--1st person POV--
"Oh my god! You really said that to her?" I drop my slice of toast onto the plate, covering my mouth with my hands in an attempt to try and muffle the laughter that's rippling through my chest.
Across the table, Arthur's smile is so wide I'm pretty sure it must be stretching his skin. "I did." He says proudly, with a defiant tilt of the chin. "It is the truth. She doesn't listen. She's never listened. All she ever did was ask the same dumb questions."
I wipe a tear from my eye, still giggling. "I would've loved to have seen her face."
"Her face still didn't change."
"Why doesn't that surprise me."
"I know, right? But I guess I wasn't expecting her to care really, it just felt good getting that stuff off my chest at last."
I shake my head, inflamed on his behalf for her having been so uncaring. "So she didn't respond at all?"
Arthur shakes his own head and takes another hit on his cigarette, smoke billowing around him like a silvery-grey shroud. "No. She just told me I wouldn't be meeting with her again." He scoffs, indignantly. "Like I care about that."
I nod sadly as I reflect on this mornings events, all traces of laughter and amusement slowly dispersing just like his cigarette smoke.
Debra Kane announced to both Arthur and I respectively that the state funding cuts mean we'll no longer be provided with 'support'.
As wonderful as it will be not having to see that deplorable woman anymore, neither of us will have access to our medication.
We both take Diazepam and Amitriptyline for our depression and anxiety disorders, but I know Arthur takes several other medications as well, which means he's probably going to suffer even more than I am as a result of this.
After our appointments, we'd left the department of mental health building feeling somewhat disconcerted, not knowing whether to celebrate not having to go there every two weeks anymore, or panic as a result of not being able to leave with our prescriptions.
It was Arthur who had then suggested we go into the small cafe that we have to pass on the way to the bus station, for a coffee, and to give ourselves time to get over the shock of the dramatic bombshell.
I ordered coffee and a slice of toast, successfully managing to persuade Arthur to share half with me, seeing as he only ordered a black coffee for himself.
He's so underweight I don't even know how he manages to walk on those legs of his. One day a strong gust of wind might knock him over.
It isn't his fault of course. It's one of many side-effects of his mediation, which won't be an issue for much longer.
He had then taken me completely by surprise by admitting that the thing troubling him the most is not the prospect of having no meds, but the fact that he's no longer going to see me.
I have to admit, his admittance comes as a bit of a shock. For some reason I wasn't expecting him to care, so I'm undeniably moved.
And once it's out there, I can't help feeling the same way about no longer being able to see him too. Even though the thought hadn't even crossed my mind initially.
I assured him the problem is easily remedied.
Now that we'll no longer be attending the appointments with Debra, we can meet up for coffee instead, just like we're doing now.
At least the environment is more relaxed than that godawful waiting room, and talking things through with each other is better therapy than Debra ever provided.
Arthur seems relieved and eagerly approves of my suggestion, and even goes so far as to propose that we could maybe hang out more than just once a week, if I find myself at a loose end and stuck for company. I mean, I have no real objections to that, but I am surprised by his sudden air of newfound confidence.
It's not escaped my notice that he's not stammered or had any of his laughing episodes today. Which is a really good thing, just unexpected. Especially considering what happened to him last week.
I thought I'd had it rough because I had a bit of an unfortunate mishap whilst trying to do a dumb trick with two of my knives. It led to me having to visit the emergency room at Gotham General, and being asked a series of uncomfortable questions once they realised my past history, but still...none of that compares to the shitty thing that happened to Arthur.
He lost his beloved job as a clown. Which must be utterly heartbreaking for him because he often talked about how much he loved it.
After hearing his news, my little trip to the E.R didn't seem all that significant, especially considering it was a stupid accident. In fact, it's actually quite embarrassing the more I think about it. So I don't mention it when he asks how I've been. Instead I want to focus on him, knowing that he needs support and compassion right now.
His complexion is sallow, his eyes hampered with dark circles.
But...he doesn't actually seem as troubled as I expect him to be.
He's coming across almost reckless, embodying a sort of devil-may-care attitude, which is actually so unlike his usual self, and I haven't decided yet whether I like it or not.
We finish our coffee and walk to the bus station, our conversation now turning towards the current events unfolding in this broken, run-down, turbulent city we unfortunately have to call home.
"I've got to be honest, it is freaking me out a little." I confess, as we board our bus and take a seat at the back.
Arthur turns to look at me, his face etched with concern. "What is? The whole killer clown thing? 'Cause it's okay, you have nothing to worry about. You're not like those Wall Street guys."
