HOME | DD

Description
Journal Entry #345
The experiment conducted today was a wild success despite the oddity of its effects. Eyeless Jack explained his intolerance for humidity on the way back from our little excursion. Apparently the odd black goo that has replaced his blood reacts horribly to certain climates, his blood was thickening the more he moved. Really, I believe the mask was partially to blame, it was trapping moisture against his face and making it difficult to get oxygen to his lungs. Upon removal of the mask and decrease in motion, Jack’s breathing went back to normal and he was fine. This is certainly a leap in comparison to our previous arrangement (see entry #332).

Currently, Eyeless is pacing around the house, most likely enjoying the lack of humidity and his now-clean clothes. Oddly enough, he just wears the exact same clothes every day: black pants, shirt, and hoodie. It seems rather obvious that he would do it for camouflage purposes; however, he actually seems to enjoy the clothes. Anyway, I forced Jack to change into something else so I could wash his filthy clothes. Its bizarre to see him, but at least he isn’t caked in mud anymore.

I conclude my journal entry and return the book to the shelf, a soft sigh leaving my lips as I sit back onto my desk chair. My legs ache from the walk today, but a soft rumble from my stomach reminds me that I need to go eat. The chair creaks as I rise up once more, stretching my back and wandering off to the kitchen.
Cool tile flooring chills my aching feet slightly as I pad toward the fridge, opening the door and surveying the contents. Nothing good. “so… How exactly do you plan to wash my clothes without a washing machine?” Jack’s soft voice mumbles out from in the shadows of a nearby hallway. “Oh yeah…” I hum, closing the door and whipping my hands on my pants, “I forgot that I was fixing the machine and never finished.” Leaning against the counter, I cross my ankles and gaze up at Jack, who looks very uncomfortable in his new clothing. “You can step out of the dark, Jack. No one is judging you.” I mutter, rubbing the back of my head and massaging my scalp.
“I don’t like these. I feel so exposed.” Reluctantly, Jack shuffles into the light, nervously rubbing his arm and staring at the ground. Flecks of mud clings to the ends of Jack’s hair, making him look like a guilty child who just got done destroying a flower pot. “Jack, it’s a gray shirt with a blue and black plaid flannel, how the hell are you feeling exposed? you’re wearing almost the same thing. If anything, you look better than usual.” I examine my nails, ignoring the soft blush forming on my roommate’s cheeks as he awkwardly shoves his hands into his pants pockets.
“S-So how are you washing your clothes?” the answer is obvious, but I can tell that he’s just trying to change the subject. “In the tub, obviously. Usually I just wash the clothes, hang them to dry, then watch a crappy movie. It’s basically a ritual at this point.” I stand, popping my back and walking off to the master bathroom, I feel Jack’s presence follow me, the smell of patchouli stronger without his jacket on. “May I help you?” Jack’s tone is laced with nervousness as he joins me. “Sure, don’t see why not.” Shrugging, I step into the master bath and survey the piles of laundry on the floor.

“Okay, so, these baskets are for the different types of clothes: lights, darks, bleach, ect. Those will be put in the tub separately. After they’ve been cleaned, we wring them out and put them in those baskets over there. “ I give my directions briefly as I pull soaps from a nearby closet. Jack sits on the counter, hands in his lap and his legs folded under him. “okay, where does the laundry go from there?” I walk over to a window, peering out at a wind spinner and noting how fast it’s moving. “Upstairs, there’s a room with several windows, I put the clothes up there to dry when its windy. “ I walk back to the tub, adjusting the water so its warm, but not too warm. Jack hops down from the counter, removing his flannel shirt and tying it around his waist. “Well? What are we waiting for?” a soft grin joins the man’s already happy tone as he stands by the tub with me.

I don’t think Jack has ever washed his clothes before.

