Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Explaining where you lived was a...delicate task, to put it lightly. People around you already called you 'weird' for wanting to live literally in the middle of nowhere.

   More often than not, you said that you lived in a farmhouse in the forest. Calling at a 'farmhouse' made people too interested in the house itself to ask further questions. You dared not call it a cabin in the woods, because even though no one said anything, you could tell they were already making the murder associations.

   It hadn't been your first choice of house. It was old, for a start, and it didn't even have locks on the windows. The room plan was all over the place: living room next to the kitchen, a front door that was pretty much useless, and an office that could have been split into two rooms. But it was yours, so you weren't going to complain.

   When you had officially moved in and got yourself settled, the first person you called was your best friend.

   'So,' you began. 'How's my security rating? Does it officially meet your standards?'

   'Well,' Socks said, 'it's not bad. Away from people, check. Lots of good locks—none of that technology shit—check. Uhh, what else? I can't remember.'

   'That was pretty much it, I think. Locks and no people.'

   'How's the house itself? Is it nice?'

   'Really nice, yeah! Got all my stuff set up in the office, so even if my mattress is on the floor I can still pay the mortgage,' you joked. 'Seriously, though, it's amazing. I wake up, it's quiet, and I don't have to worry about random noises.'

   'Hell yeah. Just what you wanted. I gotta say, though, it's a bit weird that no one else even looked at the house. A house like that for that cheap? You'd have to be mental to pass that up.'

   'I'm not complaining,' you replied with a shrug. 'Not my problem if no one else wanted it.'

   'True, I wouldn't complain either, but...don't you think it's dodgy?' When you laughed, Socks added, 'Hey, I'm just worried about you! God forbid I show care for my friend.'

   'Don't worry, I know you're worried. I'll be fine, though! What's the worst that could happen?'

   'I don't know, maybe a repeat of uni?!'

   'Nah, that won't happen. What're they gonna do, steal my work stuff?'

   'Ha-ha, very funny. When does work start, by the way?'

   'Whenever next Monday is. I've got everything downloaded so it's just waiting.'

   'I'm so jealous,' Socks said with a sad groan. 'I'd kill for the chance to work from home...guess I can't really take the servers home with me. Not sure the bus drivers would approve.'

   'Probably not. And also that might be theft.'

   'Tch, how boring'

Your journey outside was made bearable by the cool breeze. The sun was high in the sky, joined by large clouds that morphed into shapes the longer you gazed up at them.

    The trees around you reached up and up, creating a roof of leaves and branches that thickened the further you walked, blocking out the sun's rays.

    The forest around you was alive with colour. Summer was underway, and the vivid leaves stood out brightly against the dark wood and dirt, and the flowers that were dotted around added splashes of colour to the mainly green landscape. It was a sight you were sure you'd never grow tired of, occasionally snapping a few pictures on your phone with a self-satisfied nod. Autumn would begin soon, and you wanted to document the change in the forest as much as possible.

    Your daily walk was your mandatory 'go outside and touch grass' break before you started your other job for the rest of the afternoon: transcribing old documents that no one else in the company could read. If someone had trouble reading someone's handwriting, they sent it to you and paid you per page.

    Quick and easy cash.

    As you turned a corner, your phone already unlocked and ready to take another picture of the scenery, you suddenly froze. Was...someone watching you? You could've sworn that a pair of eyes were locked onto the back of your neck like a sniper's mark.

    Time to go home.

Chapter Text

The nearest town was only a ten minute or so walk down the road. A few days after you moved in, you decided that you would venture down there, despite being (literally and idiomatically) a bag of nerves.

   You weren't scared of the outside. You weren't scared of people, either, although that was debatable depending on the day. What you were scared of was crowds, because a busy street meant that you might see a few extra faces that shouldn't be there.

   You knew exactly why you saw them. An incident when you were a child left you on the verge of death thanks to a being that you called 'No-Face,' and you had awoken in the hospital with a fuzzy head, staring up into a face that shouldn't be stared at.

    The grey-ish face was normal if you ignored the stitches that ran across his cheeks and neck, trailing down to the skin that was hidden under a striped scarf. His forehead was covered by a mop of brown hair, and a pair of bright green eyes looked down at you with mild interest.

   You barely reacted. Blinking in silence, you held the man's gaze with confusion slowly building up inside of you. The face would change the longer you looked at it, like someone was flipping a switch in your eyes. The stitches would vanish, his skin wouldn't be grey, and his hair would tidy itself up. Then you would blink and it would return to how it looked before.

   'Who are you?' you croaked out. 'What happened?' You could barely remember the events leading up to your admission, and all you could recall was an empty white face and long, abnormal limbs.

   Your questions took the man by surprise, and he took a wary step back. Once you sat up, weak arms struggling to push yourself upright, he scurried away towards the wall like you were an infectious disease.

   'Wait,' you begged, 'please don't leave me. I don't wanna be alone.' Tears welling up in your eyes, you waited for the man to either leave or speak.

   Thankfully, he chose to speak. 'Can you see me?'

   A nod.

   'Can you hear me?'

   Another nod.

   'What's your name?'

   You recited your full name, just like your parents had taught you to, but when you instinctively moved onto the next line (your address), you were quickly cut off.

   'It's alright, kid, I don't need to know where you live. Just your name. My name's Liu.' He seemed to regain some confidence and sat down on the chair to your left, giving you the most comforting smile that he could offer. 'A very nice lady is going to come talk to you soon and explain things. She might look a bit scary, but she won't hurt you, alright? Before she comes, though, I want you to make a promise.'

   At the age of seven, you didn't really understand the severity of what was going on, but upon hearing the word 'promise' you said, 'I'm very good at keeping promises,' in the most serious voice you could muster, wiping your eyes to rid them of tears. The man's switching appearance was making you dazed.

   'Good.' Liu held out his pinky. 'Promise me that you won't tell your parents that you saw me or the nice lady, or anyone that other people don't see. Can you do that?'

   'I can try.'

   'Good,' he said again. 'I'm going to stay here until the nice lady comes. If anyone else comes in, pretend I'm invisible.'

   The man kept his word and stayed until 'the nice lady' arrived. She explained that you had been given a gift that allowed you to see through a veil that hid monsters from human eyes. She didn't expand on what the monsters were, but after doing an extensive amount of research a few years later, you realised that the monsters were the henchpeople of No-Face—things called 'creepypastas.'

   Their existence became an unnerving second nature to you after a while, and it no longer came as a surprise when you watched a monochromatic clown suddenly gain colours so bright it hurt. All it meant was that you had to observe people a little closer in the hope of catching the 'switch' between what you called their corrupt form and original form.

   You hoped that you were safe in the forest, but you weren't sure. It wasn't like you could look it up on the internet; as far as everyone else was concerned, they were fictional, but you figured that the more of them that you saw in a single day meant that your chances of encountering No-Face for a second time grew higher and higher, and the longer you spent in the crowds could speed up that disgusting reunion.

   It was a blessing that town was quiet that day. The remains of a market was being packed up in the square, and a small congregation of bingo players were making their way towards a café.

   Despite the variety of shops, not many piqued your interest as you wandered down the paved path, yet you made a mental note of what was there anyway, just in case you ever needed them. There was a supermarket, smaller shops selling local produce, stationary, clothes, cosmetics, antiques—

   Coming to a halt, you stared through the grimy window of the antique shop. A sign above the door said, 'Good as New' and a little bell tinkled above you as you stepped inside.

   A small corridor let to the main shop, where the till was immediately to your right. An elderly woman sat behind it in a comfortable looking armchair, reading the thickest book you had ever seen. She looked up as soon as your shoe hit the wooden floorboards, and she waved.

   'Afternoon,' she said. 'Are you looking for anything in particular? I haven't seen you around here before.' Her voice was croaky with age and was heavily tinged with the thick, local accent that you barely managed to understand.

   'Oh, I just moved in not too long ago. I thought I best check out what's in town, so I'm just browsing.'

   'Are you the one who bought that old house in the woods?'

   This surprised you, and you couldn't hide this as you asked: 'How did you know?' Please don't tell me this place has a psychic grandma.

   'My granddaughter's an estate agent, you know, and she told me this morning that someone moved in.' She gave you a toothy smile. 'It's so nice to see young people moving into the area. Do you like the house?'

   'Yeah, it's nice.'

   'Good, good. There's a few tales about it—would you be interested in hearing one?'

   'If you wouldn't mind.' I'm gonna get shot in the arse for this.

   Your answer seemed to cheer the old lady up, and, with the assistance of a shining walking stick, got to her feet and tottered towards the cabinets full of antiques, gesturing for you to follow her with a shrivelled up hand.

   'When I was a girl,' she began, 'me and my twin would play in the forest and talk with the old man that lived there; his parents built that house, you know. He would sit us down in his living room on cold days and tell us the stories he used to be told as a child. There was one story that my twin and I adored, and we would beg and beg to hear it every time we went to see him.

   'It was about how his parents picked where to build their house. Apparently, they took one look at the land and said that it would be a site of great importance in a few centuries. The son never got told all of what happened, but he always told us he thought they said a demon would have an attachment to the house and an act of God would be defied. He always said it was like Beauty and the Beast, even though he knew my twin and I were never too fond of it.' She came to a stop in front of a large framed photograph on the wall. 'Those two there—do you see?'

   You nodded, gazing up at the grainy faces of the couple. 'I do. They must have been incredibly resourceful to build an entire house themselves. Did they have help?'

   'I'm not entirely sure, dear. I would imagine that they did, but I certainly wouldn't be surprised if they didn't. Are there any pieces that you want to hear the story of? Everything in this little shop has a tale to it.'

   You were certain that it was a ploy to make you buy something, and who knew that little old ladies could be so persuasive? Turning away from the photo, you made your way to the back of the shop, which was darker and more cramped. It was filled with items that no one wanted.

   Shuffling past a ceramic lamp while trying to gave a moth-bitten teddy bear a wide berth (you did not like the look in its button eyes), your attention gravitated towards a pocket knife that sat next to a porcelain teapot.

   It was the prettiest knife you had ever seen. Flipping the blade, you ran your finger against the flat edge, the cold metal sending tiny shocks through your system. Your other hand gripped the handle, which was engraved with an ornate pattern that pressed against your palm.

   The price tag told you that it cost £35, and you internally reasoned with yourself about how to manage your limited finances until payday. You could manage.

   'Hey, uh...?'

   'Marigold.' The old woman popped up on your side, demeanour filled with the innocence of someone who had been standing there the entire time.

   'Right. Marigold. Can I buy this?'

   'Of course.' She took the knife from you, turning it over in her fingers as she began to walk away. 'I remember this one well. Lord, how along ago was it? Three or so years? A lovely young man brought it in, saying it belonged to his best friend before he disappeared. Ah, what was his name? No matter.'

   'Did they ever find his friend?'

   'I don't think so, dear. The young man said that no one remembers his friend except him. A rather strange thing, is it not?'

   You paid for knife, which was wrapped in gold tissue paper and placed in a small bag. When your fingers closed around the string handles, Marigold clasped your hands with her own in a rare display of strength that threw you off guard.

