(continued from chapter 18)
There was a hill in Uptown Gotham, a hill with a single oak tree sat there. On that hill you could sit down and look out, and spy everything even from miles away, buildings you never realised existed, and places you'd been told never to visit. You could see pretty much everything- Wayne Tower, the radio tower, the Narrows- especially an old warehouse previously owned by mob boss Roman Sionis.
That was where the supposed firework show would start.
I looked over to the Joker, who was sat about a foot beside me, as he stared out at the warehouse, carefully fiddling with a button detonator in his right hand. I didn't necessarily like that he was going to blow something up. I didn't like that people were going to get hurt. I didn't like that his need to destruct stretched as far as demolishing an entire building and setting others down in a domino effect, but I knew it wasn't my place to argue. He held the detonator after all, not me. He called the shots, I was simply there to watch.
I hugged myself and tucked my knees to my chest in attempt to keep warm. It was quite difficult, as Gotham's climate wasn't exactly ideal and I couldn't look to Joker for aid because he was 'busy' figuring out when the right time was to blow the building up. And all he did was stare at it, glaring, as if trying to see if he could explode it with the sheer will of his hatred. I peered over along his lips and saw that he was mumbling to himself, something about it being 'a better ending to a great night', but I wasn't quite sure what he meant by it, even if I'd heard him correctly,
Simply shrugging the thought off, I took my phone out of my pocket and immediately, Joker shot me a glare.
"Whadd'ya doing?" He asked suspiciously, if not threateningly.
I sighed heavily, a little fed up of his paranoia at this point. "I'm past the point of ratting you out, calm down," I said, making him tut and look back out at the warehouse in the distance. "Just wanted to check the time and play some Flappy Bird."
It was gone 2:30 in the morning and I wasn't even tired anymore. The alcohol we brought hadn't really taken much effect but it woke me up alright. I wasn't intending on getting drunk, but I was thirsty and we hadn't brought any other types of drinks so I was forced to down Vodka and Jack Daniels every two minutes, which didn't feel all that great.
I kept on losing at that goddamn Flappy Bird game, and to guise my irritation, I turned my phone off and simply put it back in my pocket. Joker looked at me, then away, then took a double take and stared at me. Then he motioned me over with his hand and patted his lap, a sign that he wanted me over there. I crawled over to him and laid my head in his lap as he just stared down at me blandly. I cracked a small encouraging smile as I looked up, desperate to touch his scars, but I was too scared of asking. He was much too nice to look away from, much too detailed and alive.
"Two more minutes," Joker said and buried a hand in my hair. "Then we're going back to the van. I'm freezing." He complained, softly stroking my hair.
"Then what?" I asked in a gentle, quiet voice, not wanting to ruin the soft silence that was exchanged between us.
The Joker licked his lips. "Maybe, uh, sleep in the van. Maybe take you back home. Depends-ah."
"Depends on what?" I childishly asked, smiling playfully. The look of disappointment on his face didn't last long, as he couldn't help but crack a tiny grin.
"Whether you behave or not-ah. Now be quiet. I'm con-cen-trating," He tiredly mumbled, rubbing his eyes but pulling his hands back to see that his fingertips were black with paint. "Dammit." He hissed under his breath and wiped his hands in his trousers. I curiously touched my lips, wondering if I had paint on them from kissing him. Being too shy to ask him whether I did or not, I instead stayed quiet and looked up at the clouded black sky in attempt to distract my concern for him. The Joker looked out, the detonator in his hand again and his thumb brushing across the button with a feather-like touch, waiting for the right moment to blow it all up. If only I knew what the true need to destruct felt like, and I might've sympathised with him.
