Jðkêr//Är†hµr x RêåÐêr ïmågïñê§ & ðñê-§hð†§

• The Birthday Boy (pt.4)

**A/N this part was written especially for VeloySR595, & MarinaCasares in order to end this story on a more satisfactory note. Plus it only seemed fair that it should include Arthur's point of view, considering what's about to go down. Hope you enjoy!
Btw, thank you all so much for the well wishes, and for your patience during my absence -- my vision is slowly improving but I'll apologise in advance for any typos; I'm still struggling to see clearly, but I needed to write again in order to keep my sanity!
I hope you're all keeping safe out there. Sending positive vibes to you all xoxo

⚠️ Contains fluff, a teensy bit of angst, and heavy NSFW!

--3rd person POV---

"Happy, is that you?" His mother's voice rang out the second he stepped foot into the hall.

"Yeah ma." He responded wearily. "Who else would it be?"

"You didn't come home last night."

Arthur felt a stab of guilt at her statement. Even though his mother was still capable of getting herself from room to room, and fixing cereal or toast for herself, he still felt wretched for having left her to her own devices all night, without a word.
He was her care provider after all. She depended on him.

"Yeah, sorry about that mom. It's because I--"

"Shouldn't you be working?" She interrupted, as he entered the living room sheepishly.

"Oh, yeah. About that." He took a seat in his usual spot on the couch, and looked at her solemnly. "I...well, I...I took some time off."

Her thin eyebrows drew together in bewilderment. "You took some time off?"

Fuck. Now he felt even more of a screw-up, having to lie to her.
But if he told her the truth then she'd only worry about money, and he didn't want that. Perhaps if he could buy himself a little time then he could find work someplace else.

"Y-yeah. I need time to work on my jokes and stuff." He brightened, remembering he was booked-in for open mic night at Pogo's. "Oh, and I'll be doing my first routine next week at a comedy club downtown. How about that? Pretty neat huh?"

"Hm." She murmured, disinterestedly. "Did you check the mail before you came up?"

His smile faded, the brightness within him dimming as a result of her lack-lustre response.

Fucking Thomas Wayne.

He was all she seemed to live for. Actually, who was he kidding? This wasn't living, this was simply existing, but the centre of his mother's existence always had been, and always would be, Thomas Wayne.

"I checked the mail." He sighed, feeling suddenly deflated. "Nothing, as usual."

She sighed heavily, her bony shoulders slumping with disappointment. "He mustn't be getting my letters."

Arthur hated seeing his mother torturing herself like this.
He was tempted to tell her that she was labouring under a misapprehension, that the likes of Thomas Wayne wouldn't be interested in a past employees' letters.
Her obsession wasn't healthy, it had taken over her life, but he feared that if he tried to drum it into her it would break her heart. Without her obsession, what else did she have to live for?

"He's a busy man, mom. He's running for mayor. He probably doesn't have time right now."

"He'll make a wonderful mayor." She smiled wistfully, her eyes growing misty. "Everyone says so."