𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐, jasonette

iii. 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐞

Blue eyes snapped open and stared at the ceiling above. Jason felt his chest heaving, as it did every single time this happened.

Quickly sitting up, he looked at the calendar positioned right in front of him, hoping that the date was the first of January, even though his pessimist side scoffed at him for even trying.

When Jason's eyes flashed up to the piece of paper that held the fate of his entire life, his hopes shattered like delicate glass, the shards striking his already bleeding heart.

Resisting the urge to scream, to self-destruct, Jason swung his legs out of the bed and put his head between his knees, trying to even out his panicked breathing.

For what joy had he decided to touch that cursed stone that just appeared out of thin air? Why? That stone had ruined his entire life; he was stuck living the same day over and over again, stuck watching the love of his life dying repeatedly no matter what he did.

"Jason?" A new voice said and said man jumped.

Shit. When did she even come in?

Jason schooled his expression into something calmer as he sat up straight, brushing his sweaty hair away from his forehead.

Marinette's concerned eyes scrutinised him, looking for something to explain the position she found him in. "Are you alright?"

Jason wanted to scream. It was always the same.

Marinette would walk in. Marinette would see him sweaty and pale. Marinette would ask him if he was alright. By the end of the day, Marinette would be dead no matter what he did to save her.

"Yeah," he forced out, the lump in his throat choking him. "I'm fine. Nightmare."

Used to his short, brusque answers, Marinette still walked in, putting her soft, small hands on his forehead. Jason practically melted at her familiar touch, all his muscles turning into goo.

"Are you sure—" she began.

"Yes, Pixie, I'm sure, and no, I don't have a cold or the flu." Jason had relived this day enough times to know exactly how the beginning would go.

The beginning was perfect. In fact, it was so perfect, that Jason would even go as far as to say that it was the one thing that made this day his very own personal hell.

Marinette stood up, still unconvinced, but she held her hand out to him anyway. "If you say so."

Jason stood up, stretching out his muscles before giving Marinette a knee-weakening smirk. "Shall we make the pancakes together?"

Dear God, her laugh was beautiful. Marinette shot him a smile as she nodded towards the kitchen, "How did you know? It's like you already knew what was going to happen."

Jason's smile became much more fixed at the last sentence, his somewhat good mood evaporating within milliseconds. Laughing bitterly, Jason muttered, "Oh, you have no idea."

The day progressed as it had in the last twenty-nine times before. Jason followed Marinette through their apartment like a lost puppy, yearning for her attention and affection, as she rambled on about the New Year's Gala that Bruce was going to be hosting.

The discussion only caused the cuts on Jason's heart to become even deeper until inside, he was a bleeding mess. Before, on his third time, when he had more hope, he had warned her about what was going to happen.

Clearly, his personal hell didn't like that because that night, Marinette's death was infinitely worse than it had ever been or would ever be. Jason puked when he saw her body. He hadn't been able to sleep properly since then.