“Wow. I guess I never realized how dirty those were.” The genuine surprise in Jack’s voice terrifies me as we look down at the murky water, brownish red from the filth washed from Jack’s clothing. I look over to my companion, watching his bemused expression as he swirls one finger around in the water. “Jack, why don’t you wash your clothes?” I scoot closer to Jack, pulling on some gloves and removing the drain. We’re going to need several tubs of water to clean this. “Don’t really need to. I don’t live anywhere, so cleanliness doesn’t particularly matter to me.” Leaning one arm against the edge of the tub, Jack rests his chin and mouth in the crook of his elbow. “But what about body odor?...” I don’t particularly understand this about Jack, he never smells bad, the constant scent of patchouli replaces any awful odor on him. Otherwise, his clothes just smell like copper and forest.
“Oh, that I don’t really understand. While humans tend to smell weird if they don’t shower, I just smell like patchouli. It just comes from my skin. Humans seem to like it, but I don’t really get why.” Suddenly, everything clicked, the smell he leaves on everything he touches is part of him. Disgust follows suit as I realize that the reason my room smells like it is because he laid in my bed with his filthy clothes.
“Jack, how long do you go between showers?” disgust and intrigue floods me as I watch Jack ponder the question, “longest was ten months. Which was the time between visiting the library, and being pulled from the moat. My skin was so covered in the smell of patchouli that I was just leaving it wherever I went.” I begin to re-fill the tub, pouring in a gratuitous amount of soap. “Sorry, that sounds disgusting.” Jack blushes awkwardly as he sits, his wide, eyeless sockets staring down into the tub. One black-nailed finger swirling through the clear-ish water as he stares down in shame.
“It’s fine, Jack, the smell doesn’t bother me at all. I like it.” My reply is half-whispered as I continue scrubbing the clothes, swirls of brown joining the bubbles. “R-Really? It’s not bad? I thought you would find me disgusting.” Jack’s tone lightens as he looks over to me, his face mostly covered besides his eyes and nose. The strange monster almost looks cute with his messy brown/black hair and his wide “eyes”. “The only thing disgusting about you is these clothes.” I hum, pulling the clothes out from the tub yet again and running them through the running faucet. “Thanks…” the reply is genuine, Jack’s soft voice humming a tune as he helps pull the clothes from the tub.

The rest of the laundry didn’t take a particularly long time, Jack helped enthusiastically, scrubbing clothes and passing them to me for rinsing. Soon enough, only “delicates” were left, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting Jack wash my underwear,
“here, take the baskets upstairs. On the third floor is a large room with a ton of windows. There’s a bunch of lines and clips in there. Hang the laundry.” I grab the last dirty clothes basket. Taking it to the sink instead of the tub. “But what about tho-“”These aren’t any of your business. Now g-go do what I asked.” I don’t mean to snap at Jack, but I just want him out at this point. “oh, okay.” And with that, Jack was gone, lifting up the two large baskets and walking off with them. I sigh softly, scrubbing gently at the delicate fabric in my hands.
Today was fairly alright, got to learn more about Jack and got some work done. A small smile appears on my lips as I continue shifting around the clothes in the sink. I used to think Jack was kind of an ass when he first came here. With his high-and-mighty flirting and rough ways, but now seems a little different. Jack is just a shy man, not entirely confident in himself, and I cannot believe I didn’t see it before…

I finish up with my personal laundry, wringing it all out gently and carrying it upstairs.

The room has no laundry hanging in it despite the fact that Jack had about forty-five minutes to work.

“Why don’t you do anything in this room?” The man sits in the center of the space, staring out of the many windows, each open and letting in the wind. Jack even had the balcony door open, showing off the dark gray railing and chairs. “Because, it has a function. I use it to dry laundry.” The reply seems obvious, the hooks on the wall I had placed were for paracord laundry lines. And besides, my grandparents never really used the room. Often times I was in the room as a toddler, but those memories are all really fuzzy. And as a teen, I only ever heard music coming from the empty room, the balcony door always open and my grandparents always inside.
“But this room isn’t made for laundry…” Jack’s velvety tone fade into a sad whisper. I watch Jack reach into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Come here, (y/n)…” Hesitantly I step forward, sitting down next to Jack. “Here you go, it’s the rest of that letter….” Handing me the folded sheet of paper Jack seems to become more sad. I unfold the paper, reading my grandmother’s smooth handwriting:

…Despite her adorable demeanor, though, she is undeniably naive at times.
Sweet little (y/n), she doesn’t understand this house. None of the amazing things that we have here hold the significance to her as it is held to us.
The room on the third floor, the one with the windows, it was her favorite room as a baby. Mostly because Mr. (y/l/n) would play music and she would dance. Her little feet would pad against the old floors and she would sing. I doubt she remembers the room. Ah, my husband and I would dance together and she would sit by the speaker and do her little equations. Such a smart little girl. Always said that one day she’d find someone her size and age to dance with her. I guess that’s your job now though.

I digress- another tear signifies the second place Jack tore the letter at.

