Imagine: After escaping an abusive relationship you've been allocated a social worker. Whilst attending your appointments you meet and befriend Arthur, who has plenty of problems of his own. Your budding relationship could be considered unconventional but in actual fact, you're exactly what each other needs. This request was made by heysofti. Hope ya'll enjoy!

⚠️ Trigger warnings -- This ficlet will mention emotional abuse, mild violence, and eventual NSFW!

--1st person POV--

The cramped confines of the waiting room only seem to exacerbate my low mood.
It's so drab in here. The decor is bland and shabby, much like every other place in Gotham these days. The walls are in desperate need of a new coat of paint, but I can imagine it isn't going to be high on their list of priorities right now.
The state funding is already stretched as it is, so I highly doubt their meagre budget would stretch to getting this shithole done up.

It would make people feel a little more welcome though, I think. If rather than flaking grey walls we were able to sit in a nice, soft, yellow painted room. That would feel warmer and more welcoming. That would put people more at ease. Not put them on edge.

To say I'm on edge is putting it mildly. I'm always slightly on edge when I come here.
Having to open-up and talk to a virtual stranger about my past, my problems, makes me feel awkward and anxious. The way I see it is, I'd rather leave the past where it belongs. I've spent most of my time trying to forget it, so I don't see how raking it all up again is beneficial to me.

I've developed my own ways of coping. And it infuriates me that my social worker; Debra Kane, doesn't seem to think that I am. What does she know really? She doesn't know me. All she knows is what she's read in my hospital notes, and I've changed a lot since then. Pain does that to people.

Just then the door to the waiting room opens, gaining my attention. I look up from the old magazine that I've been idly thumbing through, and smile, my mood instantly lifting.

"Hey, Arthur."

Arthur flashes a bright smile of his own. That warm, genuine smile of his never fails to brighten my day a little, and the dreary atmosphere in the room seems to lift whenever he walks in.

"Hey." He crosses the small space with just two strides of his long legs, and takes a seat on the hard, spine-torturing chair beside mine. "How are you, (y/n)?"

"Oh, you know...can't really complain." I shrug, leaning forward to drop the magazine back on the pile.

As I sit back I draw level with his eye line, and for a split second those intense green eyes of his lock with mine.

"And how's, you know, things?"

I laugh, and it's without humour. A habit of mine that I didn't realise I had, until Debra Kane very astutely pointed it out.

"Same shit different day." I say, breezily. Shrugging off his enquiry.

The only problem is, that doesn't work with Arthur. He's a very shy, awkward man, but he's surprisingly perceptive. He seems to have recognised my habit of laughing everything off, and it doesn't wash with him.

"(y/n)..." He says, quietly, his emerald gaze never leaving my face. "How are you really?"

My smile wavers, but I still manage to force a carefree laugh. To anyone who didn't know me, they would probably think I'm absolutely fine, and didn't have a care in the world, when really, I have plenty. Some of which are unarguably scary.

"I...I'm doing okay. Really. I'm thinking of taking up yoga or something. Maybe it'll help me relax."

"Yeah? That sounds great!" He enthuses.

"Do you know what yoga is, Arthur?"

"Um, no. But you should do it, you know, if you think it might help."

This time I laugh and it's real, which makes Arthur chuckle too.

"You're so funny, Arthur."

He grins, shrugging his narrow shoulders. "That's why I'm going to be a comedian."

"And you'll make a great one, I'm sure."

Pushing a hand through his thick, brown hair, his tone alters again. Becoming more serious. "You look tired. Are you still having trouble sleeping?"

"So you're saying I look like crap? Gee, thanks!"

"N-no, that isn't what I meant--"

"Arthur, it's okay. I'm just messing with you." Sighing, I rest my head back against the hard wall. "I've had a couple of rough nights, but it's no big deal."

"The same nightmares?"

I nod, and he takes me by surprise when he suddenly touches my arm gently.

"I-I'm here for you. You know that, right? If you ever need me to come over, or..anything, just let me know."

He lowers his eyes shyly, blushing like a schoolboy. He has such a good soul, and his kindness makes me feel....something. I can't identify the feeling, as since my ex and I separated,  I don't really feel anything.

"That's very sweet of you, Arthur. Thanks. But..how do I get in touch with you? Do I send up smoke signals? Or try telepathy?"

He blinks, looking momentarily confused, and then it dawns on him.

"O-oh, of course. You'll need my number, right?"

"Well it would help." I giggle. "Unless you have some hidden superpower that I don't know about."

"If only." He chuckles, searching his pockets frantically for a pen.

I tell him it's fine, that I'll get his number before he leaves, but he won't hear of it. It's like he's unable to settle until he's asked the receptionist for a pen and some paper.

"There you go. You can call anytime. Even through the night, I don't mind. You won't disturb me. I hardly sleep anyway."

I take the small scrap of paper he hands me, and smile. "Thanks, Arthur. I really do appreciate that."

Our eyes meet, and there's something so reassuring, so tender, in his gaze that it makes it impossible to look away. We don't really know each other all that well, not outside of this place, but we've had many conversations whilst sat here, waiting to be seen by Debra.

