{Jack's POV}

            Alcohol hung heavy in the air as Jack sat at the kitchen table, chugging a bottle of vodka straight from the bottle. While human food was bad for him, for some reason he was able to stomach alcohol. More than that, he was able to stomach near endless amounts without showing effects. It took a lot of alcohol for him to start feeling drunk. It wasn't often he'd break out the bottles, but right now he needed it.

            [Name] was totally shutting him out. Two days had passed since the fateful incident, and since then she'd refused to talk to him. Whenever he went inside, she'd turn away and just repeat her requests to leave. Whenever she DID look at him, her expression was empty, hollow, full of hurt and anxiety and anger and so many awful emotions, but the worst part were her eyes. They burnt with hatred, small [e/c] flames full of smoldering rage and fear.

            It hurt.

            It fucking hurt.

            He uncorked another bottle of alcohol and poured its contents into a metal tub on the table, watching the amber liquid flow like a waterfall. He didn't even know what it was, just that he had a lot of bottles of it. He uncorked them one after another, emptying them into the tub and watching as the amber liquid slowly filled the tub. Eventually he stopped and went to the fridge, grabbing jars containing refrigerated livers and dunking them in the tub.

            Livers were the organ most affected by alcohol. As such, Jack always found it beautifully ironic to soak them in alcohol before eating them. However, today he wasn't trying to be poetic. Honestly, he just wanted to get drunk. He wanted to forget about that cold look in [Name]'s eyes, glinting in the dim light of the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

            He regretted leaving her in that room. That room was his operating room, he'd occasionally bring victims there to dissect. Increase his knowledge of human anatomy, and get an even bigger meal out of it. It was the only place he could think of taking her, the only place with the right supplies, he'd just been so panicked...

            He shouldn't have left her there, though. He should have taken her back to her own bedroom, left her in her own bed. Instead, after the operation he left her unconscious on the table so he could go fetch his mask. Of course the sedatives would wear off while he was gone, and of course she wouldn't listen to him then.

            Violently tearing into the liver with his teeth, he scowled, mentally cursing himself. He could feel the alcohol finally starting to take hold, making his thoughts more slurred and groggy. Finally. Right now, he needed that blurriness, that lack of clarity, to just be drunk. He never thought a time would come when he'd need that, but at long last, it had arrived. All because of [Name].

            As he drank, an interesting fact about black-outs surfaced in his mind, a distant memory from his time at medical school. When a drunk person "blacked out", it wasn't because they couldn't remember. The brain simply stopped recording information. It was physically impossible to remember anything from a black-out, because there was literally nothing to remember. An interesting fact.

            Ironically, that fact was the last thing he'd remember of the rest of the night.

{Reader's POV}

            Buddy once told me that there were two types of drunks: violent and angry, and sobbing and blubbering.

            I never would have pegged Jack for the second type though.

            I stared at him in shock as he sat cross-legged on the floor next to the slab, just chugging from a bottle as he sobbed and blubbered about "killing" the broken window. If he'd had eyes, I imagined they would be bloodshot, but instead he just had those empty black voids, his lids drooping over them. Even with the few feet separating us, I could still smell the alcohol on his breath. I didn't really know how to react to this. A little part of me was just kind of grateful he wasn't Drunk Type A.

            "A-and I was just, just, so sad, scared," he babbled, hiccuping. "I mehn, I wuz just huntin', y'know? Kill, kill, stab..." He lamely mimicked the motion with the bottle in his hand, causing some of it to pour onto his lap. For a moment his arm hung there, but then he slowly let it fall, staring down at his lap. "Fuck, look, I frickin' look like I wet my pants..."

            He started laughing and shaking his head, as if it was absolutely hilarious. Meanwhile, I just stared at him trying to figure out how to react to all this. Should I say something about him being drunk...? "Um, Jack...?"

            "Oh, where're muh manners?" he asked, holding the bottle to me. I slowly shook my head.

            "Uh, no thanks..." After a moment he shrugged and just took another sip, some of the amber liquid dripping down his chin.

            "Whatever suits ya," he said as he pulled it from his lips. "Now, 'ere 'as I?"

            "Uh—"

            "Oh, yeah! Stab, stab, kill!" He chuckled as he mimicked the motions again, once again pouring the alcohol onto his lap, though this time he didn't seem to care and just took another swig. "So I kills the guy, y'know? Yay, more kidneys! Kidneys, kindeys, kinney!" He chanted it with a childlike glee and giggled. "Oh, so yummy! Kidneys! They taste so GREAT! I could go fer a kidneh right now..." He giggled and shook his head. "I loves kidneys... Don't you?"

             I stared at him for a moment, unsure how to respond. "...Sure...?"

            "I know, right?" He grinned at me, but it soon faded, his expression growing somber as he took another swig. Exhaling as it parted from his lips, he stared at the ground, his lips tugging into a frown. "But then... I smelled sometin'. Blood. So yummy, probably type O, so delilishious... I wanded it. I wanded da kidneys... 'Cause kidneys taste so goodidy-good-awesome... So I went after it, with my... my... whatchamacallit, that stabby-pokey-thingy that makes people go night-night..." He giggled a bit.

