This chapter is a little shorter, but I always try and end a part where I think it is best for the story. I hope that you still enjoy 😊
(Y/n) rode through the streets of Gotham. If Carl their manager knew she had hired a motorbike he probably wouldn't be happy, and he would probably kill her if he found out that she was riding through the dark dangerous streets, with no helmet, the wind blowing through her hair as she sped her way through the streets she once used to know so well.
She had not had any intention of going anywhere in particular when she had hired the Harley, it was just a way to escape, escape the tensions of work, escape the tensions of being back in the city itself, and to escape the ghosts that still haunted her; but as she absentmindedly wound her way down the dark streets, she stopped the bike as she drew up in front of an old apartment building, a building that she hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime.
There was part of her that wanted to start the bike again and just leave, never to return; but there was another part of her that was now forcing her from the Harley, forcing her to push her way through the doors and into the almost derelict looking structure.
Everything was just as she remembered, not as though she had been there that often, his mother hated her, the evil old witch seeming to enjoy calling her all manner of names when she had been reluctantly dragged back to his place.
Making her way over to the lift, she pressed the button, wincing slightly at the sound of the old machinery as it creaked and groaned. She remembered the floor he used to live on, even the number of the apartment that he lived in, and as the elevator made its way up to the floor, (Y/n) tried to figure out why she was doing this.
If his life had gone right, if he had got the popularity that he so desired, then there was no way that he would still be there, and even if he hadn't, the chances of him still being in that old dingy apartment were probably very low; but there was part of her that needed to find out, part of her that wanted to face her demon.
No matter what he had said that day, no matter how much he had told her that he didn't care, that he had never cared, deep down she knew that he hadn't meant it. He had always wanted to fit in, despite how many times he had told her that he didn't, she knew that he did; and even though he had hurt her, even though she had wanted to end it all that night, she knew that she couldn't blame him. It was always hard being an outsider, being the different one, being the butt of all the jokes and the abuse from bullies, and at a weaker moment she herself might have been seduced by an offer of being one of the in crowd.
As the door to the elevator opened, (Y/n) swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, her hand having to reach out and stop the door from closing again as her feet refused to move.
Reluctantly she forced her legs to move, slowly making her way down the hall to the apartment, her heart pounding violently against the inside of her chest as she stood before the door, her hand clenching tightly into a fist as she raised it to knock on the door.
>>---------------------------------<<
Arthur sat on the sofa in his apartment, trying as best as he could to take his mind off seeing (Y/n) again the next day. There was no way that he would be able to get out of it, sure that even if he called in sick, Hoyt would give him his marching orders.
He dropped his head into his hands, wondering whether he should try and pluck up the courage to actually try and talk to (Y/n), and even if he did manage to pluck up the courage without breaking out into a laughing fit, would he actually even be able to get close enough to talk to her. It wasn't like he had just bumped into her on the street, that she was an everyday person with an everyday job. (Y/n) was one of the biggest names in the music business, and this time Arthur was sure that she and the rest of the group would be surrounded by all manner of huge bodyguards.
Suddenly a creak from the other side of the door alerted Arthur to the fact that someone was outside, a fact that caused Arthur's eyebrows to furrow. No one ever called on him at the best of times, and no one ever called on him at such a late hour.
Cautiously Arthur got to his feet, not sure whether he wanted to know who was outside, not sure if he actually cared; but something deep inside seemed to push him to the door, his eyes growing wide in disbelief as he looked through the peephole, a beautiful face with one green eye, one blue eye, and a shock of black hair looking back at him.
>>------------------------------<<
(Y/n) hesitated, her hand hovering over the door, the breath hitching in her throat as she heard movement from the other side of the ingress, the sudden noise causing her to lose her previous curiosity as she turned to make her way back to the elevator.
"(Y/N)!" A voice called out, stopping her dead in her tracks.
"Please (Y/n)." The voice beseeched, (Y/n) shuddering as she felt a hand rest delicately on her shoulder.
She knew that voice, admittedly it had changed a little, but that was only to be expected. He was older now, he would no long be the boy she remember, the boy she loved, the boy that occasionally would still haunt her dreams on dark nights when Connor wasn't with her, nights when she would wake up with his words of hatred and disgust ringing in her ears.
"Please (Y/n). Look at me."
Slowly (Y/n) turned, gasping as she faced the man whose hand had moved from her shoulder down to her wrist, his fingers wrapping tightly around the leather cuff that covered her scar.
"Hi Bubblegum."