Archive of Our Own

1,

Jack never realized how big his small two-story house was. Especially when he was suffering from a fever and Phillip was not around.

He remembered that the place he called home was just an old house that Phillip bought from an acquaintance, and then the two of them moved in together. A normal house had just enough space to grow some vegetables, the first floor was a living room with a kitchen, the second floor had a bedroom, a bathroom, and a room for Jack to paint and Phillip to make wax figures. But now, this place was like a huge castle, and no matter how far he walked, Jack still couldn't find his destination.

Jack slowly dragged himself into the kitchen, lazily opened the refrigerator, it was empty, oh, of course, since Phillip left, he had been ordering food online, eating to get by. Hunger led the way, Jack unconsciously opened the freezer, blankly looking at the sugar-coated apple in the middle of the freezer that was frozen to the point of being inedible, his heart suddenly felt extremely sour.

Not knowing what to do, he took the apple out, tried to defrost it to see if it was still edible. Jack carefully placed it on the dining table, then mechanically ordered porridge online. The notification from the app came very quickly, “Your order has been placed successfully. We will deliver it to you within an hour. Please wait!”

His screen showed a notification bar, “Congratulations, you are the person who has ordered the most on the app this month and in this area! To show our gratitude, we would like to give you a discount code for your next order!”

He looked at the notification in confusion, then felt wronged like a child who was ignored by his parents. If Phillip were here, he wouldn’t be in this ‘situation’. He missed Phillip's cooking, even if Jack cooked it himself, he just felt inconvenient having to clean up the mess of food he cooked.

Jack turned his phone down, dejectedly pressing his cheek against the wooden table, hoping the cold feeling would make him feel a little more comfortable. The sugar-coated apple stood tall before his eyes, Phillip's favorite food, the only thing he left for him before he evaporated from this house like a ghost.

Phillip.

Phillip Renmant.

The person who had entered his life a year ago, bringing with him the feelings Jack thought he had buried deep in his heart. He proposed to him, saying that he had loved him for a long time. And of course Jack agreed without hesitation. They moved here together, a peaceful village far away from where they used to live, living peaceful days together without worries. That year, Jack swore, was the happiest time of his life. Until the day Phillip suddenly left without saying a word, leaving behind only a sugar-dipped apple.

The sugar coating on the smooth apple skin glistened under the light, Jack vaguely saw his face reflected back, the face of a pitiful man with messy gray hair covering his eyes, green eyes exactly like Phillip's. His face was slightly sunken, gaunt and ridiculously gaunt, the corners of his mouth were twisted and unable to smile, his face always looked very miserable. His cheeks were red from the fever, making him look even more pathetic and weak. Oh, what had made the always happy Jack Ripper become like this? Who was it that made him miserable, succumbing to the sweet feelings like before?

It was Phillip.

Phillip still acted like normal, even on the day he left him. When he returned from selling the painting to a new customer who had given him an extra tip and Jack planned to use the money to take Phillip to see a new art museum in the city, he wondered why his house was cleaner than usual, even excessively clean. Phillip's two pairs of shoes on the dresser were gone, some books were missing from the living room, and the wax carving tool bag that he usually kept next to the potted plant had disappeared. Jack hurriedly ran upstairs, his heart burning with anxiety, what was going on, he remembered that Phillip wasn't the type to joke around like that. The wardrobe on the second floor was also cleaned out, Phillip's clothes were all gone, even the wax statues in the room were gone.

Nothing, nothing, Phillip left without leaving any notes or letters, he disappeared, as if he had never been here, leaving behind his favorite candy. Jack was stunned by what had happened, he looked blankly at the empty living room in front of him, where Phillip should have been sitting, studying criminals.

“Oh… Phillip.” He knelt down on the ground in shock, painfully clutching his chest, his throat choked, there were so many things he wanted to say but couldn’t say them, tears were about to fall. The pain of knowing he was abandoned made Jack choke, his chest felt heavy. He weakly moaned his name, hoping that Phillip would appear before him, gently comforting him. Jack felt like the world was collapsing, oh no, if the world really collapsed, it couldn’t be as painful as he was right now. The person he loved, the person he loved with everything he had, had left him.

Perhaps he was partly to blame. Perhaps Jack was too careless, not paying attention to Phillip's thoughts, so it made him angry, leaving without a word to take revenge on him. Jack didn't know how to think about Phillip, didn't know what was going on inside that man.

For more than three months, Jack had hypnotized himself, that Phillip was invited to join the investigation with the police in a faraway place that he didn't know, then because he was too excited, Phillip hurriedly moved away without leaving a message for Jack. He only had time to make the candy he liked because he thought he liked it too, coaxed him like a child and then left.

It's okay, Jack is not a selfish person, he will stay here, looking forward to his letters and news every day, waiting for him in their house, waiting for the day Phillip comes back to him. When Phillip comes back, he will hug Phillip, and tell him about the days he lived without him. Jack had once intended to leave home to look for him, but then he thought, what if when he left, Phillip would return, he would look for him again and it would become a vicious cycle, especially when Jack didn't know how to contact Phillip. No phone, Phillip didn't have the habit of using the phone as much as he did. No letters either, he didn't know where Phillip was right now to send a letter. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, he could wait, he was an adult and he was very patient. It was just a "long-distance relationship". If anyone had to wait, it should only be Jack, he couldn't bear to make Phillip wait, and he didn't want to disappoint him about his childishness.

