Somehow, Sophie felt like she was once again 16 and bailing her eyes out because the boy whom she had presented her heart on a silver platter had decided that she was not good enough for her. And that he very much preferred kissing another girl who happened to be a mutual friend.

Back then she had wondered for weeks (months, if she was completely honest with herself) which of her deficiencies had driven him away from her and right into the arms of another girl. She had thought about how that friend's hair had been prettier, her face more pleasant, her laugh so much more contagious than her own and that she – unlike herself – was funny.

And when her friends, eager to support her emotionally, had insisted that Sophie was pretty and funny and whatnot, she had started to wonder what she had done wrong.

She had racked her brain for months (almost a year, if she was completely honest with herself), reliving conversations and intimate moments that she and her first love had shared and desperately tried to understand at which point she had lost his affection.

As if knowing where she had gone wrong would have offered her some disclosure. And in the end, she had just accepted that it wasn't meant to be. Otherwise, he would not have left her.

But this time she was a grown-up woman and fully knew what she had done wrong to lose her only friend.

This, however, did not make it hurt less.

Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw Gina look at her like she had betrayed her. And Sophie could fully understand her point.

This time, Sophie did not need to wrack her brain about where she had gone wrong. This time, she actually really did not want to relive the conversation that had ruined everything with Gina.

Yet, whenever she had a quiet moment, the conversation that they had shared repeated itself in her head over and over again, like some broken record.

Even when angry, Gina had remained a graceful person. Instead of screaming at Sophie, the blonde had slowly walked towards her and stopped an arm's length in front of her to pin her down with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Sophie", she had started slowly, "what is going on?"

Somehow, Gina had managed to stress the syllables in a way that did not sound overly furious or dramatic, but just like she was voicing an urgent request.

There was suspicion in her green eyes and a carefully tamed fire that caused Sophie to suddenly feel cold.

Shit. It was the only coherent thought that her brain could come up with.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"What are you doing here, Gina?" she had asked sheepishly and felt like an idiot. Yet, it had almost been a miracle that her tongue which felt strangely heavy had been able to produce the utterance.

Gina had not dignified her question with an answer. Instead, the young woman's eyes had hardened on Sophie.

Sophie's cheeks had started to burn with guilt and shame, and she could no longer withstand her friend's accusing stare.

As her eyes had moved towards the floor, she briefly took notice of not only Gina's clenched fists but also the black dress that she was wearing.

Her black attire had deemed Sophie's question painfully obvious.

"Sophie."

Gina's black pumps had seemed like a good thing to focus on until she came up with the words to make everything right again.

"Sophie."

The angelic patience of her friend had finally run thin.

She had eventually forced herself to meet her friend's eyes. The fire was still there and somehow suited the cold tone she had used to say her name.

"I…", she had started, trying to find the right words to explain herself

… am in love with him?

… worry about a criminal?

"he…."

… isn't so bad?

… eats my food?

... looks so tired?

… burned down the café we both worked in before he burned down your aunt's restaurant?

"We…"

…are friends?

"You…"

… have to understand?

Was there anything more pathetic than a writer running out of pronouns?

The expression on Gina's face had not changed, apparently her inability to express herself had not crumbled her friend's resolve to have this conversation with her.

"It's complicated." Sophie finally muttered.

"I'm sure I can keep up." Her voice had not even sounded cynical but almost friendly. Almost.

"When I first met him, I did not know who he was.", she looked at Gina carefully, trying to assess her reaction, before she continued.

"We kept running into each other. And he saved me from several… situations."

Gina nodded slowly, as if to encourage her to go on.

"I knew that he was not … normal, and I was fascinated by that."

"And now you know that he is a criminal." Gina stated firmly.

Sophie nodded. There was no use denying it

"And you are still fascinated by that?"

Once again, she stared at Gina's shoes.

"Sophie."

"I think I could get through to him, Gi-"

"Grow up, Sophie." Usually, Gina wasn't the type to interrupt people.

