A/N: HEY GUYS! I'm currently working on the update for Verbatim so this is just to give you guys something else to read in the mean time! I love y'all and thank you for being so patient and awesome:) Lemme know what you think and have a good day/night!
Where My Demons Hide
Curtain's call
Is the last of all
When the lights fade out
All the sinners crawl
So they dug your grave
And the masquerade
Will come calling out
At the mess you've made
Don't wanna let you down
But I am hell bound
Though this is all for you
Don't wanna hide the truth
No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
Don't get too close
It's dark inside
He broke it off. Out of no where, he decided he no longer thought it was smart to even associate with each other.
Harleen was in bed, the covers pulled up to her neck as she tried to wrap her mind around it.
She thought he cared about her. She thought he cared more than what he led on. But as she lay there, she realized maybe he didn't care for her at all.
She was on her way from work when Johnny called her and told her, "Mr. J no longer thinks it's appropriate to continue any sort of relationship".
It hit her like a pile of bricks.
She did everything for him, and he was leaving her.
While she was in bed crying, across town, The Joker was downing glass after glass of whiskey.
He thought he'd feel relieved after cutting ties with his former doctor, but it only made things worse. He felt shackled, not free.
What was the point of him manipulating her to begin with?
Get out of Arkham and that'd be that? Kill her when he was out and be on with his life?
He laughed bitterly. That'd be that; as if Harleen Fucking Quinzel would give up that fucking easily.
She was beyond stubborn and hellbent on getting her way.
He was surprised when he'd broken things off, that she didn't respond to Johnny with a, "No, we're not breaking up. Tell him I'll see him tonight" and walk off.
It wasn't that he was bored of her.
Fuck sake, how could he possibly ever get bored of her?
She was sexy, intriguing, funny, brilliant, loyal . . . and too damned good.
The minute she got him what he needed in order to get out of Arkham, he knew there was potential there for her to become whatever he needed her to be.
But he was hesitant. He'd never been a hesitant person. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it, and how he wanted it. No questions asked, no gimmicks, no negotiations, no hesitation.
But this was different. After months of knowing her, slowly peeling back every layer there was to her, after knowing every secret about her, he wasn't necessarily sure if throwing her into the hellfire that was his fast pace, violent, frenzied life was what he really wanted.
He felt like she was too good to be done that dirty.
But at the same time, he knew she'd welcome it with open arms—despite how dangerous it was—simply because it was a part of him.
He couldn't understand why he cared that much. Why he cared about her that much. He was out of Arkham, he knew he'd have to say bye to her eventually. But he didn't know why he was conflicted with the decision.
"Well, you coulda killed her instead." He says aloud. "It could be worse. She could be dead. But you're letting her live."
That didn't help.
He didn't want her to be in his life. He didn't want her to be caught up in the day-to-day risk of just breathing the same air as him. He had enemies. He loved making enemies. But everyone knows when you're in the line of business he's in, when a significant other comes into the picture, they're the first ones targeted for revenge.
And he hated that he cared that much. He hated that he wasn't calling her over to roll around in his bed because he didn't want her to get shot or something on the way over.
It shouldn't matter to him if she dies or not, if she gets hurt. But he cares.
He couldn't save himself, from the kind of damage living like this could do, all those years ago. So he damn sure was going to save her from it.
There was a banging at the door and he rolled his eyes, figuring it was Johnny.
He opened it, eyebrows raised and ears waiting to be talked off, but his mouth opened slightly at the site of Harleen.
"What are you doing here?" He asked lowly. "I told you—"
"No, you didn't tell me. Johnny told me, because you're too much of a coward to fucking break up with me face to face." She hissed and he ground his teeth together. "Am I really that bad? You send one of your guys to come tell me you don't love me anymore?"
"I never said I loved you to begin with, Harls." He argued calmly and she stood, shocked at his words.
"All those times after making love to me?"
"I didn't mean I loved you, I meant I loved your body. I loved what you did." He rubbed his forehead and she felt tears grow in her eyes.
Complete humiliation and embarrassment flashed on her face and he felt guilt tug at him a little as she fell on the couch, sitting and staring off.
"Listen, Harleen," he sat next to her, resting his elbows on his knees. "What we've done that last few months, has been a fucking roller coaster and I'd do it all again, I truly would. But we knew this wouldn't last forever. We knew it'd end at some point. You got me what I needed and I'm in debt to you for that but now our fun is over and it's time to start living our lives outside of that nuthouse again." He explains.
"Why're you doing this? What's wrong with me? What have I done to make you want to leave?"
"Harleen," he sighed, closing his eyes.
"Just tell me and I promise I'll fix it, J." She pleaded.
"We just. . .it's not smart for us to be together."