Jack often walked to the post office in town, obediently sitting there waiting if Phillip sent a letter. Phillip remembered their home address, maybe he would write a letter to visit him, like any other normal person. He often watched and took notes on the news on TV, hoping to hear something about him. Those were daily events, his small hopes, hoping to get some news about him, anyway, Jack was used to that.

Until the day he stubbornly braved the rain to go to the post office, then got a fever. Jack mocked his own stupidity, he should have stayed home instead of stubbornly going to the post office, waiting there and then returning like every other day. The fever made him weak, his mind was spinning, his whole body was burning, his throat was dry, every time he swallowed saliva he felt a burning pain. One side of Jack's nose was completely blocked, both ears were ringing and he couldn't hear clearly. He groaned softly, why didn't Jack know that being sick was so miserable? This wasn't the first time he had been sick, but why did he feel so lonely and painful inside?

Was it because he was used to relying on Phillip? Was he used to being caressed by hands with small calluses? Was he used to the slightly disgusting smell of hot wax clinging to Phillip's body?

Jack stood up abruptly, looking at the cream-colored wall in front of him in shock, like a child being reprimanded, his eyes wide open at his own thoughts. No, Phillip had left him, no, Phillip had just forgotten, he would come back and comfort him like always, he was used to it.

But what if Phillip didn't come back? Who knows, Phillip might be happy in someone's arms now? A charming woman? Or a man more beautiful than him? Alas, his heart would wither without Phillip's love to sustain him. He would die, die both physically and mentally, die in love with someone who had abandoned him.

No, Phillip wasn't that heartless. Maybe he was just testing him, to see if he could endure it, to see if he had enough patience to be worthy of love.

But . . . He was afraid, what if, the most terrible things in his mind would come true?

Phillip, oh Phillip, how could someone be so cruel, how could someone be willing to abandon the person who loved them so much? How could someone be so cruel? How could he bear to abandon the person who gave him everything? Or was it because Jack had lost his value in Phillip's eyes?

The voice outside the door brought him back to the cruel reality, Jack looked towards the door, half wanting to leave, half wanting to stay, he didn't want to see anyone, if that person wasn't Phillip.

The delivery man handed him the porridge box, gave him a piece of paper waiting for him to sign, received the money and left immediately. As quickly as he had arrived, performing a series of actions as if it had been pre-programmed. As for Jack, who didn't want to socialize too much, didn't care much about such things, just silently held the porridge box in his hand, turned to the kitchen. He poured the porridge into a bowl, absentmindedly looking at the pale gray porridge, on top were seafood and green vegetables, the aroma spread throughout the kitchen, the heat from the food emitted, Jack not only did not feel hungry but also felt strangely nauseous. He looked over at the defrosted apple, the brown sugar layer flowing onto the glass plate below, he did not want to eat either of them.

Jack swallowed his saliva, mechanically holding the spoon to put the porridge into his mouth, he had to force himself to eat, if he did not eat, did not take medicine, he would not be cured. The rice was cooked until soft, the fish was deboned, lightly stir-fried, seasoned to taste. The things that should have been delicious, but when swallowed, he only felt the sour feeling of spoiled food and the bitter taste in the back of his throat. Then he turned to the apple he had cut earlier, the inside had turned brown, the apple flesh was mushy, soft and powdery to the touch, like a raw dough molded into a piece of sugar-coated apple.

He didn't want to eat, the more he ate, the more he found himself unable to swallow those things. He shuddered when he had to swallow those things, goosebumps when he forced himself to scoop up each spoonful of porridge, as if he had eaten something horrible. Even though it was a bowl of porridge from the best, most expensive, most luxurious store. Even though it was the candy he had eaten until he was used to the taste.

Oh, he missed Phillip. His trembling hands touched his cheeks, warm tears streamed down his cheeks, Jack groaned softly, his voice trembled non-stop, just uttering a sentence made him exhausted and in pain "... oh." Phillip.

Jack was used to the "happy" days when Phillip was still around. At those times, when he was "unfortunately" sick, Phillip would take care of him, he would cook delicious food for him, would spend most of his time sitting next to him, keeping him company so he wouldn't feel bored. Or sometimes, Phillip would tell Jack stories he had never heard as a child. He would gently caress Jack's feverish face, looking at him with eyes full of worry and pain.

Now, the first time he got sick after half a year away from Phillip, he realized how much he missed him. He thought his longing only stopped at the image, he wanted to see Phillip again. But, it turned out that Jack had underestimated himself. He craved Phillip's gentle caress. He missed those green eyes, the eyes that would look at him lovingly, the eyes that would never lie or betray him. He craved those sweet goodnight kisses on the forehead. . . . .

Jack missed Phillip.

Did Phillip miss him like he missed him?

2,

Jack suddenly remembered the first day he met Phillip. He accidentally got to know Christina, a girl in the same department as him. Christina was a very lovely person. She had long black hair, sparkling green eyes, a smile sweeter than sugar, a lovable personality, easy to approach, friendly, open, sociable, . . . Every time he talked to her, at least in the story, Christina's brother would be mentioned.

