Work Text:
Ah yes.
Valentine’s Day.
You’d been waiting for this since New Year’s.
In your opinion, Valentine’s Day was the second best holiday. After Mother’s Day, because that woman gave you life and made it worth living. (Christmas was just so sadly over-commercialised at this point.) It was a day where one could express feelings for their loved one, whether through words or gifts, or even quality time. Or if you were single, such as yourself, you could go out and buy yourself some chocolate to give some self-love.
You had to admit, manoeuvring through all those love-struck men and women who were scrambling for last second gifts was kind of annoying, but worth your prize. A lovely box of chocolates weighing down the bag on your arm. The cashier had seemed exhausted when you had gotten to them, probably having gone through the majour rush of people already. Because you were a nice person (lies.), you decided to buy them a chocolate bar for their woes. Customer service could suck dick on some days.
Some of the other people who happened to see what you grabbed were in awe of the size of the box, and eyed you with respect. Of course, if they knew who it was truly for, they might roll their eyes and scoff. But hey, loving yourself is very important.
The scramble for these delicious sweets was rather impulsive and unplanned, so you rushed to make it home before dark. Not that it was late, but because of shorter daylight during winter. You didn’t want to have to kill a bitch because they jumped you for your chocolate. Or other reasons.
You walked briskly down the sidewalk, humming cheerfully, bag swinging like a pendulum on your forearm. Your breath came out in wisps of steam, heat dissipating into the cool air rapidly. The notes echoed on the relatively empty street, as everyone was either on a date, or at home. It didn’t bother you; Silence was a great friend of yours, and was in fact allowing you to bask in the dying light of the sunset by yourself.
The familiar sounds of the city were significantly lowered by the lack of people roaming or driving around. There was the occasional car zipping by, hoping to make it to an arrangement on time, occupants anxious but elated all the same. Ah, to have a lover. Couldn’t be you.
You snorted at the thought. Not that you were unlikable, there was just a lack of interest in the potential partners you could have. And being a full-time Uni student made it that much more difficult and unrealistic. Although, there was the one you thought of every time, but he was probably the farthest from person, let alone partner.
Okay, so maybe you weren’t entirely buying chocolate in ‘self-love’. Maybe there was more than just an indulgence in a sweet tooth. Maybe you were sulking a little. At least you weren’t sitting around in the dark pouting and writing edgy diss tracks. Besides, chocolate triggers dopamine, who needs kissing?
Once your housing comes into sight, you fish your keys out of your pocket with your free hand, the jingling reaching your ears through the gentle wind rustling the trees and crooning from your throat. You catch a flickering shadow from the corner of your eye, not classifying as one of the swaying trees. Your head reflexively turns in the direction of the perpetrator, tune ceasing, only to find an empty lot. Your eyes sweep the grounds just in case, before you shrug with a disinterested hum and unlock the lobby door. You were already within safety, anyways.
The door clicked shut behind you, and you opted for the stairs. Elevators were for weak people, or people who didn’t eat massive boxes of chocolate by themselves. You were going to burn those calories first, you declared mentally as you stared at the daunting escalating structure. The third floor better be ready for your ultimate triumph.
~*~
“On second thought,” you panted wildly to no one in particular, having decided to jog up the stairs instead of walk like a normal person, “I think they’re winning.” You reached your resident floor, sounding like a dying dog with asthma. You didn’t notice the extra steps still coming from the stairwell.
“Good riddance to stairs. Stairs are for normal people. I’m special,” you grumbled, treading the bland hall to your door. You weren’t out of shape, you swear. You just weren’t built for three flights of stairs. Elevators were for cool people, right?
You unlocked the way to your small apartment, relieved to breathe in the familiar scents and hear the sound of your cat welcoming you home with delighted meowing. “Hi~!” you cooed back at her, adopting the universal voice all pets deserved. “Purr, purrs, baby. Did you miss me?”
She rubs against your legs as a pleased response, obstructing your way into the living room. You attempted to step over her without kicking her, thankfully succeeding, and slip your shoes off, leaving them by the door. You set your keys down on the door stand, and make your way to the kitchen.
You set the rustling bag down on the counter, and opened your cabinet door with a creak. You grabbed a mug, debating whether to get tea, before realising only a monster thinks tea and chocolate tastes good together. You leaned towards the fridge, now intending to make a nice honeyed cup of warm milk.
You glanced down to notice your cat had followed you, demanding your attention loudly. You weren’t gone that long- had she really missed you that badly? “Aw babes, I missed you, too. Are you ready to binge crappy Netflix shows with me, while I irresponsibly ignore the homework piling up?” you murmured to her, stooping to stroke her silky fur. Bean decided that she does, in fact, want to irresponsibly watch crappy Netflix shows with you with a chirrup.
You smiled in response, and resumed your mission to the creamy beverage. When that’s said and done, you carry the now comfortably warmed mug to your living room to set it down and swoop up the tv remote. You pointed the remote over your shoulder as you returned to the kitchen for your sweets.