   'Your house has seen many days pass,' she said. 'If the Lucas' were right, you will be faced with many things. Do not let them scare you. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to come to me.'

   'Thank...you?' You didn't waste any time in hanging around; your exit was swift, and when you stepped out into the street, you weren't sure if the air was harsher than it had been before.

Chapter Text

'Hey! Glad you could make it.' The words of your kind and charitable boss, Annalise, were the first to greet you that morning when you logged into your first call.

   'Morning, Annalise. It's nice to finally get started and meet everyone.' Including you, there was only seven people in your team, making it pretty easy for you to take note of everyone's names: Annalise, Jingyi, Bobbie, Daithí, Essex, and Gia.

   'Wow, you're enthusiastic for a Monday, aren't you? Nice to see someone around here who doesn't turn into a zombie as soon as Monday rolls around.' Her clearly pointed comment brought a reaction out of someone called Essex, who scoffed and muttered something you couldn't quite make out.

   Just wait until I'm more comfortable around here, you thought, then you'll see how much I really hate Mondays.

   'Alright,' Annalise began, clapping her hands together. 'The exhibition we've been asked to prepare is about African history and its representation in sources.' She went into a (somewhat) long-winded explanation about what was required, ending it with, 'So, who wants to cover what? Hey, how about our new member take the first pick.'

   Surprised at being put on the spot like that, you quickly scanned the list and picked the first one that piqued your interest. 'I'll take Meroë if that's cool?'

   'Of course! How about the rest of you?'

   'Anyone else want to cover the Bantu Expansion?' asked Gia. 'Or am I good to take it?'

   'All yours, G!,' Bobbie answered. 'I'll dibs internal trade.'

   The other items on the list were swiftly claimed by each person, and you were all sent on your ways with Annalise's infectious energy worming its way into your capillaries.

   Even though the call was over, the group chat you were now apart of was rarely silent, with messages popping up every few minutes. It was nice to read through people's thoughts as you worked, occasionally reacting to messages with a heart or a thumbs up.

   Turning your attention to your actual work, you reached into one of your desk drawers and pulled out a notebook, as well as the first pen your fingers found: a black felt tip.

   It'll do.

   In a matter of minutes, your notebook was laid out exactly how you wanted it, and soon enough you were scribbling down notes that were only legible to you (although that was debatable at times). You were going to type them up later anyway, so you didn't give a shit what your handwriting looked like.

   The pinging of your phone drew your attention away.

Annalise:

yo newbie! how you doing?

You:

pretty good tbh

just noting down some stuff about the meroë head

Jingyi:

Is that not the Roman statue head?

You:

yep ! taken as a trophy by a queen (literally)

Gia:

Icon behaviour OMG

You:

right??

she was so cool

Bobbie:

you HAVE to include her please please please please please

Essex:

bobbie babe get off the floor

Bobbie:

i hear powerful woman i want to know

You:

lol dw im writing about her as we speak

Bobbie:

i owe you my Life.

   It was true what they said: time flies when you have fun. You barely remembered taking lunch and getting up from your desk to stretch, because the darkening sky outside came as a huge surprise to you when you looked.

   Since when did it get dark?!

   It was time to go from one research project to the next. You were itching to check out the story the old woman had told you about a man vanishing and being forgotten by everyone but his best friend. The morbid curiosity of, 'I wonder if it's true?' was spurring you on.

   You closed your notebook, stretching and arching your back until something cracked, leaving your spine feeling loose. You let out a small groan of relief, flexed your hands and began to type away at the keyboard, your fingers knowing where the keys were without you having to look.

   ******* disappearance of man 20**

   Only one article showed up, dating from just over two weeks ago. The title read, 'My Best Friend Is Missing, But No One Remembers Him.' You clicked onto it, curious about its contents.

   It was an interview with a man named 'Greg Hunt'. He was pictured at the top of the article, as they usually do in interview pieces. He was tall and kind of well built, with a mess of blond hair on his head.

   You skimmed through the article, your eyebrows furrowing as you took in the information. According to Greg, his best friend, a fellow university student named Jack, got involved with a girl who was into cults, and Greg suspected that they kidnapped Jack and forced him to be a part of a ritual or something.

   You scrolled down a bit, where the 'ritual' was discussed. The ritual did indeed happen, and everyone was slaughtered, their throats slashed, eyes gouged out and guts exposed—barring the kidneys, which were missing. You cringed as the images of the dead cultists drew itself in your mind, all the gory details present and correct.

   In the final paragraph, a quote from Greg made your heart ache in sympathy for the poor guy.

   'It's been just over four years since he went missing, and I feel like I've had to deal with this alone. I don't know why no one else remembers him, when I have all of his stuff from our dorm. I've seen things online about this horror story...'Eyeless Jack', or something like that. Fiction, I bet, but I can't stop wondering if that's what the cult did to him, and he's out there somewhere, alone and suffering.

   'If you're interested in helping me look for him, please contact me at +** **** *******.'

   You sat back in your chair, drumming your fingers on your desk as you thought. It wouldn't hurt to offer to help, would it?

   You reached for your phone, but then lowered your arm and turned back to your laptop.

   I'll need to educate myself a bit on this 'Eyeless Jack' story. I don't remember ever seeing him, so he must be someone I haven't met.

   It didn't take long to locate the story. It was, much to your dismay, a Creepypasta story. However, you'd never seen him before, which was a slight relief.

   He seemed to be quite the popular character, you noted, with many fan stories and fan art. The most popular origin story said his full name was 'Jack Nichols', so that was something. His personality differed between works, but his appearance was consistent: messy brown hair, a dark blue mask with eyeholes (which confused you, as he was called 'Eyeless Jack'), a black hoodie and dark jeans. There seemed to be a tar-like substance dripping out of his eye sockets, which was a fact confirmed by a wiki page.

   How can he see where the kidneys are? you wondered, if he supposedly has no eyes, does he have some kind of power that allows him to see? Hmm. Well, based off of what Greg said and the origin story someone wrote, it looks like No-Face wasn't directly involved with the cult incident...unless he influenced it somehow? No, they were worshipping 'Chernabog', whoever the hell that it is. You tapped your chin as you thought, one arm resting across your lap. So Eyeless Jack is technically a demonic entity, which implies it could be reversed? I doubt No-Face would like it, but he won't miss one minion, right?

    You were brought out of your thoughts by a tap on the window behind you. You turned to see Eyeless Jack staring at you through the window, silhouetted against the trees and light sky outside.

Chapter Text

You kept your gaze and demeanour as calm and as steady as you possibly could, trying not to let your fear show as you stared him in the eyes—well, in the eye-sockets. You nodded, acknowledging his presence, and he took a few steps back.

   Was he not expecting me to be able to see him?

   With a caution that would make an onlooker think he was approaching a rabid dog, Eyeless Jack tapped again on the window and gestured for you to open it. He backed away again as you unhooked the window latch and pushed it open, unsure of how open he wanted the window to be.

   Fully open, clearly, because he grabbed the edge of the frame and pulled it as far as it would go so he could lean his entire upper body on the ledge. He pointed at something on your desk, and for a brief second, you could only see a normal man, and not the demonic entity in front of you. With a blink, it returned to normal.

   You followed his finger to see what he was pointing at. The pocket knife.

   'Do you...want it back?' you asked, your voice cracking uncomfortably. There went your attempt at hiding your fear. Goddamn it.

   'Please.' His voice was rough, like it wasn't used often. For some reason, you hadn't expected him to speak.

   You made sure the pocket knife was firmly closed before giving it back to him. Even though it was potentially a stupid idea to give him a weapon, you had been raised better than that. If someone wanted a belonging back, you gave it to them. Simple as. (Also, you might have been a teensy bit worried that upsetting him would result in an untimely demise, or worse, a visit from your worst nightmare.)

   'Where'd you get it from?' Eyeless Jack asked, turning the knife deftly over in his hands.

   'An antique store.'

   'Who put it there?'

   You hesitated. 'Your friend. Greg, I think his name was?'

   'Oh. Cool. Thanks.'

   'You're welcome.' Unsure of what else to say, you tried to strike up conversation by asking, 'How did you know I had it?'

   'Followed you from town,' he replied, with the same kind of nonchalance that someone might have when commenting about the weather. 'Wasn't sure if you had it. Had to make sure.'

   'Ah.' Kinda creepy there, dude. 'I see. You're fond of this then?'

   He nodded. 'Think so. Feels familiar.' It was his turn to ask you a question. 'Why can you see me?'

   'Sorry?'

   'Why can you see me?' he repeated. 'Humans aren't meant to see us, so why can you?'

   'I don't know.' You answered truthfully. There was no point in lying to him—what would you gain from it? 'I ran into No-Face as a kid, and then I could see you all. I don't know how it works or why it works. It just...does,' you said with a shrug. When Eyeless Jack tilted his head in confusion, you added, 'The tall man in the suit. I...can't say his name, I'm sorry.'

   'Oh. The boss. Are you scared of him?'

   With a nod, you said, 'Kinda. It's complicated.'

   'Always is. I get it.' Was it your imagination, or was there a soft edge to his words? 'Don't piss him off and you'll be fine.'

   With a chuckle that didn't sound as shaky as you thought it would, you said, 'Thanks for the advice.'

   'No problem. See you.'

   'Oh. Uh, yeah, see you?'

   He pushed the window shut and turned around, pulling up his hood as he walked away. You watched as the trees swallowed up his shadow and he vanished from sight like a ghost crossing over into another plane of existence.

   As soon as you couldn't see him anymore, you locked the window and tightly pulled the curtains and blinds shut, making sure that nothing could see into your office. Even though he hadn't given you a reason to outright fear him, the lingering paranoia remained, because if he knew where you lived, then who else did?

   You hurried over to your desk, hovering over your laptop, phone in hand as you typed in a phone number that you had made a note of.

   The phone rang for an uncomfortably long time, mere seconds away from dropping onto voicemail before it was picked up and a male voice entered your ear.

   'Greg Hunt speaking.'

   'Mr Hunt, hi there!' you said, relieved that he answered. You quickly introduced yourself before saying, 'I came across the article you were in a few weeks ago, the one about your friend who went missing? I was wondering if you still wanted some help.'

   'I mean, yeah. What kind of help are you offering?'

   'All sorts, really. I'm a digital historical researcher, so I can do all sorts of things. But I have some information I thought you'd might like.'

   'And what's that then?'

   'I've just seen Jack.'

   The line went silent for a minute, and you didn't say anything else until Greg was ready to speak. Honestly, you were glad that he had gone quiet, because you had no idea what to say next. How were you meant to tell someone that their missing best friend was the servant of some god-like creature? One that was insanely popular on the Internet?

   'Was he...alright?' Greg asked eventually.

   'Define "alright".'

   'Alive is a start. What's wrong with him?'

   Fuck, here we go. 'So he's alive,' you began, 'he's very much alive. The problem is that—do you know what a "creepypasta" is?'

   'Those Internet horror stories? My girlfriend is a fan of them so I've picked up a few things. Why?'

   'Jack is one. The same one you mentioned in the interview.' Realising that, to the average person, you sounded completely off your rocker, you hastily added, 'I-I know I sound like a liar, but I promise that I'm not.'

