--1st person POV--
"Hey Arthur. Wow! You're a really good dancer."
Arthur smiled confidently, "I know, thanks." He stepped closer to you, purposely bringing his mouth closer to your ear. "You're pretty good yourself. I've been watching you."
You blushed. He secretly loved making you blush. When you were blushing he knew that his words had affected you deeply, and he liked the feeling it gave him.
He thought of ways in which he could make you blush more. To see your beautiful face turn that pleasing shade of pink, because of him. Because you secretly wanted him....
"Arthur!"
The stern voice of Arthur's social worker, Debra, shattered his daydream, making him feel irrationally cross.
"Arthur, have you been listening to me?" She asked, her brows drawn low in annoyance.
That was rich, Arthur thought. She never listened to him, so why should he listen to her?
"Arthur, you need to pay attention." She ground the words out, all patience nearly lost. "It's important that you keep up with your journal."
He nodded disinterestedly. "Yes ma'am."
"So why haven't you brought it with you?"
His gaze lowered and settled on his lap, willing to look anywhere other than at her blank, impassive face and dark, judgmental eyes.
Sometimes he doubted himself, wondering if he was really speaking at all, because everything he ever said was always met with the same emotionless expression. So in the end he'd basically given up. Choosing to answer her repetitive questions but not elaborating further.
He noticed that his cigarette had almost burnt right down to the filter, and the ash had fallen onto his pants.
"Arthur. Your journal?"
"I just...forgot." He lied, brushing the pile of ash away, leaving a dark smudge in its wake. "Sorry ma'am."
The truth was he hadn't forgotten his precious journal. He just didn't want Debra reading all of his private thoughts. His personal thoughts, about you.
He'd been documenting each time he saw you, making notes where, when, etc.
To some extent you were a creature of habit. You did your grocery shopping on Saturday afternoons. Walked your little dog around the block every evening, and in the park on Sundays.
Occasionally you bought art supplies from a craft store in town, and he'd seen you at work, painting on canvas, through the window. He'd figured that room must be your studio. He loved the fact that you were an artist. Creative people usually had the ability to see beauty where others didn't. He'd watched you in awe, so focused and at ease. Paint smudges on your bare arms, and sometimes even on your face...
"Isn't the paint supposed to go on the canvas, love?" Arthur grinned, licking a finger and gently rubbing at the red smudge on your neck.
Your skin was so soft. He could smell the sweet essence of your perfume, wafting from the perfect pores of your skin. The heady scent put him in mind of a spring meadow.
Touching you made the nerve endings in his fingertips tingle.
"You've even got some on your nose." He laughed.
"Yeah?" You giggled, catching his hand before he had time to wipe it away and then you leaned forwards and rubbed the tip of your nose against his. "Oops. Looks like it's on yours now too!"
"I'll get you back for that." He chuckled, winding his arms around your waist, pulling you close so he could claim your pink lips in a deep kiss...
This time Arthur shook himself from his daydream, literally shaking his head as if to rid his mind of your image. Of these delusional fantasies. It wouldn't do to keep torturing himself like this. Even though it was sweet torture. Because he wanted you in his head, but he wanted you in his life too.
If only you could find some beauty in him. See something special and unique amidst the worry-lines on his forehead, which stood testament to the strain he'd been under for years. The fine lines at the corners of his eyes, which proved there was a time when he used to smile a lot more than he did now. His broken smile, which he wore for the benefit of others. The tracks of his tears which had etched a pathway down his thin, worn, sleep-deprived face.
Wouldn't life be wonderful if you found it easy to love fractured, dirty, broken and abandoned things? Such as him.
Deciding that following and admiring you from afar wasn't enough for him anymore, he made the firm decision to actually approach you and speak to you.
He'd come so close the previous Sunday, having gone to the park with the express intention of striking up a conversation with you. But his cowardice had gotten the better of him once again, and he'd slinked away, hood drawn over his head. Invisible to the rest of the world.
Saturday came and he set his alarm early, showering and dressing in his best suit.
It was a dark burgundy number, complete with matching vest and a colour co-ordinated tie. A little ostentatious for a grocery store, but he wanted to make a good impression. After all, you'd only ever seen him in a clown costume and his shabby cardigan and trusty tan coloured jacket.
He lingered in a doorway across the street, awaiting your arrival, smoking several cigarettes to help calm his nerves.
His heart lifted the moment he saw you come walking up the street. Dressed in a warm coat and scarf to protect you from Gotham's chilly Autumnal air.
