The Diplomat | Part Two
// Jerome x reader.
Requested: Yes.
A/N: Y’all asked for it so, here it is! *jazz hands*! This might not be where y’all wanted me to take it, (or where you thought I would take it,) but this is where I went with it. Also, I’m aware this is very angsty and Jerome is being over dramatic, but I feel like this is how he would act. He’s never known love and affection, and all of a sudden for him to be wanting it, and craving it, etc, I feel like he’d be overwhelmed with emotion and such, and y/n doesn’t really understand that he craves and needs affection so much.
Summary: Jerome struggles with feelings that he can’t place as y/n plagues his mind. He desperately tries to stop from thinking about her, only to find her at his doorstep.
Rating: Mid-fluff.
Warnings: Lots of angst, really dramatic + overreacting Jerome.
Title: The Diplomat | Part Two.
Read Part One: Here. //
Jerome circles around his room restlessly, holding his head slightly. He curses aloud, angry that he can’t get her out of his head. Since the moment he’d seen her, something inside his mind had clicked. She was who he needed. She would fill the emptiness inside him. She would drive away the burning loneliness-
“No!” He shouts interrupting his own thoughts, slamming his hand down on the table, his hand wrapping around the edge of the desk. “Stop.” He whispers, his whole body shaking. His eyes close as his breathing quickens. He falls to the ground, leaning up against his bed. “I’m fine,” he whispers. “I don’t need her.” He grips the carpet, trying anything to steady himself. “I don’t need her,” he mumbles, tilting his head up. “I don’t need her. I don’t want her.” He opens his mouth to say this sentence again, but it comes out softer than a whisper. His eyes open and he stands up, looking around the empty room warily. In this moment, his heart aches more than it ever had. Over the years, he’d gotten used to the empty, cold feeling. Jerome was no stranger to seclusion, he was used to the feeling. It was always there with him. A dull, cold, aching sensation.
But now it seems to be ten thousand times worse. He can practically feel the burning in his heart, the ice running through his veins. His skin itches as he longs for someone’s touch; a hug, a pat on the shoulder…a kiss. He desperately wants something-anything. Jerome swallows roughly, closing his eyes once again as he attempts to force these feelings away. But, right as the darkness invades his vision, y/n’s face fills it. An audible gasp slips past his lips as his eyes pop open. He stumbles backwards. His confusion grows stronger at the electricity that runs through his veins, the warm feeling spreading throughout his body at the thought of her. “What…” He mumbles, running his hand over his face. “What is this?” He asks, talking to the empty room around him. A feeling a fondness begins to take over the loneliness, and panic sets Jerome’s mind on fire. “No,” he mutters. “Stop, please, no.” He holds his head again, closing his eyes tightly. “Stop thinking about her, please.” He talks aloud to himself, not having anyone else around to talk to.
The aching in his chest is still there, but it’s changed. He no longer feels alone; his heart doesn’t ache because nothing’s there. He can’t quite place it, but something, something has changed, and it’s worse. The feelings that begin to swirl around Jerome’s mind leave him weak, barely able to stand. They’re worse than anything he’s ever felt before, worse than all the nights he spent alone, beaten and bruised as a kid. Worse than all the nights in Arkham, when all that surrounded him was the screams of his inmates. It was worse than death.
For the time, he wants to see someone. He wants to keep y/n safe, protect her from the world around him. All he wants is to see her smile, make her laugh. Jerome never wanted her to feel alone. He wanted to hold her, let her know that there’s someone here for her. All these feelings mix with his utter confusion. How could she already consume his thoughts? He’d only known her for a few minutes. He’d barely said anything to her, yet he already felt himself becoming obsessed. The sound of the doorbell ringing yanks him from his thoughts, and his heart soars as he heads to the door, eager for the distraction.
When he pulls the door open, his heart begins to flutter, his lips part slightly.
“Jerome,” she whispers, staring down at the ground. “You told me to stay away,” she manages to choke out the words. Y/n’s eyebrows furrow. “Oswald told me to stay away,” she slowly shakes her head. “And I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why.” She looks up at him slowly. “But I can’t stay away…I need to know nothing’s going to happen,” she whispers. “So, please. Tell me to go. Tell me one more time, maybe I’ll be able to stay away. Tell me to go home, tell me I’m being crazy. Say it,” y/n shuffles and brings her gaze up to Jerome’s. He stares forward for a long time before his gaze flickers away, out to the darkness past her.
“It’s raining,” he whispers.
“What?” Y/n huffs. “Jerome, come on. Please. Just tell me to go.”
“I can’t.” He says, still not meeting her gaze.
“What? Jerome, please…tell me to go.”
“I don’t want to.” At this point his voice is barely audible.
“Jerome? Don’t say that…it’s not funny. What you said before…when I met you, when you said that…take it back, please. Take it back. I don’t want to get hurt, Jerome.” He flinches at this, his gaze finally dragging back over to her. Before he even knows what he’s doing, he lifts his arms, holding them out for a hug. Y/n stares at him, not moving. “Jerome…” He doesn’t move forward, but his head hangs down now, his arms slowly moving back to his side as he turns around, dejected.
“You can go.” He mumbles. Y/n moves forward in confusion, placing her hand on his arm. His whole body stiffens at her touch, and he pulls his arm away quickly, his head snapping over in her direction. Jerome’s blue-green gaze meets hers. His arm stays frozen as she reaches out again, grabbing his hand.
“Jerome…were you joking when you said…when you said that you’d love me?” Jerome flinches at the word, forgetting he had used it.
“Love…” He whispers, not able to make himself look away from her. “If this is what love feels like…” He furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head. “Why does it burn? Why does it hurt…” He reaches out weakly, brushing a strand of her hair back.
The fact that he’s nothing like he was when y/n first met him scares her. When she looks into his eyes, she doesn’t see Jerome. She sees a scared, broken version of himself. His hand rests on her cheek, his eyes searching hers for something, anything.
“What is it about you,” he whispers to himself, moving closer to y/n. “Why does it feel like this, y/n?” She stares up at him.
“Jerome.”
He closes his eyes, a smile staining his otherwise pained features.
“It hurts so much. More than anything else.” Jerome breaths, bringing his other arm around her, pulling her close and burying his face in her neck. Y/n doesn’t think about what’s happening as she hugs him back, closing her eyes too. Something about seeing Jerome with all his walls down, completely vulnerable, warms y/n’s heart.
“I have to go…” She whispers, attempting to pull away. Jerome still holds on tightly, a small noise coming from the back of his throat. She pries his arms off her, walking over to the door. “Oswald will be really mad if he finds me gone.” With that, she forces herself to step out the door, shutting it behind her.
Jerome stays frozen, his eyes finally opening as a tear falls down his cheeks.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he chokes back a sob.