"Are you trying to sell this as some kind of private social project? He's a notorious hitman and a psychopath. He enjoys hurting people, Sophie, he kills them."

"Maybe he needs help." She was embarrassed by the fragility of her own voice.

"Professional help. He needs to be sent to Arkham. You are in no way fit to help a psychopath. I don't mean that as an insult, Sophie. You are not a trained psychologist."

Sophie knew that she was right.

"I'm in love with him, Gina. I have to try." Gina's shoes had looked somewhat too shiny. Retrospectively, she noticed that they were probably either new or something she solely wore to funerals.

There had been a long pause before Gina spoke again.

"If you have feelings for this man, you have to do the right thing, Sophie. If you know anything, give an anonymous hint to the GCPD so they can finally arrest him and go visit him once they confined him. You can't keep this… friendship up. He will hurt you, either physically or emotionally. Most likely both."

"I can't do that."

How on earth could she every rationally explain to Gina that she could not betray Victor Zsasz? Sophie was not even sure if she could explain it to herself.

"I see.", Gina sounded tired as she said the words, "What do you expect me to do, Sophie?"

She had hesitated, suddenly scared of what Gina would do with the information that she had just revealed to her. Would she soon be tailed by a police officer? Would Victor be upset if he found out that she mentioned him towards anyone?

"Please don't tell anyone." She had looked at the blonde woman with pleading eyes.

"Right." The fire in Gina's eyes was gone. It looked like she had given up.

On me, Sophie inwardly thought, unsure whether the thought was a relief or a burden.

"I won't tell anyone that you know him."

"Thank you so much, Gina, I –"

"But I can't do this" she gestured back and forth between them. "You have to make a decision here, Sophie. Either you do the right thing for both this man you are so fond of and his potential next victims or – ", she paused, shaking her head.

"You cannot expect me to stick around when you… do that to yourself."

Sophie nodded.

She knew that Gina was waiting for a real answer – and she knew that she could not give her friend the answer she wanted to hear. Time seemed to pass at an illogical pace, stretching itself out for far too long and weighing too heavily.

"I won't get you involved in that part of my life, I promise", she finally said, trying to evade the inevitable.

"You don't get it, Sophie. If that is a part of your life, I can't be. Not after what that man did. I can't be friends with someone who makes such poor life choices."

"I understand." Sophie's answer had come too quickly and had definitely not sounded sad enough. The relief she had felt upon Gina's promise to not tell anyone had still been too prominent in her head.

An expression of hurt had flickered over her blonde friend's face, only to be replaced by bitterness. Without another word, Gina had turned around and walked away without turning back, leaving Sophie to watch her figure becoming smaller and smaller.

It was in these seconds or minutes (she could not tell) that she had realized that she had not only lost Gina's respect, but also her friendship. And that hurt more than every breakup she had been through so far.

Joice watched her former friends as they walked towards the school building and –

Sophie sighed and deleted the sentence she had just written.

Joice watched the tranquil trio, a.k.a. her former friends, as they approache-

She was hitting the keys far too loudly.

Joice made sure that no one noticed her as she slowly tailed –

With a sigh, Sophie closed her old lapto and looked towards the door. "A couple of days", he had said.

That had been two weeks ago.

(Boringly long) Author's Note:

It has been so ridiculously long since I've updated that I almost considered deserting this story for good to save myself from the embarrassment of telling you that I had the most intense writer's block of my life (I even struggled with post cards).

However, I'm working on that by trying to be less perfectionist- as you can probably see by the excessive switching between the simple past and the past perfect in this chapter. I'm not saying this because I don't want to hear your criticism (which is truly very welcome on every single aspect, be it wording, grammar, plot, character depiction and so on), but more like an apology in advance that the quality of this story might decline from this point on.

Moreover, I am very grateful to all the people who still commented on this (I get a notification on my phone every time), and unknowingly guilt-tripped me into getting back to this. You're awesome.

Please stay safe and stay at home if you can - maybe to rewatch Gotham like I do.