Eyes of the Divine (Yandere!Eyeless Jack X GN!Reader)

Giggling, Kicking My Feet-Oh.

'Love you too.' The click that signalled the end of the call echoed around Jack's skull, and he wished that you had stayed at home. Sat in the living room, in what was now his spot on the sofa, he became acutely aware of the inordinate sense of emptiness that filled the house. The shadows in the corner seemed to grow, and the tenebrious tentacles that slithered across the floor when Jack wasn't looking made the hair on his arms stand on edge.

He forgot how lonely it was when you left.

He'd been in the house before when you weren't there, but the times before had felt...electrifying. Like he was a child in a toy shop with explicit permission to buy anything he wanted. He used to be able to walk through the empty rooms, examining every tiny detail so he could burn it into his memory. But now? Now it felt wrong. He was your partner. There was no need to sneak around and try to gain your attention because he already had that. The only thing he needed was you.

A thought popped into his head, and he leapt to his feet as fast as he possibly could with a bandaged leg. If he was going to sit and mope over your absence, he was going to make himself useful while he did. He knew where the hoover was and where you kept the kitchen cleaner, and it wasn't like he had anything better to do.

Jack hissed slightly as his leg reminded him that his painkillers had worn off, and if he was going to be lugging a hoover around, he didn't need to be distracted by the pain that his wound exuded like a nasty pus. There was no place for that in his plan of the evening, so down went two tablets.

He knew exactly how to tidy the downstairs of your house and make it look like you yourself had done it. After all, he'd watched you clean so many times that it was ingrained in his muscles—almost like he'd been there with you, copying your every move. When he first found you after you had moved, it had been reassuring to know that you still liked things to be done a certain way. You may have grown and matured since your days at university, but your little quirks had stayed the same.

Hoovering took longer than he would have liked. The heaviness of the machine combined with his limp made the journey around each room feel like a race that he was never going to win. Trying to manoeuvre around the grey wire that seemed to always be in the way was impossible, and when Jack found himself on the sofa after tripping over the snake-like coil, he realised that maybe he did need a walking stick after all.

It was something you had told him about earlier in the morning: 'I have a walking stick that I got from my grandad before he died. It's adjustable so just mess around with it until it's the right size. I think it's in my wardrobe or under the stairs. It's not as good as a proper crutch, but it's better than nothing. We can find a proper crutch tomorrow if you need one.' At first, he had been determined to persevere with it. The injury was the result of his own stupidity, and therefore he needed to live with the consequences. But maybe it was time to give in.

Lo and behold, it was indeed in your wardrobe and once it was adjusted to sit in the right place, the literal and figurative pain that plagued him was lifted. It was sleek-looking and smooth under his palm, and a few experimental steps proved that it was actually a pretty useful thing for Jack to have. He did have to admit that trying to hoover with one hand was a little bit tricky, but having proper balance was worth the hassle.

Never had he considered himself to be the kind of guy content with having a simple life like the one he envisioned with you. Back in his university days, he had been preparing for the life of a surgeon. He had never considered other options, like cooking or owning a business. That sort of life had never been an option while he had remained under the hands of his parents. But now he was free, and he had you, and he felt like he could do anything.