Sharp Edges, Soft Hearts [jeff the killer x reader]

I

It's been exactly three years since that night with Jeffrey. I almost forgot about him, but he still lingers in my mind from time to time. We're both sixteen now, and while I have no idea where he is or what he's doing, rumours say he's been spotted across multiple states. I wonder what he looks like now.

Y/N finishes writing in her diary, closing it with a sigh. Just then, the clock on her wall chimes, the sound strangely distorted and unfamiliar. She frowns, turning to glance at it—only to freeze as her gaze lands on something else entirely.

There, sitting on the edge of her bed, is a figure. A knife glints in its hand, and a scarred face stares back at her, wide-eyed and... almost surprised. The figure is taller, gaunt, with that familiar smile carved into its face and hollow, lidless eyes that seem both haunting and oddly familiar.

It takes a moment for the realization to sink in: this monster matches Jeffrey's description. She feels her blood run cold as she realizes that somehow, after all these years... he's here.

Before Y/N could even gasp, he sprang up, pressing the cold blade to her neck. "Say a word, and you're dead," he warned, his voice raspy but achingly familiar. He stared down at her, his long hair brushing her cheek, his gaze piercing and unrelenting.

There was no mistaking it now—this was Jeffrey. The same boy she once knew, now the infamous killer on the loose.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he caught sight of her diary lying on the desk beside her. Snatching it up, he scanned the pages, his eyes narrowing. "The fuck is this?" he muttered, holding it up.

Y/N's heart skipped. Oh god, she thought, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She hadn't expected him to ever see the words she'd written about him.

"That—" Y/N began, only to fall silent as he flipped through the pages of her diary.

Jeffrey let out a low groan, reading entries filled with memories of him. "You... still think about me?" he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief as he looked down at her. She nodded softly, tears welling up.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling.

His brows furrowed, frustration mixing with genuine confusion. "Why are you sorry?"

"I wasn't there... I wasn't there in time to stop Randy." Her voice cracked, and she struggled to get the words out through her sobs. "I'm sorry for being too scared to stand up to him. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, Jeffrey..." She repeated his name as if clinging to the past, apologizing over and over.

Hearing his name—a name he hadn't heard in years—made him falter. His grip on the knife loosened, and it clattered to the floor. For a moment, the fierce expression softened, replaced by something else, something almost... human.