            "...Needle?" I guessed, and he jerked and pointed at me, grinning.

            "Yeah, that!" he said with a nod. "My nedol... I took out my nedol. Figgerd I'd make him go to sleep for a bit..." Suddenly he burst out laughing, so sudden and loud I flinched, while he kept howling hysterically at some joke only he could understand. Finally, though, his laughter ebbed, and just as suddenly it began it ended, punctuated by another swig from the bottle. At this point he scowled, giving it a shake. "Damn. Entry."

            "...Darn," I mumbled halfheartedly. Jack threw it aside, making me wince as it loudly shattered against the wall. He didn't react, though, just got on his back with a sigh.

            "So thur I wus, jus' creepin' up on dat boodiful bloody scent, an' I see 'im... A big burly man, with a bloody han'. Cu' 'imself on the edge o' a boddle or sumdin', I dunno. I din' care, I jus' wanned his kidneys... Yummy yummy kidneys..." A faint smile tugged at his laps as he exhaled, but it quickly faded. "I ne'er did get a kidneh doh... Y'know why?" He turned his head to me, his expression empty and hollow. I just shrugged.

            "...Not really," I muttered, and he sighed.

            "C'mon, [Name], t'ink." Suddenly he put his hands on either side of my head, making my blood run cold and a shiver trail down my spine. I wanted to scream at him to let go, to swat his hands, but I didn't dare actually do it. Drunks come in two varieties, and I didn't want to risk making him mad and turn into the other type. Staring into my eyes, his void-like eyes seemed to burrow into my soul as he spoke. "Who're'm'I talkin' about? You know dis... You know dis, [Nayum]..."

            My name slurred in his mouth this time, a result of his drunkness. I knew he was a lost cause at this point, but I couldn't speak. All I could do was stare back at him, too shocked to respond. After a while he released my head and slumped against the table, sighing and shaking his head as he turned so he was leaning against it, no longer facing me. My shoulders slumped with relief, only for me to freeze at his next words:

            "Id'wus Buddy."

            "What...?" The word escaped my mouth without me thinking, so softly I almost thought I hadn't said it, but clearly I had because Jack suddenly began chuckling. It was a low sound at first, soft and low, but it slowly escalated into hysterical laughter. He just laughed and laughed, howling and holding his sides as his laughter echoed and bounced off the cold concrete walls.

            I was so stunned by the sudden change I didn't know how to react at first, I just stared at him in shock. If I wasn't tethered to the table, I'd be trying to back away, but as it was all I could do was hug my knees and stare at him. Desperation tinged his voice, a bit of insanity, telling me that this wasn't happy laughter, but sad. Desperate, scared, upset, anxious, terrified. As he bowed over I saw black goop oozing from his face and onto the ground.

            It was only then that I reached out. Shifting so I was on my knees, I leaned over the edge of the table and gently pressed a hand to his back. He ignored me, just sobbing as he stared at the ground. Occasionally he'd wipe his face, the black ooze from his eyes glinting and reflecting in the dull light and sticking out even against the black fabric of his sleeve. He turned his head to me, his face contorted in absolute pain and agony.

            "It was so scary," he whispered, his voice sounding like it would crack any moment. "I woke up in darkness, I couldn't feel my arms... It was so dark... So frickin' scary... After a while I even forgot what the moon looked like..." He trailed off, bowing his head as more "tears" flowed, dripping to the ground.

            As I stared at him, I don't know why, but my heart just broke. This guy cut me open, took something out of me as a snack, and I felt bad for him. But in a way, it was hard NOT to. I'd have to be heartless. I knew exactly what Buddy had done at him, things so messed up I'd never wish it on anyone. Buddy had broken him. That was a fact. No matter how afraid I was of Jack, no matter how angry I got at him, no matter how much I despised him... I couldn't laugh at his agony. It was too righteous, too justified.

             "Jack..." Without thinking I placed a hand on his shoulder and he froze. Slowly his head turned, staring at my hand, and he abruptly grabbed it with both of his, holding it tight as he rubbed it against his cheek. I gasped in shock, wanting to pull away, but... I couldn't. I just stared as he held it, his grip tightening on it as he cradled it.

            "Please talk to me," he whispered, closing his eyes with a giant frown as he sniffled, his entire body wracked with suppressed sobs. "Tears" dripped onto my hand, catching in the thick fabric of the gloves, but I could still feel how warm they were. I didn't pull away from him, just stared at him in silence. "Please don't keep closing me out... It hurts... so much...! I miss talking to you every day... I miss it so bad... I want to talk to you again... I want you to smile again... I hate seeing you look at me like that... This isn't what I want... Please... stop...! Please..."

          His eyelids parted, small slits allowing glimpses of the dark voids beyond them, as he gave a small sob. "Please... Don't hate me..."