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Staring in mild terror and frustration at the note in your hand, mismatched letters glaring up at your face was not how you expected your Saturday night to go.
I have your beloved one held captive.
If you choose to save them, bring only yourself.
Meet me under the park bridge at midnight.
Do not be late.
You bit your lip in anxiety, and glanced up at your sibling’s door. You had gone out and bought an apartment together, and were pretty good companions. That and their advice was usually pretty solid. It’s alright, maybe it’s a prank? Try not to worry too much…
This was a person you had grown up with, how could you not worry? You crumpled the paper in your fist and flung it at the wall in frustration. Your cat watched it sail across the room in astonishment. At least he was still here.
Your first emotions were fright and worry for your sibling. The second ones were ire and lividity at this audacious bastard, whoever they were. They wanted to do this now? On finals week? With you? Who the heck had this much time on their hands? Didn’t they have better things to do than to cut up old newspapers and harass you? The least they could have done was at least make it look attractive, not like some six-year-old did it.
You groaned and plopped down on your bed, hands going to your face as you flopped backwards in defeat. Who the hell would want you, anyways? It’s not like you knew anyone in this ridiculously big city. The most social interactions you had were with your professors, your sibling, the occasional rude driver, and Jack.
You shot upright, startling your poor cat, who gave you a suspicious and somewhat annoyed look. Jack.
It sort of made sense to assume Jack had something to do with this. He had told you he had some very shady accomplices, and if you weren’t careful, they might come after you. Or worse, they might use you against him. You just hoped Jack was alright. Then again, he was a pretty independent guy, he could stand his ground.
You were a rational person for the most part, so you sat there thinking a moment about the possibility of being stalked and blackmailed by his so-called co-workers, not wanting to make a rash move. They were absolutely out of your league, and you wouldn’t stand a chance against them in a fight. You were also a short bean, and they were (for most of them, anyways) a vast amount taller. For example, see Eyeless Jack, your friend. He basically dwarfed your short ass 157 cm self by at least 25 cm. Possibly 30.
On one hand, you could go and meet them, and potentially free your sibling in return for your being held hostage. Of course, giving yourself up did not guarantee their freedom, and definitely not yours. Worst case scenario, you guys are held captive together.
On the other hand, you could ignore the ransom note’s demand, and take it to authorities. This was a logical solution, as the kidnapping would now be in someone else’s hands, someone who was much more qualified. You yourself would be safe. It was the safest and sanest course of action.
Of course you weren’t going to take it.
You were going to go meet this person with zero fighting experience and possibly a blunt object, maybe pepper spray, and hope for the best. You wondered vaguely how you lived and made it to 20. With this new and incredibly stupid course of mind, you got to your feet, and started shoving things into a bag for your cat, in hopes that you could find someone to take care of him. You glanced around for your pepper spray, not seeing it on your chest of drawers.
You yanked open one of your desk’s drawers mercilessly, random junk rattling around in it. You sifted through, hoping to find it, and to your pleasure, your eyes landed on it. As you reached for it, your hand brushed against a cool, hard object. You glance at the suspect, and blink dumbly. It was a cue ball, scuffed, bone white phenolic resin winking at you. How and when did that get there?
You shrugged, and grabbed the bottle you had originally reached for, and shut the drawer, before your brain caught up. Wait a second .
You ripped it back open, ball rolling towards you, and you picked it up and examined it, tossing it up and down, testing its weight. You frowned, contemplating the force it would take to knock someone out, before realising you didn’t give a crap, and would simply smash it into their skull anyways. Bonus points for a coma.
You forced it and your pepper spray into the thankfully long pockets of your jeans, hoping the bulge wouldn’t draw too much attention. Maybe they’ll assume it’s something else…
Okay, probably not, but it couldn’t hurt to pretend if they were less suspicious, right? You’d rather them assume you were aroused by danger and scandal than be carrying weapons to knock their ass out. You were a little excited to smash their brains out.
Okay, that’s enough. You should sleep more , you chastised your dirty brain, standing and meeting your cat’s gaze, who was staring you down the whole time. He swished his tail, and a rumble emerged from his throat as if to ask, ‘What now?’ You bit the inside of your cheek and shifted your sight to the clock on your dresser, reading ‘22:04’. (10:04)
“I have no clue,” you sighed back. You stooped back over your desk, scribbling a note to your crazy cat neighbour you kept in good graces in order to watch your cat during impromptu trips like this. If it could be considered that. Hopefully the vagueness of ‘family emergency, can’t have a phone where I’m going, please watch him’ and a fifty note would satisfy her. It better have. Your broke ass couldn’t handle much more sudden ransom note babysitting.
