manor.
Like this old edition of Shakespeare’s poetry. Looked like it was from the eighties. For a library run by a school, they had a decent collection of classics.
I knew thee not, yet found my thoughts did stay,Where'er thy voice or shadow chanced to fall;Not love at first, but dawning of the day,Whose light grew soft upon my heart's still wall.
Thou art no flame that burns with sudden might,But ember warm that wakes the winter's chill;Each glance a sunbeam, drawing out the night,Unseen, yet shaping all against my will.
The pages were old, almost crumbling under his fingers. Maybe he could bring this back home. Bruce didn’t have this at the manor.
“Dude”
With an outstretched hand, you were watching him read the book.
Jason had never seen you smile until then.
Something in his chest stopped. Just for a moment.
“Sorry.” He handed you the book. “All good.”
It would have been less surprising if you screamed at him. But you didn’t. You ticked off the list and placed the book into the cart.
“You okay?” he asked,
You refused to look at him, sat back, and distracted yourself with the window. “I’m fine.”
He brought up a book with a torn cover.
“I know. What an animal,” you said.
He placed the book on the side like it was toxic waste. “Take note of that.”
Your voice hadn’t raised a pitch all day.
“Come on,” you said after you finished with the last book. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I like it when you’re nice to me.”
You gagged. “Shut up.”
“You getting the hang of this?”
“Don’t get used to it. Give it three days and you’ll be repulsed by the sight of paper.”
“I read every day, just so you know.”
“Right. You have the Library of Alexandria in your billionaire mansion.”
“I do, actually.”
“You’re a nerd, Todd.”
“Funny.”
You only had one cart to deal with. So, without even acknowledging that you work as a team, you did. Jason took the books and told you where to put them. For some, he didn’t have to. After an hour, you still hadn’t strained his ears about how much your wrists were aching.
It took you not being mind-numbingly annoying for him to notice you liked to hum random songs when it got too quiet in the room.
“This one goes all the way up there,” he told you. “There’s a ladder”
“You go up.”
“No. I don’t trust you.”
“I’m not gonna kill you with a fucking ladder, Todd.”
He snorted. “Sure. You’ll just leave me with all my limbs completely paralyzed.”
“I’m not gonna—” you grunted your throat out, “—fine, fine, I’ll do it. Dickhead.”
You shoved him off and carefully climbed up the ladder while he held it in place.
“If you shake this ladder, I’ll make your death look like an accident.”
“I won’t!”
It did cross his mind. Would be funny to see you squeal.
When you were high enough to reach the top, the library doors slammed open and the walls rattled with it.
Ms. Peterson couldn’t shush the ego out of Brandon’s thick, bruised skull. With a crowd of football goons at his tail, the asshole strutted his way down the bookshelves with hands too big and skin too thick to ever know how to turn a page. “WHERE’S TODD!?”
You stopped, startled. Jason kept his hold on the ladder. If he turned his head and caught that fucker’s newly built nose even once, he can’t promise not to sentence himself another ten weeks in this prison.
“Look at that, JASON TODD TOUGH KNUCKLES HIMSELF. In a fucking library?! You think smart enough to read, Todd?!”
Darkness. So much darkness in his eyes. It was all Bruce saw when he looked into them.
He felt fire through his palms.
“How’d you even learn to read?!” Brandon’s voice echoed for the whole library to hear. “Weren’t you FROM THE STREETS? WEREN’T YOU A STREETKID, TODD?”
A normal life. This was his only shot at it. He once lived in the streets. At night, he goes back to fight for it.
He hoped this normality wouldn’t have to shame him for how much dirt got under his fingers when he was barely old enough to run, how the wetness of mud puddles seeping out of concrete felt, just to sleep on whatever sidewalk wouldn’t freeze him into gangrene.
This time, it wasn’t low enough that no one would believe Jason was provoked. Brandon’s voice echoed for the whole school grounds to hear. Then, when he leaned in to Jason’s ear, he almost ripped the wood shavings off the ladder from his nails.
“You might have left that life, but that’s exactly where you belong. Monsters like you deserve hell—”
If it were any second longer, he would’ve ripped the guy’s throat off in one shove.
But he didn’t get to. Instead, he heard a crash. From dangerously close to his ear, something fell from the ceiling. With Brandon’s breath suddenly no longer harassing his ear, Jason finally turned.
The football linebacker was on the ground, unconscious. On top of his newly-constructed nose, now bent the other direction from last week, was a gigantic five-pound copy of an Atlas. Dust from the book’s untouched age flew across the room. Jason looked up.
You made your way down the ladder, dusting your shoulder off. You took one look at your victim and shrugged.
“What? I told you, I hate him, too.”
---
No one was sent to the office.
Ms. Peterson herself ruled it out as an accident. Everyone saw that Brandon was too close to Jason, holding the ladder. You claimed Brandon pushed on the ladder, and you accidentally dropped the book from your clearly unstable position up the shelves. They believed it. Brandon was sent for another nose job. Suddenly, Jason was no longer the only one in school who’d sent a kid to the hospital.