   'I know you aren't.' Greg sounded...tired. Not angry, or offended over what you had said. He sounded like a tired, stressed man who had just had the worst case scenario confirmed. 'I've been wondering it for a while. When Gabby told me about the story, I think I knew that it was Jack. I just...didn't want to believe it.'

   'I don't blame you,' you said. 'I'm sorry to be the one to tell you.'

   His response filled you with reassurance. 'Don't apologise, it's fine. So how was he?'

   'As well as he can be, I guess,' you said. 'He wasn't very talkative, and I don't know who was more frightened: him or me. I don't know what he was like beforehand, though, so I have nothing to compare it to.'

   'He was quiet? That's weird. He used to be a chatty bastard when we were in uni. Why did he seem frightened?'

   'No idea. It was like he didn't want to come near me or something.'

   'Maybe he hasn't interacted with people for a while. I remember him having weeks where he wouldn't speak to people.' He sighed. 'Anything else?'

   'He has the pocket knife. I bought it at the antique shop and he followed me home to ask for it back.'

   'That was you?!'

   'Yep.'

   'Shit. That old lady wasn't losing it. So, wait, if he knows about the knife, does he remember me? Or anything, for that matter?'

   Shaking your head, you said, 'I don't know, I'm sorry. He didn't really react when I mentioned your name, and he said he only wanted the knife because it felt familiar to him. From my experience, it's a lottery about whether or not Proxies keep their memories. Some do, some don't.'

   'Proxies?'

   'They're servants of someone I call "No-Face" cause he, uh, doesn't have one. Me and him have some history, so I don't like saying his name. You know who I mean, right? Tall faceless guy in the suit?'

   'Yep, I know. Don't blame you for being scared of that fucker—I remember seeing that picture when I was younger, it scared the absolute shit out of me. Can't imagine seeing him in person. Is he why you can see his Proxies or whatever they're called?'

   'It's all his fault,' you confirmed with a small laugh. 'It's one of those things, you know? Anyway, I can try and find him again if you want? Try and get him to talk a bit more. I'm sure someone knows where he is.'

   Greg paused for a second, then asked, 'When you say "someone" you mean a Proxy, right?'

   'Yeah.'

   'Is that not dangerous?'

   'Nope. They can't hurt me. It's a rule.' You shrugged your shoulders even though you were alone and continued, 'No idea why it's a thing, but whatever. No need to worry about me; I'll be fine. If I can find someone who knows enough, then maybe we can get him back to normal.'

   'You want to make him human again? Why?'

   'I...' you faltered before admitting, 'I don't know. Maybe I feel sorry for you both, maybe I want to spite No-Face. I don't know. I just want to help.'

   'You don't have to explain yourself. I appreciate you wanting to help and bring Jack back. Do you have a plan?'

   'Not a proper one yet. Just a vague idea.'

   'How about we meet up? Might make it easier to bounce ideas. You know Proxies, I know Jack. Perfect duo, don't you think?' Greg asked.

   'Sounds like a good idea! Where do you wanna meet?'

   You both decided that meeting on neutral ground was a better idea, settling on a café that was an equal distance from you both. With nothing else to say, you said your goodbyes and ended the call.

   'What the fuck am I thinking?' you groaned, falling backwards into your chair and staring at the ceiling. You'd lost your mind, you were sure of it. As a child, you'd promised yourself that staying away from Proxies was the best move. Talking to them every now and then, that was fine, but actively getting involved and trying to make one human? Stupidity on a monumental scale.

    Had you just signed your own death warrant?

Chapter Text

Tapping your foot silently against the floor, you spun a ballpoint pen between your fingers out of pure nerves as you waited for Greg to show up. Out of habit, you had arrived fifteen minutes earlier than the agreed time, and your self-inflicted anxiety was driving you up the wall. You weren't sure what was worse: the nausea or the restlessness.

    Pushing your water to the side, you opened your new notebook to its first page and just...stared at it. Maybe if you occupied yourself through memory recall, time would go faster. It was worth a shot.

   Long story short, it kind of worked. And then you ran out of things to remember, bringing your distraction to an end. Staring at the filled page, you sat back in your chair, turning your head to stare out the window for a while. It was a quiet day, so you couldn't people-watch, but that didn't stop you from staring out at the empty road and pavement.

   Across the street, sat under a bus stop, was a young woman on her phone, possibly in her twenties or thirties, and next to her was another woman who wore all black. Her hair was jet black, too, and you knew even from a distance that her eyes were the same colour. She waved at you, and you waved back.

   'Are you the person who called me? The researcher?'

   The sudden appearance of the voice made you stiffen from the shock, but when you saw the face of the man from the newspaper, you felt your muscles instantly relax.

   'That's me!' You smiled, getting to your feet and offering him your hand to shake. 'Nice to see you.'

   'Likewise,' Greg said, shaking your hand like one would a business partner. 'Thanks for agreeing to meet on such short notice.'

   'No worries! I should be the one thanking you. You're the one who agreed to listen to me. Do you want a drink?'

   'I'm alright, thanks.' He sat down, as did you, before he said, 'I don't want to take up too much of your time.'

   'I've got the day off,' you told him, 'so I can be here for as long as needed.'

   'Awesome. You said that you've done some research—what have you found?'

   'Well,' you began. 'I've been thinking about how he became a Proxy. Since it was a ritual, No-Face might not have as much influence over him. I noticed the same with Proxies who underwent scientific experiments: they had a bit more freedom.'

   'Does that increase our chance of bringing him back?' Greg asked, tapping his forearm as his brain began to whir into overdrive.

   'I think so. I'm not sure how to do it, but I think it's possible. The connection between him and No-Face can be severed, at minimum.'

   'And that will help?'

   'Quite a lot.'

   'So what's the plan? Investigate Slenderman and his proxies?'

   Trying to keep the flinching fear hidden at the mention of his name, you said, 'That's one thing. We need to investigate him and Chernabog.'

   'Want me to look into Chernabog and the ritual stuff?'

   'If that's alright. You might be able to ask around better than me, since he was your friend and all. Do you know anything about it already?'

   He thought about it for a minute before nodding slightly. 'I remember they found some stuff at the crime scene,' he said. 'Weapons, cutlery, that kind of thing. The cops thought they removed some of his body parts, but they never found any. Probably didn't help that they forgot him,' he added bitterly.

   'Cutlery?'

   'Yeah. Spoons, I think.'

   Somehow, you already knew that. A bell rang deep in your mind, linking your present conversation to a memory you didn't even know you had. The night you first encountered Slenderman, you saw something else and became a part of it. Someone had taken you from your garden as a young child, carrying your kicking and screaming form to a clearing in the nearby forest that was filled with robed and masked people stood in a semi circle. They were chanting in a language you couldn't understand, and one of them approached you with a spoon in hand.

   And then Slenderman appeared, bringing the memory to an abrupt halt.

   'Hey, you alright?'

   Your throat was dry. 'Yeah,' you said, sipping on your water, 'I'm fine. Just got lost in thought for a second there. What were you saying, sorry?'

   'Just about records of the cult. Before the incident, everyone knew about the rumours of a cult, and then all of a sudden no one remembered a thing. Seems to be a pattern.'

   'I think that's a common theme with No-Face's proxies.'

   'It is?'

   'Yep,' you said. 'I think it's part of the deal—like you have to give up your presence in the world to be able to work for him. It's a pretty shitty deal, but some of them are determined to achieve their goals that they either don't care or think it's a good exchange. Like Jane, her goal is to get revenge on Jeff and take out other criminals who deserve it. She only managed to get a job with the government because of their records of her.'

   'So it's mandatory,' Greg said, the cogs of his brain whirring. 'Is the deal different for each proxy?'

   'I think so, yes. Just because of people's circumstances and stuff.'

   'Course it is. God, what the hell happened to Jack to make him accept a deal like that? He must've been completely out of it.'

   'He probably was. Want me to write this all down before we forget?'

   'Oh, yeah, sure. Which proxies are you going to talk to, by the way? You got any ideas?'

   Chewing the inside of your lip, you replied with, 'I think so? If I'm being honest, I haven't actually talked to many of them. Just the same few that I've known since being a kid, cause, y'know, some of them are arses.' When Greg laughed, you added, 'It's true! Proxy or not, no one's immune to being full of themselves. I blame them getting a hold of the Internet, that did not help some of their egos. I'll probably ask Jane or Liu to start with and go from there, since they've both known me the longest.'

   Greg's phone buzzed as you finished up your shorthand scribbles, and you watched through your peripheral vision as he glanced at the screen and seemingly lost all blood in his face.

   'Everything okay?' you asked.

   'For me, yeah. My girlfriend's just messaged—she's ill but has emetophobia. Do you mind if we cut this a bit short?'

   'Of course not! I can get started on my bit now, you just focus on your girlfriend. I hope she's okay.'

   'Thanks, I really appreciate all the help. Send me all your notes later, I'll get ready to start digging.'

You hadn't expected part of the 'help' you were providing to involve sitting on your front doorstep for about an hour in the late afternoon, but hey, isn't life funny like that?

   On your way home, you'd passed a butcher's shop. An idea had popped into your head, making you grin slightly as though you were about to win the lottery, and with the little spending money you had left, you bought the day's leftover kidneys.

   Your plan was simple: use the kidneys as bait, hope to God that it worked, and try to make him talk. To ensure that it didn't result in your idea turning into a suicide mission, you'd taken a few...precautions. Nothing too extreme—just a trap around the bag of organs, and a secret hidden in a black duffel bag that was stashed away behind your back.

   A twig cracked, immediately drawing your attention. A few meters away from the white bag, a figure was stood, glaring at you with empty sockets, a scalpel in hand.

   'Hi,' you said, waving at him. 'You took longer than I expected...but honestly? I'm surprised you showed up at all.'

   'What do you want?' he snapped, his grip on the scalpel tightening.

   'To talk,' you said. Gesturing to the bag, you asked, 'You want those, right? I thought you looked a bit thin the other day, and since there hasn't been any attacks on people, you haven't eaten properly in a while.'

   'You're bribing me, you sick fuck.'

   'If you wanna call it "bribery" then sure, I'm bribing you.' This definitely bribery. 'Bit dramatic though, don't you think? You're free to take them if you really want to.'

   Watching your movements, Eyeless Jack cautiously approached the bag and went to snatch it away, but it was suddenly encased in a metal box, making him yelp and rip his hand away before it got cut off.

   'What was that for?!' he demanded, throwing the scalpel at you. It clattered against the door, and you covered your head as it fell, barely grazing the skin of your hands.

   'It's just a precaution,' you replied, trying to steady your racing heart. 'In case you took them and ran.' You reached behind you, feeling around for the scalpel, and once your fingers closed around it you tossed it back to him, saying, 'There you go.'

   He picked it up instantly. 'Why'd you do that?'

   'Because it's not mine. I do have standards, you know.'

   'You won't have them for much longer—I'm armed, you're not. We're in a forest, and the nearest person is a ten minute drive away. No one would ever find a dead body here.'

