If You Just Listened // Arthur Fleck x Reader // SLOWBURN

Chapter 2 - Thank You.

Gotham was supposed to be luxurious. It was supposed to be dazzling. People were supposed to be walking around in diamonds and fine clothes, freshly out of the latest movie premier. Champagne glasses held in everyone's hand. Photoshoots for the biggest models on every corner. World renown chefs at every restaurant. America's best singers belting their hits so loud the whole city could hear. Lights, cameras, dresses, suits, jewelry, gold, glitz, galmour - FAME!

'At least that's what mom and dad said Gotham was.'

You looked out your apartment window. Gotham was definitely not that. The skies were always dark. The air was heavy with smoke and pollution. A beggar sat at every street corner. Someone was always getting mugged.

You wondered when that someone would be you.
You shuddered.

You shook the thought from your mind, turning to your bedside mirror and straightening out your uniform. For today, you would continue to be another faceless Gotham citizen. But one day, you would be one of the elite. One day, you would be famous. Making connections with these basement-bar stand-up comedians was just the first step in your flawless plan. At least, that's what you hoped.

And you wouldn't have to disappoint your parents with news of what Gotham really was.

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, dusting off your uniform before heading out to your next shift.

    The next two weeks were gruelling work. You worked nearly every day for hours on end. You wondered how you were able to maintain your sanity. Your co-workers didn't get any friendlier. Your boss didn't go any easier on you. The clientele didn't get any more civilized. It really did seem like almost everyone was out to get you.

    Almost everyone.

    That strange man with the notebook continued coming to Pogo's every night. Over time, you came to realize why Owen called him a freak. That laugh.
    You never missed one of his laughs. If one could even call it a laugh, that is.
    If anything, it would be better described as a maniacal cackle. It definitely stood above the rest, and definitely not in a good way.
    During any stand-up, the man laughed between every joke, never during the punchline. It always came at the wrong time. And when he laughed, he laughed LOUDLY. It was broken and high pitched, like a screech from a crow.
    It was weird.
    It was disturbing.
    It was just plain awful to listen to.

    But he was sweet.

    Yes, you couldn't deny that this man was strange. And no, you never really had any "pleasant" interactions with him.
    But - he always smiled when he saw you. He always asked you how you were doing (although he always asked awkwardly). He always said "Thank you," in the most gentle voice he could muster when you seated him, and thanked you again in every possible situation he could. He never ordered any food or drinks, but he always left you a two dollar tip anyway. He may have very well been your most well mannered customer.

    But he was weird, and you knew no one would see past that.
    And you didn't exactly have friends at this job yet. You definitely weren't going to ruin your chances at friendship by being chummy with this creepy stranger just because, what? He was polite? Pfft.

    And yet....

    You couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. You saw how the other guests would stare at him after one of his cackles. You could sense their judgement in the way they looked at him. You could hear the whispers and jokes the other waiters made about him.
    It wasn't right. After being in Gotham for as long as you have been, you knew what is felt like to be the odd one out. It was lonely. And it was scary.
    'Yeah, he's a freak,' you thought, leaning against the entrance, watching him as he happily scribbled away in his notebook. 'But he's still a person.'
    You knew you wouldn't be the one to stand up against the rest, to DEMAND that everyone treated this man with respect. No, what little reputation you had would be shattered. And you didn't have the guts to do that anyway. You wanted to make him feel like he wasn't alone. But what could you do?
    You stared at him, sighing.
    'Well there's gotta be something.'

    And just then, he laughed again. But this time, there was a blunt response.
    A man seated behind him groaned, "Can you keep it down? Your laugh sounds like nails on a chalkboard."
    The laughing man turned to him, confused.
    "No, I was just laughing at the joke about-"
    "Either quit that howling or get out. I'm trying to enjoy the show here."

    With that, the smile sunk from the man's face. He turned back around, staring down at his notebook, no longer scribbling in it. He slumped down in his seat, dejected and sad.

    It wasn't loud enough for more than a few people to notice this interaction. But you definitely noticed. You could practically feel your heart break in two. Your mind was racing. Your hand instinctively went to your mouth. You chewed on your nails, tapping your foot on the ground nervously.
    'No, no, no! What do I do? What do I do?'

    An idea popped into your mind. You quickly made your way to the bar and ordered a drink, whispering to the bartender to bill it to you. You took it, hastily making your way through the tables until you reached him.
    You placed it in front of the man, clearly surprising him. He sat up, looking up at you with a confused expression. You knelt down beside his seat,  trying to make your face level with his. You whispered, softly, not wanting to disrupt the show.

    "Hey," you smiled.
    He stared at you for a few seconds, puzzled by your sudden appearance. A few seconds passed before a smile slowly began to appear on his lips, his teeth only slightly showing.
    "Hey," he whispered back. He looked at the drink, and back at you. He stammered, struggling to find his words. "Is this for me?"
    You nodded happily. "Mhm, I just wanted to give it to you as a gift."
    "A gift?" He asked in confusion. "For what?"

    "Your laugh," you said with a soft grin. "It always makes my shifts more entertaining. You do a better job making me giggle than these guys," you scoffed, nodding towards the comedian. "It's a unique laugh, that's for sure. But I like it."
    You knew that was a complete lie, but what harm could it have done? You just wanted the poor guy to be able to enjoy himself freely. By the looks of his clothes and demeanor, he had it bad enough as it was.
    He looked at the drink, and carefully took it in his hands. He turned to you, a sparkle now in his eyes.

    "Thank you," he said quietly.
    You nodded.
    "Don't mention it."