You heard it click on, and possibly your door open as well. Your head snaps in the direction of your front entrance, frowning, no longer seeing your cat. Oh shit. Did she learn how to open a door?
You hear verbal reassurance that your cat is still in the apartment by way of purring, and you creep around the corner to sneak a sly look. There’s nothing there.
You give a dissatisfied hum, and glance at your lock. Might as well lock it before your cat does learn to open a door. Hadn’t you locked it already, though? It was likely you forgot to. Oh well.
You weren’t too worried about getting kidnapped or murdered; no one noticed you enough to hate you. Not that it bothered you; you got your work done, messed with no one, no one messed with you. Also, you had more time to baby your baby and didn’t have to make up excuses to be lazy.
You walked over and snicked the deadbolt to the side, and tried once more to get to your beloved junk food. You managed to get it out of the bag and turn on Netflix, before your cat meowed over the iconic dual thump.
“I’m coming, baby. What are you in the mood for? Cheesy idiots who struggle to admit they’re in love or fake gory horror?” you query your companion. She meows loudly. “That’s a great idea. Both, it is.” You flip through the shows before settling on, ironically, Valentine, which is none of the above.
An amused thought filtered through your brain. Wasn’t it funny how your only friends aren’t even people? You chuckle, and shake your head. Guess your friend-magnet was broken. Socialising with ‘normal’ people was scary. Besides, you’re special, remember? Normal people couldn’t handle you.
You padded back to your living room, finally getting to relax into your halfway decent sofa. You sprawled out across it, fully intending on forgetting you were single for the next hour and a half, and enjoyed Bean snuggling against you. And you were actually getting into it, munching on your pieces of diabetes, sipping at your milk, when you felt what seemed like a frustrated gust of wind concentrated on the back of your head.
You whip around, seeing nothing, and look at your cat, who had looked up at you with interest and mild shock at your sudden movement. You stare accusingly at her, while she gazes back innocently unaware. You catch a piece of paper fluttering out of the corner of your eye, and turn your head to see it settling beside your remote and milk.
You eye it suspiciously, before curiosity makes you pick it and your remote up. You pause the movie, and inspect it more closely, eyes scanning the neat script on it.
Kidneys are red, my mask is blue;
Is it strange to be falling for you?
You stared at it dumbfoundedly, trying to figure out what the fresh heck you just read. You attempted to stifle your laugh, and failed to school your expression, which fell into a smirk. “Who wrote this cheesy bullcrap?” you ask aloud, knowing full well who it was, based on terminology. Who else would reference human organs in a supposed love poem?
There was no reply, not that you were expecting one. You were honestly surprised he wrote this in the first place. Jack was brief and concise with his words, and saw writing poetry as frivolous. You had learned that a long time ago, possibly in your first meeting.
As for why he was referencing human organs, well… you chose to remain blissfully ignorant, but had no doubt it came with his… job. You weren’t sure what your friend was, but he wasn’t human. You had slowly come to grasp over the course of seven months that your friend was out of the norm. You couldn’t care less, in all honesty. Maybe humans were overrated.
But you slowly understood less questions were for the better, like why he sometimes visited covered in blood, why he randomly showed up with no warning, or why he looked the way he did. That was an interesting conversation, you catching him without his mask the one time, seeing his exposed grey face and viciously sharp teeth. Or his lack of eyes. How did he see?
Not that you demeaned him for it; in fact, you might have had to look away, due to the blood flowing to your cheeks for inconspicuous reasons. Definitely not being that he had very nice features, abnormal skin colour and sharpened mouth aside. It didn’t hurt that he was tall and well built, as lean as he was.
You understood that while he was in shady business, he was at least a pretty suave guy. So you decided that it was none of your business, and didn’t ask questions. So it worked out.
However, this note did beg a few questions that might be allowed an answer. Such as: what did he mean ‘falling for you’? Was he just writing it for the holiday? That didn’t sound like him at all; he was too pragmatic. He wouldn’t write something for the simple fact people called it a day of love, poetry, fluffy froufrou, and all that. So did he mean it?
You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as the thoughts all raced through your mind. So, maybe you had a little crush on the guy. Big deal. You highly doubted he reciprocated that sentiment, he was probably just trying to be nice for once. Not that he was rude, though he did become passive-aggressive from time to time.
You got up on your knees and peered over the back of your couch, only to find nobody was there. “Damn it, Jack, I thought you stopped acting four when you turned five.” Last you checked, adults didn’t exactly spend their freetime playing hide-and-seek.
“That would imply that my birthday changed my behaviour, which is not a factor in growth at all,” comes a response from what is now behind you, and you jump and give a small shriek. You whip around to see him leaning casually against your tv stand.
“Seriously dude? I’m just trying to watch shitty television, not have a heart attack before thirty.” He shrugs, clearly not guilty at all.
“You should have read the paper.”
You roll your eyes, and reach for your drink. “I didn’t even notice it until you moved it.” You sipped at your now cool milk. Your lips form a pout. Pity.
“It was there for thirty minutes.” A sheepish smile finds its way to your lips.