"Well, yeah obviously." I give an incredulous chuckle. "They were important rich guys, and I'm just another poor girl--"
"Yeah well they're dead rich guys now. " He remarks, darkly, before adding. "But what I meant was, you're kind."
I frown, decidedly perplexed by his statement. "What's kindness got to do with it? And how do you know that they weren't kind?"
"Well maybe the guy who shot them had other reasons for doing it. People are only assuming it's because they were rich." He shrugs nonchalantly. "And come on, (y/n), you know their type. Being that well-off makes people arrogant. I bet they were assholes, they probably deserved it. It's too bad they couldn't use their money to buy some common fucking decency."
Shocked by his outburst, I'm unable to prevent what happens next.
I laugh, and it's a genuine laugh. Perhaps I have a twisted, dark sense of humour.
It isn't funny what happened to those three young men. On the contrary it's deadly serious. But Arthur's surmising amuses me, despite it being quite alarming. But I like to think that just because you're able to find a bad thing funny it doesn't necessarily make you a bad person.
"You make me laugh, Arthur."
His megawatt grin instantly brightens his tired complexion. "I'm glad."
"But it isn't so much the murders making me nervous. It's the knock-on effect that it's had. Everything is becoming so tense. Everyone's angry. I don't know. I just can't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. If that makes any sense?"
"Yeah, I guess. But there's no need to worry, (y/n)." He looks me dead in the eye, and smiles gently. "I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you."
His words have a bigger impact on me than he realises. It's like he isn't really aware of the enormity of the promise he's just made. And yet he's looking at me so intensely, with such sincerity, for a split second I'm actually inclined to believe him.
Which is crazy. I mean, how can he live up to such a promise? It's not like we're married or share a home, so he's not obliged to keep me safe.
Besides even if we were a couple living together, you still can't depend so heavily on the other person to protect you. Quite often it's the ones we love who hurt us the most.
However that doesn't mean I don't appreciate his offer of support. It's kindly meant, and it's very touching. After all, Arthur owes me nothing. I'm nothing to him in the grand scheme of things.
My thoughts then take a dark turn, as I begin to overthink. It suddenly sinks in that I'm not actually anything to anybody, and that's sobering.
It just goes to show how insignificant my existence is. Like, if I were gone, who'd miss me anyway? Nobody.
Well, nobody except Arthur maybe.
"You're very sweet, Arthur." I tell him, shaking myself from my self-pitying stupor. "I appreciate the sentiment."
"I mean it." He assures me, gently touching my arm. Showing a level of concern that nobody's ever shown me before. "No one is going to hurt you again."
"T-thank you." I stammer, feeling unexpectedly choked-up by all manner of emotions. "You're a good friend. And I want you to know that I'm here for you too."
I reach across and pat him on the knee in what I misguidedly think is an expression of camaraderie, but once I do it, it seems maybe a bit too familiar.
He stares at my hand, then looks up into my face. His sea green eyes searching my expression for...I'm not entirely sure what.
My cheeks flame, and I hastily turn my face away to glance out of the window. Reluctant to make eye contact.
When the bus reaches the lower east side of downtown Gotham, I bid Arthur goodbye and exit the bus, feeling more churned-up than I'd ever let on.
The short walk along the trash-strewn street to my building seems to take longer than it usually does, but that's probably just due to my frayed nerves.
The rising tension in the atmosphere seems almost palpable. There isn't a street corner that's free of drug-dealers and other thugish characters. People scuttle by with their heads bowed low. No one out here looks you in the eye or offers you a shoulder to lean on should you need it. Everybody is distrustful of everybody else.
On top of that, the air reeks of garbage, which makes the simple act of having to breath very unpleasant and painful.
This city is getting worse everyday. There's reports of super rats, as well as Gotham's less fortunate residents rallying in support of the subway killer.
It's like the entire populace is going slowly, steadily mad.
Either that or it's just me. I haven't slept properly in days, and it's starting to take it's toll.
As soon as I enter my apartment I hastily double-lock the door, and heave a huge sigh of relief. Glad to be home where I can at least relax and feel safe.
>>-----------------------------------<<
A few days later I find myself sitting watching TV alone, as usual, but even though I'm in my apartment, I no longer feel as safe as I once did.
To some extent, I know my mind is my own worse enemy. I took the last of my medication two days ago. But it isn't just that causing my paranoia.
Protestors are now donning creepy clown masks in homage to the clown vigilante, and gathering in droves outside city hall, all because that philistine Thomas Wayne has made matters worse by proclaiming that all of us working class people are clowns.
Well he can sure as hell kiss my vote goodbye in his run for office. I'd sooner vote for the killer clown himself who set this whole thing in motion.