'Phillip', as Christina described it, was a somewhat strict and old-fashioned brother but loved and gave in to her. Christina had never been opposed by Phillip in anything, every time, he was soft-hearted and yielding to his stubborn sister. Christina's words made him curious about that wonderful brother, Jack quickly thought of a reason, and was quickly invited by Christina to visit.

The house of the two brothers was not as big as he imagined, it was just a very ordinary two-story house, with a small yard for growing something. Christina, who was smearing wax on her skirt, opened the door and invited him in.

Following Christina was a man who was a little taller than her, also had black hair and green eyes like her. His face was more angular and masculine, wearing a simple light purple plaid shirt, black trousers and a black apron to prevent wax from sticking to his clothes. If not for the different clothes and the monocle on the left, he and Christina looked exactly the same, just looking at them from a different angle, people who didn't know would mistake them for twins.

Perhaps he was the Phillip in Christina's words.

"Hello." Phillip spoke first, squinting at the close friend in Christina's words. A tall, handsome and rich guy.

Jack looked at him in confusion, he looked around, after discovering Phillip greeted him, he quickly replied. "Nice to meet you, I'm Jack Ripper, Christina's classmate, I heard her..."

Phillip had absolutely no intention of listening to Jack, he greeted politely, then quickly grabbed Christina's skirt, fumbled to remove the wax that was almost dry on his sister's skirt, while removing it he scolded her for being careless, she shouldn't have stood so close when sculpting a statue.

The second half of the introduction was left unfinished, Jack stood there looking at the two siblings who were worried about each other, jealous to the point of clenching his hands into fists, pursing his lips at them. He had never felt so jealous and angry. Jack thought his face was as red as the demons in hell, his mouth ready to utter rude and cruel words to curse them. Christina was so lucky, she had someone who loved her unconditionally. He was jealous of her, jealous of the love Christina received from Phillip.

His entire childhood he had been used to seeing his parents curse each other with the most vulgar and cruel words, cursing each other to hell. Jack had never seen people in love, he was curious about love, and he was always jealous of others.

He also wanted to be loved. He wanted someone to worry about and take care of him, just like how Phillip patiently removed each piece of wax from Christina's dress. What Christina had now was what he had always longed for. He was jealous of his friend for the smallest things.

Phillip, Christina and Jack had happy days together. At first, Jack often made up excuses to come to her house, but gradually, he no longer needed to make up excuses, she was the one who invited him, the two brothers got used to his presence.

Until, Christina unfortunately passed away in an accident. People said that it was a day of pouring rain, the air was filled with fine dust from the construction site, like a thin, toxic mist. The road was slippery, causing a truck to lose control and crash into the curb, unfortunately causing Christina, who was standing at the bus stop, to pass away.

Because this incident did not affect anyone but the victim, the driver fled the scene of the accident, the cameras in the area were broken, . . . . for countless reasons, no one investigated or punished that bastard driver, no one cared about the identity of the victim, no one investigated or cared in the slightest.

Only Phillip received a call from the forensic staff, they brought his poor sister's body back to him.

Only Jack attended the funeral of this unfortunate woman. He was one of the few people who still cared about Christina, 'luckily' knowing about this, Jack took a day off from school, helping him prepare for the funeral.

Phillip wore a black suit from head to toe, using his own money to buy a plot of land in the most beautiful location of the cemetery, for Christina. He hired an embalmer to put makeup on the girl, sewed up the ugly wounds on her face that were no longer intact, Phillip let Christina wear her favorite dress, and placed around the coffin the things she liked when she was alive.

Unfortunately, Christina's funeral fell on a rainy day, the sky was gray, the air was gloomy, it was pouring rain, the already sad story became even sadder. Jack stood to one side holding an umbrella, looking at the man beside him standing in front of the coffin, silence enveloped both of them. The lovely Christina, now lay in the cold coffin, the words "Christina Renmant" carved on the wooden surface, reminding the two of them who was lying there.

The sad thing was that even though she was in the lecture hall, Christina was famous for being friendly and making many friends, from the most difficult to the closest, everyone was her friend and she was also everyone's friend, her funeral was attended by only Jack. Only him, and Christina's remaining relatives.

Phillip was too stunned by his sister's death to care about how Jack knew Christina had passed away and attended the funeral even though he hadn't told anyone. Jack saw his shoulders shaking, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, but then he saw him clenching his fists and pursing his lips. It was understandable, Christina's death affected Phillip a lot. The two brothers had never seen their father, lost their mother early, and could only rely on each other. Now, losing their only relative, it was difficult for him to overcome the shock in such a short time. Oh, poor Phillip...

Christina's death also affected Jack, because he was always jealous of the love she received. That day, Jack was near the scene of the accident, he had more than enough power to call an ambulance for poor Christina and perhaps if help had been given in time at that moment, she might still have a chance to survive. Jack knew, and he didn't do it. If Christina were still alive, when would it be Jack's turn to be loved? Thanks to Christina, Jack could feel Phillip's love in the name of "sister's friend".

Jack pursed his lips, trying to keep his face pained and regretful towards Christina, feeling extremely happy inside. Oh, how happy he was, Phillip would be his, what she had before would now be his. He would no longer have to bother being jealous of anyone. I'm glad I didn't save you, he told himself.