   The air around you seemed to drop by at least ten degrees as a shiver ran down your spine. You had just inadvertently proved one of your theories right: he had less influence than the others, meaning he could at least do some damage, if not enough to kill you. Your provocations might actually have consequences this time, resulting in a death that would only appear in the news as a missing person's report after a couple of weeks.

   Feigning confidence, you said, 'You really want to go through the effort of killing me? Is talking that hard? Look, just answer my questions, then I'll unlock the box and you can go.' Getting to your feet, you pulled the hidden object out of the duffel bag, and pointed the rounders bat at him like it was a sword. 'So sit down and start talking. I'm not taking "no" for an answer.'

Chapter Text

Holding the bat tightly in your hand, you pointed to a spot of grass nearby as you glared determinedly at the serial killer in front of you, saying, 'Sit, please.'

   He paused. 'Fine. Have it your way.'

   'Thank you.' It was a pleasant surprise to see him cooperate without putting up a fight. It made you want to loosen your grip on the bat ever so slightly. 'This won't take long. I just...need you to be honest with me. Just this once, then I won't bother you ever again.'

   'What makes you think I would lie?' he asked with a chuckle as he settled himself down on the grass. Your vision of him glitched briefly before it was blinked away.

   'I'm just making sure that you don't,' you said, sitting back down on the doorstep with the bat still in hand. 'How much of your life do you remember?'

   'Not much,' he answered with a shrug. 'Most of my memories are from the ritual onwards. Before you ask, no, I have no idea what happened—it's all fuzzy.'

   'You don't remember any of your childhood? School? Friends or family?' Something told you that hammering on about the ritual was going to result in your death.

   Shaking his head, EJ said, 'All I remember is the last...four? Five? Years. Nothing before.'

   'Nothing?'

   'Yes, nothing. How many times do I have to say it?'

   'Alright, alright, I was just making sure. Don't wanna misremember anything.'

   'Why're you so interested?' If you could have seen his eyes, you would have seen how they narrowed in thinly veiled suspicion.

   'I'm curious,' you answered, 'and who said you could ask questions?'

   'I didn't know I needed permission. Tell you what—I'll answer any questions you have if you answer mine. What's that game called? Twenty questions?'

   Failing to quench the hollow laugh bubbling up in your chest, you said, 'You wanna play twenty questions? Seriously?'

   'Something wrong with that?' EJ asked.

   'Nope,' you replied quickly. 'Nothing wrong. Me first: you said the other day that the pocket knife felt "familiar" to you, and you never asked who Greg was. I know you said you don't remember anything, but why did you know that the knife was yours?'

   Getting comfortable on the grass, he admitted, 'I don't know how to explain it. I just...know a few things.'

   'Aha! So you do remember your life before!'

   'This is different.'

   'How?'

   'My turn to ask questions, not yours. Why're you curious about me?'

   You frowned. 'You asked that like, a minute ago.'

   'No,' he corrected, 'I asked why you were interested, not why you're curious. Are you going to answer or not?'

   'Do I need a reason?'

   'Preferably.'

   'Maybe I just want to help cause I feel sorry for you. Ever thought of that?' It was the exact same thing you had told Greg, but that didn't make it any less true. 'Okay, my turn. Why did you stay with No-Face and the others? Why not go out on your own and do your own thing?'

   'That's two questions,' he said. 'Which one am I supposed to answer?' Leaning back, using his hands to prop himself up, you could almost see the attitude dripping off of his words as he drawled, 'The indecision is paralysing me, I don't think I can answer.'

   Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him, you replied in a somewhat snappy tone, 'The first one, then.'

   'First one it is. No-Face, as you have so affectionally dubbed him, offered protection, so I accepted.' He shrugged. 'Without him, humans probably would've shot me or thrown me into a lab by now. Couldn't risk it. Look at how you bribed me with food and then threatened me,' he added, chuckling despite the topic.

   'Hey! I didn't know how else to make you talk to me. And for the record, it wasn't bribery.'

   'Sure. Do you regularly talk to No-Face's henchpeople?'

   You made the 'so-so' gesture with your hand as you said, 'Kinda, I guess? No offence, but I like to go as many days as possible between chats.'

   'None taken. You got anything else to ask?'

   'Only one. What other things do you "know" from before...you know.'

   'You can say the word "ritual",' he said. 'It won't send me into a murderous rage.'

   'Sorry. I wasn't sure if it was okay or not.'

   'It's fine. To answer your question, I know a couple of things. I know I went to university and studied something to do with anatomy, and...that's it, mainly.'

   You lit up at the mention of the university. 'That's good! We can work with that.' Before EJ could question your words and your intentions, you asked, 'Do you want to go see?'

   'Go...see?'

   'Yeah! Go see the university.' You held up your phone and shook it slightly from side to side like it was doing a little dance. 'I can ask Greg. But only if you're up for it.'

   In the time it took for you to glance at your phone screen and back up at EJ, he had practically teleported to your side.

   'I want to know. And who is this Greg you keep mentioning? You said he's my friend, right?'

   'He is, yeah,' you said. 'He's the only person who remembers you—he's been looking for you since you disappeared, you know.'

   'Oh. I didn't...I had no idea that there could be exemptions to being erased.'

   Seeing him so dejected, slumped next to you with his back against the bricks of your house and his head hung low, your heart gave a lurch of sympathy.

   Dropping the bat, you gently patted his shoulder and told him, 'It's okay, these things happen!' These things did not happen. 'If you want, I can help you try and get some memories back? Greg wants to try and undo the ritual entirely, but baby steps, yeah?'

   He nodded, sucking his tongue to his cheek to keep himself in check. Unbeknownst to you, the pressure of your reassuring hand against his shoulder had sent crackling sparks of warmth through his cold, grey skin. If he'd had less self-control (and self respect), he could've whined like a neglected puppy when you pulled your hand away and began to type on your phone, leaving his heart pounding in his ears whilst the familiar coldness began to encroach on his nerves.

   No, he mentally scolded himself. Get a grip.

You:

hey, greg! you there? i've got a favour to ask you

Greg:

Yeah I'm free. What's up?

You:

i need the address of the uni you and jack went to

its kinda urgent

Greg:

Is he there?!

   You paused, fingers hovering over the virtual keyboard, and glanced over at EJ (who had been reading your messages the entire time).

   'You can tell him,' he said quietly.

   'You sure?'

   'Yeah.'

You:

yeah, he's here

Greg:

Is he okay?

You:

as well as he can be, i think

i'm sorry, but he barely remembers anything of his life before the ritual

he said that he knows some things (like the pocket knife and going to uni) but doest know how he knows if that makes sense?

   Silence for a few moments.

Greg:

I don't know why that surprises me.

I'm guessing meeting you at the campus would be a terrible idea?

You:

probably

might be too much for one day

he seemed pretty shocked when i told him about you

   'Don't make assumptions. Just get the address.'

   'Alright, alright, calm down.'

You:

he's getting salty -_-

can i have the address please?

Greg:

Sure thing, give me a second.

   The address came through with a 'Good luck!' and a link that opened your map app, showing you exactly where the campus was and how long it would take to get there.

   'We're gonna need a taxi,' you said, planning it all in your head, 'so that means you'll have to be quick getting in and out. Shit, I hope I have enough money for this.'

   'No need for a taxi.' EJ was already ambling away from you, hands hidden in his pockets. 'I'll just steal a car.'

   'What?!' Hastily locking the front door, you hurried after him, leaving the bat where you had dropped it. 'We are not stealing someone's car.'

   'Then walk. I'm not getting in a taxi.'

   'I'm not getting in a stolen car, so it looks like we have a problem.'

   'Will you stop whining if I return it?'

   'Undamaged.'

   He sighed dramatically and groaned out, 'Fine, I'll return it undamaged. Can you hurry up?'

   'How about you slow down?' you snapped back. 'I know you don't have the same earthly responsibilities as me, but I kinda need to put my house keys into these tiny pockets.'

   'Not my problem. Better get comfy on the front doorstep.'

   To his utter surprise, you laughed, causing him to momentarily lose brain function. He shook away any thoughts of recording your laugh, and said, 'If you don't sort yourself out and hurry up, it'll be dark and the car will get damaged. I'll make sure of it.'

   That seemed to do the trick. You finished messing around with your pockets and sped up the pace until you were walking alongside him.

   'Are you sure this is the best option?' you asked. 'Do you not like public transport? I'm sure there's a bus route that goes that way. Stealing isn't the only option.'

   'You said a taxi would be expensive, I can't imagine buses are any cheaper. And we're borrowing someone's car, not stealing it.'

   'My point still stands.'

   'Whatever. You're driving anyway.'

   'What?' It took you a second to realise that, if EJ drove, it would look as though you were being driven by a ghost. 'Oh, you've gotta be kidding me.'

   'Is there a problem?'

   'Yeah, there's a problem! I don't have any gloves. If we're doing this, I do not want to get arrested cause of my fingerprints being literally everywhere.'

   'I don't think you can arrested for taking someone's car and then returning it.'

   'You wanna bet?'

   He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a pair of blue surgical gloves, holding them out for you to take. 'Here. If it shuts you up.'

   'Thanks.' You pulled them on with a bit of difficulty, flexing your fingers once they were covered by blue plastic. 'Okay. I hope you know how to jumpstart a car, cause I don't have a clue.'

   'You'd be surprised how many things I know how to do.'

    'I...don't think I want to know.'

Chapter Text

It was rather fortunate that you'd passed your driving test with a manual and not an automatic, otherwise you would have fallen at the first hurdle.

   The car that EJ picked was parked in an otherwise empty lay-by around fifteen minutes away. The sheet of paper with a price scribbled on it curbed any anxieties that you may have had regarding stranding some poor sod in the middle of nowhere.

   'This works out well,' EJ said, deftly opening the driver's side door with practised movements. 'There's usually a spare key in here somewhere.'

   'How do you know that?' you asked. Then you quickly told him, 'Actually, I don't wanna know.'

   'You're not interested in the exciting tale that is my life?' He shook his head despondently, rummaging through the glove box. 'Found it.'

   'Some other time, maybe?' you said, holding your hand out for the car key. When the key was in your palm and EJ was in the passenger seat, you got in, set the car up to your preference, and drove away before anyone could drive past and see you steal someone's car.

   'Does it need fuel?' EJ asked, peering over at the dashboard. 'Half a tank. Pretty good.'

   'I don't think it's been sat there long,' you said. 'I didn't notice it when I went out the other day.'

   'You walk that way often?'

   'Walk, no. Drive, yes. My car's in the garage for the next week or so—steering problems. Wait, shit, satnav.' You slowed down, quickly picking up your phone and using the map app to tell you where to go. 'Okay, there we go. Do you have anywhere you want to see while we're out?'

   He shook his head again. 'Can't think of anything. I don't even know what's at the university, let alone specifics.'

   'Doesn't have to be specifics. Dorm building, lecture theatres, that sort of thing?'

   'How would I know any of that?'

   You frowned and muttered, 'Fair point.'

   After that, the only noise was the occasional order from the satnav, telling you where to go. Neither you or EJ said a word, which, if the awkwardness was to be discounted, might have been a good thing. You didn't want to look like a weirdo, glancing over to your left when you spoke (as was natural when talking to someone).

