she hiding (she also snoozing)

Jack had been quite happy riding his oxytocin high even after you left, yet it all came crashing down after his phone buzzed, leaving him gasping and ready to kill for more.

Mr Nichols,

Stay away from (Y/N), otherwise I'm going to tell them and the police about the stalking. They've agreed to cut contact with you while we work on our relationship, so don't make this harder then it already is. Just think of this as for them.

-S.

Jack was sure that he was going to combust. Why would you agree to cut contact with him after agreeing to date him? It didn't make sense. No matter how much he mulled it over, he always wound up at the same conclusion: it was an attempt of keeping you away from him.

He nearly ground his phone into microscopic metallic fragments. He knew exactly who the message was from, and it pissed him off to no end that they thought it was something they could get away with.

The first thing he did was go to your house, hoping that you were there to tell him that you were telling the truth at the party—that you loved him. He wanted to hear you say those words (out loud, this time), despite the fear that had since enveloped his being, telling him over and over again that you had lied to him, that you were laughing along with them at his misery. This desperation removed all rational thinking that would have normally entered his head when he discovered that you weren't at home.

His hands shook as he knocked on the door again, hurrying around the house to look in all the windows. Nothing. No lights were on, and you weren't responding to his text.

'Fuck!' In a fit of anger, Jack kicked the nearest object, which just so happened to be the wall. He ignored the pain shooting through his foot. In fact, he relished in it, because it was exactly what he deserved for letting his guard down.

He should have been bolder. He should have said something at the party, made you break up with them there and then before taking you home where he knew you were safe. If only he had been bolder, then none of this would be happening. He would have woken up with you—maybe even made you breakfast.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and Jack whirled around, throwing the only thing within grabbing distance: a watering can. It sailed over Kagekao's head, clunking against a tree.

'You missed,' Kagekao commented. 'Is something the matter?'

Jack had never been so glad to see a demon. 'Yes! Kage, mate, please, I need your help to murder someone. It's important, a-and I can't do it alone without getting caught.'

'You want to commit murder? I was under the impression you were abiding by the law in order to date that human. (Y/N), if I recall correctly. Has something...happened?'

It took a few minutes for Kagekao to be brought up to speed with everything that had happened: the ritual, your lack of memories, Socks, and their strange personality shift.

'They were never ever like this before the ritual,' Jack said. 'It's like Chernabog altered something when he removed (Y/N)'s memories. Do you think he would do that?'

'I can't make any certain assumptions,' Kagekao mused, 'since I've never met the fellow myself, but from what I've heard, he likes his little games. This is probably one of them.'

'So if I find Chernabog, everything will stop?'

'It might do; why do you ask?' He folded his arms, eyes narrowing. 'Are you planning to confront him?'

Jack's delayed reply gave Kagekao the answer he knew he would get, and he groaned, head falling into his hand.

'You have got to be joking. You aren't a demon anymore, Jack. You can't fight him.'

'Says who?' Jack questioned. 'I can fight him if I want to.'

'You cannot—Jack, listen to me—you cannot fight him and survive. What are you going to do if you die in his realm? Everyone will forget about you again, and (Y/N) will move on. Do you want that to happen?'

'Bold of you to assume that I'll die in his realm. I have no reason to die, so I'll be fine.'

'Jack?' Kagekao's voice was quieter then usual, and, with his hands pressed together like he was in prayer, index fingers pressed against the lines of his mouth.

'Yeah?'

'I get that you're in pain, I really, truly do, but going to confront Chernabog with nothing but belief that you won't die is one way to ensure that your existence is completely fucking removed from reality. You either take me with you, or I'm going to trap you here until (Y/N) gets back. You want to make them happy, don't you?'

Jack nodded. He knew that having Socks as a best friend made you happy, and he also knew that, as much as it pained his heart to admit, there would be some things that you would need a best friend for. He wanted to be the only person you went to for help or advice, but he knew that it was unlikely to happen, and if Socks as a best friend made you happy...who was he to deny you happiness?

'You want to be with them forever, don't you?'

Jack nodded again. 'Yeah.'

'Then let me go with you. I'm far more powerful in any demonic realm, so I can deal with the physical offensive. I may not know my way around his realm, but I can have a good guess.'

'I do.' A new, timid voice piped up from a few feet away. 'I know my way around.'

The two men turned to the source of the voice, who was peeking out from behind a tree, glitching nervously.

'What're you doing here?' Jack spat, fists clenching.

Ophelia hid completely behind the tree, replying, 'I-I want to help! And apologise. I tried to warn (Y/N) against completing the ritual, but they were so determined to help you that they didn't listen. I would have tried harder if I knew what the outcome would be.'

'You know little Lia?' Kagekao sounded surprised.

'If it was in nicer circumstances, we would've gotten along. But since (Y/N) was in a fucking coma, I wasn't really in the mood for making friends.'

Kagekao gasped. 'How can you not want to befriend Lia? She's adorable!'

'Mr Kagekao, please. Not everyone gets along.'

'An exception is made in that rule for you, dear. You said you know your way through Chernabog's realm?'

'I did.' She reached around the tree, holding out a thin notebook. 'Everyone enters at the same point, no matter where they come from. I've drawn a map and written instructions on the fastest route to where he is.'

'How do you know your way around?' Jack took the notebook from her, holding it so both he and Kagekao could read it, and he was ever so slightly surprised at how intricate the map and the instructions were—every fine detail was carefully noted, with colour-coding and an index to explain certain parts of the domain, or important landmarks to make sure that anyone using it wouldn't get lost.

'I glitch in and out of his realm sometimes,' Ophelia explained, 'so one day I got fed up of getting lost and drew a map. You can keep the map; I don't need it.'

'Are you sure?'

'Of course. It's the least I can do. I'm sorry for letting (Y/N) go in by themself. The ritual sent them right to him, so at least they avoided going through his realm.'

'It's not your fault,' Jack said. 'They're stubborn. Even I wouldn't have tried to argue with them.'

'Look at you two making up,' cooed Kagekao. 'I told you it's impossible to dislike her. Now, I think we should arm ourselves before going in, hm? I don't think any minor demons will be happy to see us.'

Jack wasn't sure if he was really in control of his limbs anymore.

From the moment he broke into the next nearest house to steal a kitchen knife, everything felt...odd. (Although, he didn't notice this until long after the experience had passed.)

His body didn't feel like it was 'his' anymore. Whenever it moved, he didn't feel like he was in control of what it did—like he was a ghost trapped inside someone else's head, watching their hands and feet move around like they had their own minds. It reminded him of when he first woke up after the ritual: the world was dull, both in colour and in content, and any noise was muffled and distorted, though to his ears, it must have been crystal clear, since his mouth responded whenever someone spoke to him.

Could his eyes be trusted? He wasn't sure. Was there blood on his hands, dripping over the handle of the knife he clutched between his fingers? He didn't know if he should believe his skin, or if it was lying to him.

The only thing he was sure of was that the plan was going to work. There was no room for failure, and he wouldn't let it fail. This was for you, after all. It was all for you.

He couldn't remember the last time he had had something that was 'his'. Growing up as he did, nothing was ever truly, really his. Everything he owned was to do with his studies, meaning it would be thrown away once he had passed that section of his school life.

Now that he thought about it...when did he have something of his own? The last one he could remember, when he really really really thought about it, was his cat, and even he left him eventually—not wilfully, of course. Clunk was old and sick, and Jack didn't want his beloved cat to suffer.

He knew you wouldn't leave him, though.