𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓 / victor zsasz

chapter one; leaving

'please, i'm just asking you to leave,' he pleaded in front of you, his white fists buckled to the handles of your suitcases. the clear face of his silver wristwatch winked at you as his arm shivered - the arms of the clock face bent to form an ugly frown.

'are you kidding me, frankie?' you felt your lip quiver as you fumbled to try and piece your words together, 'i don't understand what i've done wrong!'

'it's not you, please, just understand that gotham isn't safe for you anymore. i've worked my way into a lot of business i can't handle and i can't have you in this city anymore if i want you to be happy.'

'and you didn't think to talk to me about this? you even packed my damn bags for me!' your fingernail dug its way between your teeth as you stared into the neat black laces on your boyfriend's shoes. 'frankie, i love you, i really do, but do you really expect me to just pick up my bags and flee from god-knows-what for you?'

'please,' he murmured, his voice creaking like the opening of an old door, 'i'm doing this because i care about you.' he shied from your gaze, his charm and pretty italian-boy face shadowed by the quivering figure he'd suddenly become.

behind him, the aching orange glow of the fireplace seeped from between the gratings. the light meandered from the warming embers towards the coffee table, and soaked the walls in a comforting haze. the autumnal colours flickered on a picture frame, shining on the edge of your vision. it was a photo from last summer; you and frankie were smiling together on a beach, the waves frozen in gentle arches against the shore.

'fine,' your words drooped heavily in the air, 'i'll leave. i trust you.' a hesitant smile jerked on his face as your posture loosened ever so slightly. your hand tentatively reached for your suitcase; timid before the black plastic handle as if it almost finalised the decision, like the scrawl of a signature on the bottom of a contract.

'i'll always love you, okay?' frankie grasped your wrist when you made for the doorway. your lips hid behind the deep red of your scarf, but your eyes shone in a reassuring smile as your eyelashes clung together in wet triangles.

'i know.'

the sting of frankie's lips upon your own made off with your words - you couldn't even cough out an apology when you collided with an impish redhead on the street. but the angular roofing of the train station already jutted out from behind gotham's apartment buildings, and you hurried through the crowds despite the heavy storm swelling in your chest. as your suitcases stumbled into every crack on the pavement, you chewed the pink cushion of your bottom lip to desperately tame your tears.

but you could trust frankie with your life. you knew you could.

vote | comment | share