   The silence let your thoughts run wild, and it wasn't long before you were questioning what you were doing with your life. Why the hell would you willingly drive to a place you didn't know with a serial killer? I really need to start thinking things through before I agree to them. All he has to do is grab the wheel and crash into something to kill me.

   After all that you'd been through, one would think that you would be more cautious. Having someone break into your university room, steal your favourite hoodie, and wreck the place would certainly make most people a bit more vigilant. But you were an exception to that, apparently.

   EJ noticed how your hands tightened around the leather of the steering wheel, and he hit back an, 'Are you okay?' Instead, he continued to stare out the window and at the road ahead, peeking at you in his peripheral vision every few minutes.

   His stiffness was something you attributed to being uncomfortable—due to either you or the car. In a halfhearted attempt to ease his nerves (because it was actually making you a bit stressed), you reached for your phone once more and pressed 'play' on the first playlist you saw: a list of instrumentals.

   'I hope you don't mind,' you said.

   No reply. He was either asleep, lost in his thoughts, or flat-out ignoring you. Which was fine. He didn't have to say anything.

   The instrumentals you had carefully collected over the years were various pieces of media: video game soundtracks, remixes, acoustic covers of songs made by faceless online artists, and haunting orchestra renditions made for a film from your childhood. There was a little bit of everything in there. Surely EJ would find something he liked.

   And he did.

   Around fifteen minutes in, a new track began to play, opening with a distinct melody that made his ears immediately tune in. By the time the string instruments began to play, he was certain that he'd heard it somewhere before. He didn't ask about it immediately, though, because it was obvious that you weren't paying attention to anything other than the music.

   Your eyes had brightened a bit, like you were reliving a nice, calming memory in your head. When the song began to pick up around halfway through, suddenly sounding inexplicably cheery, your finger began to tap along, gaining a mind of its own, and when it slowed down again, the lone digit suddenly became a dancing trio as your middle and ring fingers joined in.

   'What song is this?' he asked, finally brave enough to break your stupor.

   'Merry-Go-Round of Life.' Your answer came a bit too quick for your liking. Nerd alert. 'It's from a pretty popular film, so it wouldn't surprise me if you watched it once or twice.'

   'Is it...any good?'

   'Of course! It's amazing, and the book is just as good. If you're interested, I don't mind watching it with you. I'm probably due a rewatch anyway.'

   Under his mask, EJ was raising an eyebrow. 'How many times have you watched this film?'

   'Maybe more than once or twice...' You grinned sheepishly. 'At least once a year. If not more.'

   'Damn, must be good then. Alright, I'll watch it with you. Maybe I'll remember something.'

   'It's really good, I promise! Even if you don't remember anything, you'll at least enjoy it. The main guy is so dramatic and over-the-top, he's amazing. Insufferable to deal with in real life, don't get me wrong, but for a film? Perfect.'

The campus was nothing like the one you had spent your time on. Unlike yours, which had been full of labyrinthian Victorian buildings that had contained shortcuts and hidden stairwells, this university campus was sleek and modern—nigh on futuristic in its design, full of glass, white paint, and sharp angles. The plaza around it was empty (as expected for a Saturday).

   'Is this it?' EJ asked. 'It's very...dull.'

   'A lot of STEM buildings are,' you said. 'From what I've seen, anyway. Is this bringing up any memories?'

   He shook his head. 'Nothing. Can we sit down for a minute? Maybe we can find what course I studied on the Internet.'

   'Yeah, sure! All unis have their courses up on their websites, so it should be easy to find.' You sat down on a nearby step, opening up a new tab. 'Alright, let's start with...medicine. Nice and broad, right?'

   'Surgery,' EJ blurted out. 'Not medicine.'

   'Surgery it is! That narrows it down quite a bit,' you said. 'Down to three courses.' Only one seemed like the kind of course EJ would do, cause he definitely didn't strike you as a dental student, so you clicked on the five year 'medicine and surgery' course. 'Have a read of this—see what you think.'

   If only Socks could see me now, you thought as you handed your phone over to EJ, letting him scroll through the course page at his own pace. It would be so easy for him to steal my phone and run.

   No matter how many illegal acts your thoughts tried to convince you would happen, they never did. Once EJ had made it to the bottom of the page, with every expandable section read in full, he handed you the phone back without a word. After a little while, he said, 'The module names look familiar. I'm pretty sure that was what I studied.'

   My intuition was right, he isn't a dental student. Aloud, you said, 'That's good! That's progress. I always had a hunch you had some kind of surgical background, but I didn't know it was a school thing.'

   'You...didn't know?'

   'Of course not. I mean, I could've asked Greg and told you, but that wouldn't be as rewarding for you. Plus, you could've accused me of lying, cause how would you know that I'm telling the truth?'

   'I thought you knew,' EJ muttered. 'Not sure why, but.' He shrugged, leaving the rest of his thoughts unsaid.

   'Don't worry,' you said, 'I'm not that kind of person. I'm not sure it would even be my place to ask Greg something like that—not unless you'd already figured it out. Fact-checking only.'

   '...I see.'

   'If the door's are unlocked, do you wanna go inside? I'm sure no one will mind if we sneak in.' After all the fuss you had made about borrowing (stealing) someone's car, you apparently had no qualms about breaking and entering.

   'Sure. Ask Greg if he knows anywhere we should go.'

    Well, since he asked.

You:

hey, greg! sorry to bother you, but its me again

can you think of anywhere in the uni for us to go? we're at the campus but kinda at a loss :')

Greg:

No worries! Feel free to message as many times as you need.

Places to go...probably lecture halls and the library.

I'd say our dorm but you might get into a bit of trouble with that one.

You:

yeah i think we will lol

so lecture halls and library, got it!

any lecture halls in particular? surely there's gotta be loads right?

Greg:

Look for hall 3, that's probably the most used one

It's actually pretty close to the library so you don't have to go from one side of the building to the other

You:

goddamn were you a med student too?

Greg:

Lmao nope, just used to hang around Jack way too much.

I spent a lot of time skipping class and waiting for him to come out of lectures to try and convince him to play games with me (spoiler alert it didn't really work).

You:

xD i can imagine that

okay im off! hopefully i wont get lost (ex humanities student)

   'What's humanities?' EJ asked.

   'History, english, that kind of thing! I only went to the medical bit whenever my lectures had to be moved, and I could never find my way around. Anyway, you ready to go, EJ?'

   'Ready. Can you call me "Jack" instead?'

   'Course!'

Chapter Text

'Well,' Jack said with a sigh as he collapsed into the passenger's seat, 'that was pointless.'

   'It wasn't that pointless,' you argued, your forehead resting against the steering wheel. 'Whatever's stopping you from remembering things must be pretty strong. But—' you sat bolt upright and brought the car to life—'that's okay!'

   'Do you think seeing Greg would help?' he asked. 'I might recognise him, at least.'

   'I mean...it might help, but talking won't be so straightforward, remember? He can't see you, so he can't hear you either. You could use text-to-speech on my laptop or something, but I'm not sure that would feel the same for you.' Determined not to damped his spirits, you added, 'We can still try, though!'

   He didn't say anything in response. Fuck.

   You didn't carry on the seemingly one-sided conversation, and instead navigated your way out of the car park to start the journey home. Even though it was getting dark, traffic had increased exponentially compared to your journey out, and you followed the long line of vehicles without protest. You were too tired from your earlier confrontation with a university security guard to try and outsmart the evening traffic.

   As you trundled towards a junction where you would have usually gone straight up and ignored it, Jack reached over and flicked on the indicator, telling you to, 'Go right here.'

   Wordlessly, you did as he asked and turned right onto a small, country road (causing the satnav in your phone to momentarily freak out before it eventually rerouted you).

   'Is this a shortcut?' you asked, glancing over.

   He nodded. 'It's never as busy so in theory it's quicker.'

   'You've been down here before?'

   'I killed someone here, I think. When can I meet Greg?'

   'Whenever he's free and you're ready, I guess,' you said, desperately thinking, Ignore that, ignore that, ignore what he just said. 'I can message him in the morning and see when he's got a day off if you'd like?'

   'Sounds good. Will you be there?'

   'If you want me there.'

   Everything was quiet for a moment, and then: 'Are you okay?'

   It took your exhausted brain a bit longer then usual to process the question, and it couldn't be bothered to come up with a convincing lie, so all you could do was internally cringe as your mouth said, 'Me? I'm fine, no need to worry about me.'

   'Don't lie to me. What's wrong?'

   You sighed. 'Nothing's wrong,' you admitted tiredly, 'I'm just...pissed off. For you. We came all this way and you still don't remember anything. I guess I thought it would be easier—as if anything No-Face is involved in will be easy,' you muttered with a roll of your eyes. 'Sorry,' you said quickly, 'I don't mean to insult your boss and rant all in one go.'

   'It's fine, there's no need to apologise. Pull over, I'll drive.'

   You pulled over to the side of the road immediately, allowing Jack to take your place in the driver's seat. You settled into the passenger's seat with a stretch, feeling some of your joints pop.

   'That better?' Jack asked, audibly amused by your antics. When you nodded sheepishly in response, he said, 'You should have said you wanted to switch earlier.'

   'I didn't realise it was break time until you mentioned it,' you said. 'I forgot how tense I get driving someone else's car.'

   'Yeah? Well, you can take it easy. I've got this.'

   You narrowed your eyes in suspicion over his words and asked, 'Do you even know how to drive?'

   'Course I do...I think.'

   It was a bit too late to protest or demand to be driving again, because the car was already in motion. He wasn't a bad driver by any means—you certainly didn't feel unsafe, even if he was going a tad over the speed limit. He was either a natural driver or it was purely muscle memory (although you suspected it was the latter).

   The road was basically deserted, just as promised, so you didn't have to pay attention to the road like some kind of driving instructor. Instead, you made yourself comfortable and allowed your brain to zone out for a while, your vision blurring softly.

   It wasn't long before you were jolted back to reality as Jack slammed on the brakes, suddenly swerving off the road to the left. His arm was across your chest, pinning you to the seat.

   Roughly a meter in front of you, maybe even less than that, was a large tree that would've caused more than just a dent in the car's bodywork.

   'Shit, are you okay? Not injured?'

   'No,' you said weakly, trying to keep your heart out of your throat, 'I'm fine. You?'

   'Just great,' Jack muttered, already clambering out of the car. 'Stay here and don't get out.'

   You began to ask what was wrong, but your half-voiced question faded away. And he's already gone. Glancing in the wing mirror, you watched as Jack marched towards a woman you had never seen before, but was clearly a proxy. She was tall, dressed in a short, black leather nurse uniform with matching gloves and shoes. Her lean body was covered in stitches, and a blood-covered chainsaw dangled from her hands.

   Jack began to exchange heated words with her—words which only intensified when the lady pulled a bag out from behind her and waved it teasingly in his face. When he shook his head, becoming more animated as he talked, she pushed it closer and received a swift kick to the stomach in response.

   Holy crap. They were actually fighting. As in, full-on scrapping like a pair of wild dogs.

   'What's wrong? Never seen a pair of proxies have at it before?'

   You turned to the source of the voice and said, 'Hey, Jane. What're you doing here?'

