Eyes of the Divine (Yandere!Eyeless Jack X GN!Reader)

Cupid's Mad So I'm His Punching Bag

You hovered outside of Greg's place for about ten minutes, back against the wall next to the door. For some reason, you were unexplainably, inexplicably agitated. While walking towards the house, you forced yourself to take several deep breaths, concerned that your tremoring hands would lead to the bag (that held your laptop) falling to the pavement with a crash. It had taken all of your courage to continue walking, and, while running away had never sounded so tempting, you repeated the phrase, 'For Greg and his friend,' to yourself in your head.

The prospect of meeting someone new had never caused such an adverse reaction before. Usually, you just ignored the wasps buzzing around in your stomach and forced yourself to undergo whatever social interaction was expected of you at that time. This time around, though, the sibilation of the wasps was making you faintly nauseous.

At exactly four o'clock, you mustered your courage and knocked on the door. It opened, and you pulled a smile onto your face. You were greeted by Greg, who was struggling to tie a plain black tie around his white-collared neck.

'Hey,' you said, 'how's it going?' You gestured to the tie, tittering softly.

'Terrible. Can you...?'

'Sure.' You took the piece of cloth from him, adjusting it slightly. 'I don't know how much this will help, but a friend of mine once told me a story-trick-thing to help me tie my ties in primary school. I think it was: Bunny ears, bunny ears, playing by a tree. Criss-crossed the tree, trying to catch me. Bunny ears, bunny ears, jumped into the hole. Popped out the other side, beautiful and bold.' As you rhymed, you tied the tie in a fluid fashion, ensuring that the knot was tight. 'There. All sorted.'

'Thanks, (N/N). What kinda school did you go to where primary kids need a tie?'

'Private school.'

'Ah.'

'Yeah, not as glamorous as it sounds.' You held out the bag for Greg to take. 'Here. I remember you saying that your friend was a med student, and I found some old textbooks my cousin gave me for some reason. Do you think he'd be interested?'

'Think so. Oi, Jack, do you want some textbooks?'

A slightly strangled voice from inside shouted, 'Y-Yes! Please and thank you!'

Greg let you in, pushing the door shut behind you. You shuffled into the living room, eyes widening slightly when you saw the figure curled up on the sofa.

He was quite slender, with large hands and a somewhat cute and dorky vibe. He had unruly brown hair that stuck up in a few odd directions, matching his dark eyes and the normal amount of freckles dotting his cheeks and nose. He wore a set of black and grey pyjamas that were too big for him (so you assumed they belonged to Greg), and was twisting a fidget toy that resembled a chain puzzle between his fingers.

The sight of him brought an unfathomable wave of faint nostalgia and warmth, as though he was a lover you had been torn away from and had now been reunited with after months of communicating in secret. You had never understood people when they gushed about the comfort of a home radiating from their partner, but at that moment, you finally understood what they meant. He reminded you of the warmth of a caring home, a place you could go to feel loved, wanted, and safe, hiding away from the world and not caring about what was going on outside; if you could pick who to spend your last day on Earth with, your heart would choose him in an instant.

As Matt Maltese once sang: 'Yes, it's you I welcome death with, as the world caves in.'

Where the sudden rush of emotion came from, you had no idea, yet all the same it made you freeze up and forget how to speak. For a second, as your eyes riveted themselves to his face, you could have sworn that his appearance glitched, and his face become covered by a midnight blue mask with two, empty holes for the eyes that seemed to exude a tar-like substance.