You kept your gaze as steady and as calm as possible as you stared him in the eyes—well, as you stared him in the eye sockets—trying not to let your fear show. You nodded, acknowledging his presence; he started, taken aback by this.

Was he not expecting me to be able to see him?

Recovering from the shock, Eyeless Jack tapped again on the window, gesturing for you to open it. You hesitated before cautiously going over to the window and cracking it open, hurriedly taking a step back.

Wait, you realised, he can't hurt me. None of them can.

He opened the window wider, poking his arm through to point at something on your desk. For a brief second, his original form was visible, showing you his face. And then it was gone.

You followed his finger to see what he was pointing at. The pocket knife.

'Do you...want it back?' you asked, your voice cracking uncomfortably.

'Yes.' You didn't expect him to speak. His voice was rough, like it wasn't used often, and the first word that came to mind was 'husky'.

You took several steps back to the pocket knife, making sure it was closed, before going over to Eyeless Jack and offering it to him. He took it with a grey hand, shoving it in his pocket.

'Where'd you get it from?' he asked.

'An antique store.'

'Who put it there?'

You hesitated. '...Your friend, Greg.'

'Cool. Thanks.'

'Um, you're welcome, I guess? How did you know I had it?'

'Followed you from town. I wasn't certain if you had it.'

'Ah. Okay.'

'Why can you see me?'

'Sorry?'

'Why can you see me?' he repeated, 'humans aren't meant to see us. Why can you?'

'I don't know.' It was true. You had no idea why you could see them. 'I ran into No-Face, and then I could see you all.'

'No-Face?' He tilted his head, confused.

'Yeah. Tall man in a suit.' I'm not saying his name.

'Oh, the boss. Right. Nice talking to you. Goodbye.'

'Uh, likewise. See ya.'

Eyeless Jack closed the window and turned around, pulling his hood up and walking away.

Locking the window, you pulled the curtains tightly and ran over to your phone, looking through your laptop's search history with one hand and typing in a phone number with your other.

The phone rang from an uncomfortable length of time before being picked up.

'Sup, this is Greg Hunt speaking.'

'Hey, Mr Hunt,' you said, relieved that he answered, 'my name's (Y/N) (L/N). I've just come across that article from a few weeks ago about your friend, and I was wondering if you still wanted some help?'

'I mean, yeah. What kind of help are you offering?'

'All sorts, really. I'm a digital historical researcher, so I can do all sorts of things. But I have a, um, special 'ability', per se.'

'Oh? What is it?'

'Promise you won't laugh or disregard it.'

'Promise.'

'I can see things everyone else can't. Not like, hallucinations, but things everyone else call fictional. Creepypastas, for example.'

Greg was silent. Then, he said, 'I think I see where you're going. So, if Jack was this Eyeless Jack fellow the stories say he is, then you would be able to see him?'

'Yeah. I've just seen him, actually, hence I called you.'

'What?!'

'I know it sounds too coincidental, but it's true. He wanted the pocket knife.'

'You were the one bought that thing? Christ, so the old woman wasn't going off her rocker.'

'Yeah, I bought it.'

'Shit.' Greg let out a deep sigh. 'Was he...alright? Jack, I mean.'

'You've seen the fan art, right?'

'Course.'

'He looked like that.'

'Shit,' he said again, 'what was he like? Did he seem out of it?'

'I don't really know, cause I can't know what he was like beforehand, but he spoke kinda weirdly. Not weird, but very terse.'

'Yeah, that's not like the Jack I remember. He was a chatty bastard. Say, how about we meet up? The weekend?'

'Sure, the weekend works well for me.'

'Great. I'll text you my address on the day.'