   'Can't I talk to my friend without a reason?' she asked, a tiny pout on her lips. 'I must be more than a friend at this point, surely. Maybe an adoptive aunt? I'm aunt material, right?'

   'You have the vibes of a cat lady.'

   'Ooh, I do like cats. My neighbour had the cutest little cat when I was a teenager—she was called Darcy and had a little brown jacket with tiny white paws. I miss her so much.'

   'She sounds adorable,' you said. 'So, why did you come and see me?'

   Jane sighed. 'You need to be sneakier,' she told you. 'Doing all this, ferrying the poor sod around, it's not going to end well.

   'What do you mean?'

   'You're going to get noticed, and not in the good way. All your research on demons and the ritual...it might lead to the rule about not hurting you being revoked. Listen,' Jane said, her tone firm and caring, 'I'm not here to scare you into staying away. I agree with what you're doing! Little EJ was just...at the wrong place at the wrong time. He deserves to be a human again, but you're interfering in affairs that don't really concern you.'

   'I know this isn't any of my business, but I still want to help. You just said it yourself: he doesn't deserve any of this. I can see you guys for a reason, so maybe this is the reason.' And also because I wanna spite No-Face. That's a pretty big part of it.

   'All this for someone you barely know? Don't try and be a hero, sweetie. You'll only get hurt.' Jane offered you a knowing smile, patting your shoulder reassuringly. 'But—' her voice dropped to a secretive whisper—'if you really want to do this, know that I've got your back, okay?'

   'Thank you,' you whispered back. 'I appreciate it.'

   'No problem. Oh, would you look at that, the show's nearly over. I should be going. Look after yourself, and don't talk to strangers.' Jane winked, waved goodbye, and swiftly slipped out of the car, disappearing into the forest like the ghost she practically was.

   It wasn't long before Jack returned, his now-scratched mask slightly skewed, revealing ashy grey skin. He was breathing heavily, and he didn't say a word as he slammed the car door, reversed back onto the road, and drove away, leaving the nurse in the middle of the road with what looked like a broken ankle.

   The first thing Jack said was, 'When we get back to your place, get a hoover and clean the front of the car. I'll drive it back.' His breathing had steadied slightly, but not by much.

   'Sounds good,' you said. 'Thanks for doing this. You really don't have to.'

   'It's fine.' He went quiet again.

   'Your mask is damaged. Want me to fix it?'

   He reached up to tap around his mask, brushing across the scratches the nurse had left during their brief spat. He quickly adjusted it so the mask covered his entire face.

    'It's fine,' he said again. 'I have a spare. Don't trouble yourself.'

Jack returned to your place after dropping off the stolen (sorry, borrowed) car. You didn't notice him standing at the window, watching as you mulled over the handwriting of someone who died over two hundred years ago—was that an 'E' or an 'R'? You only noticed he was there when you looked up to stretch, nearly breaking a bone as you jumped half-way through cracking your neck.

   'Holy shit!' Opening the window, you said, 'Please don't make a habit of standing outside my window,' as Jack stifled a laugh. 'Why didn't you try the front door?'

   'You locked it,' he stated, climbing inside, 'and I wouldn't get your attention from there anyway, would I?'

   'I dunno, knocking or ringing the doorbell would definitely get my attention.'

   'But that's boring.'

   'Yeah, but it's preventing me from having a heart attack. What're you doing here?'

   'I've got something for you.' He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a familiar looking knife, pushing it into your hand. ‘I don’t need anything this fancy, and I’ll probably lose it eventually.'

   'Are you sure?' you asked, cradling the knife in your palms like it was worth more than your life. 'This is important to you.'

   'That's why it's better for you to have it. Plus, you paid actual money for this—probably more than I did. Assuming I even bought it at all.' He shrugged. 'So. Keep it.'

   'If you insist.' There's no point arguing with him. 'I'll put it in here so it's safe.' You placed the knife in the back of the top drawer of your desk, hidden behind your stationary supplies and box of small cables. 'There. Now I've just got to not forget where it is.'

   'Don't stress about it.' Jack ambled over to your workstation, hovering over the document scan you had been working on since returning home. 'What's this?'

   'My work,' you replied, instantly launching into an explanation of what you did and what the document was. Jack listened with the intensity of someone who had asked because they were actually interested, and not asking out of a social obligation to be polite.

   'So you can understand all of this?' he asked, gesturing to the swirly cursive.

   With an enthusiastic nod, you said, 'Most of the time! Sometimes it's a little bit tricky, even for me, but I have my ways.'

   'It's impressive. How long does it take per page?'

   'Depends,' you said. 'Some pages only take about half an hour, others I can work on for practically all day. Just depends on handwriting and what's been written.'

   'All day?' Jack glanced at your half finished work. 'I should probably leave you to it, then. It's already late, and I've taken up enough of your time.'

   'Don't worry about it! It's fine.' You smiled reassuringly and added, 'It's actually been quite nice spending time with you. Which is good, cause I can't help you otherwise.'

   'Same here. So...see you again sometime?'

   'Of course! Look after yourself, Jack.'

   'You too.'

Chapter Text

In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out.

   Jack drove the blade into the soft flesh of the corpse again and again, stabbing it into a bloody and unrecognisable state. The victim's face was completely ruined—who even were they again? He didn't know. They were just another meal, another heap of blood and tissue, another name added to the long, long list of fatalities.

   Arms aching, Jack plunged the victim's own pocketknife into their throat, but the blade slipped, penetrating the flesh just to the right of the larynx and falling to the ground.

   He sat back, chest heaving as he gazed upon his work, trying to remember the last time he had made such a mess of things. There was blood everywhere: his hoodie, his jeans, his hands, even in his hair (just how?!). Getting to his feet with a groan, shaking his hands in an attempt to dislodge some of the blood, Jack knew that the rest he craved so badly was something he wasn't going to get in a while.

   A cough from behind brought Jack out of his thoughts about cleaning. Whirling around, he came face to face with someone he hadn't seen in a while.

   'What the hell are you doing here?' he demanded.

   The newcomer tutted in disapproval. 'I thought you would've been happier to see me, but I suppose—' he walked over to the mangled corpse—'it appears you're in a...bad mood, shall we say?'

   'Yeah, no shit. Listen, Kage, I'm not in the mood to deal with people right now and I don't wanna start a fight so can—'

   'It's alright, I'm not here for a long chat. I just came to return this.' Kagekao pulled a small bag from his pockets and tossed it to Jack. 'It was only a bear trap, so the metal was easy to remove for us. I don't know why you didn't just rip it open.'

   'Where'd you get this from?'

   'That little farmhouse. You know, the one where your new friend lives?'

   Jack gave Kagekao a look that said, 'You don't mean what I think you mean.'

   'They seem quite nice,' Kagekao continued. 'Not who I'd expect as your little plaything, but I'm glad you're happy.'

   'They are not a plaything, and they certainly don't belong to anyone! Jesus, man.' Jack shook his head, wordlessly putting the bag into his own pocket, then added, 'Don't even think about approaching them.'

   The smile on Kagekao's mask widened. 'Oh? You must be quite fond of them if you don't want me to go and have a little chat with them.'

   'I'm not. It's none of your business. I thought you weren't here for a chat?' Jack asked, glaring daggers at his fellow demon.

   'Ah-ah-ah, I said a long chat, did I not? This is just a quick one. And a hand, now that I think about it.' When he saw Jack's questioning head tilt, Kagekao said, 'I have a little problem that needs your assistance. The boss wanted someone disposed of, which I've done, and their death made to look like an accident, which I haven't done. Do you know of anywhere I can use?'

   Jack thought for a minute, mentally going through his list of how to make a non-accidental death look like an accident, and said, 'Someone crashed a car next to the river nearby, so we can make it look like they died from that. You didn't stab them or anything, did you?'

   'Luckily no. Care to join me?' Kagekao gestured to a nearby bush where a pair of shoes were sticking out from underneath.

   How did he manage that without me noticing?

   'Sure.' Jack grabbed the corpse's legs while Kagakao hoiked it up with his arms wrapped under its shoulders, walking backwards and using Jack as his eyes. With the occasional direction of 'Left' or 'Right', the two demonic proxies slowly made their way to the river, only dropping the corpse once (which both would claim was the other's fault, even though they both knew it was the corpse's).

   'This is the one?' Kagekao asked. 'You weren't kidding when you said the car crashed.'

   The car was completely totalled—the front had crumpled in on itself from its collision with a now fallen tree, and a few of the windows had been smashed for reasons Jack couldn't quite figure out. The front left wheel was sticking out at a concerning angle and had begun to flatten.

   'Yep. It's a fucking mess.'

   'I wonder what happened. The road isn't exactly close, so how did they even manage to crash?' Kagekao paused for a second, then in Japanese, muttered, 'None of my business. Stupid humans.'

   'Who the hell knows what people get up to these days. You got this or do you still need me to help?'

   'No, I've got this. I just need you to hold this.' Somehow balancing the corpse on his knee, Kagekao unwound his scarf from his neck and tossed it to Jack (who barely managed to catch it without dropping both of the corpse's legs).

   'Seriously?'

   'Yes! You think I have the patience to wait for this to dry? It's wool.'

   'Whatever, just hurry up. I've got my own shit to sort out.'

   'I can see. It's not like you to get entrails everywhere.' Kagekao began to wade through the river, corpse slung over his shoulder like a lifeless sack, hissing out curses as the cold water swirled around his legs.

   'Tell me about it. I forgot just how much this stuff stinks,' Jack said, his gaze flicking down to his bloodstained hoodie then up to the fringe of his hair in disgust. 'How do the others deal with being covered in the stuff?'

   'They'd probably say the same about you and your eyes.'

   'Very funny.' Taking off his hoodie, Jack crouched down, leant forwards, and dunked his hair into the water, using his dominant hand to ruffle the now soaked strands in an attempt to wash out the blood. 'They either have way too much time on their hands or they don't give a shit.'

   'Probably the latter,' Kagekao said, arranging the dead body to make it look like they were driving the car when it crashed. 'No one can see us, so why bother looking nice? Apart from wanting to look nice, of course. Like I do.'

   'So much so that you don't even want to get your scarf dirty,' Jack pointed out, grinning beneath his mask.

   'You heard me before—it's wool. Shall we soak your mask and watch all the papier mâché float away? Hm?' Kagekao shot back with a taunting tilt to his words.

   Jack laughed quietly. 'Hey, fuck you, my mask isn't made of paper and glue.'

   'Really? I've seen children make better looking props for their science projects.'

   'And I've seen children be dressed better than you, so I guess we've both been outdone by them.'

   'Touché, my good man. Those are rich words coming from someone washing their hair in a brook.' He sighed. 'You know, I would've helped if asked. Your hair always looks so soft, I can't help but want to touch it.'

   'Kage?'

   'Yes?'

   'You sound creepy as fuck, man.'

   Kagekao shrugged as he shut the car door, saying, 'I stand by it. If you styled it correctly, I'm sure you'd have the sexiest hair around.'

   'Styling it like this?' Jack took off his hoodie and used the clean inside as a towel, scruffily attempting to dry his hair. 'Better?'

