FIREFLIES - Eyeless Jack X Reader

Chapter 15 - Game Plan

True to his claim he can't eat any human food. I begged him to eat a steak I had prepared, for the sake of knowledge. (I even went out of my way to make it bloody, thinking maybe that'll help.) He ran to the bathroom and sat over the toilet throwing up for the better part of half an hour. I didn't ask him to try anything else.

He doesn't have eyes, but he can see! (To an extent.) He told me he sees the world as tv static and objects are either light or dark collections of those little dots. When he writes in the notebook he can see the edges of the page but not the lines, and the ink is almost solidly black. The only exception is blood, which is the only thing to ever get color. Blood is bright red and his eyes are always drawn to iot, even if he tries with all his might to look away.

He's got some crazy senses. He says he can smell things from up to 20 miles away, and it's nearly 30 if it's human blood. (He says it reminds him of a shark, the way his senses are so attuned for hunting down people.) He can hear me breathing from across the house, and if I whisper something he can even hear me open and close my mouth between words (this might be a big factor in why he hates electronics so much.)

I've been trying not to let him in on the fact that I'm doing these experiments, but he's for sure caught on to a few of the odder ones. I'm worried that if he finds out I'm trying to test all these things he'd start hiding information, or clam up and accidentally muddy my results. I do feel a little bad hiding my intentions from him like this, but considering all he put me through, my logic says it's only fair. I'll tell him eventually, just not right now.

I was sitting on the couch, holding Fin against my chest and smoothing down his feathers as I stared up at the ceiling, thinking. My biggest concern right now is figuring out where the hell we need to start on this whole curse business. My first instinct is to take him back to that cave where it all went down, but I'm a little hesitant to suggest it as the first option. It's for sure a traumatic place for him, and I doubt he'll want to go back unless there was nothing else. So, I'm putting a pin in that for right now and looking for another option we could try first.

I can't help but glance over at EJ as I ponder. He's moving things from one place to another, but not necessarily cleaning. It looks more like that fake cleaning you see people do when they need to look busy for their boss. He grabs up a stack of books and walks over to the bookshelf. He just kinda just picks a book to move somewhere else, and randomly sticks a different book from the stack in it's place. At first glance it seems like he's organizing, but there's definitely no method to it. Unless he's going by like, texture of the cover or something. I watch him mill about for a bit then return my eyes to the ceiling, and bring my mind right back into deep thought. What else could we do? All the people who were involved are dead, save for him. The place it happened is certainly not going to be easy for him to return to. Maybe something about the ritual is the key? Did they do or say anything specific? My eyes stay glued to the ceiling, but now my voice and mind turn to EJ.

"Hey, Jack, do you remember-" The unmistakable and loud sound of many things hitting the floor steals my attention, and I whip my head over to see what just happened. EJ stood there, looking rather shocked; a stack of three books sitting scattered at his feet. I cock my head in confusion, an eyebrow raised as he stands there staring at me. After about a full minute, motion returns and he scrambles to find his notebook. As soon as he has it he scratches something down and rushes over to me, damn near shoving the book into my face. I blink at him, confused. Until, of course, I read it.

'I haven't been called by my real name in a very long time.'

I gape, dumbfounded. Suddenly I'm a blur of motion as well, one of my own hands flies to my lips and slaps over my gawking maw. A gasp escapes me, my eyes wide as dinner plates. In this very moment I realize that he; 1. Has an actual name. And 2. I just accidentally used it without meaning to. My chest is a mix of embarrassment and pity. So he's telling me nobody has just called him 'Jack' since the night he almost died? I think back to Masky and feel my heart sink, even the person he was closest to didn't call him his name? They always put 'Eyeless' in front? That sounds so sad, imagine having your entire life ruined, and the only thing people associate you with is the result of your downfall.

His real name, I can't believe it. I mean, of course he has a real name, he was human once, he told me himself! But to think...

"...I'm...Sorry?" I pipe up, slowly shifting myself into better posture as I look up at him. I stare at that sleek blue mask, trying to find answers in those endless voids. For the first time ever, I finally understood the truth of what he is. He's a walking tragedy. And not like the storybook sense of the word.

It's so painful to look at him now, as I'm realizing the weight of it all. He covers his face because he's ashamed of what he's become, his eyes bleed the very substance used to try and kill him. Everything about how he's adorned himself to how he behaves...It feels like he's just been trying to hide. Hide all of it and himself from the world. Hide from himself, even.

Part of me wants to reach out and console him, to comfort the frightened person hiding behind the scariest parts. But another knows he doesn't want it, doesn't think he deserves it. I clear my throat, giving myself a brief second to wrangle some composure after that gentle heartbreak I just had.

I'm more determined than ever now to fix this curse.

"...Do you not want me to call you that?" I ask quietly, my hands still hovering over my lips as the sheepish feeling fades.

He looks like he's thinking for a second before turning his mask down to the page and softly writing a response.

'You can call me Jack, it made me happy. I felt like a person again, not a monster.'

It took everything I had to not burst into tears right then and there. I wanted to tell him he wasn't a monster, but truth be told he was. Or, his body was at least. I take in a quick inhale of breath, trying to push down my emotions. I give a soft bob of the head, acknowledging what he just said.

"Okay, Jack-." I pause, shooting him a glance. He does that little bounce thing he does when he's happy, and my heart melts again. "I have a question." He gives me a quick nod and sits beside me on the couch, looking a little brighter than before.

"This might be painful to bring up, but it's about the night you were cursed." His giddiness fades just as fast as it arrived. His body language told me he didn't wanna have this conversation, but he wasn't going to deny me either. His mask looked down at the floor and his shoulders suddenly looked tense and sharp.

"I know a lot happened, but was there anything special about the ritual? Like, did they say anything out of the ordinary -even for cultists-, was there an object or something that they were really protective of?" I asked, not sure I even knew what I was talking about myself. Never have I thought I'd be asking questions like this, but here I am. Jack, however, didn't look sheepish anymore. In fact he perked up quite a bit, like I addressed a thing even he didn't realize was important.

'They had a book. It was huge and gnarly. Only one person was allowed to touch it. I didn't realize it then, but I don't remember sensing the book after I was cursed.'

"That book might be the key to all of this! ...Jack, I know you don't want anything to do with that place anymore, but for the sake of ending your curse...I think we have to go back."

'I'm not running anymore. If you're with me, I can do it. Let's go.'