Folding the note over the money and marking a smiley on the front, you stand upright once more, feeling mentally exhausted with the thoughts swirling around in your brain. Who knew that getting primary-school style notes would hurt your brain this much. You grimace at the thought.
You tape the note to your cat’s bag, and attempt to coax him into his carrier. Tempest yowls in protest, yellow eyes pleading for you to let him out. You instead pet his downy grey fur, and murmur comforts to him, then zip it up and grab the bag. You prayed to whatever deity above that this would be the one thing to go right for you tonight. You glance one again at the clock. ‘22:32’. Holy shit, did it really take you that long to get your head and cat together?
You stride past the door of your sibling’s room, not noticing the corner of paper sticking out from under the door. You grabbed your car keys, before deciding you didn’t feel like getting your car out of impoundment, and instead grabbed a penlight. Were you testing this person by bringing something? Yes. Did you give a shit? No.
If you weren’t going to drive, you had best get walking. The walk was 45 minutes by a happy person by day, and probably longer by a paranoid person at night. You would rather be early than late. Who knew what this person might do?
You locked your door, walked down the hall of your apartment complex, cat on one arm, bag slung across your back. Once you reached the door of the desired cat-sitter, you knocked and waited, shifting uneasily. When she came to the door, confused, but happy to see you, you quickly said, “Sorry, Suki. I’d love to talk, but please watch him? There’s a note and payment.” She took both the cat and bag in surprise, but nodded.
“Sure, you know I love watching him,” she replies with warmth, brown eyes beneath her neat black bangs crinkling in delight.
“Thank you so much, you have no idea how grateful I am right now,” you breathed in absolute relief. Maybe you should pray more.
After the exchange and the door was shut, you stood in the hall a moment, taking a deep breath and running your fingers through your already mussed hair. You checked your phone for the time once more. ‘22:46’. You better get to hustling , you tell yourself, and set off through the maze of a housing complex.
The cool air whipping at your face when you step outside wasn’t very reassuring either, like it was trying to persuade you to stay in. Thankfully though, you had at least one brain cell and had slipped on a hoodie before you left.
You would take the scenic route, but unfortunately you were on your way to meet your potential murderer, and time was ticking. So instead you put a bit of pep in your step, and hoped to make it there with some time to spare, so you could look at the night sky during what might be your last chance.
~*~
When you got to the park, you were pleased to know it was only 23:31, so you had plenty of time left to rethink your decision. Or so you thought, until you saw the silhouette under the small footpath bridge. You stifled the groan that came with the realisation that they would, of course, come early. They had balls, you would give them that. You could have easily sicced the police on them.
As you warily approached the figure, you acknowledged their height by looking up at their shadowed face. You planted your feet about a metre away from them. You watched each other for a moment, before you snappily asked, “Well?” You mentally patted yourself on the shoulder for your boldness, when in reality you were shivering in your little boots.
“So you decided to come,” a somewhat muffled, masculine voice mocked you. “Astute observation. Cut to the chase.” Your voice comes out snippy. The chuckle in response slightly unnerves you, as it seemed detached. But then, it could also have been the voice modulator.
“Straight to business, hm? Very well. I believe we could make a mutually beneficial exchange,” he says, shifting to lean against the concrete wall. You glared at him, seething and somewhat disgusted thoughts steeping in your mind.
“I highly doubt that. What business could we possibly share, apart from you taking my sibling?” you spat. In response, he slips his hand inside his pocket, but does not remove it. Then something seems to register with him.
“Your sibling?” he says initially in a confused tone, before hastily continuing. “Oh, of course. Your sibling. You may have them in exchange for something of yours.” You give him a perturbed look at his verbal stumble. What kind of ransomer kidnaps someone, then forgets who they kidnapped? Nonetheless, you continued in uncertainty.
“Of my choosing?” He pauses a moment, before shaking his head. “No. I will decide.” This man really needs a better career; he couldn’t keep his demands or circumstances straight. You were now starting to doubt whether or not this was one of Jack’s acquaintances.
You huff in derision. You shift your weight to one leg, hiding the motion of one hand slipping into your pocket, fingering the cue ball. You deduced the pepper spray was useless, because they wore a mask.
“Fine. What do you want from me?”
