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

Chapter 9 - Being Honest.

You lit a candle, waving the match in your fingers to extinguish it.

You gently ran your hands along the bed, making sure it was wrinkle-free and neat.

The table was set, your apartment was organized, and breakfast was ready.

You took a step back, admiring your work. You hadn't had the time to really clean your apartment lately. Well, actually that was a lie. You did, but you were so exhausted by the time you got home from work that cleaning was the furthest thing from your mind. And you certainly didn't plan on spending your few days off on cleaning.

Regardless, it was nice. Seeing everything tidy felt like a breath of fresh air. It was embarrassing that Arthur saw your apartment in its usual state last time he came over, you wanted to make sure this time was different.

As if on cue, you heard a gentle knock on your door. You clamped your hands together, excited to have Arthur see your work. You quickly rushed to the door.

Arthur stood in front of your door for quite a while.
Maybe he should just go back.
No, no that didn't make any sense. Clearly you invited him for a reason.
But what if that reason was pity?
Arthur looked down at the unopened jar of jam in his hands.
No, you said he was your friend.
He certainly thought you were his friend.
But did you really mean it?
What was he thinking, of course you did!
Of course you did...

You flung the door open, your arms out-stretched like the wings of an angel.
Arthur grinned, ecstatic to see you.
"How did you know I was out here?" he asked.
"Lucky guess," you chuckled.
You wrapped your arms around him, and he did the same.
His hand rose up, his fingers running through your hair.
He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent.

You smelled like bliss.

Arthur's eyelids fluttered as he slowly came back to reality. He rolled his shoulders, and stretched his neck. He could do this. His brought his fist up, softly rapping on your door.

You undid the locks on your door as quickly as you could, opening the door with the cheesiest grin on your face. You swung one arm up, proudly showing off your newly arranged apartment.

"Tadaaa! What do you think?" you eagerly asked.

Arthur took a few steps inside, looking around.
"Wow," he said, nodding in approval. "You did a really nice job with your place."
"Thanks!" you beamed. "I worked pretty hard on it."
"Oh," Arthur continued, turning to you. He held up the jar of jam.
"This is for you."
You looked at the jar, then back up at him.

It had a small plaid cloth over the top of it, tied with a skinny string of twine. It seemed so tiny in Arthur's long fingers. It was the most adorable thing you had seen in Gotham so far.

You reached out, taking it from his hand. Your fingers briefly touched.

"You didn't have to," you smiled. You stared at the jar, your eyes glittering like a puppy seeing a shiny object.
"I love it."

Arthur swore that time had stopped. Your hands had touched just then, didn't they?
No, you weren't exactly holding hands, but still...
The way you looked at the jar made him the happiest man alive. He did that.
He was the one who gave it to you. Maybe he should bring jam more often.
He grabbed his shoulder, the same one you had touched, and sighed.

"Oh, please, take a seat," you babbled, embarrassed of your child-like fascination with the jar.
"I hope you don't mind toast and jam again, my wallet is a little tight right now..."
You mumbled that last part.