The wind howls behind you as you press your back against the door, the frigid air biting through your sweater. You’re still fumbling with your gloves when the chime of the shop bell jingles faintly above your head. You glance up

And there he is.

Standing just beyond the frost-glazed glass, his silhouette backlit by the flickering streetlight. He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t need to. You feel him before the cold finishes creeping down your spine.

He pushes the door open.

Snow clings to the dark fur lining his hood, dusting his shoulders like powdered sugar on a poisoned dessert. That smile too wide, too sharp spreads across his pale face like a crack through ice. His emerald green eyes glitter, gleaming like something feral just waiting to pounce.

“Miss me?” he asks, voice low, curling through the warm air like smoke.

You don’t answer. Can’t. Your breath catches somewhere between your lungs and your throat, frozen in place just like your limbs.

His boots crunch softly against the tiled floor as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click. Snow melts in rivulets down his coat, puddling on the floor as he slowly pulls down his hood.

“I figured,” he says, tilting his head. “You’d be here. All warm. Safe. Alone.”

You take a step back.

He takes a step forward.

“You always look so… cozy when you’re cornered.”

There’s a buzzing in your ears now adrenaline, panic, memory. You know that grin. You know what follows. But something in his eyes tonight is different. A kind of glittering heat behind the madness. Something less like chaos and more like obsession.

You swallow hard. “What do you want?”

His grin widens as he spreads his arms, snowflakes tumbling from his sleeves. “Oh, just a little warmth. Maybe a smile. Maybe… you.”

The door behind him ices over again as the cold tightens its grip. But his stare never wavers. And somehow, standing there in the middle of a storm, the Joker looks right at home.