I stare blankly at the television. Some cheesy soap opera is on, and I roll my eyes as one of the female protagonists succumbs to the male antagonist all too willingly.
It's painful to watch because it's so unrealistic. The whole concept offends my intelligence. Why are the women always so predictably attracted to the bad guys?
Surely they must know it isn't going to end well. Why do the writers on the show assume that the female characters need the presence of a man in their lives to validate their existence?
I pull my face, finding the scene distasteful.
Shit. When did I become such a prude?
It's weird how all these little knock-on after effects actually have quite a significant impact on your life. My bad experience with my estranged husband hasn't just given me trust issues. It's made me embittered to the point where I can't even watch a TV show without bristling, or squirming in discomfort.
There's nothing wrong with enjoying someone else's company, or even wanting a guy around. It doesn't mean you have to become fully dependant on them though.
And just because my belief in romance is dead, doesn't mean that others shouldn't enjoy it, so I need to try and stop being so petty and judgemental, before I end up a frigid old bore.
The more I dwell on it, the lonelier I begin to feel. Not lonely for a man as such, but just company in general. The apartment seems quieter and larger than it ever has been, but I know this is just a symptom of my anxiety.
I've had a rough day at work, and it's at times such as these where I find myself longing for a sympathetic ear. Just someone who's willing to listen.
Debra Kane was supposed to listen. She was paid to listen, and yet she always seemed to just be going through the motions, as if she was listening under duress.
She never helped me, or Arthur, at all.
Arthur and I found our only solace in each other. He'd listen to me, and I'd listen to him, and it never felt like a chore.
My thoughts now turn to Arthur, and I find myself wondering what sort of day he's been having. Perhaps I could call him. I do have his number, and surely he wouldn't mind if I gave him a call. Otherwise he wouldn't have given it to me.
I rummage in my purse for the crumpled piece of paper, feeling strangely relieved when I eventually find it.
Picking up the phone, I dial the number and wait, feeling suddenly nervous.
"Yeah?" His voice answers after just two rings, and I'm stupidly unprepared for it.
"Oh, uh, h-hi Arthur. It's me, (y/n)."
There's a long pause, which does nothing to calm my suddenly jangling nerves.
"Oh......hey, (y/n). How..how are you? Is everything okay? Is something wrong?"
I smile. "No no, nothing's wrong I just...well, I-I hope you don't mind me calling?"
"Of course not. S-sorry, I just wasn't expecting...I mean, it took me by surprise. That's all." He rambles an explanation, making my smile grow steadily wider.
It's actually quite reassuring to hear him stutter a little. It's strangely comforting somehow. In a city where everything seems to be changing, and possibly not for the better, Arthur is the only solid thing in this otherwise crazy world.
"You don't have to apologise..." I take a deep breath, my intention to ask if he's free to have a chat. But that isn't what comes out of my mouth. "...I don't suppose you could use some company?"
I hear his sharp intake of breath in my ear. He seems shocked and he isn't the only one. I really didn't mean to ask him that.
"Oh, um, yeah. Sure. What did you have in mind?" He clears his throat awkwardly. "D-do you want me to come over? It's pretty crazy out there tonight."
"Yeah, I know. It's...it's freaking me out to be honest." I admit, pitifully.
"It is? Then you stay home and I'll come to you."
"You...you sure you don't mind?"
"Not at all. What's your address? Wait! Let me just...I need to go grab a pen real quick..."
I wait on the line until he finds s pen, then I give him my address.
As I hang up I finally allow myself to breath, not having even realised that I'd been holding my breath.
I do a quick tidy around of my apartment. Putting some laundry away, washing the discarded dishes that I'd left in the sink, then I plump the cushions on the couch and light a scented candle, filling the living room with the supposedly calming essence of lavender.
There's just enough time to check my appearance in the bathroom mirror. My (h/c) hair is definitely lacking it's usual lustre so I pin it up into a messy bun, and spritz myself with the nearest perfume I can lay my hands on.
I haven't exactly gone all out, but then again, who am I trying to impress?
An unsettling feeling gathers in my stomach, and I reason that I'm just making myself look presentable, nothing more.
It's no big deal.
Arthur doesn't live that far away, so literally fifteen minutes later the intercom buzzes, and he's downstairs.
"Pull the door and come up, Arthur." I tell him, as I press the button to activate the main entrance door.
I stand and wait at my front door, hearing the approaching sound of his footsteps bouncing off the walls as he ascends the two flights of stairs.
"Hey." He smiles, the second he sees me. The warmth of his radiant smile has a thawing affect. It melts my heart a little, warming me through to my very bones. "This place is fancy."
"Fancy?" I giggle, as we go inside. "It really isn't."
