RELAPSE - Arthur Fleck | Joker FANFIC/LOVE STORY

Chapter 31: Mental

I looked around the apartment as Arthur made his way to the bedroom to acquire some dry clothes for us to wear.  The place was still a mess.  I never attempted to clean it when he disappeared and, apparently, he wasn't too worried about it either.  Maybe, since he was imagining I was with him the whole time, he thought the apartment was clean.  Did it work like that?  I wasn't sure.

As I took a step, I accidently kicked something, causing it to slide across the floor.  Looking down at the object, I found that it was Arthur's journal.  I picked it up, with the intention of placing it on the coffee table, but as I held it in my hand, the temptation to look inside took over me.

I really shouldn't look. The last time I did, I read something I didn't like.

I looked over my shoulder to see if Arthur emerged from the bedroom yet. Nope, not yet. So, I turned my attention back to the journal, opened it to a random page, and read the first thing that grabbed my attention.

"The worst part about having a mental illness is, people expect you to behave as if you don't."

I let out a small chuckle; I don't think I ever read something that was so true.  It was sort of the same with drug addiction.  People expect you to just be able to get over it like it's nothing.  "Just say no."  If only it were that easy, my life wouldn't be such a mess from consistantly fucking it up all the time.

The sound of Arthur's footsteps came up behind me, so I quickly closed the journal, gently tossed it onto the couch, and turned around to smile at him.  He was holding two sets of clothing, one in each hand.  

He stuck out one hand of clothing, "Here are some of your clothes I found.  I hope they match, I'm not really great at all of that."

I took the clothing from him and held them in one hand, "It's okay, most men aren't."

We both giggled as he reached out took my free hand in his and squeezed it.  The hand he grabbed was my injured hand, so I let out a small gasp of pain.  

His concerned eyes looked down at my hand and he examined it, "W-what happened to your hand?  When did this happen?  Just now?"

I bit my lip, "No, no.  It happened before I came here.  I--"

"I didn't notice it earlier.  Why didn't you tell me?  Come here," he tossed his clothes on the couch, took my clothes from me, grabbed onto my good hand, and pulled me into the bathroom.

He had me sit on the edge of the bathtub as he turned on the water and got it to a comfortable temperature.  He told me to wash off the blood as he worked on locating the first aid kit that he kept around for his mother, but hardly ever used. The blood on my hand was pretty much dry at this point, so I had to gently scrub it off with my other hand.  The bathtub drained slowly, so the water collecting in the tub turned into a light pink color as the blood washed off my hands.

Arthur came back with the first aid kit and some hydrogen peroxide. He kneeled on the floor in front of me and proceeded to clean my wounds. I sucked air through my teeth when he poured the hydrogen peroxide over the cuts; it burned like hell.  After my hand was disinfected and cleaned, he bandaged me up.

I looked at my bandaged hand, "thank you, sweetheart."

He smiled up at me and caressed my jawline with his fingers, "anything fo--," his smile disappeared and he gave me a perplexed look, "what the..." He grabbed my chin in his hand and moved my head to open my neck better to his view, "is this a hickey?"