Arlo - Pattern
Genre: angst, hurt/little comfort
Warnings: blood, profanity, I changed the sequence of events just slightly for a plot insert, female reader
Synopsis: With Joker on the move and climbing brutally up the ranks, its only natural he would pursue Remi and her title next, right?
A/N: I don’t remember the exact events leading to Remi’s fight so imma wing it, if it’s wrong, just know I have no idea what I’m doing
ALSO
I didn’t give a detailed fight scene because i suck ass at writing action so apologies for that as well
___
3rd POV
“Arlo, you wanted to see me?” You offer a slight bow upon entering the classroom where Remi and a clearly upset Arlo were speaking. They both turn to you, Arlo waving Remi out of the room and watching as the girl exits promptly. The air in the room was heavy with tension the moment Remi shut the door behind her and the little hairs on the back of your arms stood on end. Arlo was mad. And in total honesty, the frown etched on his face could entirely be either frustration or fear— you wouldn’t know considering he never showed any emotion other than arrogance and anger. “What’s wrong? You look a bit-“
“Drop out of the hierarchy.” He commanded as if his word was law. And the corners of your brows nearly met in a knit. He didn’t speak further, likely thinking you would merely understand and listen to him. That you would comply without question. Unfortunately, his order didn’t register immediately and you opened your mouth to finally speak.
“Arlo…” your spun around the room to ensure the two of you were alone. Once your isolation was confirmed, you stepped closer to your lover placing your hands gently against the teachers desk he was standing behind. His fists balled against the stained wood. “Babe are you… what are you talking about?” He doesn’t respond, only looking on at you silently. When it came to you and Arlo’s undeniable thirst for control, things often ended this way. With his response hanging in his throat long enough for you to snap. How you waited. Waited and waited for his response. Just one. Just a single reason for his request (demand), but it would never come. At most, you would receive a, “You heard me.” Arlo was a strong man with goals and a clear view of what he wanted, he was a proud man. All too proud to offer a reiteration and all too frustrated in this moment to have opened his mouth without shouting.
After a moment just a bit too long in silence, your patience had run thin. “Why would I do that???” Your temper was quick to shorten further when he refused to acknowledge you. It tended to go this way. You loved Arlo. So maybe it was for that reason, or maybe another, that he managed to bring out the ugly side of you. The impatient, the angry, the tired, the bitter. He didn’t look at you anymore and didn’t even move his stance to address your presence, sure of what he said and as usual, unwilling to repeat himself. Even his expression was a constant. “Babe what brought this on? I mean are you serious?”
“Didn’t you hear me?” His voice was low. It takes you a moment to remember that this is Arlo. And that Arlo doesn’t make jokes. He wasn’t born with the DNA to do anything other than demean others and overuse his power. Oh, and to love you. But he certainly was not born with the DNA to wait for the love of his life to understand him when he asked a favor. A demand.
“Have you heard me, Arlo?” He nearly winced when you used his first name, not backing down despite his expectations that you would. Or rather, his hopes that just this once, you would have listened to him.
“Listen just-!” He paused suddenly, his small outburst quick to make him realize he was disapproving his own argument. “Please just listen, okay? Just this once. I can’t have you caught up in this mess. Anyone but you.” He swallows his nerves, meeting your concerned gaze set on his pupils that dilated with every thought of you.
“Babe is this about Joker? Do you think I can’t fight him?” Your hands fall into his and he savors the moment with every fiber of his being. His fears of the loss of your life have done nothing to stop him from panicking and less to change his mind. His thoughts in total chaos, he grinds his teeth. “Do you refuse to let me do my part? Do you think me that weak-“ your voice is soft, but he cuts you off anyways.
