Affinity: a person especially of the opposite sex having a particular attraction for one


There are and there will always be those moments in your life that have just come together in a sudden and surprising click.

You thought that when you met him (with his stringy and mud-caked green locks falling in front of those even greener eyes a-light with a certain type of madness that's unique to him) for the first time that everything was clicking for you. Yes, you thought that when he was throwing that mad smile about the room that the one grin the purple and green mystery man tossed your way was reserved especially to you.

It's clear in your mind, that wolfish smirk. Like someone just took a snapshot of it and tacked it your mind's eye, leaving the crude image bleeding across the back of your eyes. In fact, you don't think for as long as you live (which may not be that much longer considering the circumstances you're in) that you'll ever forget that crazy, beautiful smile.

If he felt as bad as he looked, his facial expression didn't indicate it. He was being led into Arkham Asylum by the Bat (you remember admiring him as well, you just didn't give him as much attention as the green haired man), the black gloved hand clutching hisshoulder so that he wouldn't attack the staff. You remember him almost getting loose from the Dark Knight's grip, but the Batman grabbed the belt of his purple pinstriped pants. The manic laughed at the reaction stating, "Whoa, easy Bats! If you want to get me out of my pants, you have to take me on a date first."

And there he was, just smiling away though it was clear that Batman had beaten himinto a bloody pulp from their confrontation before they arrived together at the Asylum. Green hair was blown obnoxiously out of his manic face and you couldn't help but analyze him.

White makeup caked his angular visage; the powdery substance cracked along his laughter lines around those green eyes and those red lips, revealing small amounts of surprisingly tan skin underneath the mask. Green hair shades darker than the color of lime, framed his fa├žade to his chin. His eyes were narrowed and bloodshot (and you nearly swooned aloud when they fell on you), and his irises were only a few hues darker than the color of his disheveled locks.

You saw him and when he met your own cerulean eyes, you're mouth became dry and you felt something clench in your gut. And everything changed. In one quick moment of eye flutters and rapid breathes, everything came crashing together like to cars coming together in a head on collision.

You just never knew how violent and bloody and messed up that crash would leave you. You could never have guessed that you wouldn't be you anymore and that you would be left groveling at his heels liked a recently kicked, whimpering puppy (you've seen him do it many times) for the love and affection that changed you.

Yes, everyone changes and everyone is a product of their own decisions, but you can't help but feel bitter towards all of this abuse when you've done nothing short of kissing the ground he walks on while getting battered physically and mentally in return.

It sucks. You hate it. You can't help but go back to him everytime with mumbled "I'm sorry"s and "It was all my fault"s spilling from your begging mouth in humiliation. All the while the Joker smiles at you, shushing you and petting you with a heavy, careless hand.

You know that all of this is wrong. All the murders and bank robberies and rapes and mass displays of just complete chaos that you two have completed together; however, you just can't help but do what he asks. He's connected to you now; you two have clicked together.

It all reminds you of a train. The way that the engine and the coaches clamp together. He's obviously the engine, revving faster and harder, pulling you behind him before you have any kind of chance to put on the brakes and stop before whatever he intends on doing gets out of control. Ha, that's funny, you think, that you used to believe you could stop him.

You can picture the train in your head: The two cars are held together by a two metal clamps that join like hands and a steel pin preventing them from pulling apart. Wires, powering the magnetic force holding the two of you together coil around each other, knotting between the paired coaches. Simple.

Too bad you couldn't cut those wires, pull that pin, or break that clutching grip on your heart. You can't get away from him even if you wanted to and you fucking know it.

You can't think about this anymore. Whenever you start to realize what you've allowed to happen to you, you start to feel rational again. You start to think that maybe you could un-click with him and maybe fix yourself.

But that's probably one of the funniest jokes you've ever heard and despite your best efforts to get away, you'll still be barreling right behind your Mr. J, unable to press the brakes or even slow.

Maybe if things were different. Maybe if Batman just killed him (you feel conflicted about that). But you doubt that will ever happen more than you're beginning to doubt your previously unconditional love towards the madman who's beaten you nearly to death multiple times. You don't know why this time is so special. Why you're doubting so much.

Maybe if you clicked with Batman instead, when he was leading the Joker into the Asylum, maybe your life would be completely different.

And for the first time in a long time, tears, real anguished tears, fall from your eyes (you have to bite your already bleeding lips to muffle your sobs to keep Mr. J, who's in the next room, from hearing). And you wish this entire situation was altered. Wish that you had fallen for the hero, who you can't imagine would ever make you doubt him or his love.

But it's not.

Because you collided with the mad man and something in you clicked, and somehow, it's just not as glamorous as it used to be.