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

• Save Me (pt.2)

You woke to a distant thumping, an incessant knock, knock, knock at your front door. The noise wrenched you awake and shattered your dream; a fevered dream of a sly red grin, and your fingers tangling through emerald locks of hair.....

Hm. Perhaps it was a good thing you'd been disturbed.

You heaved yourself out of bed, reaching for your robe.
The digital clock on the nightstand showed that it was almost 5pm.
After your ordeal you hadn't slept well last night, so that afternoon you'd decided to take a nap.

Two hours you'd been asleep. You groaned. You were in no mood for visitors. All you wanted was to hibernate under your comforter until spring. Until the civil unrest that engulfed the city loosened it's hold, but something told you things would never be the same again in Gotham.

Pushing aside the thoughts that made you uneasy, you stumbled down the hall; your eyes still blurry from sleep. Who the hell could be knocking on your door? You weren't expecting anybody. Whoever it was must have access into the building, because they hadn't buzzed your apartment.

The blurred outline of a figure through the frosted glass in your front door made your brows pinch together in a puzzled frown. Without so much as another thought you unlocked the door but left it on the chain, opening it a fraction.

It was a man wearing a tan coloured jacket; the hood drawn up over his head. But there was no mistaking that slim face with it's hollowed-out cheeks and the sharp, jutting line of that jaw.

"Arthur!"

His jade green eyes met yours, and they were just as mesmerising as you remembered.
Admittedly, it had been a while since you had last seen them, and in the past they'd never held your gaze, instead they'd timidly avoided making contact.

But now, now they remained focused and still, never wavering, and it was you who found yourself having to look away first.

"Oh wow, this is so unexpected." You exclaimed. "But it's so nice to see you."

"Hey (y/n)." He smiled warily. "I um, I was just passing by and wanted to make sure you were safe. You know with everything that's been going on in the city lately."

You froze; a sudden jolt of recognition sending your thoughts scattering.

That voice. Arthur's inimitable, soft, slightly raspy voice....was eerily similar to...

No. Your imagination was playing tricks on you, you decided, banishing the thought from your mind. You had to be mistaken.

"That....that's so sweet of you Arthur." You slid the chain off and held the door open. "Come in."

As you led him into your living room, you caught your reflection in the hallway mirror and cringed inwardly. Your hair desperately needed a thorough brushing and your well-worn robe and pyjamas were mortifyingly unflattering. To top it all off, you were now sporting an angry purple bruise on your cheek from where you'd been hit.

Why were you bothered about your appearance? Especially when Arthur Fleck's sense of style was hardly fashionable. He dressed older than his 33 years. He looked older than his 33 years; the lines on his face told a story of sleepless nights, stress and financial hardship.

But there was just something about him.

Perhaps it was his careless way of dressing, and unruly waves of hair, coupled with his quirky personality and shy, gentle nature. But whatever it was, you found him inexplicably appealing.