“That’s not it. You know that’s not it.” He couldn’t have you misunderstanding. As long as he didn’t put any ideas in your head other than his true intentions, it would be okay. He was sure you would understand. “I don’t want to risk it. You don’t know how strong he is. Have you the slightest idea of how this guy could crush you if he wanted to?” You only listen to him, eyes alert, questioning; and your eyebrows raised in concern. “You think you’re an exception? You think you can negotiate? He wants to crush anyone who gets in his way, and that includes you.” He almost angers, but you know it’s only fear. You, above anyone else, know that it’s only his concern on display. “And he will the moment he finishes doing the same to Remi as he has to every other person who thought they stood a chance. I’m not calling you weak I’m telling you you’re ignorant if you think you stand a chance.” He couldn’t help but let go of your hands. “Not with this one, okay? Not this time.” He finished his outburst finally and it was your turn to speak. You paused a long moment, facing the ground in an attempt to gather your scrambled thoughts. You squinted. Maybe it was your shot at angering yourself to convince yourself that he was wrong. That things will be fine. But despite what you attempt to tell yourself, your mind is made up. Arlo was probably right. And even if he wasn’t, his precaution was, in your mind, admirable and just enough to finally make up your mind
“Ok.” You nod and for some reason, Arlo almost seems surprised. “I won’t fight him.” You said defeated, reluctant to just give up without trying. “I won’t fight him.” Arlo squeezed your fingers in his hands, bringing one hand up to kiss your knuckles.
“I want you to promise me.” He said quietly, closing his eyes and pressing your hand to his mouth still.
“I promise you I won’t fight Joker.” It came out somewhat repressed, as if it pained you to speak it aloud. “I won’t. But Arlo.” You tilt your head to get his attention. “You need to let me fend for myself from now on.” You take him in your embrace, his wide back slouching into you as his arms wrapped around your figure. “I’m not a porcelain doll to just sit here and look pretty, and I certainly will not break if I get in a fight.” Arlo shook his head, holding taut against his chest.
“I don’t care.” He said tough, as if he weren’t leaning all of his 200 pounds into you. As if it wasn’t obvious how scared he was. “That bastard better stay away from you. Especially when I publish around school that you’ve dropped out, he should move on since you won’t be the next in succession.” And really, what more could you do except smile? So you did just that, gently rubbing his back.
“I hope you’re right, Arlo.”
>>>
And so time passed, the news article your boyfriend posted around the school blew up, sending shock waves of panic, confusion and worry through the students. Was the situation escalating to the point where royals would begin abandoning their positions for a chance at safety? Was joker really so dangerous? Were not even the royals, that the students so revered, Powerful enough to stop joker from insistently terrorizing the alumni? How could anyone win if not their queen and king?
Though what Arlo had failed to realize about joker, despite having been around him so consistently, was that the two of them were nothing alike. What Arlo had forgotten was that John was meticulous. A man of precision and never one for short cuts. Unlike Arlo, who looked for the bright side to everything, a loophole, a different answer, a negotiation.
Arlo and joker had never been alike.
So it should not have come to a surprise when you felt a certain chill run down your spine. A kind of chill you’d never felt before. One that urged you to turn around. One that whispered to you in the lowest of voices that this was inescapable. One that ran its fingertips down the tiny bumps forming on your arms and legs.
It really should not have come to a surprise when suddenly, in some isolated corner of the school, John showed up in his edgy cosplay and that body language that simply made every hair on your body stand on end, as if trying to escape your body. Every instinct in your frame told you to run as fast as you could, to take direct note of the students around you that tried, but failed, to be discreet as they fled the scene. The same students who you would later find staring down at you from the second or third floor as you lay in a pool of your own blood, John having a fistful of your hair as he picked you back up for what you hoped to be the last time. He onced you over, only to throw you lazily to the side, not so much as flinching when your body produced a dull thud against the brick wall your back landed against.
You weren’t sure how long it’d been, weren’t sure how much blood you lost, but in the moment, you really didn’t think it mattered. Students swarmed you the moment joker disappeared, each one either pulling their phones out or when Arlo was suddenly falling to your side, lifting you effortlessly with those arms you’d so fallen in love with. Striding through the halls with those legs you loved. Sure, Arlo looked a little bit distraught, but did it really matter? All that was soothing your bleeding wounds was the feeling of his attention.
“Wake up.” He said harshly. “Fuck. Please, wake up.” He changed his tone, suddenly whispering against your cheek, unsure of whether he had been hurting your ears. But instead, he felt a deep breath release from the confines of his lungs, his eyes almost— almost— watering when he felt you shift. “Oh my god,” he wrapped his arms around your frame and crushed you against himself. “Oh my god.” Was all that he could manage upon watching your eyes crack open for the first time in hours. It was impossible for the blonde to refrain from pushing your head further into his embrace, his chest becoming flush with yours and his face buried deep in the crevice of your neck. He offered you a kiss or two, though they bloodied his lips. Arlo held your hand, despite how hard it was to stop himself from squeezing yours with all his might. He whispered nothing but words of reassurance and sweetness, despite the tear that ran down his cheek. Arlo did everything he could for you despite the pounding of his chest and the way his skin warmed with relief.