He straightens up, seeming pleasantly surprised about your compliance. He pushes away from the wall and stalks over, towering over your subtly shivering but tensed self. His silence made you anxious and unsettled, as it stretched on for a while. He curved his head downwards, simply watching you, as if thinking about something. You curled your hand around the ball, firmly gripping it.
His hand unexpectedly went to your cheek, and your muscles went rigid as he slowly brushed his fingers down it. Your shock was momentary, and your other arm kicked into hyperdrive reflex before your brain could. It flashed out with the pool ball, cracking soundly against his head before you had processed what you were doing.
He stumbled back, hand flying out of his pocket to the side of his head in pain and astonishment. “What the hell,” he cries with your name, rather angrily. You ignored it, and determined to expose this asshole and gain the upperhand, pounced on him. Caught off guard, he staggers before ultimately tumbling beneath you.
You drop the blunt object, yank your penlight out of your pocket, and rip off his mask, beaming the bright light directly on his face. Your jaw dropped.
“EJ? What- you-,” you splutter in elegant diction, as he covers his now exposed face, shielding his lack of eyes that somehow saw. In your utter shock, you remained sitting on him, trying to understand what the hell was going on.
“Astute observation,” he mocks your previous words. “What the hell was that for?”
You stared at him with lingering surprise, trying to process the strange turn of events, before remembering why you were here. “You took my sibling,” you stated matter-of-factly.
“Where did you get that idea?” he grumbles in response, still rubbing his head. “And turn that off.” You suddenly remembered the light you were shining directly in his face. You clicked it off, and huffed. “What do you mean, ‘where did I get that idea’? They’re missing from home, and I got a ransom note.”
He gave you a funny look for a few moments, and looked as though he was trying to unpuzzle something. Finally, he asks, “Did it not occur to you that it was likely a coincidence? There was someone else I took.”
You frowned. “What?”
He prodded at your form, and you obligingly scooched off. He reaches into his pocket to reveal-
A stuffed giraffe.
You stare at it a moment, utterly bewildered and trying to remember the contents of the note. He thought you loved this thing? Then you remembered something from about a week ago.
~*~
“Are you ready to give up?”
You glared challengingly over your screen at the male who had just asked you this, unhappily about to accept defeat. “Fine,” you muttered.
He had come over on one of his random visits, ones that your sibling had grown used to. They had more than once upon seeing one of your petty squabbles told you guys to get a room. You were used to it, but still feigned disgust. You didn’t truly think he was gross, and made it clear to him, but wanted to make it clear to your sibling that was likely not going to happen. On the occasions this happened, the childish argument was dropped, or he let you win, usually remaining quiet afterwards, sometimes until he left.
On this particular late evening, as he always showed up late, you both had settled on your full sized bed, you vigorously tapping out queries in the hotbar of your laptop. He was grinning at your anguish and pain, patiently lounging and watching.
You had asked him about his sight once more, a frequently shot down subject, and he had surprisingly decided to humour you this time. He agreed to tell you if you couldn’t guess after truly trying to figure it out. You jumped at the rare and probably not-to-be offered again chance.
And that was how you ended up researching random cult aftermaths, eye conditions, anything possibly pertaining to this situation, yet finding nothing. The closest thing you found was cortical blindness, technically not close, rather the opposite.
At your confession, Jack smirked wider. “Are you sure? You’re going to be disappointed.” Your scowl deepened, and you border-line slammed your laptop shut. You set it aside, and then leaned close to his currently unmasked face.
“Yes,” you growled somewhat playfully. “Now tell me.”
He flashes his sharp teeth overtly, not trying to hide his delight at the torment he put you through. Research was for nerds who did their projects. Or for people who wanted to score good on them. So the former.
“I do not know.”
You blinked at him slowly, not believing your ears. This bastard had really just made you spend an hour looking for an answer even he did not have. You were kind of an idiot.
“You fucktart. This is why I hate you,” you lazily insulted, pushing his face away. He laughs in response, not bothered by the mild physicality. “No, you do not. You would not have spent that much time trying to figure out the specifics of my vision if you did. People do not waste that much of their time on things they hate.”
You suddenly shoved him off your bed, a groan and dull thump resounding like music to your ears. The look on his face was hilarious. “Element of surprise, bitch,” you grinned wryly at him. He scowls back.
“When I tell you guys to get a room, I mean keep it in that room, not let other people hear,” rings your sibling's drawl from across the hall. You convulsively tittered, before deviously glancing at Jack, who ignores you as he picks himself up off the floor. In true gremlin fashion, you let out the most authentic moan you could manage.