"Compared to my building it is. Trust me. You have to wipe your feet on the way out."
I laugh and shake my head, as I go into the kitchen area to fix him a drink. "Would you like a tea? Coffee? Or I have Pepsi, and some juice I think?"
"Can I just get a glass of water please?"
I raise an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. For some reason I stupidly wasn't expecting that. I don't know why, now that I think about it. Arthur appears to be a straight-laced type of guy. He wears sensible cardigans and slacks. No jeans and sneakers for Arthur. So I guess drinking plain water kind of fits with his overall nature.
"Sure. One water coming right up."
"Thanks (y/n)"
I take a can of Pepsi from the fridge and fetch Arthur his water.
He's asking me how I've been, and I'm mid-sentence when he suddenly interrupts me, which is so unlike him.
"What's that?" He cuts me off sharply, as I hand him his drink.
I follow his eyes and look down at my bandaged wrist, knowing how bad it looks. "Oh, this? Pfft. It's nothing." I laugh breezily.
His thick brows draw together in an anxious frown. "It doesn't look like nothing (y/n). What happened?"
"It was just a stupid accident." I insist, lifting both wrists which causes my sleeve to fall back, revealing the other bandage.
"Wait, you've hurt both of them!" He exclaims, his voice raising most uncharacteristically. "(y/n) what the hell did you do?"
"I-I was just trying to do a trick with my knives and...well, as you can see it didn't go according to plan."
I watch, utterly stunned as Arthur hastily puts the glass tumbler down on the table so he can reach out and gently take the backs of my hands in his. His lovely eyes widen as he inspects my bandaged wrists closely, his mouth slightly agape.
"Arthur, it's nothing. Really."
"No it's not. It isn't nothing. You're hurt and..." He raises his eyes to mine, and the look on his face can only be described as concerned horror. "(y/n)...you, you didn't try to..?"
He doesn't finish the sentence and he doesn't have to.
Feeling affronted, I roughly pull my hands free of his gentle grasp.
"No I didn't! I just told you. It was an accident. I was doing a knife trick that went wrong."
"Yeah but...both wrists?" He narrows his eyes sceptically. "How do you hurt both wrists accidentally?"
"How? Okay I'll show you how, shall I?" Marching over to the cabinet in the corner, I open the top drawer and pull out my handcrafted duel stiletto knives.
Arthur follows, reaching for my arm. "No, you don't need to show me."
"No Arthur, you don't believe me, so I'll give you a demonstration to prove that I'm telling the truth. I shouldn't even have to explain myself, but I will, because I'm not lying!"
"(y/n) don't! You don't need to prove anything. You might hurt yourself again!"
I'm too incensed to listen, and I just keep talking over him, as I flip them open with a quick flick of the wrist. Another trick that's done with all the flair of someone who's practised the action hundreds of times.
"There's this movie I saw where a guy has these two daggers and he flips them and catches them again, and I thought it looked like a really neat trick." I ramble, deliberately ignoring him. "And this type of knife is very similar to a dagger, so I gave it a try. Obviously it didn't work out. But hey, maybe I'll have better luck this time--"
"(y/n) STOP!" He yells, just as I attempt to flip the knives over, like one might try to flip a pancake.
His yelling startles me badly enough, but that's nothing compared to what he does.
"Arthur, NO!" I cry, aghast, as he lurches forward, his hands recklessly darting out to catch them.
I can't help but admire his speed and agility, his reactions like a cat, as he somehow succeeds in catching them. The only problem is, he catches them by the blades.
"Oh my god! Arthur!" Taking hold of the handles carefully, I quickly sheath them and quite literally throw them aside carelessly.
Ever since escaping my abusive ex, I've obsessively collected knives, as it makes me feel safer somehow. The stilettos are my most prized possessions but it doesn't matter in that moment.
All that matters is tending to the damage they've caused dear, sweet Arthur.
Fortunately for him, this type of knife has a long slender blade, but the edges aren't the sharpest. They're designed to be used as a thrusting weapon, so it's the needle-like points that are highly dangerous; hence the two puncture wounds I ended up with.
But even so, as Arthur stands dripping blood all over my laminate floor, the sight has an overwhelmingly peculiar affect on me, sending an icy chill racing across my skin.
"It's okay, it doesn't hurt so much." He says bravely, his voice amazingly calm. He even chances a cautious smile. "I guess it is possible after all to injure both hands at once."
I guide him towards the kitchen, me now clasping his hands in mine. "Yes but they landed blade-side down when I tried to catch them and it was a genuine accident. You've just grabbed the fucking blades, Arthur! You crazy son of a bitch!" I say this kindly and it even makes him chuckle, but for once...I'm not laughing.