The thing is he's so easy to talk to, it doesn't feel like such a daunting task opening up.
It just sort of happens naturally. If the truth be told, my little chats with Arthur are the only positive thing about coming here. Then by the time I go in to see Debra, there's nothing else I need to get off my chest. And besides, the woman is so austere, so apathetic, neither of us like talking to her anyway.

"Uh, s-so how are things with you?" I stammer, quickly averting my gaze. I feel suddenly warm and prickly. Which is odd, seeing how chilly the waiting room always is.

"Oh, they're good. Mostly." He smiles unconvincingly. "I got jumped at work--"

"Oh no, Arthur. Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine..." It's now his turn to avoid my eyes. "But on the plus side...my standup routine is almost ready for the big clubs now."

I force a smile. Happy for him, but concerned.

"That's fantastic. Are you sure you're okay though? You weren't injured too badly at work?"

He shakes his head, a loose curl falling over his forehead which is scrunched in thought. "No, honestly. I'm tougher than I look."

Now it is I that reach out, gently placing my hand on his. "I don't doubt it." I smile.

He stares at my hand for a long moment, slightly perplexed, before raising curious eyes to my face, which feels undeniably hot again.

"Mister Fleck?" We both turn to look at the receptionist who's called out his name. "Miss Kane will see you now."

Reluctantly, Arthur slowly stands, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his tan jacket.

"Good luck." I smirk, knowingly. "Have fun."

"Hm, I can hardly wait."

We share our secretive smile. It's like a code which no one else in the office or waiting room is privy to. Other people come here, some quite regularly, to see their social workers, but only Arthur and I have been unfortunate enough to be landed with Debra Kane. The others don't realise how lucky they are.

Debra is our commonality. That was how we initially got talking. We bonded over our mutual misfortune, and unwavering dislike of the woman.

I suppose you could say that my blossoming friendship with Arthur is all I've got to be thankful to Debra Kane for.

Twenty minutes later Arthur returns to the waiting room, and he waits for me while I go in. It's become our little routine lately, so we can catch the bus together afterwards, and laugh over Debra's deadpan face like a couple of silly school kids. 

Being with Arthur makes the bus ride more bearable too. I get off a few stops before his, and when I bid him goodbye each time he always looks so sad. Probably because he's lonely. I know he lives with his mom, but there's no love interest in his life.
That's something else we both have in common.

My love life is non-existent, and after what I've been through I'd rather keep it that way.

I stupidly married young, thinking that I'd met my soul mate, and that we'd be together forever.

How wrong was I.

It was only once I'd married Simon and we'd moved away, did I start to get a glimpse of the real person he was.

It started subtly at first. He'd casually suggest that I wear something different, or change my hair. Then before I knew it he'd stripped me of my individuality, my identity, to the point where I'd look in the mirror and no longer recognise who I was.
The suggestions soon became criticisms. Nothing I ever did was good enough.
He became controlling. Not wanting me to see my friends.

Naively wanting to make my marriage work, I'd make excuses for him, and stopped socialising with anyone who wasn't a friend of his.
By the end I was completely isolated, alone, and trapped.
The scariest part is the way he got into my head without me even realising. He had me convinced that there was something wrong with me.
And when the emotional abuse escalated into physical abuse, by then I'd started to believe that I actually deserved it.

Luckily I saw the light eventually, and was able to get out.
To get away.
But I'm still fearful that one day he'll come after me. His final threat still haunts my dreams at night...

"If I can't have you, nobody can."

The experience was so traumatic it quite literally broke me.
I suffered what the doctors call an emotional breakdown, and had to be hospitalised for a while.

It's taken me a long time to collect all the broken pieces, and try to put myself back together, but I'll never be the same person I was.

More than anything, I have trust issues, because Simon was my high school sweetheart.
That's the biggest insult of all.
I thought that I knew him.

Now, I'm finally making new friends. Sort of.
I get along well with my workmates, and there is Arthur of course. He's probably the closest thing I have to a friend.
He's the only one I've told, other than the doctors, about my life with Simon.
He knows about my fears, and why I sleep with a knife under my pillow, and why I've taught myself self-defence.

He's never made me feel stupid, or like he's judging me, and I feel safe around him, which is bizarre considering that we've not known each other that long.

As I fumble in my coat pocket for my door key the piece of paper falls out onto the floor. Bending down to pick it up, I see Arthur's name scrawled across it and smile.
His writing puts me in mind of a spider that's dipped its feet in ink and scurried across the page.

My thoughts turn to what he said about getting jumped, and it makes me feel so sad.
He doesn't deserve to be beaten and bullied like he is, he really doesn't.
Life's already hard enough for him as it is, what with his mom being sick, and his laughing condition, and the depression and anxiety.

Still, at least he's following his dreams of becoming a comedian. I really hope that all works out for him. The poor guy deserves some happiness in his life.

Living with the depression and anxiety alone is challenging enough, I know that from personal experience. But, maybe if we can be there to support each other, we might stand a better chance of winning the constant battles we face on a daily basis.

We've both had tough lives which has, to some extent, left us damaged, but that doesn't mean we can't turn things around.

Until then, we'll have to settle for finding some comfort, some solitude, in one another.