[ @nightvow -> Jason's birthday ] Bruce leaves a small present where he knows Jason will find it in his path. It says Happy Birthday on the tag. He doesn't know if he'll take it, but he still leaves it there. Inside is a leather bound first edition of Wuthering Heights.
It's hard not to notice a small box, wrapped up and inconspicuous in a place where such boxes weren't expected. Sitting on the windowsill next to a crooked apartment door, lease legally belonging to one Todd Macbeth. He's busy, gone for a few days from the most frequented place he can call home, and strange packages arrive at the door.
The only reason he isn't more suspicious is, because like Bruce, he, too, has been known to leave inconspicuous packages in known pathways for specific days.
August 16th has come and gone, but only just.
It still doesn't stop Jason from turning it over in his hands, once, twice, thumbs running over the brown wrapping paper. Feels like a book. Which doesn't clear it, but between the tag and the achingly familiar handwriting.
This is Bruce's handiwork.
And only once past the crooked door, finicky lock pushed back into place, does Jason let his still-gloved thumb slide beneath one of the folds of the paper, popping the tape loose and up. One corner at a time.
( he remembers being much younger, and much more likely to leave shreds of wrapping paper behind as he held a new old edition of a classic novel reverently in his hands )
The smell of old paper meets him first, old paper, ink, and leather, and Jason closes his eyes, letting himself savor the scent. Most of his collection, he thinks, is still in the manor. Where it was safest Where it, no doubt, haunted Bruce every time he passed by.
He'd have to sneak in and add this to the shelves. After he's sat with it for a while, read the words from the delicate, yellowing pages.
baratheonpilled
areudirty
turnnoffyourmind
ellievsbear
snowghoul
jbbartram-illu
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