You looked beautiful as always. And yet the sight of you was equally painful as it was wonderful, because the sobering reality was....there was no way you'd ever be interested in a guy like him.
Steeling himself, Arthur took one last generous drag on his cigarette then dropped it on the ground, extinguishing it under his heel as he strode purposefully across the road.
You were reading the labels on two different brands of soup, comparing them, when a flash of burgundy suddenly caught the corner of your eye.
The colour gained your attention because it was so striking in the bland surroundings of the store. It was a suit. A beautiful suit. You were admiring it when you suddenly realised the man wearing it appeared to be vaguely familiar to you.
Those razor-sharp cheekbones and strong jaw stirred your memory.
And then it clicked.
It was Carnival the clown. Or more accurately, Mr Fleck.
Arthur.
But he looked different to you somehow, which is why you hadn't recognised him immediately. His dark brown hair was gelled back, emphasising the well-defined contours of his features, complimenting the clean-set of his unconventionally handsome face.
"Arthur?" You said, approaching him with a friendly smile. "It's me, (y/n)."
He blinked, his dark brows arching in surprise. "Oh, uh, hi (y/n)."
"What brings you here?"
He looked momentarily mystified, which you took as incredulity. After all, that was a pretty dumb question to ask someone in a grocery store. Although, flicking your gaze over him you couldn't help notice that he didn't have a cart or a shopping basket.
"Sorry, that was a stupid question." You chuckled, shaking your head. "Pay no attention to me, my head is all over the place today."
"Oh?" Arthur's usual shaky voice was gilded with concern. "Is everything okay?"
Now you felt really silly, as well as touched by his genuine concern.
"Yeah, yeah." You waved a hand dismissively. "Just work stuff, you know?"
"Oh, right. I see."
Oops. Now you felt like a jerk, remembering that Arthur had recently lost his job. But the suit he was wearing suggested that maybe he'd been somewhere important. Perhaps to a job interview.
"How are things with you?" You asked. "Any luck finding work?"
Arthur shook his head. "Not uh, not yet."
"Oh that's too bad. There's so many people unemployed right now, I can imagine it must be difficult."
"Yeah. I don't stand much of a chance really."
"Aww, don't say that. You stand as good a chance as anyone else."
He smiled grimly. "I'm an out-of-work clown."
"So?" You smiled and gave his forearm a bolstering squeeze.
His hand instinctively went to the spot on his arm where you'd touched him. The simple act making him smile a bright smile, which lit up his entire face, showing in his jade green eyes.
"S-so I'm not exactly a Wall Street banker." He managed to vocalise.
You pulled a pained face. "No thank god. You wouldn't want to be one of those. It must be so boring. You're an entertainer, a showman. I can't imagine you being happy in some dreary office job, Arthur."
"Yeah, I guess I never thought of it that way." He gave a slow nod in agreement. "I could sure use the money though."
Of course, you'd forgotten about that. Feeling like you'd said the wrong thing again, you found yourself wondering if he wasn't shopping because he couldn't afford it. Or at least couldn't afford to buy enough to warrant him needing a basket.
"Hey if you're stuck for cash I could pay you in advance for the birthday party?" You suggested. "Or at least give you half or something?"
Arthur's face creased with discomfort. Clutching a hand to his throat, he disguised the action as readjusting his tie, when really he was preparing for the onset of his anxious laughter. You hadn't witnessed him in such a state yet, and he couldn't bear the thought of it. You'd most likely think he was crazy.
"N-no, thank you. That isn't necessary. I-I appreciate the offer, but I'd prefer to wait. I just wouldn't feel...comfortable, taking money from you."
You frowned but nodded understandingly. Perhaps it was masculine pride, or maybe even due to him still being a virtual stranger, but either way you were saddened by his refusal. It went without saying that he must be struggling, and you felt a twinge in your heart on his behalf.
"Okay but, if you change your mind then please don't hesitate to give me a call."
"Okay." He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
You could tell by his mannerisms and overall demeanour that Arthur was a timid, nervous, shy guy. You'd realised that when you'd had coffee together. But to make matters worse you'd just inadvertently embarrassed him by offering him money.
An awkward silence settled over you both, and you wasn't sure what to say next. He wasn't making any attempt to leave and go about his business, and for some reason you were reluctant to walk away too.
Arthur was just contemplating how much easier it would've been to orchestrate an 'accidental' meeting with you in the park, because at least your dog would provide a topic for conversation. Not that he knew much about dogs himself, never having owned a pet in his life. But then his gaze fell on your basket, and he was struck with inspiration.
