Jerome Valeska Imagines

Ghost- Part 8

     You stared at the face of an old man. His face was sagging with age, What was left of his grey hair was covered by a hat, and he covered his eyes with a pair of glasses. You recognized the man as the fortune teller. What was his name again? Mr. Charlie? Mr. Scissors?

     "Mr. Cicero. Shouldn't you be practicing?" Jerome asked. You turned to Jerome, and watched as he pointed to his own eyes, mouthing the words, "He's blind." You nodded and turned back to the old man, that you now knew was Mr. Cicero.

     "It's kind of hard to predict somebody's fortune, when I knew exactly what was going on here," the old man rasped. His voice was very scratchy and slow, almost as if he was reading a children's bedtime story. "Nice to see you again, Miss. Y/L/N. You haven't been here in years," Cicero greeted.

     You looked at him in confusion. "Was that a joke?" Jerome asked. Mr. Cicero shook his head. "Pick up that rug, and bring it to my trailer, along with the murder weapon. We don't have much time until the show starts," Cicero instructed.

     "You're not going to rat us out?" Jerome asked. The blind man paused before turning around. "Just hurry up before I change my mind." Jerome grabbed the rug, and ran to his trailer, as you followed Cicero.

     His trailer was closer to Jerome's than the others, but still enough distance so that they had privacy. You followed the old man in, taking a seat into the dark trailer. "I'm shocked to have you here," Mr. Cicero confessed, sitting across from you at a small, wooden table.

     "So am I," you mumbled. Cicero grabbed your hand, startling you. He held your hand for a minute, but you didn't know if you should pull away. "Oh," he hummed, causing you to raise an eyebrow. "What is it?"

     "I'm seeing the pain you felt after Jerome abandoned you," he admitted. You paused and stared down at his hand. "And some anger," he added. You wanted to pull your hand away, but you also wanted to see what he was going to say.

     "Jerome's popularity is because of his talent in football. They saw Jerome playing during PE, and told him to join. Jerome, of course, listened, instantly making it to varsity his freshmen year, and boosting his popularity. At first, you tried to keep the friendship going, and even cheered him on at some of the games. Then, he began canceling plans, talking to you less, and hanging out with the other kids more," he told you like a story.

     You couldn't believe that he actually knew what happened. Nobody knew, except for you and Jerome. Your palms were sweaty, probably distracting the man, but you didn't care.

     "Finally, you guys hung out at the park one last time. He gave you a small locket, which you still have. After that, he didn't talk to you. You would try to talk to him, but he would always walk away before you could, or even make fun of you sometimes," Cicero said.

     You thought back to the times he would call you names, or make fun of the way you looked or did something. You would put on a strong front, but it actually hurt more than anything. You would cry for hours, but finally, you decided enough was enough. You gave up on Jerome, and people at that school altogether. You haven't cried since then.

     "I see a darkness in you, Miss. Y/L/N. Everything that has happened to you over the years, has caused you a great deal of pain and suffering. It has even brought you to the brink of insanity, which, I fear Jerome has already fallen into the vat of insanity, and he's about to pull you with him. You, my dear, are going to walk through the depths of hell with the devil, and that can only lead to one thing: Death," he predicted.

     Finally, Jerome barged through he door. You snatched your hand back, and put it in your lap. "Be careful, little girl. The worse is yet to come," Cicero added. "What's he talking about, Y/N/N?" Jerome asked, sitting down next to you.

     You looked at Jerome and shivered at what Mr. Cicero had told you. All the memories, and the predictions, they all had to do with Jerome. "Nothing," You lied. "Just the silly, old man thinking he can predict my future." Jerome chuckled. "Crazy old man."

"If I'm so crazy, than perhaps I shouldn't help you," he said. Jerome stopped laughing and glared at the man. "You can't take back your offer. Now, what did you have in mind?" Jerome asked.

Mr. Cicero sighed and told you his plan of scratching the satanist symbols, 'THFC', onto the hatchet, and throwing it off of Arkham Bridge. He told you to hide to the rug, so you decided to take it back to your house, while you drove to Arkham Bridge.

Jerome and you walked along the bridge, going to the side, overlooking the park. You left your car at the end of the bridge, not wanting anybody to be able to trace the car back to you. It finally hit you that you were committing a crime. If you were to get caught, you'd be sent to jail, and all of your plans of travel would be thrown out the window.

Once you reached the side, Jerome paused and sighed. "Should we trust him?" Jerome asked. You looked at Jerome, but he was staring at the hatchet. You rolled your eyes and grabbed it with him. "It's Gotham, Valeska. You can't trust anybody." Once the words left your mouth, you threw the hatchet to the ground below. Luckily, the park was empty, and nobody was there to see what was happening.

Jerome smiled, staring down at the scene. He slowly chuckled, turning to you. "You're talking about me," he sang. You looked at him in annoyance. "How smart of you," you said sarcastically.

Jerome laughed as you walked back to your car. When you were about halfway back, a pair of headlights entered the bridge. You froze, not knowing what to do. You put your head down as Jerome pulled up his hood. He grabbed your hand, and dragged you along the bridge.

The car slowed down, making you nervous. It was too dark for you to see, and you weren't going to be looking up and reveal your face. As you walked pass the car, it stopped. "Valeska?"

You both turned and saw Mason and Jerome's group of friends. "What are you doing out here?" He asked. He turned to you and looked even more confused. "And with Casper the freaky ghost?" He teased.

You felt anger fill your body, but you learned to control it. Although, Jerome had not. "That's pretty fucking rude to say," he spat. Mason and the rest of his clique stared at him in shock. You saw the girl from the other day that was arguing with Jerome. Her name was Alexis, and you were pretty sure her and Jerome were now separated, but she was staring at you in anger.

"I'm going to go," you said, pulling away. You tried to walk away, but Jerome's grip tightened, making you stumble into him. "What's wrong with you, Valeska?" Mason asked. "You've never stood up for this piece of trash before."

"Don't talk about her like that," Jerome growled. You were confused. Why would he stick up for you all of a sudden? "You don't know anything about her, or even me," he spat. You thought back to when Jerome yelled at Mason for hitting you on the slide. It was clearly an accident, but it made Jerome livid, just like he was right now.

Suddenly, Mason began laughing. "What drugs are you on, Valeska? You've never acted like this before," he teased. He turned to you. "Did you slip something into his drink?" You scrunched your face in disgust. "I would never do that!"

"Whatever, freak. Get in the car. I'll take you to my place," Mason said. Jerome shook his head. "Fuck off," he spat. Jerome began to walk away again, pulling you along. "Jerome!" You turned and saw Alexis leaning out of the window. "Come on, baby. Get in the car," she begged.

Jerome looked at her in disgust. "I've been thinking about you a lot, and I was harsh on you the other day. Let's talk about it," she offered. Jerome shook his head. He ignored the group, and began walking away. "Bunch of douchebags and bitches," he mumbled.

     You giggled and squeezed his hand in comfort. Jerome's face softened, and he turned to you. He smiled at you, but it wasn't his new huge one. He smiled at you the same way he did all those years ago.