Limerence [2] - | J |

| Lost Stars |

A/N : Grab your inhalers.
SweetFantasies helped write the best part of this chapter. We're BFFL's, if you couldn't already tell. All credit goes to her! I love her and you all with my heart and soul. Enjoy ! ❤️

SORRY BUT I HAD TO.

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"Breaking news coming from the outskirts of Gotham this evening. Reports are claiming that the infamous Joker has escaped from Arkham Asylum. Officials are promoting citizens to stay home in this news break, and to be wary of going outside at this hour-"

I was already tugging on my heels, my purse colliding harshly with the hardwood floor of my apartment as it slipped from my shoulder. I gripped it tightly, yanking it from the floor as I turned the TV off and almost ran out of the door.

It's been a week since I've visited that man in his blinding white cell. I wasn't sure how I felt at the moment, driving through the dreary streets to his dingy apartment in the narrows. A part of me wanted to kill him. Kill him for all he's put me through. Then again, I found this underlying feeling-an intense desire to just pull him close. To be in his space, to suffocate him with my presence.

I parked my car swiftly, exiting the vehicle as I raced up the crumbling stairs of the apartment building to the all top familiar red rusted door labeled 4M. With adrenaline coursing through my limbs, I knocked a few times to no answer. I then groaned, looking around as if someone could help me. My gaze shifted to the worn out mat below my shoes. The black lettering almost no longer visible, the brown color of the mat itself ashen. I knelt down, lifting the mat to reveal a gold key. I chuckle to myself, the irony killing me.

And he says he's unpredictable.

I turn the knob quickly, entering a silent apartment. I felt scared, oddly. It felt different without Joker here with me. It was like some ungodly force was yelling at me to get the fuck out. Of course, I didn't listen. I turned on the light to the living area, the kitchen hugging the space slightly as the light illuminated part of it.

I took off my coat and hung it on the chair in front of the kitchen counter, sighing deeply as I looked around. I slowly made my way to his vinyl player, turning it on from where it was last used. The song made me both sad and happy to hear. Oasis' "Wonderwall" filled the void, my fingers grazing over his collection of records as I moved towards the large cabinet near the television.

It had a few glass statutes inside, and a few books. I looked closer, realizing that they were indeed books of poetry. I let out a surprised breath, reaching outwards to claim the seemingly new binding. The corners were wearing out, the brown underlay becoming visible as I smoothed the cover with my palm. He read poetry. As I went to place the book with its others, my eyes did a double take, my hand freezing it's action as the book tumbled from my grasp entirely.