HOME | DD

Description
Her hair was tucked into a graceful bun, her eyes were artfully lined, and her lips glistened softly in the glowing bar lights.
Gods she’s fantastic.
I remember the drink in my hand, but the flavor never mattered.

She was enjoying herself.

And I’ve never been happier.

Of course that...Thing sat with us. But I gave little attention to his neanderthal self. What a waste of time and energy. All the mock nervousness and haughty comebacks, who does this fucker think he is? But I shouldn't distract myself.
The main goal was to be with her, to talk to her, to feel her gaze wash over my being again. Though with every single wave of attention, I felt her seemingly look right through my disguise. She knows I’m here, she knows it’s me. Her beautiful (y/n) eyes can see through these fake orbs…

What am I saying? This disguise is pure witchcraft, and it doesn't matter if she knows it's me or not. Either way she hasn't rejected my communication. So there’s no need to become overly poetic about things.

The apartment is slightly cold as I walk back and forth across the living room. Utter darkness wraps around me, the ebony shadow only being parted by two beams of soft white light.

“I know what you’re thinking, Jack.”
a smooth voice breaks the hazy night air and I turn to face the source.
Sitting on the couch, glasses, sweatpants, and a bucket of chicken on her lap, Is the Editor. Her baggy t-shirt and general messy appearance makes me pause for the umpteenth time this evening. I know Editor is only a fallible monster like myself, but this is a little much. Even she should know that a person of her rank really should at least get dressed before leaving the house.
I sigh, crossing my arms and gazing over at the Editor, who calmly takes a bite of her meal. “Well?” I hum, scowling and watching Lady E continue her feast. The aforementioned woman simply shakes her head in disappointment before reaching into the bucket again. Fried chicken stench wafts through the apartment, and I find myself gagging inwardly.
“Did you have to bring that here?” I mutter, scowling. Edward raises one brow and gazes over her thick-rimmed glasses at me.
“Bitch, you’ve gone and woke my lazy ass up and demanded I get over here. It’s two in the goddamn morning and I have more meetings tomorrow than you have bones in your body.” Editor huffs, tearing off another hunk of chicken and chewing violently.
“That doesnt explain the chicken.” a sigh leaves my lips as I move to sit next to the massive woman. The smell of coconut and baked goods radiates over the smell of chicken and I find some relief. “Well you see, Mr. Nicholson, I give less fucks than a virgin. So I decided to grab some damn food before listening to your lovesick ass.” the sound of tearing meat follows the flat tone and I can’t decide if I should yell at her for the sound or the comment. Cool blood rushes to my cheeks and I huff gently under my breath. “I am NOT lovesick. I just have one friend and I would like to keep her.” Edward raises a brow, calmly chewing her food before shifting her gaze upward. muttering to herself “How many holes do I need to fix in this ship before it sails?”
“Pardon?” I tilt my head gently to the side, waiting for an explanation. Edward simply shakes her head and tears the crunchy skin from another drumstick. As the strange, breaded meal crunches in between sharp teeth, I slowly begin wondering why Editor hangs out with me so much.
“Yknow Jack, you stress me so damn much.” Edward hums, swallowing her food and looking over at me. She continues “you've got me praying to a God who gave up on people like us a long damn time ago. Now I know you're a demon and you don't believe in that blessing shit, but maybe consider that you count her among those who are a little more than mere friend.”
I sigh, nodding in defeat. No, I don't consider (y/n) as a possible lover, not because I find her to be displeasing, but because of what I am. She sees me as nothing but a monster, there's no point in trying to make her both see me as human and make her fancy me.
Editor seems to read my mind and she sighs loudly, gazing into her empty KFC bucket before setting it on the coffee table. Large white eyes turn to face me, a deep sadness looming within their endless glow. Edward parts her lips, revealing the sharp teeth within her gaping mouth, and for a moment, she seems to be preparing to speak.

I wait nervously for more protest from the queen.

A few moments of silence pass.

And without a sound, Editor reaches into her backpack and reveals a second bucket of chicken.