He coughed, motioning to it. "Uh, allow me to carry that for you. It looks heavy."
Taken aback, you gave a small, nervous laugh. "You don't have to do that. It isn't that heavy--"
"No please, I insist." Taking the basket from your hand he hooked it over the crook of his arm.
Impressed by his gentlemanliness you couldn't keep from smiling goofily. His kind gesture was the sweetest thing. You already thought he was sweet, hell you'd even told him as much, and his actions now were just reaffirming your beliefs.
"Thank you, Arthur. You're a real gent."
A visible blush dotted the high arches of his cheekbones, turning his face a soft pink. You figured he obviously didn't receive many compliments.
"Haven't you got your own shopping to get?"
He gave a casual shrug of the shoulder. "Nah it's alright. I um, I don't think there's anything I need."
Slightly baffled, you set off at a meandering pace, him falling into step by your side.
You'd never had assistance shopping before, and you found yourself chatting away to him easily, learning new things about each other as you went. Such as your favourite foods, which led to more in-depth discussion. For example Arthur shared with you the fact that he was on medication for insomnia and anxiety, which played havoc with his appetite.
You felt privileged that he'd opened up to you, but you didn't make a big deal out of it, not wanting to embarrass him again. It was hardly surprising, given how anxious he acted, that he had to take medication, and you felt sad for him.
As Carnival he was always so jovial and outgoing. But of course that was all an act. In reality he lacked confidence and self-esteem, although the more you talked the more at ease he became, which was a genuine pleasure to witness.
"I got it. No problem." He beamed, reaching up to the top shelf in the refrigerator to get a carton of cream that you'd asked for.
Ordinarily you had to ask a staff member or tall stranger to do it for you, so Arthur's height was proving to be a great help.
"Where've you been all my life?" You joked playfully, but the second the words left your mouth you regretted it.
Your cheeks flamed. Shit. It sounded as if you were being flirty, and the way his intense green eyes snapped to yours confirmed that your offhanded remark had shocked him a little too.
Shocked him enough to warrant his grip loosening on the carton, and it slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, bursting in an explosive splatter.
"Shit!" Arthur exclaimed, hastily bending down to retrieve the damaged carton. "Sorry (y/n). Did I...did I g-get any on you?"
Your hand went to your mouth in a vain attempt to stifle your giggles. His clumsiness just made him all the more endearing.
"No, I think you're wearing most of it. Oh, Arthur. Your beautiful suit!"
Arthur surveyed the damage. An unfathomable amount of cream was spattered up the legs of his pants. Shit. It was his best suit too, but that was the least of his troubles. He was more mortified having been such a klutz in front of you. He felt such a fool.
"Oh, it....its fine. Honestly."
You shook your head. "If you don't get those into soak soon they'll stain. Do you live nearby?"
He shook his head, no.
You paused, contemplating the predicament. You partly felt responsible, seeing as you'd asked him to reach for the cream in the first place. Now his suit would be ruined if you didn't act fast.
"I live just around the corner." You told him. "I could wash them for you. If we hurry then there's a chance we can limit the damage. Maybe even save them."
Arthur's throat tightened. He couldn't believe you were offering to do that for him. Willing to invite him into your home. The home he'd lurked around for days, in the hopes of catching a stolen glance of you, painting away in your studio.
"Y-you...you really mean that?" He stammered, eyes growing wide.
"Of course, it's the least I can do. Especially after all your help."
He swallowed hard, sweat beading his brow. "O-okay." He croaked. "As long as you're sure you don't mind."
"I don't mind in the least. Come on." You motioned for him to follow, making your way to the checkout.
Gathering himself, Arthur jogged to catch up with you, chuckling as he did so.
You didn't need to ask what he found funny, as you were quietly giggling too.
"I...I think there's more cream on me than there was in that damn carton." He remarked, making you giggle all the more. "I'm pretty sure I've turned out to be more of a hindrance than a help."
"Are you kidding me?" You both joined the shortest queue. "Shopping is usually boring. At least you made this trip interesting for a change. And you're not a hindrance at all."
Arthur breathed a silent sigh of relief.
He hadn't ruined everything. He'd made you smile. And laugh. You'd called him a gentleman. And if he wasn't mistaken...you'd blushed.
Blushed when you'd said, "Where've you been all my life?"
And now he was going to your home.
Now that was a result, and he thanked god, despite not being a particularly religious person, for his incessant clumsiness.