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The warehouse was hardly a home. It was hardly even a house. It was more like a place of residence. It didn’t deserve the title “home,” because home is where you are loved. It didn’t deserve the title “house,” because in a house you’re supposed to feel safe.
As the winter sun began to peek through the fogged windows, Jack felt anything but safe or loved. As he tried to sleep, he kept hearing his… for lack of a better word, “partner,” Klaus. Pacing. Rambling to himself under his breath. The occasional clatter of him punching a wall or any standing object.
It was normal now. Klaus often stayed up well into the daylight to vent his frustration from the previous night. He would break things, he would yell, he would let his rage boil over and scald whatever it touched. Klaus being angry was a usual occurrence, and most days Jack would sleep through it.
Other days, when he was unfortunate enough to be awake, Jack would act as a punching bag. Klaus seemed to blame a lot of things on Jack, whether he was the cause of an unsuccessful hunt or he’d talk too loud when Klaus had a migraine. It wasn’t unlike him to be aggressive. That aggression led to Jack’s skin being littered with marks. Bruises. Scars. And so Jack began to go to sleep earlier, so he wouldn’t be subjected to Klaus’ rage.
Tonight was different.
As Jack began to drift off to sleep, to finally find peace and comfort in the confines of his unconscious mind, he heard something from across the warehouse. Something so bizarre, so out-of-place, that for a moment he believed himself to be dreaming.
He heard crying.
It was small. Only the occasional quiet, choked sobs followed by the slightest sniffles and whimpers. And considering he hadn’t heard anyone being stabbed to death by now, he was sure it wasn’t a human. Slowly it turned to little mumbling between sobs, soft apologies barely made coherent as they echoed across metal walls.
“... What happened … left me alone … stupid, stupid, fucking stupid!…”
The clatter of metal against concrete. And the loudest, gut-wrenching, pained scream he’d ever heard.
An instinctual fear washed over him as he jolted upright, scrambling to his feet and finding his footing before sprinting towards the noise. He hoped, dreamed, prayed to any god that would listen that Klaus hadn’t been hurt. That instinct to protect was overwhelming. Even if the person he was trying to save would never do the same for him, the urge to do so despite that consumed him. Because that’s what Veldigun do. They find a partner, and they don’t separate. No matter what.
Turning a corner, Jack cringed at the smell of blood and rot and artificial birthday cake. The scent always lingered around Klaus. It was used to lure in children, and made it much easier for Jack to find his way to his partner. Nose in the air, he followed the stench of death. Nearly sliding past, he dashed into an open doorway. “Klaus!? I heard a scream, what-”
“-happened…”
There was Klaus. This overbearing, arrogant, terrifying monster was reduced to a weeping mess on the ground. Curled up in a corner, knees tight against his chest, and sobbing his eyes out. As viscous black liquid poured from the corners of his eyes, he looked up at Jack with an emotion he’d never seen out of his partner before.
Klaus felt grief. And to Jack, this revelation fell somewhere between terrifying and glorifying. He’d never admit it, though there was something satisfying about seeing Klaus this way, feeling such human emotion. Shaking off the feeling, he crouched down next to his partner, worry etched on his face.
“K-Klaus? Are you… are you alright?”
The rat scoffed despite his tears. “Does it look like I’m alright, jackass?” He was barely able to muster up a chuckle before a sob overtook his throat again, and he choked on his words.
“Hey, it’s gonna be alright…” Jack reached out his hand to rest it on Klaus’ shoulder. “You can tell me whatever you need to, I’m right here-”
“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” He flinched away violently, curling in on himself more. “Sorry!…” Jack muttered, the worry in his expression quickly turning to one of sympathy. He lowered his hand back down to his side. “Do you… need anything?”
Klaus paused for a moment. “...I don’t know.” He sniffled. “I don’t fucking know anymore.” The sniveling quickly turned to strained weeping, throat sore and eyes red, and he buried his face into his knees. Jack, unsure of what else to do, sat next to him. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t move. He just sat. And though Klaus had put him through so much pain, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy. He despised the pity he felt, but it welled up inside him, gnawing at his insides.
And as much as Klaus hated to admit it, Jack’s presence did bring comfort. Vague comfort, one he hadn’t felt in a long time, but comfort nonetheless. He didn’t know what drove him to do it; overwhelming grief? A singular grasp at something resembling comfort? Either way, he grabbed hold of his partner, and pulled him into an embrace. Sobbing into his chest, clawing into his back. And Jack returned it with soft arms.
They eventually fell asleep, holding each other. Klaus first, exhausted from crying his heart out. Jack couldn’t seem to fall asleep for a long while, though. Something ate at the back of his mind. Guilt, regret, anxiety, all viciously clawing at him, mocking him. Why do you care for him? Why haven’t you just left? You have nothing to win and everything to lose. There’s no use.
But instinct compelled him to stay. Without anyone, what was he to do? He was directionless without Klaus. His entire existence was hinged on him. He became dependent on the individual that seemed to hate him most. He couldn’t leave. He just couldn’t. And with that thought, he drifted to sleep.
When he woke, Klaus was gone. He heard the sharpening of a knife outside the little room, and assumed his partner was waiting for him.
Veldigun stick together. They hunt together, they live together, they are their only source of company. How lonely it is, to be a monster, when your only companion is a monster much worse than you.