He threw the umbrella aside, reached out to hug Phillip into his arms before his surprised eyes. The poor man almost collapsed into his arms, he was as wet as a drowning man, his clothes were sticky and stuck to his skin, his body was cold. Phillip didn't react to being hugged, he shivered slightly, buried his face in his chest, his throat made a soft choking sound. Jack hugged him tightly, frowned, pretending to be in pain.

Yes, he would be Phillip's spiritual support when he was at his lowest, Jack thought happily, as long as he made him indebted, he would automatically receive love.

Jack was used to it, because usually when he wanted something, he always had to fight to get it. The first time was the love of his parents, the second time was Phillip's love. He happily smelled the pale waxy smell mixed with the musty smell on his body, the person he longed for day and night, was already in his arms.

3,

After that, Phillip disappeared. Just like now, he also disappeared without a trace, without a goodbye, when Jack went to Phillip's house like any other normal afternoon, that house had been sold to a local resident long ago. The place where Jack thought he would receive love had turned into the home of a pot-bellied farmer. He glanced at the short fat man in front of him, he knew him, –---, a famous lazy and gluttonous farmer, addicted to gambling to the point of losing everything.

That man looked back at him innocently, scratching his sagging belly due to belly fat, and calmly said that the previous owner of the house had contacted him this morning, selling the house to him at a very cheap price. At first, he thought this was a new scam, but when the owner brought the documents to meet him, –--- could guarantee one thousand percent that this previous owner was a fool who didn't know how to use money.

The ground beneath him seemed to collapse, Jack listened to what he said in shock, “You said he sold this house to you for –----?”

“That’s right, that idiot doesn’t know how valuable this house is. If it were someone else, they would sell it for –----, but that guy sold it to me for a fifth of the price. Ha ha ha, no one is as lucky as –--- me . . .”

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why did Phillip leave? Jack didn’t understand, he couldn’t think of a reason. He should have stayed here, weak, waiting for someone to comfort him!?? Why did he leave? Why did he have to sell the house immediately, disappear as if it had never existed? Was everything he had done going to go down the drain again?

4,

Jack did not have a childhood, rather, in his memory, the time when he was young was just a competition for love between his father, mother, Jack and a servant.

His father had an affair with a servant in the house, this was not even hidden, every time they met, they would grab each other and kiss, caress, like a couple of lovers deeply in love.

As for his mother, that woman was too arrogant to realize that she was betrayed, her parents argued, Jack was always the one in the middle and had to passively endure those things. His father would beat his mother, and his mother would respond to him by pulling her hair, cursing her harshly.

Poor Jack was lonely in his own house, he felt lost in the middle of a large house full of servants, but no one cared about him. Children usually cling to their mothers, Jack was no exception, he sat next to his disheveled mother, resting his hand on her thigh, staring blankly at her tear-stained face.

His mother was always the one wearing beautiful clothes, her chest always thrust forward like a hen, her mouth always ready to laugh. But now, her blond hair was messy, the corners of her mouth had purple streaks, her eyes were red, her makeup was gone, like a clown in a circus.

“Mom . . .” He obediently buried his head in his mother’s arms, softly moaning to call her.

She gently stroked his head, whispering painful moans into his ear. “My little child, your father abandoned you and me . . .”

Jack was startled by his mother’s words, ‘abandoned’, he knew that word, it was an extremely terrible word. Being abandoned means not being loved, not being able to live in a house, not being able to eat well, dress warmly and sleep well. Jack had heard the maids whispering to each other stories about abandoned children, who were sold into circuses, turned into clowns for the people.

“So what should we do to avoid being abandoned, Mom?”

“My dear, only you can help us avoid being abandoned, you must…”

Jack tricked the maid to the open window, then pushed her down from the upper floor, the woman only had time to scream in horror, like the cry of an animal that the cook or butcher would make every day. She fell into the garden, her head crushed, her brains scattered everywhere, blood splattered onto her mother’s favorite rose garden next door. Her body was twisted and distorted, blood stained the black and white maid’s uniform.

He looked at the mangled corpse below indifferently, now, he would be happy again.

5,

Jack didn't understand what he did wrong.

The obstacle was gone, Phillip was so lonely, Jack was so delicate, why didn't he love him?

Could it be that Phillip didn't like men? But men and women weren't that different? Jack was even better than others? He was rich, kind, gentle, young and beautiful. He wasn't inferior to anyone?

Phillip should have regarded him as a lifesaver, then been moved by his devotion, he became his lover, then they got married, living happily together for the rest of their lives.

Phillip's disappearance made Jack extremely tormented and miserable. He thought he had fallen in love with that man, not just a feeling of jealousy towards that pitiful Christina, but love, a love he didn't know if it was as pure as the stars or as dark and dirty as mud.

The further away he was from him, the more he missed that person. But the more he thought, the colder he felt. He was afraid of a future where he didn't have the control he wanted. He wanted to love and be loved, but he didn't want to be lied to, betrayed, or stabbed in the back like his father had cheated on his mother.

What accompanied Jack's longing were nightmares. He often dreamed of Christina coming to curse him. She often walked around the house in a white dress, but Jack never saw Christina clearly, he always saw her image as vague and faint. Only his fear of the dark became worse.

