His back was turned to you. His massive shoulders, the same ones you just started feeling comfortable being embraced by in the past months, slowly heaving up and down. If it were any more silent, you could hear the bones juggling along his ragged, barely contained breaths. If only it weren’t for the tension, anticipated to pop like a balloon that’s been pumped far too much. You just stand there, just waiting for it to break apart and brace yourself for the worst; the uncertainty of what is going to happen. You almost miss his exhausted exhale, your first indicator of your entire characterisation of him being deconstructed tonight.
“I wasn’t born grotesque. I was human, I really was.” Your eyebrows furrow from processing his sudden calm demeanour, although it helped your trembling go down a bit. “I know you were… And I believe it. I’m sorry, I’m trying to understand-” at that, he hangs over the desk he’s sitting at, fistful of his ear grazing brown hair as he hides his delicate face in his carefully trimmed claws. He sighs again, this time the shoulders looking smaller. “I wish there was a rational explanation, sometimes I catch myself looking for the same answer you seem to want right now. Although, ironically enough, I thought that making peace with… it, with what I am punished to live with, would be the easier choice as I didn’t have anyone to burden with it, anyways. This is the first time ever since, the wish of not wanting to be, and wanting to be consumes me wholeheartedly.”
Your breath hitches in your throat at what he’s implying. “Wanting to be what, Jack?” He slowly lifts his head to the side, his hair falling back to its middle part that covers his eyes, the moon shining on his aquiline nose in all its glory, making his just look sickly and not grey, and thus, human. “Myself again, not a host to what I’ve become.” A defeated pause, then, the ghost of a quirk of the lips “I also find myself pathetic enough, to wish to know what your reaction to me would have been if you would have met me on campus, whether you would have liked what you saw, and I like to imagine you similar to what you were like when you saw him tonight” venom laced in that last part. The sudden realization felt heavier than the force you had to put in to catch up to Jack when he stormed off earlier, the jarred image coming together after trying to puzzle his out-of-character behaviour somewhere inbetween his usual collected demeanour.
How could someone as attentive as him not notice the advances the guy from the party made at you when even the blind could, literally. He watched you, of course Jack did. You should have been more considerate; you should have known that in all its clarity, the intimate bond shared between the two of you was the furthest somebody as calculated as him would have let go on for as long as it is without harbouring desire. What you couldn’t have known were the specifics of that desire, everything about you. The arguments against it you have made up to avoid his feelings being too convincing. For the first time, you felt bigger than Jack, emotionally and physically; it felt unnatural. Wanting to rid yourself of the imbalance, you get on your knees and sit in front of him. If anyone were to observe the scene, it would almost look like Jack wasn’t the one infatuated with your being, worshipping the soul you carry in the prettiest eyes he’s ever felt comfortable enough taking his mask off with. The same eyes looking up to him right now, almost making him lose his composure again, this time in another way.
He waits for you to speak, afraid of revealing more than he already is by simply being. “He couldn’t hold a candle to you. Obviously not in his intellect, especially not his wit….and whether you believe it or not, truly not in his looks either,” you say the last part noticeably more softly. Jack let out a grunt akin to a dry laugh, shaking his head in disbelief, but still desperate enough for your longing to finally lock eyes with you, searching for a glimpse of truth in your eyes like a dog waiting for a kindness it has stopped expecting. He reached out for your hand; you took it and stood up with him. As he towered over you, you were able to make out the residue of thinned tar and couldn’t help but wonder if it was the result of actual tears mixing, and with a raspy voice taking a softened tone, he asks
“Tell me you mean it, that you haven’t been avoiding my touch lately, that that I’m simply starting to go delirious over my infatuation with you.” Your cheeks flush, your body heats up, and you feel every breath he takes on your chest from standing so close to his. Instead of replying, you search to look anywhere but his face. Jack takes this as disgust, at how overwhelming he is, how unbearable he looks and how inhumane he is compared to anyone that’s able to give you normality. A life beyond secluded cabins and anonymity. He felt selfish for making you a spectator on one of his breakdowns, but knew this as the only time he’d tell you what’s been killing him inside ever since he met you. You inhale deeply and collect yourself. “Tell me you want me too, please Y/N,” Jack pleads. You finally turn to lock eyes with him and gulp. Here you are, forced to face what you wrote off as speculations and unable to deny in what direction your life might go after tonight. Being with him meant fully committing to this, because you knew better than to play with a heart that barely beats. So you do the next logical thing; you kiss him. Everything feels hot, if it wasn’t for jacks hold on the back of your head and his claws grip on your waist, your legs would have given up from the trembling. He is in no better position, his head is spinning and his chest heaving. He could die again now, and this time he would be at peace.
