Your Ginger Housemate (Jerome Valeska X Reader)

3

You were humming. An activity you did so rarely, you surprised yourself. What was even more surprising, as you were taking more time into preparing dinner than usual. Spaghetti and meatballs. Yes, it wasn't the most challenging dish to create, but you weren't the most marvellous chef and wanted to play it safe. Why was that? Well... a particular red-headed psycho that lived under your roof. It was a forced living arrangement at first, but now, you wouldn't have it any other way. You found Jerome Valeska, although still slightly frightening, great company. You wanted to impress him in every way possible. Was that strange? Probably. Unusual? Certainly. Worrisome? Absolutely. Did you care? Not one little bit.

Your humming had now escalated to a full-scale acapella session of your favourite Frank Sinatra hits, even if they were taken up a key or two. Sure, you sang confidently now, but there was no way you would ever sing in front of anyone else. Especially not Jerome. You would probably die of embarrassment.

****

Four hours! Jerome was supposed to be home four hours ago! It was 11:20pm, and there was still no sign of him. Your stress sweated out of your pores, shredded your nails with your teeth and turned you into a fidgeting mess. Causing you to pace back and forth and check the clock every other time you weren't peeking through the curtains.

'Stay calm y/n. Stay calm. Jerome's probably just caught up. Yeah, that's right. Just caught up...' But a voice in the back of your head decided to rebut. 
    
'But what if he's more than caught up. He might have left.'

'Not without saying goodbye.'
    
'Why would he bother with that? It's not like your important.'

'That's not true. That's not true. The way he acts around me. Those looks. It can't be an act.'
    
'But what if it is...?'

You were close to becoming a complete and utter mess. You were on the verge of hyperventilating, as your hands began to shake. The only action you could handle was cuddling your legs to your chest and watching the second hand travel around the clock excruciatingly slow. Was Jerome hurt, dead, or had he really just left?

'God! What is wrong with me. Pull yourself together y/n.'  you scolded.

You refused to let yourself break down over something like this. Strength was the best method. You stood and rubbed your arms, a habit you a aquired since you stopped... no need to be thinking of that.  Your head full enough as it was, thinking about possible reasons for Jerome's absence.
He couldn't have gone anywhere. All his belongings were still in his room, so that was promising. After the trouble Jerome went through to organise all his gear, you doubted he would leave it all behind. Even if most of it he did just decide to throw away - Jerome hadn't been bothered to fix or clean half of it in the end.

Tap, tap, tap.

You whipped your head around to see a large, dark silhouette at the window. It was sitting on the fire escape, tapping the window with what appeared to be a knife.  It left little dots of dark liquid on the window pane. Blood.

Recognising the faint, orange glint coming from the top of the silhouette, you raced into action and ran to the window, wrenching it open. You stepped back, preparing to give Jerome a piece of your mind... that was until he rolled through the opening, crashing onto the floor with a groan.

He had smeared the window sill, kitchen table and floor with blood. At first, you thought he had just lost balance and fell through the window. Oh god, creating a mess with other people's blood. But he didn't get up. He had no sheepish grin on his face nor did he laugh like usual or comment on your urgency. In fact, he did quite the opposite. A Cheshire grimace, (the only way it could be explained) was plastered on his face, and a groan was all that escaped from behind his uncharacteristically white clenched teeth. You noticed his hands were also covered in blood. All your anger fizzled to nonexistence as you knelt down next to him, rolling Jerome onto his back, worry coursing through your veins.