NEMOPHILIST || ej.

【 XIV 】

“Wake up.”

Y/N stirred, disoriented, as the voice cut through the haze of sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, and she jolted when she found herself staring directly into the cold, unmoving gaze of a navy blue mask. Jack was standing over her, far too close for comfort. Her heart leaped in her chest, and she instinctively shrank back, her body pressing into the mattress as she tried to make sense of why he was so near. A rush of questions flooded her mind—why was he here, and why had he woken her?

Her gaze drifted downward, trying to ground herself in something familiar. The mattress beneath her was old and lumpy, a poor substitute for the bed she once knew. Last night had been a blur of anxiety after the failed phone call to her father. She had retreated into silence, her thoughts spiraling into dark places. She and Jack had barely exchanged words since then, so his sudden presence now, the next morning, looming over her like a shadow, was unsettling.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, Y/N rubbed her eyes and sat up slowly. “I’m up,” she muttered, her voice thick with fatigue. A yawn escaped her lips as she adjusted to the dim light filtering through the cracks in the walls. Despite her best efforts to stay calm, she couldn’t help but tense up, instinctively pulling away from Jack. Being close to him felt like standing on the edge of a knife, one wrong move, and she could get cut.

She looked up at him, her expression a mix of confusion and caution. “Why did you wake me?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual, trying to gauge his intentions.

Jack, as always, was an enigma. He stood there, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as if he carried an invisible weight. His clothes were casual—just a stained gray shirt and worn sweatpants—but the sight of him like this only deepened the unease. His usual wild hair was pulled back, though a few strands stubbornly framed his mask. He looked almost normal, like any other guy you might see lounging around on a lazy morning. But that only made things more confusing.

“The couch broke,” he finally said, his tone flat, like this was the most normal conversation in the world. “So Natalie and Toby stole one, but we have to assemble it. You’re helping.”

Y/N blinked, staring at him as if he had just spoken in a different language. The absurdity of the situation was almost laughable. She, a captive, was now being roped into assembling stolen furniture with her captor. Jack—the masked killer who barely spoke to her unless it was to bark orders—was now demanding her assistance with something as mundane as a couch. It was surreal, like something out of a bizarre dream.

Still groggy, Y/N reluctantly slid off the bed. Her legs wobbled as she stood, unsteady from sleep. She stumbled slightly but caught herself before she could fall, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Jack didn’t react, just stood there, watching her with that inscrutable gaze. The awkwardness between them was almost palpable.

“Is Natalie still here?” Y/N asked, her voice tentative as she glanced up at him, hoping for some reassurance that she wouldn’t be alone with him for too long.

Jack shook his head, his expression hidden behind the mask. “She’s grabbing a few things,” he replied, offering no further details.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on her. Being alone with Jack made her nervous, especially after everything that had happened. But there was no getting out of it now. With a nod, she steeled herself and followed him out of the room, the floorboards creaking ominously under her feet.