Best Friends(Laughing Jack X Reader)

Chapter 12- Reminiscence

Laughing Jack looked bored as the young girl showed him her toy kitchen collection. To be honest, he couldn't care less about it. What an annoying brat. He would kill her soon.

"Let's play, Laughing Jack!"

"Fine with me."

He returned her a lazy grin, though he did not feel like playing at the moment.

Ten years have passed since Laughing Jack had left (n) and every so often, if not everyday, he caught himself thinking of her. In the meantime, he lost his colors again and was the monochrome clown he had always been.

He wondered what the loss of colors meant. Ten years was a long time and she must be a young adult by now, so maybe she already forgot about him? Was that the reason why his colors were gone? Or was she perhaps... already dead?

He shuddered at the thought. No way. He hoped that wasn't the case. He had been very fond of her and it would be a shame if she died.

He still felt guilty for not having killed her and leaving her, but he knew it was better that way. He felt sorry for her because she would suffer all alone. He was there and he could have ended her misery as a "friend" that he claimed he was, but even that he had failed to do.

He had to stop blaming himself. He existed to be a killer and intended to remain so. There was no sympathy for him, only fun. Everything is fun... or was.

He had a feeling that told him he had changed because of her. He grew even more impatient and easily bored around kids, and killing was not so much fun as it always had been. Why was that?

Ten whole years and he could never stop thinking about (n). It was like she had left a scar on him for the rest of the years and somehow he always worried about whether she was still alive or not.

When they met she had been so cold and arrogant, he had found her so interesting, he became obsessed with becoming friends with her and in the end he found himself attached to her. It was probably because she was so unique. He was aware that the whole thing had been his fault. He shouldn't have spend that much time with her.

During the ten years, he had not once met a kid that was as proud, arrogant and intelligent as she was. They were all the same stupid and easy to manipulate and Laughing Jack would get bored of them in just a few days.

Right now, his playmate was a ten year old girl named Sharon and she was no different from the past kids he played with: Dumb, boring and shallow. Very vain, too. He couldn't wait to get rid of her.

 "Are you alright, Laughing Jack?"

"Why, yes." He continued sucking on his lollipop and scratched his cone nose.

"C'mon, I'll be the cook and yous serve the food to the customers" She pointed at her dolls.

"Understood, Chef." He said sarcastically.

 She proceeded to her so called 'cooking' and watched, his expression plainly bored.  He didn't know why, but after (n) he never got entertained again.  Everything bored him and he always wanted to proceed directly to the killing, having no desire for his beloved 'foreplay'.

He probably just realized how easy every kid was and he was probably wishing for someone as challenging as (n). Perhaps his standards have raised.

"The food is ready!" She exclaimed.

"Ah, yes" He said, disrupting him from his deep thinking.

He set down the plate on the table where her dolls where seated at... how boring this was. He sighed softly. Just what was he doing with his existence... He wasn't really enjoying playing games anymore. He didn't even want to take Sharon to his realm... it felt like she didn't deserve to.

 What did he really want to do? He had been playing and killing with children for two centuries already... and he always enjoyed it until now. Now, everything felt so... dull.

 "Thank you for serving us food!" The girl spoke through her doll.

Laughing Jack just returned her a lazy fake grin and summoned another lollipop for himself. Why was the sugar not making him hyper?

 He endured her annoying character until evening time when she was about to go to bed.

"Laughing Jack! I want a good night story!" She demanded.

"A good night story? What kind?"

"Any kind!"

He thought for a moment, trying to get an idea into his uninspired mind.

"Very well, I thought of a story to tell. It is called 'The Crooked Man'

There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked smile

He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile

He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse

And they all lived together in a little crooked house.

He met a crooked woman and he found a crooked preach

They had a crooked marriage on a crooked little beach

They had some crooked children and they lived a crooked life

The crooked man, the cat, the mouse, the children and the wife.

They were happy for a number of crookedly years

Lived a life of crooked happiness, no worries and no fears

Until one day the crooked wife upset the crooked man

He yelled a crooked yell and then he hit her and then he ran

The crooked man came again at the stroke of twelve

That was when their crooked life became a living hell

There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile

And when he killed his wife and kids he smiled a crooked smile."

He cleared his throat, waiting for a reaction to come from the girl.

"That story is scary! I don't like it! What did the wife do to upset the crooked man so much?"

"Well... I actually do not know." He scratched his head.

"Who told that story?"

"...My best friend..."

"Your best friend? What was his or her name?"

"...(n)"

"(n)? That's a nice name! What happened to her?"

"Umm... I'd rather not talk about it."

"But you are my best friends now, Laughing Jack, right?"

Laughing Jack gave her a lousy grin.

"Well, you should go to sleep now, we can play more tomorrow."

She nodded and tucked herself further into her blankets. Laughing Jack waited until she fell asleep. He would have loved to kill her right now, but for some reason he wasn't in the mood at the moment. He sighed and left Sharon's room, heading for the attic.

An abandoned and old piano stood there, dusty and unused for years. Laughing Jack never learned how to play but he recalled (n) who always played "Pop goes the weasel" Oh memories...

His claws gently went over the keys as they gave off different pitches. He didn't know why but he suddenly missed her a lot. Maybe after he was done with Sharon, he would go look for her and see if she was still alive or not. If not, he could bring flowers to her grave.

Deep inside he was hoping she would still be alive.