Jack probably got whiplash from how quickly he snapped his head towards you, cheeks dark with blood. You could hear your sibling cackling in respect and amusement. You basked in the glory of outwitting your older sibling, then pulled out your phone to scroll through various apps and socials you didn’t actually post on.
Instead of commenting on it, he continued the previous conversation, though in a slightly different direction as he reseated himself beside you.
“Do you ever think about seeing anyone?” You glanced away from your phone in slight indifference, thinking about it for less than a second.
“Nah. Nobody wants this mess, and I already have everyone I need,” you replied, shrugging. Then your gaze latched on a random stuffed animal on your desk. You snatched it up and presented it to Jack in a cuddle.
“Besides, Roberto is the only love I’ll ever need,” you declared in the worst accent known to man. “A true man.” You dipped your head to mockingly nuzzle the plush’s head. Jack cocked his head at you in an indiscernible way.
“No, really,” you say jokingly, before opening up the photo gallery on your phone. “He’s in almost all of my pictures.” You offer the screen, and Jack slides over to see it better, his side fitting seamlessly against yours. He scrolls, seeing it unintentionally in the backgrounds of many of them.
“Damn. I did not know you were down that bad for stuffed giraffes.”
“Really bad. Like you wouldn’t believe,” you laughed in good humour. He chuckles with you as you pull your phone away. “Don’t steal my man, now.”
~*~
You burst out laughing, tears nearly leaving your ducts with the sheer force, though you did end up curling into yourself from it. He did not actually make a ransom note for a toy giraffe. He did not.
Except he did, and you were looking at the ‘hostage’ in his hand right here, right now, which was at midnight under some bridge about an hour from your apartment. The amount of entertainment you got from this not-quite-man. You would never get bored, and that’s what you liked about him. You hoped he didn’t decide to up and leave one day.
“EJ,” you attempt through your laughter, failing. You waited to regain some control before trying again, still chuckling between some of the words. “Jack. I think I got your point.”
He shifted upwards, propped on one elbow, and cocked his head at you, eyebrows raised. “Did you, though?” he responded sceptically. You smirked at him, and took the giraffe from him.
“Of course. You’re seeing how down I am for the stuffed giraffe.” He blinks and stares at you in exasperation. You rolled your eyes before getting to your feet and offering him a hand, which he took.
“Yes, I actually got it, you idiot. You were going to ask me for myself in return for the stuffed toy. You were trying to ask me out, but not like a normal person.” Your smile grew less sharp with your words, and he returned a much more diffident one as you handed him his mask. He didn’t put it on right away, which was puzzling.
“Actually, I was going to ask you for a kiss. But that sounds delightful, as well.”
Your eyebrows raised, and you chewed on your lip at this information. His eyelids drooped to indicate his gaze had dropped to your mouth to follow the movement.
“You should not do that.” Your immediate response is to shrug, still surprised that your best friend would rather be kissing you than chatting with you. So he drew your lip from between your teeth, bringing his hand down to encase yours in his own, gaze now back on yours.
“I do not suppose that the deal is still on the table,” he asks hesitantly. You scoff playfully. “You didn’t need to traumatise poor Roberto to get me to kiss you, you monster.”
His lips curve upwards in amusement. “In that case,” he drawled casually, before you found yourself pinned against the wall he had been leaning against before you slammed a cue ball into the side of his head. You heard his mask clatter to the floor, joining the ball and light, as you registered his arms trapping either side of your head. “You would not mind me collecting penance right now?”
You look anywhere but him, ignoring the blazing in your cheeks and heat rolling off of him. “Um,” you said unintelligently. “What for?”
“You just potentially gave me a concussion."
“Fair enough.”
~*~
“Hey, if you didn’t kidnap my sibling, where are they?” you ask, now back at your apartment at around 1:30 in the morning, watching your cat dart around with the zoomies. Jack pauses in your doorway, looking at the bottom of your siblings door. He crouches and deftly grabs a piece of paper you hadn’t seen earlier.
He unfolds it, and raises an eyebrow at you, before reading it. “‘Going to a friend’s, will be back’.” Your mouth forms a bemused line, as he makes his way to your desk to set it down, before joining you on the bed, which creaks under his weight in protest.
“Why didn’t they just text me?” you mutter in confusion and embarrassment. Jack simply chuckles then slips an arm around your back, and you lean into his chest without objection.
“Are you complaining? When there is no one bothering us?”
“You’re bothering me.”
“You like it.”
“Shut up, Jack.”