6,

Phillip left, for a long time, a year, two years, until the third year, he suddenly returned.

Jack saw a familiar figure in front of his apartment, although they hadn't seen each other for three years, but if he put Phillip in a crowded stream of people, he was confident that he could still find him.

He stood in front of his house, holding a suitcase in his left hand, a black leather bag in his right. Still the familiar tall and thin figure, wearing a dull black suit, the edge of the shirt stained with wax, along with a white shirt. Occasionally, he would tilt his right wrist to look at the watch that was worn backwards.

Phillip, it was Phillip! It was him! Jack felt his heart pounding in his chest, he was so nervous, his heart was beating so fast, he thought he could have a stroke and die right here, right now. Jack felt his cheeks getting hotter by the second, red as a tomato.

“Jack.” He knew he was there, Phillip walked towards him, standing in front of him.

The Phillip before his eyes was far from the Phillip in his memory. He looked completely different from before, his black hair tied low at the nape of his neck, his face had something tired and sad. His eye bags were dark, his eyes were different too. His eyes were dark, like someone who had lost hope of living, no longer passionate about the present life.

The left half of his face was badly burned, covered with medical bandages, but it seemed that the burn was too big, the square bandages could not cover it all. The burn marks were scattered all over his face, like the fire from hell gnawing at his heart. Poor Phillip used to be a very handsome man. Jack realized that he was completely blind in his left eye, it was completely covered by the burn, and probably no longer able to be used.

"Brother Phillip..." Jack said tremblingly, he felt that the other's voice was trembling just like him, he felt so embarrassed, luckily his hair was messy, covering half of his face, rarely anyone knew that he was embarrassed. Looking at him, he looked so neat and tidy, while he was only wearing a dark gray overcoat, a colored shirt and trousers, holding a palette and an unfinished painting. "You came to see me?"

He looked at him, nodded slightly, and continued speaking softly. "I love you, Jack. “Shall we date?”

Jack quickly raised his head, staring at him, he stammered and asked again. This was not in his plan, Phillip loved him? If he loved him, why did he leave like that? Something was wrong, he didn’t understand why.

“You said you love me?”

“Yes, I’ve loved you for a long time.”

How could he be so calm? Those embarrassing words, why did he say them so gently? His reason rang an alarm bell, hoping he would sober up to face the Phillip in front of him. That’s not right, who would ever give him love for free?

But Jack was so happy, he didn’t care about anything anymore. He reached out, hugged him tightly, the corners of his eyes were wet. “Oh, I’m so happy. I love you too.”

7,

Phillip stayed at his house for a day, and on the second day, he told him to clean up his personal belongings in the house, because he had bought a house in –---, and they would move there to live together.

Jack agreed without hesitation, he had read some newspaper clippings about that place. –---- was a small neighborhood, with nearly three hundred residents living there. Some time ago, it was a famous neighborhood full of crime, with a robbery every three days, a fight every day regardless of age or target. The mayor there was an old man, too weak and powerless to do anything to protect the neighborhood's security. Everyone was afraid of these criminals.

But in the past three years, the number of crimes there had unexpectedly decreased. It was as if those people had gone to another city to cause havoc, –---- returned to the peaceful atmosphere as before. The residents were happy, working hard, the money was kept in safes, drawers instead of the pockets of bad guys.

Living there was also a good thing, he told himself.

8,

The second month after they moved to their new place, Phillip took the initiative to ask him if he wanted to sleep with him.

That night, Jack sat in Phillip's room, his face down, his cheeks flushed, he obediently sat on the edge of the bed facing the door. He had even taken a shower and prepared everything. Because he was so nervous, he looked around.

Jack respected Phillip's privacy so he never intentionally wanted to go into the room (if he wanted to, he would have done it a long time ago). It turned out that his room was simpler than he thought, a wardrobe, a wooden desk, a wooden cabinet next to the bed and many wax statues neatly arranged in the corner. Phillip was not in the habit of using electric lights, there were lights installed everywhere in the house, it was just that he didn't like to use them, Jack always saw Phillip lighting candles in the room.

The wooden door opened slightly, Phillip slowly walked in, he was wearing a thin black dress, the kind with lace that he often saw in adult porn movies, vaguely seeing his sensitive parts under the weak candlelight. Phillip held the candle, turned off the lights in the room, and slowly approached. Jack unconsciously turned his face away, for some reason he felt embarrassed, he was already twenty-two years old, being in contact with this kind of thing was normal. Calm down Jack, you shouldn't act like a virgin.

"Jack?" Phillip walked over, he looked at him with worried eyes.

"Phillip, you look great."

Up close, he could see how attractive he looked. Phillip's skin was already white, a pale, pale white, the black dress made him look even whiter. The lace pattern on his chest, because of its sexy effect, couldn't cover the mottled burns on his left side, and below was ordinary plain silk. He placed the candle on the wooden cabinet, wrapped his arms around the man's neck, and gently sat on Jack's lap. "Thank you."

Jack's face was red, he felt his breath around his ear, the feeling of touching his body made Jack confused and embarrassed. Phillip looked at him, slowly took off his skirt, his skin was clearly exposed before Jack's hungry eyes. One by one, everything was revealed before his eyes.