However, all of it was more of a daze for you. What Arlo thought would be romantic gestures of reassurance ultimately ended making the pounding beneath your temples strengthen. All you could think of was how loud he was speaking, how tight his bruising grip was, how sweaty his skin was, how painful the injuries still were.
“Arlo stop. Please stop.” But he wasn’t hearing you. He wasn’t hearing you over the sound of his own whispering of how badly he was going to kill joker. He brought a hand of yours to his mouth, cupped between his lithe fingers. Gently kissing down your arm, he sighed gently and finally met your eyes. This deep blue irises that always calmed you seemed to finally be registering your discomfort.
“I’m sorry.” He shook, breath shaky and hands twitching with the need to release their anger. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how this happened, we took you out. I dropped you out. There should have been no...” And now to top it all off, he was rambling. He stood suddenly and released you entirely, passing a hand through his hair and pacing the room a few times. “I fucking told him.” He murmured. “I told him to keep his hands to himself. I told that stupid fuck that if he touched you I would-“
“For gods sake Arlo, will you shut up?” You raised your voice. “Your fucking voice is making my ears bleed right now.” Your boyfriend looked taken aback but his gaze softened and his feet were quick in arriving at your side. His eyes never left yours as he yanked some chair off to the side, in front of himself and took a seat. And so Arlo didn’t say anything. “Arlo, I need you to listen okay?” you paused a moment as he nodded eyebrows still furrowed. “I need to ask you a favor and youre not going to like it.” You raised a hand to wipe a drop of blood from his lips, which had likely come from yours, as thought as you wiped it on the bedsheets.
“Anything.” He whispered. “Are you hurting anywhere?” He said somewhat hurried, as if noting the doubt in your pupils. But you shook your head and run a hand down his cheek, feeling the weight of his head as he leaned into your touch. You shook your head, silent a moment as you admired his sharp jaw and the way it ticked whenever someone he didn’t trust spoke your name, his complex blue eyes that always managed to make your cheeks heat up and his lips that kissed your skin so lovingly.
“I want you to let this go.” You said quietly and watched as Arlo’s expression actively fell with disbelief. Panic. “Just listen to me.” You said quickly, grabbing his hand. “Arlo just listen-“
“You can’t fucking ask me that.” He said, his tone cold. “He knew what he was doing!!-“ his face scrunched with anger.
“Arlo!!” You shouted for once. “Sit. Down.” You ordered, snapping your fingers and watching as he immediately took a seat, though hesitantly. “John isn’t doing this just to get at you. He’s not a fucking child, he’s a psycho. The point is he’s thorough and detail oriented.” You stared into his eyes. “He did this because regardless of my position, it’s my power that threatens him. That John. To him, I’m still a royal, he probably didn’t even notice the withdrawal notices.” You watched Arlo look down, trying to contain himself.
“I need you to let this go.” You said quietly and Arlos face scrunched once again.
“Do you hear me?” He didn’t answer and so ensued a pregnant pause. “Arlo. Going after him will not solve anything. He’s done with me. He doesn’t care about me anymore. The point was to get it out of the way and to move on, he won’t come after me again.” Arlo shook his head, leaning it against your legs.
“I can’t. Love, I can’t just let him get away with it. We can’t just let him think he can do whatever he wants.” He said, his fingers interlaced with yours and his arms snaking around your waist.
“Arlo.” You said again, lifting his head. “Promise me.” But he couldn’t seem to unfist his fingers as they dug into his own palm at your side. Instead, he dug his fingers into his hair and slowly exhaled; once, twice, thrice, and then he looked up at you, more disappointed than anything. And for the first time in forever, which may have been due to your injuries, Arlo admitted defeat and laid his head in your lap.
“Okay.” Though it was quiet and strained, it was there.
“Okay?” You tilted your head to look down at him, scratching the anger from his scalp with your fingers and rubbing circles into his arm.
“No promises.”