“So, this was a dance room?” I question, wondering why I’m asking the man who knows less than me about this place. Or so I think. “ Kind of. (y/n), why do you act like this?” I look over to Jack as he speaks, and he looks back at me. Arms resting on his bent knees, Jack has his head cradled in his gray arms. Black/brown hair bursting in all different directions and partially concealing pointed ears. For a serial killer, Jack looks so innocent as he stares at me from under his sad eyebrows and wild hair. “Act like what?” I copy Jack’s position and cradle my head in my arms.
“Like the world is out to get you. Like there is something hunting you constantly. You’re scared of the past and you only think of the future. You have to admit it, (y/n), you repress the memories of your grandparents. And I may not understand your species’ familial relations very well, but it doesn’t take Einstein to understand this.” The visible part of Jack’s face sinks into a melancholy expression, his eyelids drooping down as he stares. “(y/n)…. I don’t understand you in the slightest. You’re so intelligent and wonderful, yet I can tell how young and scared you are. I can smell the fear off of you. Admit it, you live for surviving tomorrow. And you don’t care for the past nor do you care for your distant future.” I open my mouth to reply, but Jack looks out the window and continues:

“Did you ever think that maybe they really wanted the best for you? That this house was never meant to be a fortress of your own solitude? That they really wanted you to be happy, for you to have many friends, for you to meet someone and grow old with them. They wanted you to throw big parties where all of your friends and extended family could come and laugh and be together. They wanted to hear the sound of little feet running around the house, giggling and calling out for their mum. But that dream cant be with these walls of yours. Literal and metaphorical, (y/n). I think I kind of understand your race a little better now, and I can easily say that you are not within the normal boundaries. You’re so secluded…You keep pushing everyone away, when really, all people want is to be near you…”
Tears well up in my eyes as Jack talks, his own voice wavering as he alludes to a future family. I didn’t think Jack would get to this emotional level with me, but here I am, nearly crying as he talks about having friends and lovers and the like. Tears flow down my cheeks and I let out a small sob, putting my hands over my face as I wail. A pair of arms wrap around my body, pulling me flush against Jack’s chest. “Hush…its okay…. You aren’t alone anymore….” Jack’s silky voice whispers into my ear. I feel large, strong hands rub their fingers against my sides, humming and soft shushing filling the room. Jack begins to rock back and forth, holding me close to him.

I don’t know how long we sat there.

All I really remember was the humming and the thick tears landing on my shoulder.

“Do you want to go watch that crappy movie you were talking about?” I sit up, looking at Jack’s tear-stained face. “I-I’d love to, Jack.” I smile and let Jack stand up, allowing him to take several moments to wipe away the thick black tears from his face before standing up by myself. Jack casts me a sharp-toothed smile before grabbing my hand and leading me downstairs.
The comfortable-looking room greets us as we enter, plain coffee brown walls decorated by a few paintings give off a warm, home vibe. I note the sudden lively presence in the room as Jack pushes me gently toward the couch and waltzes off to the DVD shelf. Sitting down, I take note of the area. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed how empty this house has become after my grandparents died. The lack of warmth, the lack of light or laughter has caused this place to rot in an odd way. I know it’s been proven that a house without people will decay rapidly. But I thought that living here would prevent the decay. I was so wrong, this house has lost its luster that it had when my grandparents were here. When the love they had for each other and myself rang out through the hallways and filled this place with fresh spring air, even in wintertime.
The room seems to become brighter, despite the rapidly darkening sky outside. The air becomes a little less dusty and empty. I can smell the patchouli that wafts off of Jack and I can smell the old furniture. It’s only Jack and I here, yet the house feels full. Maybe its my imagination, maybe I’m going crazy.
Jack pops in a random B Movie and sits down next to me, encouraging me to scoot closer. My side presses against Jack’s and he wraps his arm around me. Its kind of obvious that Jack is unused to this sort of contact, but he is also bent on making me feel better, so he says nothing about it.
“Hey (y/n)?” I turn to look up at Jack, a soft smile on his face, “Yeah Jack? What’s up?” Jack smiles slightly wider and pats my head, “it’s going to get better. We have each other now, and I think that’s good enough.” A wide grin appears on Jack’s face as he pulls me closer, “You seem more excited than I am about this.” I joke sarcastically, to be honest, it’s nice knowing that I have Jack here.
“I am probably more excited than you. I think you might be my only close friend at this point. Thank you, (y/n).” I smile and blush at Jack’s excited tone. “I’ve never really had a friend.” I reply sheepishly, “Really? A fun girl like you has never had at least an acquaintance?” Jack seems genuinely surprised by my statement, raising one brow quizzically. Warmth floods my chest and I move slightly closer “Nope. And I think I got a pretty sweet deal. Not everybody can say that their first friend is an eyeless demon hobo.” I laugh, leaning on Jack’s chest. Jack begins to pet my hair as the movie starts, his chest rumbling with laughter for a few moments, “Not everyone can say their first friend was a crazy forest hermit either.” Jack chuckles and I smack him lightly and cause him to laugh louder. Eventually we stop our seemingly endless giggles and actually watch the movie, my eyelids growing heavy quickly.

And as I fell asleep about halfway through the movie, I could have sworn I felt Jack pull me even closer and press mouth against my forehead.