Phillip's body was not too strong or had firm muscles like those of bodybuilders, it was just a faint layer of muscle on the abdomen and chest, the result of many times carrying wax statues. The burn spread down to his abdomen, it was like a fire burning someone else.

He looked down in confusion, wasn't Phillip a man like him? Why did he have that?

"A woman's vagina." Phillip took his hand, placed his hand on his vagina, and let Jack feel it himself. What he called a vagina was a pinkish-white flesh slit, hairless, soft like a baby's skin. His thin, slightly gray hand contrasted with the color of the thing.

“Don’t you like it, Jack?”

“I…” Jack trembled as he touched the soft vaginal lips, and he felt himself blushing, like a drunkard. “…I do.”

Phillip lowered his head, and he gently unzipped his trousers. The pitiful penis that was trapped in his trousers before the obscene scene, once released, immediately raised its head. He looked at the semi-erect penis in his hand, slowly stroking it to stimulate him.

His black hair drooped slightly, and Jack stared blankly at the person in front of him, pleasure gradually gathering in his lower abdomen. And in the throes of pleasure, he suddenly saw a figure in the far corner. A woman wearing a dirty dress, with long, messy hair, was looking towards him.

Christina...

Jack pushed Phillip away in panic, his eyes widened as he looked at him, then at the corner of the house that had been empty for a long time. His hands trembled as he hugged his chest, cold sweat pouring down his forehead. “Hah hah hah, . . .”

“Jack, what’s wrong with you?” Phillip looked at him worriedly, he was about to run to get some water but was grabbed by the man, trembling as he spoke.

“I, I’m afraid of the dark, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” He knelt down on the ground, holding onto his hand like a drowning man hugging a log, his face lowered, not daring to look at Phillip. “Give me a little time. Phillip, don’t leave me.”

“Hah hah... can we... turn on the lights?”

“Okay.”

After that, they started making love again. Phillip hugged him, he didn't let him see his face, although he was very cooperative below, the soft moist flesh wall hugged him tightly, but Jack heard moans mixed with sobs of pain in his ears. Was it because he was so happy that he cried or was he really feeling pain? Jack didn't know. He had never done this with anyone before, even in the mediocre porn movies he had been exposed to, the people in them were all happy and joyful.

If making love to the person you love is happiness, Phillip, why are you crying?

9,

The loud doorbell woke him up, Jack struggled to get up from the ground, yesterday, he was so tired that he fell asleep on the floor without realizing it. Jack groped around, turned on his phone, "eight thirty-two in the morning", another day had passed, another day without Phillip. Yesterday's bowl of porridge and apple were still on the kitchen table, ants were swarming around the apple, the air was filled with the smell of ant honey. Jack's skin crawled as he looked at the swarm of swords swarming around yesterday's food. Never mind, he'll clean up later.

"Hello, is Mr. Walter home?" The voice from outside called out, Jack looked at the wooden door with disgust, he didn't want to see anyone, go away quickly. Who was Walter, he was Jack Ripper, not the Mr. Walter they needed.

"Oh no, . . ." He was about to reply, chasing that energetic postman away, but he was interrupted, the remaining half of his sentence was swallowed back.

"We have a package from Mr. Phillip Renmant for Mr. Walter, if you are home, please come out and sign for us."

Phillip Renmant?! The familiar name startled him. Wasn't he his lover? But why was it a package for Walter? Or is it a coincidence, perhaps the name Phillip Renmant is quite common (?). But what if it really is Phillip? What if it is you?

“Mr. Walter? Hello, hello? Are you home?” The voice of the employee and the knock on the door urged him, decided to go, decided to go.

“It’s me, it’s me.” Jack hurriedly ran to open the door, even if it was just a small glimmer of hope, he had to grasp it.

The employee was startled, he stepped back, looking at ‘Walter’ with an appraising gaze. What kind of person was late and still banged the door open, if it wasn’t for the meager salary he needed to support himself, he wouldn’t bother with this job.

Mr. ‘Walter’ was a young man (?) in his twenties, with messy gray-black hair, slightly sunken cheeks, chapped lips, rosy cheeks, his whole body trembling, his clothes disheveled and unsightly. His figure was like a stooped man, his whole body was slightly bent, his hunched over, his hands tightly wrapped in bandages, trembling. He looked more like a pervert than a resident of the neighborhood.

“Paper… quickly give me the paper.” He wheezed like a dog with pneumonia, spreading his trembling hands, intending to snatch the box from the boy’s hand.

“Here sir, please sign the confirmation.” The boy handed him the piece of paper, ‘Walter’ awkwardly felt all over his body, but couldn’t find the pen. He hurriedly ran into the house, then came back with a pencil that had been sharpened to a piece about two knuckles long. ‘Walter’ shakily took the paper, signed hastily, then shoved it into the boy’s hand, reached out to snatch the box, hurriedly hugged it to his chest, closed the door, and went back into the house.

He stared blankly at the wooden door, occasionally hearing Walter's thumping sound and his panting. Oh, now he looked like a madman and a mentally ill person at the same time.

10,

Jack trembled as he held the cardboard box in his hand, a brown cardboard box with tape on it, with the recipient's address written on it: "Walter Forgen, house number 23."

