𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐎𝐏 ᴹ!⁴²²

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞

「 ✦ 𝘀𝗲𝗻 𝗸𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗱 𝗽å 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘁 ✦ 」

𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗔𝗧 𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗙𝗧𝗢𝗣 gazing at the twinkling stars and moon. In the darkness, the only light came from your cigarette, the glowing tip casting an eerie glow on your face as you took a deep drag.

The book in your lap, opened to the first page of Romeo and Juliet, remained unread (as if you could read it anyway) as you turned your thoughts to the central theme—the power of love. Love, love, love... It had the ability to make people do the most irrational things, to ruin lives, to even end them. Why did the characters in the story kill themselves over a love that would never be allowed? Why did they give up everything for a chance at happiness, only to end up in greater misery?

The thought was a familiar one, one that haunted you each time you sat on the roof, alone with your thoughts. But tonight, it seemed particularly heavy.

You took another long drag and let the smoke trickle out of your mouth, your gaze drifting to the city below you. If you jumped, would you find love in the next life? Would everything be different?

You shook your head, placing the cigarette in the ashtray beside you. Love was a stupid thing, a fleeting emotion that brought more pain and confusion than joy. You wished you could be rid of it entirely, to never feel that pull again. But you knew that the desire for love was like a disease, always lurking in the background, ready to consume you if given the chance.

"Are you gonna jump?" You turned around, meeting face-to-face with a familiar villain and just then you realised how close you were to the roof edge.

𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟎 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐫

"Maybe." You answered, trying to appear scary or ominous.

"Don't." Without saying another word, The Prowler sat down next to you, seemingly unfazed by your attempt at intimidation. You weren't sure what to do, so you just sat in silence, staring out at the city skyline below. After a few moments, The Prowler spoke up, his voice low and soft.

"There's probably a lot of people who care about you," he said. You laughed harshly at his words, your eyes still fixed on the city below.

The Prowler was a criminal, a maniac who stole from hospitals. All for fun. You couldn't believe he was trying to act as some kind of saviour now. It was ridiculous.

"No one cares about me," your voice was filled with anger and hurt. "No one would miss me if I was gone. It would be better that way, there'd be no more trouble."

The Prowler reached out a hand and placed it firmly on your shoulder. "There's always gonna be trouble in this world," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "But you don't have to be one of them. You can choose a different path, a better one."

The tears fell silently, leaving a trail of moisture on the pages of your book. You tried to wipe them away with a trembling hand, but they seemed to have a life of their own, spreading across the paper like a forest fire.

You felt his stare through his mask, his gaze studying your every move. You felt as though he was staring straight into your soul, seeing every secret, every insecurity, every desire.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth, like honey. You wiped the tears from your cheeks, sniffling.

"Rose," you lied, the name coming to you quickly. It was the colour of

the cover of your book.

Just as you said the name, a chill crept up your spine, a sense of danger that made your heart beat faster. You suddenly remembered that you were on the roof of a building, high above the ground, and that the person next to you was a dangerous criminal.

Your mind raced, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation, but his voice cut through your thoughts, breaking the tense silence between you.

"Rose," he repeated, his eyes still locked on yours. "That's a beautiful name."

You couldn't tell if he was being sincere or not, but the sound of your (fake) name on his lips made your heart skip a beat. It was the first time in years anyone had called you beautiful, and even though you knew he was dangerous, for a moment, you felt like you could trust him.

"Thanks, so is 'The Prowler'." You sarcastically said, being instinctively mean. But The Prowler just chuckled, which sent warmth up your cheeks.

"Thanks."

You finally broke the gaze when you turned around and picked up the last cigarette from your pack, lighting the tip. You could already hear him saying something like 'That isn't good for you' but he didn't comment.

The cigarette tasted bitter in your mouth, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you as you drew the smoke into your lungs. It was the only thing that could calm you down, the only thing that could keep your thoughts from spiralling out of control.

You were so caught up in the moment that you didn't even notice The Prowler getting up and preparing to leave. It was only when he started walking towards the edge of the roof that you snapped out of your trance.

"Wait," you yelled, feeling an unwanted panic well up inside you. "You're leaving?"

The Prowler hesitated for a moment, his hand still on the edge of the roof, and then turned around to face you.

"If you think no one cares, just know that I do," he said, his voice soft and sincere. It was the first time you had ever heard him speak in such a way, and it caught you off guard. "It's cold out here so you should go inside, I'll come by tomorrow night."

You didn't know how to react, didn't know what to say. But as he jumped off the roof, using his grappling hooks to go from building to building, you felt a sense of warmth wash over you that you couldn't quite explain.

He cared. The villain who everybody feared cared about you. You couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that anyone, especially if it was someone like him, could care about someone like you.

You've fallen in love with a criminal.