And still, you haven’t said a word to him. Held nothing against him. Mentioned nothing about what you’d just heard.
Non-coincidentally, people finally started coming up to him, patting his shoulder, telling him things they thought he needed to hear. Sorry. You good? Don’t listen to him. He heard none of that after the fight.
He heard none of that from you now.
At 5:05 pm, with all the books shelved and done, you haven’t even left the room.
On a Friday, when you’ve left earlier on busier days of the week, it was that day you decided you wanted to be in school longer.
You were at the table, arms crossed so tight, it must have hurt your hands. And you refused to look up from the wood of the table. Penny sat in front of you, but she was shoving everything into her bag while you stayed put in your seat, motionless.
“What are you doing Saturday night?”
“I’m dog-sitting for my mom’s boss.”
“What kind of dog?”
“Not sure. He’s got paws and a tail. Maybe he’s an English Paw-Tail! Why, what are you doing tomorrow night?”
“What, you think I don’t have any plans on a Saturday night?!?
“No, I never said—"
“I’ve got a lot of things I’m gonna do. Like tons!”
“Okay—”
“But if you want me to cancel my plans to come hang out with you while you dogsit, then fine.”
“Uhm.”
“Fine, I’ll do it.”
“But you don’t have to—”
“I said I’ll do it!”
Penny squealed, jumping on her toes.
“But you owe me, babygirl...” you huffed, ruffling Penny’s head. The girl ran out the door.
You still were in no rush to leave. You settled into that seat like you’ve melted into the wood.
You did not want to go home at all.
Jason eavesdropped enough for the day. He took the seat in front of you. He wouldn’t let you look away from his eyes.
“What do you want now?”
Troubled kids like him—they never had much of a home. And if they did, they were better off not having one at all.
He thought Bruce was full of shit about seeing darkness in his eyes. But it was all one could see, looking into the eyes of someone with so much rage.
Probably not as dark as his. But it was there. Darkness recognized darkness.
“You’re not leaving?”
You turned to Ms. Peterson, still at her desk. “Place doesn’t close until six. I have a paper to do.”
“Can’t do it at home?”
“Not in the mood, Todd.”
You stood up, but you weren’t heading for the door. You headed for the shelves.
You were the only two left behind in the halls. The lights were dim. For once, it was calm. He liked the musk the books gave off when not a lot of other smells were there to disturb it.
Jason grabbed a piece of paper from a notebook, scribbled on it when he was sure you wouldn’t see, and shoved it into his pocket.
Jason walked over to you. You ran a light finger down the spines of books he’d just shelved that day.
“Is it the classic literature paper we have to do for the semester?”
You rolled your eyes, pulling out a random book from one of the shelves and skimming through the pages.
“I can help you find a book to do your paper on.”
“You don’t have to talk to me just because I dropped a book on your archenemy’s face.”
“That’s not… why I wanna talk to you…” he sighed, running a hand down his hair.
You leaned your back against the shelf.
“What do you like to read?” he asked.
You shrugged. “I don’t know any of them.”
At the top, in bold black embellishments on the spine of the hardcover, he pulled out a book you probably wouldn’t mind.
Edgar Allan Poe: Collection of Stories
“Since you like all that dark, spooky stuff.”
When you weren’t looking, he shoved the paper from his pocket in between the pages.
“What makes you think I like that?”
“Just try it.”
You grabbed the book from his hands and flipped through the pages. On the cover was the face of a thin man with a funny mustache and a black bird perched on his shoulder.
“We don’t have to tell Mother Goose over there.”
He thought you’d have more to say, or anything to argue for no reason than to argue.
But you just looked tired.
“Thank you.”
You met his eyes, finally. A strand of your hair flew over your nose. You didn’t bother to pull it back.
And if Jason could stand to be around you often, he would’ve noticed how, when you did your makeup, you liked to draw attention to your eyes. And you did a good job at that. It was all shades of black, pulling gazes like a black hole. You painted shadows around the lightness. Jason caught sight of the piercing on your lip, as well. You liked to wear a bigger one after school. He wondered what else he’d come to notice if he got a closer look.
Then you walked past him. Like the books, when it was unmarred with the scents of every other student’s sweat and harsh cologne, you didn’t smell like a cactus. You smelled like black dahlias.
He couldn’t help himself. “Aren’t you gonna ask me what I’m doing Saturday night?”
You flipped him off before leaving the room.
You’d find the note eventually.
He wrote two numbers. The first, his. And the second, a help hotline. You’d know which was which.
You never brought it up. Neither did Jason. He owed you, but it wasn’t because you dropped a book on Brandon’s face.
No one in school spoke to him after the fight except you.
You were the only one who didn’t flinch when he was in the room.
You were the only one in school and at home who didn’t look at him like they walked over an active landmine.
You saw yourself as a monster so much that you looked at him like he wasn’t one at all.
---
TAGLIST:
@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies @deadbeatphobos @thesunxxtodd