It was indeed delivered to the wrong house, he couldn't help but sigh, that person named Walter must be someone who lived in the same neighborhood, with a different house number than him, because house number 23 was his house number, Phillip's house number. Perhaps it was a mistake during the delivery process, or perhaps the clerk's eyesight wasn't good.

He conveniently grabbed the apple knife from yesterday, opened the parcel. Inside it was quite simple, there were some iron tools, a white cloth, two notebooks and a letter. Jack picked up the letter and looked at it. It was just a piece of paper torn from a notebook, folded neatly, and put in the box.

[Dear Mr. Walter...] He was startled when he saw the handwriting on the paper. It was Phillip's handwriting. It was indeed Phillip's package, but why was it sent to Walter and not him?

Jack pursed his lips, he suddenly felt jealous of this man he had never met before. He didn't understand why he was so easily jealous of others. Why? Jack and Phillip were lovers, weren't they? Why did a stranger get his attention, and not someone who had shared a bed with him all along?

[I'm very sorry that I can't continue teaching sculpture to your daughter. Lily is a very obedient child, she is diligent, studious, and adorable. Honestly, I'm very grateful to you for agreeing to let me teach her about sculpture. She is really talented, if she continues to practice and hone her talent, she will definitely be a good sculptor.

In the parcel, I have a gift for her: my old sculpting tool set and a dress.

I know your family is not rich, especially for a funeral director like you, and Lily, she loves sculpting, buying her a set of tools is quite expensive, and besides, she probably doesn't dare to tell you directly that she wants it. Just buying the wax costs a lot of money, so I would like to give the tool set back to Lily. Although they are not too new, they are all well preserved and have all the tools that Lily needs. I hope that after nearly two years of not studying, she is still passionate about wax sculpture art.

This dress is my sister's old dress, a white dress with a simple pattern, when Lily becomes a young woman, she will be tall enough to wear it properly. Please forgive me, I don't know what to give you, because I myself, at the time of writing this letter, am not rich. I hope you understand our feelings.

I was very touched when you tried to send me money for Lily's education, but my friend Walter, I told you that I would not take the money, teaching sculpture was my idea anyway. You don't need to worry too much about that.

As for what's left in the box, please burn it for me.

Your friend, Phillip Renmant. ]

The letter made him freeze, two years ago, that was before they moved here. According to the letter, Phillip knew Walter, and then he offered to teach Lily. Walter seemed embarrassed to see Phillip teaching his daughter for free, so he tried to send him money many times but was refused. Later, Phillip quit teaching and came here to live with Jack. So what does that have to do with his disappearance?

11,

Jack took out each item in it, a waist tool bag, a white dress, a thick diary and an old notebook, just like what he said in the letter.

He silently looked at each item. Jack knew this tool bag, he always saw it on his waist, like an inseparable part. The bag was made of leather, a wood brown color, the stitching had signs of fraying and peeling. It had many small compartments, each compartment contained two or three tool bars with sturdy iron blades, sharp enough to carve wax without hurting others. Jack pulled a chisel out of the bag, holding it in his hand, this was something Jack had given him last Christmas. It was still new, it was unclear whether Phillip had kept it carefully, or if he despised him and didn't bother to use the gift he gave him.

Then Jack turned to look at the white dress in the letter. He spread the dress on the ground, looking at the whole thing, a white dress mixed with cream yellow to keep the color for a long time, the sleeves were puffy, the skirt was sewn in two layers. The dress did not have many decorations, only the sleeves and the hem of the skirt had a few lace patterns that were surprisingly simple. Jack had seen Christina wear this dress before, but that was a long time ago.

There were two notebooks, one was a black diary with a name on it. And one was worn out from being used too much. He chose to open the first notebook, because the diary had Christina's name on it, and Jack did not care much about his old friend.

He opened the notebook, inside were full of portraits of other people. At first, there were paintings of Christina, sometimes Phillip would be there, there was even a woman who looked like the servant who had an affair with his father.

But the more he opened, the paintings behind drew very strange and ugly figures. The faces of men or women (?) were distorted and deformed. Some had crooked mouths, protruding teeth like rats, sunken cheeks, and wrinkled skin. Some had slanted eyes, sunken faces, freckled cheeks, flat noses, and pointed ears. Those ugly faces were all accompanied by black ink strokes and notes describing each person's unique characteristics.

If this notebook was the thing that kept the important drawings for Phillip, including his little sister and his career in criminology, then why not Jack?

Was he not that valuable?

12,

And the diary.

Jack held the notebook in his hand, for some reason he felt a chill, probably because of the fever last night. He glanced at it, it was just a simple black notebook, thicker than the other one, with the name Christina written on the cover.

[ —-/—-/–---- : Mom isn't coming back anymore, Phillip said that she went to a far away place, only the two of us are left. He held an envelope with a lot of money but I don't need the money, I wish Mom would come back.

—-/—-/–---- : I earned some money today from selling my wax, I hope it will surprise Phillip.

—-/—-/–---- : Phillip started researching something, although he didn't tell me, I will always support him! . . . ]

What is this, Jack frowned at the neat handwriting in the diary, is it Christina's? Why is it here? He glanced through the boring diary pages of that kind young lady, thinking that when Christina passed away, the diary would also end, but it turned out not to be like that.

