Then it Became Personal «JokerxReader»

Chapter 5: Harley Quinn

The Joker collapsed onto the bed, almost immediately falling into a deep sleep. Curled up on the frigidly uncomfortable love seat, you watched his chest slowly rise and fall all night just in case he woke up with intentions to shoot you dead on the spot; at least then you'd have a chance to bolt out of the room.

Although, morning was just beginning to break, restful sleep finally starting to cradle you in its protective arms. The sun was hardly up by now, but still, a blue, pink sunrise was forming on the horizon just outside the window.

It was strange, watching the violent, psychotic man be at peace through heavy eyes. He was breathing just as serenely when he had mauled your boss to death. Just at that thought, your temples throbbed at the repugnant scene, ripping any tiredness away from you.

You gripped at your head, another flashback of the blood pouring from your boss' face blinding your vision. "He's going to do the same to you," a soft, unidentified voice began to taunt.

Eyebrows furrowed, your eyes closed tightly as you tried to shake the voice away, "No!" You screamed at it out loud, making the once motionless, green haired man jolt awake. The abrupt movement froze you in place, your blood running ice cold at the realization of what you'd just done.

Shooting upright, the Joker cursed at you. It was a tsunami of  blankets and sheets as he struggled to get out of the luxurious bed. He pressed his pale hand onto his forehead as he stumbled off the platform, almost losing his balance, hungover. He groaned lazily just as he took a seat on the last step, unable to make his way over to you. "Over here. Now." He growled with his face buried in his palms.

You swallowed thickly, hesitant to move, but you found yourself on your trembling knees in front of the Joker anyways, dreading what was to come next. A slap to the face? A hateful lecture? A bullet to your head? All seemed fitting for him to do in this situation.

The Joker lifted his heavy head, those hard, blue eyes glaring into yours holding nothing but discontent. "Girl, you better have a good reason for all of that shouting," his voice wasn't as harsh as when he was drunk, shocking you. You remained silent, waiting for him to add in something degrading.

Despite this pause, you still weren't able to make eye contact with the resentful man, if you even could describe him as something human, that is.

"I can't get that picture out of my head." The words were hardly out of your mouth before his open palm reached out. Instinctively, you flinched just to feel his thumb rubbing the side of your cheek tenderly. You took note of how gentle his touch was against your skin, despite that constant, small tremble he had. It surprised you--expecting him to snap and choke you to death at any given second--your breath becoming shallow at the thought. Instead, he sat there, silence taking over the both of you as he caressed your face; the only sound in the spacious room was his heavy, undisturbed breathing.

"I'm sorry," he whispered huskily after what felt like a lifetime.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you shot him a curious look.

"Sorry for last night," he corrected, "I don't remember half the things I said, much less did."

The apology didn't sound genuine to you, as if he knew precisely what had happened. You seethed, gripping his wrist and showing him his dry bloodied knuckles. "This is someone else's blood, Joker. Someone with a family,"  he just stared back at you unmoved by what you had said before wiping the blood off his hand with his sleeve.

You stood, pulling away from him in fury, "Do I seriously have to remind you of kicking my boss's face in even after you killed him, remind you that you kidnapped me, held a gun to my fucking head, drank yourself to the point where you dissociated, thinking I was some woman named Harley?!"