"Why not?" She demanded.
"Baby, you're not listening to me—"
"I am listening. I'm just not hearing what I want to hear and I'm getting angry and I'm losing my patience because you are beating around the bush. Why are you breaking up with me, Joker? After I broke the rules for you. After I risked my career for you because I love you that much."
"Okay, Harley," he raised his brows. "Dear, we come from two completely opposite sides of the spectrum. You have your degree in Psychiatric Medicine. You have an apartment uptown with all the rich people who refuse to acknowledge that there's more to life than just golf, Escalades, and private pools. I'm downtown where if you walk on the wrong side of the street, you get shot. You're a doctor, I'm a criminal. You're Doctor Harleen Quinzel, and I'm the Joker. We don't match. We clash. Our morals are opposite, our values are different, what you find important, I find stupid and what I find entertaining, you find illegal. You see where I'm going with this, right?"
She stared at him, tears freely flowing down her cheeks.
"I understand what you're saying. But I don't understand why you've been fine with it all this time and then you suddenly decide you don't want me anymore. Without any warning. That's what I'm not understanding, J." She shook her head gently.
How could he explain it in a way she'd understand? That she wouldn't be so torn up about it?
He groaned and rubbed his face tiredly, deciding to say "fuck it" and tell her the truth, despite how weak it made him seem.
"I don't love you." He said. "But you are someone I value and I want you to be safe. And you can't keep safe when you're with me. People hate me. People try to kill me on a daily basis and I can't have you in the middle of that because they'd go after you, first. I have my own issues, my own bullshit to worry with and I can't have to worry about you, too." He told her and she felt a little relieved. He didn't completely hate her like she'd thought. He was just trying to protect her. From others, and himself.
She sighed, moving her hands to cup his face gently. Staring into those blue eyes, she did something bold.
She kissed him. It wasn't anything heated or lustful. It was sweet and slow and when she pulled away, she rested her forehead against his.
"I love you." She told him. "You don't love me. I know you don't and I don't expect you to, but you have to understand that it's going to hurt me more to not be able to see you, than it will if I'm ever hurt when I'm with you." She confessed. "Because I am miserable with out you, J. And I can't pretend like this never happened. I can't go to work like it never happened and I can't live like this never happened because guess what? It did. And that's already pretty fucking bad. So what's continuing our relationship going to hurt anything?"
"Everything I'm saying is going through one ear and out the other." He growled, growing impatient.
"I'm not ignoring anything you're say—"
"Just shut up!" He yelled, pulling at his hair angrily.
She was a little taken back by his outburst but he didn't care.
He picked up the glass he'd been drinking out of and threw it at the wall. It shattered and she closed her eyes, holding her face in her hands as he continued to pitch a temper tantrum.
After minutes of him throwing things about and pacing angrily, cursing under his breath, she looked up and wiped her tears.
He was staring at her, studying her almost. His eyes squinted a little in concentration, his jaw locked tightly, his fist clenching and relaxing as thoughts, incredibly sinful thoughts, raced through his mind.
"I'm gonna go." She got up and headed to the door, but was stopped when she felt him grab her arm and slam her against it.
She yelped out in fear and shock, her head ached a little from the impact of the door and her breathing became shallow as she stared up at him.
He looked down at her, taking rapid breaths as he tried to calm his anger.
Maybe scaring her off would work. Maybe it wouldn't.
But he couldn't stand to end like this. He wanted it to be done but he didn't want it to end in slamming doors and "go to hell"'s.
He trapped her, his arms on either side of her head. Her hands rested against the heavy wood of the door, more tears spilled from her eyes and she looked down, not able to look him in the eye.
"Harley," he said it barely audibly and she squeezed her eyes shut.
"I love you," she told him. "I love you. I love you despite who you are. I love you despite what you do. I love you despite how you may feel about me. I love you. I don't know what the hell else to tell you, J." She shook her head and he sighed, frustrated at her words.
"Harleen," he spoke and she continued to shake her head. "We can't."
"We can't or you can't?" She hissed, already knowing she was beating a dead horse, but she refused to give up. "I don't care what you do. I never have. You kill people and you break people and you hate people and I try to save people and repair people and I love people. You're right. We're complete opposites. But I couldn't give a fuck what you do. I love you. And I want you. And I need you. And I don't care what you do, how you try to get rid of me or scare me off because it's not going to happen. I am here until one of us dies. So suck it up and stop fucking caring about me so damned much to the point where we can't even be happy together because you're trying to protect me. I don't need your protection. I just need you. And I'm not leaving until you tell me you need me too because I know it's the truth." She demanded and he gently rubbed her face with his knuckles, before pulling her into a heated kiss.