You never expected him to be gentle.

Not the Joker.. not the man Gotham feared like a nightmare made flesh. But when it came to you, he was… different. Almost shy sometimes. As if one wrong move would scare you away, and he couldn’t bear the thought.

It started with little things.

He’d leave you clumsy notes, handwritten in messy scrawl: You smiled today. I liked that. A little bird told me you were sad. Tell me who made you sad. I could be better. If you wanted me to be.

You didn’t know what to make of it. The Joker wasn’t supposed to want to be better for anyone. And yet, when he was near you, his chaos softened into something raw, something almost human.

He never touched you without asking. His gloved hand would hover over yours, waiting, as if you held the power to destroy him with a single flinch. Sometimes he just sat across from you, watching, as if memorizing every breath you took.

But love, for him, was a desperate, burning thing.

He wanted to be near you always to hear your voice when you woke up, to trace your laugh like a song he could never quite catch. It overwhelmed you sometimes, how much he needed you. Like he wasn’t sure he could survive without your light.

And you?

You couldn’t deny the aching sadness in his eyes when you pulled away. You couldn’t ignore the way his hands shook when you said you needed space. He never yelled. Never threatened. He just looked at you like you had reached inside his chest and ripped out what little heart he had left.

“I’m trying,” he whispered once, voice cracking. “I’m trying to love you the way you deserve. I just… I don’t know how to be normal.”

You listened to his words considering to yourself and thinking over the possibility of the situation. Would you give him a chance? He’s really trying his best for you. It couldn’t be that bad to try.. Right?