[ —-/—-/–---- : Dear Christina, I have thought a lot about your death. It makes me doubt everything. . . ]

Phillip's handwriting!

[ . . . I thought that with my research, I would create a clean society, without crime. You would live in a better society, unlike our irresponsible father and unfortunate mother.

But I was wrong. Criminals still took you away from me, still turned the ideal world I wanted into a dirty place for them to live. Why can't you, the good people, be happy?

Your death makes me regret, as I write these lines, I hope you in heaven can listen to my heart. I realize that my efforts were for nothing. Everything became meaningless.

I know that you and Jack love each other. You are smart enough to understand that. Jack was a very good guy, I also liked that honest boy. When you died, Jack came to help me prepare your funeral, he even comforted me. Jack hugged me, but his hands were shaking, if I were Jack, I wouldn't be able to accept it either.

But I know, I owe you two, I owe you a future and I owe Jack a happy life. . . ]

The diary was left blank for a page, the next page was written three years ago.

[ —-/—-/–---- : I turned —---- into a livable place, it used to be a place with a lot of criminals. It took me almost three years to make them disappear, but now everything is fine. Tomorrow, I will bring Jack here. I will live under your name, Christina, live the life you should have had. ]

Jack suddenly understood where the chill he felt came from. Phillip was crazy, he thought he and Christina loved each other, he loved him because he felt sorry for Christina.

How could he think like that? How could he do that? How could he treat him like that? Jack didn't love Christina, the one he loved was Phillip. Why was their relationship built on a misunderstanding and not a beautiful and precious love?

He felt his hands shaking, his eyes were wet, blurring the neat letters on the discolored page. He felt pain from being deceived. It turned out, the person he loved didn't love him at all.

Because Phillip was his brother, so he had to fulfill his duty to his sister. Loving Jack was just one of those duties. He felt guilty, he felt indebted to them.

And now, he was putting that debt back on Jack's neck.

[ —-/—-/–---- : Jack was very touched when he met me, he accepted it without hesitation.

—-/—-/–---- : I suddenly understood why you loved Jack, he was a very good person. He made up holidays (like the day of the jumping lizard, the day of the flying crocodile, the day of the cactus with leaves...) to find an excuse to give gifts and flowers to 'you' Christina.

—-/—-/–---- : I slept with Jack, I hoped I could get pregnant. Jack pushed me away, he seemed scared, it was natural, that was Phillip Renmant, not his Christina Renmant. Even though we slept together normally afterwards, I still felt very guilty. To you, to Jack, and to my own conscience.

—-/—-/–---- : Even though he had surgery, maybe men are still men, women are still women, I can't get pregnant, Christina. I want to give you two a happy family but I can't do it.

—-/—-/–---- : Today marks a year since Jack and I have been together. Tomorrow, I will leave. . . ]

So he left him. Like a child who has had enough of a toy, heartlessly throwing it aside even though they had so many beautiful memories together.

[ —-/—-/–---- : This is the last thing I will do for you, Christina, as your brother.

The gifts Jack gave you, I sold them, and with the money I saved, I used it to adopt a child in —-. I cannot create a happy family for you. I hope Jack and the child can be happy without you, Christina.

A friend told me that if I burn my belongings, the deceased can receive them. I know I will not be able to go to heaven to see you, so I hope this diary can reach you.

If you receive this diary, I will have committed suicide in a lake somewhere.

I have always felt lucky to be your brother. ]

The last day of the diary was yesterday.

13,

No? No. No. No. No. No. He didn't expect this in return. He didn't wait for Phillip to say that he had committed suicide. He didn't expect this ending. No, Phillip, how dare he lie to him? How dare he control everything as he wished?

Christina wasn't the reason, Jack wasn't his puppet. Phillip, why, how dare you?

"Jack..." He heard a groan behind him, a weak female voice, a tone that he had heard until he was sick of hearing it. Jack raised his head, Christina was standing in front of him again.

Christina always appeared in a blood-stained white dress, her head was torn and not intact, her limbs were black and covered in dirt. Jack had long since lost sight of Christina's eyes, her eyes were a mixture of hair, blood and brain, only her lips always had a smile, just like when she was alive. Christina pointed straight at Jack's poor face, groaning, "... are you satisfied?"

“You feel satisfied by deceiving my brother, right?”

Jack should have ignored Christina like every other time. But when he heard her mention him, he could barely maintain his usual elegant demeanor. His love for Phillip was not a joke at all, he loved him not to use that poor man to satisfy his own selfish desires.

Jack threw the diary in his hand towards Christina. The book passed through her body, flew away and hit the door, falling on the cold ground with a thud. “Go to hell, Christina!”

Christina did not disappear, she covered her mouth with her hand, giggled, and continued to moan and talk to him, “Ha ha ha ha, the earth turns out to be round like this. You killed my mother, killed me, and now my brother too. . .”

“Shut up! What do you know about my love for Phillip!??”

“You . . . never felt regretful right?” Christina still did not know, it seemed that every second Jack was angry was another second she felt happy.

Jack's pale face turned red, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes glared at Christina. Aha, I know what I have to do.

Jack bent down, grabbed the white dress, ran up to the room, he sat on Phillip's old wooden chair and he never came back.