   'If your version of 'better' is looking like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards, then yes, it looks wonderful. I'm sure your new human would find it very appealing.'

   A warning glare. 'Don't start.'

   'Sorry, sorry.' Kagekao held his hands up in surrender, taking a seat on the ground next to the closest tree, his back resting up against the bark. 'I must ask, why are you so—what's the word? Close?'

   'They're just...' Jack trailed off, trying to find the perfect way to explain it without raising further questions. 'They make me feel normal again.' Whilst it wasn't the full picture of what you did to him, that didn't make it a lie. Sitting in the car with you had given him the chance to forget that he wasn't human, that he wasn't some fucked up abomination with pointed teeth and empty eye sockets.

   'Are they not scared?'

   'Probably. They aren't stupid. Ballsy, yeah, stupid, definitely not. They tried to threaten me with a bat, y'know.' His tone was so wistful, even though it happened like, twelve hours ago.

   'Really?' Kagekao said, pure surprise seeping into his voice. 'A human threatened you? And lived? My, I can't deny being curious now.' As if he ever had denied it. 'So, tell me: what benefit do you get from this human, apart from feeling normal?'

   'Do I need any?'

   'Ideally, yes. You aren't the type to get close to humans like this, no matter how special they are.'

   Jack scoffed. 'I'm allowed to have friends,' he said defensively.

   'I never said you weren't,' Kagekao replied, 'but I've watched you ignore and insult every proxy who has tried to befriend you and work with you. What makes this human different?'

What the hell, he's not gonna tell anyone. 'They're going to try and make me human again and help me get my memories back, at the very least. I don't have a lot of hope that it will work, but...it doesn't hurt to try.'

   'Aha! So you do have something to gain.'

   'So what if I do? And why do you care?'

   'Because I'm happy for you, and I want to know more! I feel like a father watching his son make his first friend in nursery.'

   'Since when did you become my dad?'

   'It doesn't matter. If we're being honest, I'm glad that you are trying to rid yourself of this curse. I've always said that it was cruel.'

   'Thanks for your honesty, dad.'

   '...I should not have said that.'

   Neither proxy said anything for a while. Kagekao resigned himself to picking specks of dirt out of the fibres of his clothes, muttering about how they got everywhere, while Jack scrubbed the blood out of his hoodie and wiped it off of his jeans as best as he could. It wasn't uncommon for the pair to fall into silence: long conversations weren't things they exactly had the energy for, and most times it wasn't a miracle if they even said two words to each other.

   This silence, though, wasn't caused by a lack of energy. It was a form of psychological warfare. A battle of attrition that wore down on Jack's nerves until he eventually relented and snapped, 'Alright, fine, you can go and see them, quit sulking.'

   Kagekao perked up, all traces of his moping vanishing from sight. 'I knew you'd give in!'

   'That's because you're insufferable and annoying.' If Jack had eyeballs to roll, he would have rolled them at least five times by now. ‘Just…go easy on them, alright? Don’t scare them away or do anything stupid.’ He paused, then continued with, ‘I don’t know why I’m agreeing to this. I will kill you if you fuck this up for me.’ There was a lot more to that threat then Jack’s fear of losing the chance to be human.

   ‘Don’t worry, my friend! Would I ever betray you like this?’ Kagekao grinned ecstatically. He knew exactly what Jack meant. ‘All I want to do is introduce myself and see who has managed to become the apple of your eye. That’s the right phrase, isn’t it?’

   Imaginary eye roll count: six. ’Whatever,’ Jack said. ‘I’m gonna head off now, unless you’ve got anything else to interrogate me over?’

   ‘Just one more question. Is it acceptable to bring a greeting gift or not? Flowers or food? Or even a nice piece of pottery?’

    ‘…You know the answer to that, stop being facetious. See you, Kage.’

Chapter Text

'Bitch, get your lazy arse up! It's nearly six and you promised we could take some sunrise pictures.'

   Groaning, your eyes pried themselves open and stared up at Socks, silently daring them to stick the bag of ice in their hand on your face.

   'You could've gone without me,' you grumbled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. 'You have a good enough sense of direction, you won't get lost.'

   'But that only works in cities. C'mon, please? I'll cook breakfast if you come with me.'

   '...Promise?'

   'Promise. Now hurry up! The sunrise will go if you don't move.'

   You didn't bother getting dressed—it was way too cold for that. Instead, you pulled on a pair of fluffy socks, your big boots, and a thick winter coat that shouldn't have been out of storage in the beginning of autumn. Once your phone was safely tucked into your coat pocket, you led Socks out of the house and into the seemingly never-ending forest outside.

   'So,' Socks began, clapping their hands together, 'where are we going?'

   'Nowhere in particular,' you responded. 'I was honestly just going to walk around and see if there were any good spots.'

   'We're winging it?'

   'We're winging it,' you confirmed. 'I haven't been out this early yet, so I don't know where the good morning sun spots are.'

   Socks clapped again, practically vibrating out of the mortal plane in excitement. Their eyes were constantly moving in their sockets as they wandered all over the place: left, right, stop to examine a cute little wildflower. The sun was slow to rise, meaning that there was no rush in your search for the perfect picture spot (although it wasn't really your search, you were just helping).

   Helping or not, watching Socks examine nature with an excitement you had last seen them show at a video game premiere infected you with the same sort of thrill. You found yourself peering up at the clouds through the gaps in the trees, amazed at how textured they were. How the light and dark greys met and danced together, swirling in an intoxicating limbo. It felt like you were seeing the outside world for the first time, despite being alive for long enough.

   For a brief, uninterrupted moment, the world and everything in it was beautiful.

   ...And then it was ruined.

   As Socks was fiddling around with their camera, trying to get it to focus on a small white flower, something moved in their corner of your vision. Your head snapped around, eyes darting all over the place as you searched frantically for the source of the disturbance.

   You couldn't help but be convinced that one bush in particular was suspicious—it was unexplainable, but the way it rustled in the early morning breeze just looked odd.

   Socks' concerned, 'Hey, you okay?' was faint in your ears, their words a whisper in comparison to the thunderstorm in your head. You were mentally ticking off the list of proxies that you knew, trying to figure out if anyone you knew was hiding in the leaves. Jane wouldn't hide (and neither would Jack), Liu barely spoke to you nowadays, and you would know if it was No-Face. You didn't really know the others well enough for them to show up outside your house, and there were dozens more that you had never spoken to that didn't care for your existence anyway.

   But if it wasn't someone you knew, then it had to be a proxy you had never met...right?

   You recoiled as the bush moved again, and a flash of monotone jumped out of the green and swiftly ran to the right, vanishing as quickly as it had made itself known.

   A hand fell on your shoulder, the sudden and brief contact making you jump like the fingers pressing down on your bones were as loud as a gunshot.

   'Are you okay?' Socks asked, concern filling their face. 'You kinda spaced out there.' An understatement at best.

   Forcing a smile, you nodded and said, 'I'm fine, just thought I saw something. Not sure what's out at this time.'

   That seemed to do the trick. 'You've been watching way too many horror flicks,' Socks said with a small laugh. 'Don't worry, there's nothing there.'

   'I know, I know, I just wanted to make sure. Been a little bit on edge recently.' Any consolation you had given was immediately erased when those words left your mouth, and the concern in Socks' eyes increased tenfold.

   'Again?' Their demeanour changed at once. 'Have you told anyone? Why're you only bringing this up now?'

   'It's fine,' you insisted again. 'I promise. We literally binged an entire horror film series that relied solely on jump scares and tension last night, there's no wonder I'm on edge.'

   'Yeah, but that doesn't explain being on edge before we watched the series. Remember what happened last time you felt like this? Someone broke into your dorm. What if that happens again and you're at home this time? You could die, and then you're fucked.'

   'I'd be pretty fucked if that happened,' you admitted before adding, 'but it won't! I have a rounders bat, nothing can get me.' Underneath your lighthearted words was actual reassurance—which actually worked.

   Socks sighed, patting your back comfortingly. 'You better be alright.'

   'Course I am. It's been years, whoever did it is probably long gone and didn't even care who was living there. It wasn't personal, so there's no reason for it to happen again.'

   'Yeah, you're right.'

   'I know I am. Now, come on, I thought you wanted to see the sunrise?'

You wished wholeheartedly that you were still out in the forest, waiting for the sunrise. Anywhere but here. This time, there was no Socks to inadvertently protect you from the monochrome-clad figure standing in the kitchen doorway.

   The only thing you recognised of the figure's outfit was the mask (half black, half white, with the white eye glowing mischievously), but it was enough for you to realise who he was.

   'Good morning,' Kagekao said cheerfully. 'You're EJ's new friend, are you not?'

   You nodded just the once. 'Why do you ask?' you said, not bothering to hide the wariness in your words. 'What do you want?'

   'I want absolutely nothing but a minute of your time, my dear. May I come in?'

   'I—sure.' You stepped to the side and allowed Kagekao to enter your home like an idiot.

   'How kind of you. Ah, before I forget, these are for you.' He held out a large bouquet of white, purple, and red flowers. 'A small "thank you" for hosting.'

   Thanking him for the gift, you placed the flowers in the sink with a bit of water, vaguely commenting about arranging them later. You watched as Kagekao wiped his shoes before taking them off, placing them next to the wall, clearly happy with himself for picking the right gift. His good manners and seemingly polite nature did nothing but raise your vigilance levels by tenfold.

   'You have a lovely house,' Kagekao commented, eyes never staying still as he allowed himself to be herded into the living room. 'It feels so cosy.'

   'Thanks.' A compliment? Suspicious. 'Why do you want to know if I'm Jack's friend?' you asked as soon as you sat down on the sofa.

   Kagekao crossed one leg over the other as he nonchalantly said, 'I merely wanted to see who was keeping him company. He does not have many friends—apart from me, of course—and it piqued my curiosity.' He shrugged. 'How long ago did you two meet?'

   'A while,' you said.

   'Oh? How did it happen? I understand that you don't interact with us much, despite your little gift.'

   'He followed me home after I bought something of his at an antique shop. I gave him it back, got myself involved, then drove him to his old uni. Haven't seen him since.'

   'Does that bother you?'

   'Nope. I like him and all, and he's nice to be around, but at the end of the day our friendship is transactional. If he only shows up cause he wants something, then that's fine.'

   'Is that really the case? You must, as they say, get off the floor. EJ does not view this as "transactional", he genuinely enjoys your presence. The fact that you have not seen him recently amazes me.' Kagekao chuckled and added, 'I would have thought your quest to return his humanity would result in him never leaving your sight.'

   'Why? We don't have to be joined at the hip or anything,' you said, maybe a touch too defensively.

   'Of course, of course, that goes without saying. Enlighten me, my friend, if this is transactional, what do you get out of it? How much do you benefit?'

   Your façade finally faltered as you struggled to come up with an answer that you felt would satisfy his curiosity. Instead of trying to come up with some bullshit answer, you told Kagekao the whole story: how you felt sorry for Jack, how you hated No-Face with every fibre of your being, and how helping a proxy would probably help you move on from the fucked up moments in your childhood (not in those words, of course). The only thing you gained from your meddling acts was a self-serving sense of spite-filled justice.