“I was pretty dedicated to having some Netflix and chill,” you offer in an attempt to explain your obliviousness, before realising your choice of words. Your eyes widen as he simply stares at you from behind his emotionless mask.
“Uh… Actual Netflix and chill, not um… yeah,” you spluttered in sheer and utter embarrassment. “It’s not like I could uh, pull anyone anyways.” You laugh nervously.
Jack could be holding back a laugh at your expense for all you knew, so you decided to turn the table. You waved the piece of paper with what was clearly his workmanship on it. “So what made you decide to engage in this supposedly foolish holiday?” you manage to articulate clearly.
He sighs like a teacher explaining something to his student for the hundredth time. “I thought it was rather self-evident.”
You stare at him, still unsure of what his intentions were, because usually the man was pretty blunt any other time, but chose to be cryptic now. “Nope,” you reply candidly.
He holds your gaze steadily, remaining silent a moment. You wait expectantly, patiently sipping at the milk, chomping on the occasional chocolate, mouth sounds awkwardly filling the air. His head almost imperceivably follows your motions. He chooses to speak after about five minutes of this.
“I wrote it because it was true.”
You pause your chewing for a half second, then swallow, blinking at him. Surely, he was jesting. “Well, no duh. Kidneys are a dark red, and anybody can see that your mask is blue.” You hesitate, before deciding not to address the second half. He did that for you.
“The question was genuine, too.”
You become rather quiet, no longer eating nor drinking, and to fill the silence, Bean suddenly decides to give a mrow. When neither of you react, nor move from your frozen stances, she plops her furry butt in front of you so you have to move to look at Jack.
He seemed to be growing rather anxious, and that was pretty unlike him. You took in the small fidgets, such as his fingers twitching against the hem of his hoodie, and the shuffling of his feet. Eventually, he says, “If you do not requit, I will understand.”
“You idiot.” His head rears back in surprise, as a massive and goofy smile brands itself across your previously shell-shocked face. He takes a step back as if to turn to leave at first, when you continue. “Why’d you wait so long to say anything?”
He cocks his head, probably giving you an odd look from beneath his mask. “How many people would run away in terror if they were you?” he returns. You shrug. “Good thing it’s not them then. I think that means I get you to myself.”
Bean meows in protest at the lack of love you’re giving her. How dare you give more wordly affection to this man and not to your cat. For shame.
You pet the animal in order to placate her as Jack absorbs your words. As he does though, you pat the seat beside you in a friendly offer. He stares at you a moment longer, hesitating, before complying.
You give him a small smile, and he only cocks his head in response. You offer him some chocolate as well. “I fought the crazy couples at the market for this. It tastes that much better.”
His voice is suppressing amusement when he replies, “Whatever you say. It is incompatible with my body.” You decide not to question this, and instead pop it in your mouth.
He remains quiet, though much more comfortably this time. You turn the movie back on without protest from either the purring cat in your lap, or the male beside you.
You’re not sure at what point he started, but you noticed Jack was starting to pay more attention to you than the screen. You glanced at him, slightly self-conscious. “What? Is there something on my face?”
He keeps watching you, but simply answers, “No.”
You put a hand to your mouth anyways, rubbing it free of suspected remains. He unexpectedly reaches out and grabs your hand, though not roughly. He slowly raises it uncertainly to his own masked face, holding it to where his mouth was, in lieu of a kiss. You blush, not having expected any measure of affection from the withdrawn male.
Wondering how far that could go, you shift your hand until it rests on his cheek, fingertips on the lip of the mask. You notice his breathing hitch and his body tense, but he didn’t push you away. It almost tempted you to stop, but you didn’t want to lose a good chance. You were trying to remain respectful of his boundaries, and yet see how far they went.
You leaned in subtly as you slowly inched his mask up. He had yet to move, but he was clearly growing nervous. You left it right above his mouth, and leaned forward, nearly closing the gap, but waiting for him to decide if he wanted to take that last leap.
He took a few moments, but he finally placed his mouth on yours. It sent shivers up your spine, and you saw sparks even as your eyes fluttered closed. His mouth danced very slowly yet in sync with yours, his inexperience and sheer timidness evident. You smiled into the kiss, sighing relief and satisfaction into it. He tasted savoury and metallic, an unexpected but not fully unpleasant taste. You resisted the urge to taste him further, not trying to scare him away the first time.
He leans back from you, and exhales heavily. “I do not understand you.”
“I never said you had to,” you reply snarkily, and you see his smile for the first time. He found a passive aggressive way of telling you to shut the fuck up as he leans back in.
~*~
“Jack, I think I’ve got one over you,” you snicker, staring at the terrible quality written on the paper in front of you.
“What is it?”
You hand him the sheet. “Mine’s definitely worse.”
Hearts are red, veins are blue;
Not as weird as falling for you.
He stares at the paper a moment, before looking at you. “100%.”
“Fuck you,” you scoff light-heartedly. “Too soon,” he retorts.
You laugh, unperturbed. “Then go fuck yourself.” He doesn’t reply, and you’re satisfied. Until he gives a good comeback, making you throw your head back in a groan.
“Would you like to watch?”