Usually I'm the one who makes light of every situation, and brushes pain aside with laughter. But now I'm deadly serious.
The fact that Arthur's injured himself, especially as a result of trying to prevent me from injuring myself further, shakes me to the very core.
Running his hands under cold water, I watch it turn crimson as it swirls down the drain, the sight sickening me a little.
Now I'm not at all squeamish when it comes to blood, but...it pains me, knowing that it is his.
"Arthur, you shouldn't have done that. You could've seriously hurt yourself."
He gives a blasé shrug of the shoulders as he watches me at work, washing the wounds thoroughly. "I'd rather hurt myself then let you get hurt again. I made a promise to never let anything bad happen to you."
A sudden lump forms in my throat, and tears pool in my eyes, hindering my vision as I take the first aid kit from the cupboard beneath the sink. I keep my head down as I open the alcohol wipes and bandages, not wanting him to see me get all emotional like this.
Becoming emotional in front of others makes me feel exposed, weak, and vulnerable.
"A little blood sure goes a long way. The cuts aren't deep, thank god." I manage, finding it incredibly difficult to swallow. "You must have tough skin."
"Yeah." He laughs but it's without humour. "That figures."
He barely even flinches as I swab over the thin cuts on his palms with the wipes, then carefully bandage them up, leaving his fingers and thumbs free so he still has full use of his hands.
"Are you okay?" He asks, lowering his face to peer more closely at me. "I'm so sorry (y/n). For doubting you about the knives. I shouldn't have."
"Please, don't you dare apologise. I'm the one who's sorry. If I hadn't overreacted like that then this wouldn't have happened."
"No, I need to. I know how much trust means to you, and honesty. It was wrong of me to think that you'd deliberately try to...you know, hurt yourself. I should've known better. It's just..." He pauses, sighing heavily. "I hate the thought of you hurting yourself. Of you being hurt at all. You've been hurt enough and...well, I don't ever want you being hurt again, in any way--"
"Arthur Fleck...j-just, stop. Please. Stop being so damn sweet." My voice wobbles as tears fall freely from my eyes. "If you say one more word I swear I'm going to have to kiss you."
I've no idea where that comes from. Clearly from a place that I have no control over. It's as if my brittle heart overrides my brain and takes over my mouth.
Arthur stares at me, equally shocked, though probably more so, as I've never even so much as hinted at being attracted to him. Because I don't do the whole romance thing anymore. My heart is securely kept under lock and key, and it has been for years.
And yet, as he looks at me so softly, there's this stir of.....something, deep inside. Like a blossoming affection deep within the cavity of my chest. His actions, his words, affect me in a way that I no longer thought was possible. Which suggests that my heart, which I've been keeping protected in a steel box, has been silently longing for something more, aching to heal.
"O-oh." He stutters, swallowing hard.
Impulsively, I reach up and grab the back of his neck, forcing his head down to meet my lips as I stand on my tip toes and kiss him.
His thin lips are delectably soft and warm. Unsurprisingly, he does taste of cigarettes, but do I have a problem with that? Apparently not.
To my relief he doesn't protest or put up a fight, but he doesn't move either; he tenses up, and remains immobile. Like a statue carved from granite.
Finally I release him from my clutches before my heart fails. It's palpitating wildly, like I'm destined for a heart attack, and I can scarcely breath.
He draws back slowly, and exhales a shaky breath. His face is flushed, and he looks a little dazed as he raises his brows, questioningly.
"W-well, I did warn you." I say once I've caught my breath, not bothering to hide my nervous, moronic smirk while I try to ignore the heat that's crawling up my neck; turning my face dusky. "I told you if you said one more word then I'd do that...and you did."
Arthur holds my gaze with a slow-blink, a foxy smile curling that surprisingly fine mouth of his. "I only said 'oh'." He points out, to my further embarrassment.
Flustered, I find myself laughing nervously. "Yes, and...that's a word."
Running a large hand through the soft waves of his hair, he chuckles adorably. "I know. And....boy am I glad that I said it."
The End
>>-------------------------------<<
** Fun fact; If you don't know already, Diazepam and Amitriptyline are two of the seven medications that Arthur takes (they're listed in the original screenplay, which is available to read online) so I wanted to use them in this story. As a former pharmaceutical assistant, I personally found it interesting to finally learn what medications he's been prescribed as I know what conditions they're used to treat. Even though Joaquin said he deliberately didn't want any doctors being able to diagnose Arthur's symptoms, the list kind of gives it away....
Sorry Joaquin! *Quotes Randall* "You know you're my boy" <3