   Kagekao was an incredibly attentive listener, practically hanging onto every word, and waited until you had finished to say, 'Am I right in thinking that you need this just as much as he does?'

   'I don't think I "need" this, but I get your point.' You sighed, posture slumping ever so slightly. 'Do you think I'm giving him false hope and setting myself up to be killed?'

   His answer was a quick and confident, 'No,' which he quickly elaborated on by adding, 'I don't know what your plan is, if you have one, but I trust that it will work. I can see that you aren't thinking selfishly.' The smile on his mask seemed a tad bit gentler.

   'Thank you. Sorry for...all that. I don't know where that came from.'

   'No worries, my dear! I can have that effect on people sometimes. EJ hates it.' He laughed to himself, but the sound quickly faded as his voice took on a more serious hue. 'I imagine that this is...quite painful for you, and I thank you for putting yourself in the firing line to right someone else's wrongs. Your actions are truly admirable.'

   You could feel the blood rushing into your head as you murmured out your thanks. 'I'm scared,' you admitted, 'but I know it'll be fine. I think.' Trying not to look as pathetic as you felt, you continued, 'If I ever come across No-Face again, I'm gonna let him have it, just to get it all out.'

   'He will not care.'

   'I know. I'm hoping it stays that way.'

   'Don't worry, it will.' Kagekao winked. 'As far as I know, he hasn't changed his ways before, and I doubt it will happen unless there is some kind of miracle. Although, you are trying to perform a miracle with EJ, are you not? Maybe you can give our dear boss a redemption.'

   'I doubt it,' you said lightly, 'but thanks for the vote of confidence. You think No-Face could change?'

   Kagekao shrugged, humming melodically in deliberation. 'Stranger things have happened,' he said. 'Fish can fly, and birds can speak. There are so many weird and wonderful things in life—what's one more, hm? He might surprise us all. But then again, he might not.'

   'If it does happen, that'll be the one time I hope I'm around him. It'll be worth the nightmares.' A small shiver slipped along your bones as your mind inadvertently conjured up a scenario in which you would come face to no-face with him. It was just as terrifying as the last time you saw his lack of features, and you desperately imagined something else instead. A tree. A nice lampshade. Yeah, that'll do.

   'You know, my dear,' Kagekao said out of the blue, 'I'm quite fond of you after our little chat today, and I'm feeling generous all of a sudden. Ask me anything you want about EJ if you think it will help your cause. I will try to be as helpful as you require me to be.'

Chapter Text

'I...don't really know what to ask,' you admitted. 'I can't think of anything specific. What do you think I should know?'

   Kagekao preened, as though he was pleased with himself for creating a situation in which you would ask that exact question. 'Well,' he began, leaning forwards, 'if you want him to open up to you, your best course of action is to make no mention of it. He will do it on his own, when he feels ready. It took six months for him to tell me his name, so don't expect to make quick progress.'

   'Six months?' you echoed. 'Wow. Gotta be patient?'

   'Incredibly. It's like...trying to befriend a stray cat. You can leave out as many plates of food as you like, but if the cat won't eat, no trust can be built. You must let EJ accept the plate when he feels like it.'

   'Got it.' Should I be making notes? Do I need to remember this? 'Anything else? Is there things that I shouldn't mention?'

   Kagekao nodded, humming out a melodic, 'Mhm,' then said, 'You know the main one, I assume—don't mention his past too often, unless he's already brought it up. Ooh, one thing I have noticed is parents. Can be an incredibly sore subject. There is some unsettled feelings, I believe.'

   Okay, you probably should be making some mental notes at least. 'Just parents?' you asked. 'Any other family members I shouldn't mention?'

   'I have not heard him mention any other relatives, so I think parents is his sore point for now. Maybe if he remembers more then more things will come up. You are in contact with a friend of his, correct? Has anything been mentioned?'

   'I don't think so,' you said. 'I can always ask, if Jack's okay with it.'

   'A wonderful idea! Now, I know this is sidetracking us a smidge, but has EJ met this old friend of his?'

   'Not yet, but he's asked to, so I'm gonna arrange things later on. I can let you know how it goes, if you want?'

   'No need, my dear, but your offer is much appreciated. If you want to tell me anything, tell me when you've succeeded in your mission, hm? It would be nice to have a chat with him when he's human.'

   You promised that you would before saying, 'He won't be able to see you, though. How would you be able to talk to him?'

   'That's for me to know and you to find out,' Kagekao replied with a secretive wink. He meant well, you knew, but that didn't stop a rush of fear from seeping into your skin.

   'Let me know when it's time to find out,' you said with a light, joking tone. 'You've made me curious now.'

   'Let's hope the satisfaction of finding out brings the cat back.' Kagekao glanced across at the clock on the wall and said, 'My, it appears I've overstayed my welcome—I best be going before your human friend comes back. This has been fun, hasn't it?' He pushed himself to his feet, bowing his head slightly as he meandered over to the living room door. 'No need to follow me out, I can manage. Your company has been wonderful.' He said what you knew was 'See you later' in Japanese, waving as he slipped out of the room, silently exiting your house (which honestly should have disturbed you).

'Socks,' you said, your words as serious as could possibly be, 'I have to pay you back.'

   'It'll just end up back in your bank account. Two can play that game, you know.'

   Folding your arms, you glared at Socks and the ginormous bouquet they were holding in their arms—full of Peruvian lilies, yellow roses, and pink tulips, just to name a few. There was a card poking out of the petals, but you couldn't read it from a distance.

   'You didn't have to get me these.'

   'But I wanted to. Its a congrats for getting a job and a house, and just for...everything, really.' They shrugged. 'So. Take them,' they said, pushing the bouquet into your arms.

   'You didn't have to,' you said again, automatically making your way to the sink to place them next to the freshly arranged bouquet from Kagekao. 'Would you mind getting me a vase out?'

   'Sure. Where did that other lot of flowers come from?' they asked, gesturing to the newly filled vase. 'They weren't there this morning.'

   The lie fell smoothly through your teeth as you began to cut the stems of each individual flower. 'Delivery from a guy I'm working with. I'm trying to get him back in contact with an old friend, and I finally found him.'

   'Aww, how sweet! Putting your detective skills to good use, I see. Was it tricky?'

   'Not really. Not for me, anyway,' you added with a grin. 'Sherlock Holmes over here. I also used my detective skills to notice that you're wearing that new binder. Do you like it?'

   Socks' face lit up. 'I do!' They pulled their shirt down so it was flat against their chest. 'Looks awesome. Feels awesome too.'

   'It's a good look on you. You were alright with walking with it on, right?'

   'No binder trouble here,' they said. 'The walk was pretty good, to be honest. There was a few times when I felt a bit fidgety, though. Like a ghost was following me or something.'

   'Wouldn't be surprised if this place is haunted,' you said. 'It's old, creepy, and empty.'

   'It's got a different vibe to any of the haunted forests I've been in before. More...demonic, I guess?'

   You paused, scissors poised around a tulip stem. 'You think there's a demon living in the forest?' I hope Jack isn't living out there. I have a spare room and a sofa for a reason.

   'Maybe,' they said. 'I don't think it's one of those scary demons that eats your bones and possesses you. I think it's a "I won't go after you if you don't go after me" kind of demon.'

   'If that's the kind of demon living outside, then that's fine by me. As long as it leaves me alone.' Goddamnit Jack.

   'If you ever get tired of your demon, send it over to me.'

   'Can do, but no promises.'

   Much to your own surprise, you made it through the rest of the day and night without letting Socks know that you were planning on running out the back door as soon as they fell asleep. By the time they rolled over, breathing slow and steady, a jacket was already covering your pyjama shirt and one foot was in the nearest pair of shoes you could find.

   With a torch in one hand and a knife in the other, you ventured out into the night, prepared to find something, but expecting (and hoping) to find nothing.

   Even though the description Socks had given sounded like Jack, you knew that he wasn't hanging around outside your house like some kind of creep. You would have seen him by now, and you never had, which meant that it was someone or something else. And you wouldn't stand for that kind of bullshit.

   Making your way through the forest, one mildly terrified step at a time, you wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run back. The breeze that was sweeping past the trees, shaking them in a way that look almost human-like, was doing nothing but scaring you every chance it got like a cheap horror film jumpscare. You were getting quite sick of it, frankly. (God help any poor soul that came in your path now that you were in a bad mood.)

   Luckily for you, when a voice did ring out from your right, you didn't scream. You did try and stab them, though—a motion which was swiftly aborted when you realised that it was Jack.

   'Fucking hell, Jack. What're you doing here?'

   'Out for a walk,' he replied nonchalantly. 'You?'

   'Same thing.'

   'This late?'

   'I could say the same about you.'

   'I'm better at fighting than you are.' He took several steps closer, taking the knife from your hand. 'If you want to stab someone, you don't go from that angle,' he said, acting out the correct way to stab someone in slow motion. 'Do it like that next time. You'll do more damage then just grazing their shirt.'

   Thanking him gingerly as you took the knife back, you asked, 'Would you rather I stabbed you?'

   'Only if you did it properly.' When he saw your immediate retort firing up, he quickly added, 'I'm kidding. You wouldn't be able to stab me anyway. You a fan of late night walks or something?'

   'Not generally,' you admitted. 'I've got a friend over, and they said that they felt like they were being followed earlier. Just wanted to look around and see what it was. Have you seen or heard anything?'

   With a shake of his head, Jack said, 'Nope. From what I've seen, just me. The animals in here are too wary to even come near someone.'

   'Would Kagekao do anything like that? I mean, he doesn't seem the type, but you never know.'

   The question was instant. 'You've met Kage?'

   'Yep. He came round earlier to introduce himself...is that a problem?'

   'No. It's fine.' Was there a stiffness to his words, or were you just imagining it? 'He isn't the following or stalking type. As far as I know, anyway. Neither am I, for the record. It's fine,' he said, 'I know you were going to ask.'

   You frowned. 'So if it wasn't you, Kagekao, or someone you've seen, then there's someone hiding. Fuck, this isn't what I was planning on dealing with tonight.'

   'Then don't',' Jack said abruptly. 'Why don't you go home? It's too late for you to be out like this. If you're going to make any decisions, make them after a few hours of sleep.'

   'You're right,' you said, all the fight in your bones evaporating and being replaced by exhaustion. 'I don't even know why I came outside. Wanna walk back with me? Got something to tell you.'

   'Consider me intrigued.'

   'I messaged Greg earlier, and he said he can come round tomorrow afternoon if that's alright with you? I'll get some takeout ready and we can make a day of it. Well, an evening of it.'

   'Really? Are you sure?'

   'Of course! I don't mind hosting for a few hours. I did sign up for this, remember.' Even though your face wasn't really visible, you still smiled at him anyway. 'He should be here around four, I think, so come whenever you're ready before then.'

   'Thank you. Honestly.'

   Your smile widened. 'No problem. What's up with you tonight? You're very...not-snappy.'

   'I'm never snappy.'

   'Oh, sure, cause threatening to kill me totally wasn't snappy of you,' you teased.

   'I can always go back to the threats if you want?'

   'Maybe not. I prefer this.'