Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Gavriel Huffman’s consciousness drifted back in pieces, slowly. The first sensation he registered was the pain. A throbbing, burning ache in his side that shot throughout his torso with each ragged breath he took. His hand twitched reflexively, wanting to clutch at the wound, but his limbs felt heavy, sluggish.

He groaned, eyelids fluttering open before having to close them as his blurry vision was assaulted by the bright sunlight peeking through the cracks of the window blinds. Gavriel winced, turning his head slightly to escape the light. The movement sent another jolt of pain lancing through his body making him grit his teeth. The pain, though familiar, was sharper now, less numbed by adrenaline.

His instincts screamed at him to assess his surroundings, and with great effort, he forced his unsteady vision to focus. What he saw made him slightly more awake with disoriented alarm.

The room was cozy. Unbearably so. The walls had warm tones of colors that made it feel welcoming. The bed he laid on was draped in a checkered quilt with a few stitches here and there. It wasn't as feathery soft or as luxurious as the one he had back in his place, but the worn down cheap quality of it only made them feel more homely in comparison.

It was the kind of room he had only ever seen through windows in neighborhoods he didn’t belong in.

Gavriel’s brow furrowed, his jaw tightening. The dissonance between his bleak, gritty world and this gentle, almost absurd comfort was jarring.

He hadn't been thinking very clearly then, but he could vaguely recall memories of the rain and the blood soaking into his clothes and him collapsing into unconsciousness, but everything after then was a blur. How had he ended up here?

Where the hell was he? His hand felt heavy as he reached up to touch the wound in his side, and he was surprised to find it wrapped in bandages.

He pushed the blanket aside, revealing his current state. His torso was bare, the bandages wrapped tight around his injury, and he was wearing pants that definitely weren’t his. This smooth, almost cell-shaded look... Toon clothing? This worn, clean fabric was more snug than anything he’d ever put on.

He frowned at this. Gavriel didn’t trust kindness. It was a luxury reserved for people who hadn’t been forced to scrape and claw their way through life, and even then, people still deceived each other with it.

With a grunt, he forced himself upright, gritting his teeth as another wave of pain rippled throughout his body. He braced himself on the nightstand, the wooden surface creaking under his grip, and scanned the room for any signs of danger.

His eyes landed on a small framed photo on the nightstand. It showed a cheerful looking man with a wide goofy smile and a thumbs-up, standing next to… what he assumed to be family members, accompanied with a clean and comfortable-looking set of clothing sitting there waiting for him to wear alongside his glasses.

He reached out for the pair of lenses and put it on. Gavriel turned to squint at the image, something tugging in his head as he tried to place the face of that male toon. Then his mind flashed to the night before. He vaguely remembered talking to someone in the alleyway he collapsed in, but the contents of that memory didn’t come to him in detail.

Why? The idea that someone had helped him, patched up a criminal covered in blood, was almost laughable. People didn’t do that for him- for them. At least, not in the place where he belonged.

Currently though, that wasn't his main concern. His dark eyes narrowed. Where the hell was his gun?

His fingers instinctively moved to his waist, but the comfort of the cold metal wasn't there. Gavriel sighed as a familiar wave of dullness washed over him, pulling him in a state of rumination. He was hurt and vulnerable which meant he was in danger, no matter how deceptively safe this place looked. He clenched his fists, not even giving a wince at the painful ache in his body.

He felt rather numb and confused, but it didn't show on his face. His mind felt like it was wrapped in a fog, every thought coming in with a painful throb. He tried to think, to piece together why he hadn’t bled out in that alley.

He knew that his injuries had been severe enough to be fatal, the kind of wounds that left little hope for survival. A few hasty bandages and dressings wouldn’t have done much to stop the life bleeding out of him, yet here he was, hurting but alive.

He rubbed his forehead, the motion sluggish from pain as he racked his brain for an answer. It wasn’t until he sat there for a hot minute that realization struck.

Oh, right. He was in a city reigned by the Toon Genre.

It was common knowledge to all that the Toons leaned heavily on the whimsical side, or more specifically, it was the environment itself that exuded this sort of vitality. One that let its residents survive otherwise fatal mishaps with only a moment’s comedic daze and maybe a few tweeting birds circling their heads.

He couldn’t be bothered to recite the specifics of it. Something about places in the Toon genre having stronger healing properties or some nonsense like that. But now, in this moment, the absurdity wasn’t so easy to dismiss as it had been the very thing that had led to him surviving his death, a miracle in itself.

Gavriel’s hand reached up to softly graze the large scar on the side of his neck, healed yet still deep and harrowing, which told stories of a much darker time. Touching it had been a habit he'd developed a long time ago in times of stress or simply whenever he contemplated.

He had no patience for the whimsical workings of this place, no desire to analyze the wonders or whatever it was that had saved him. The only thing that mattered to him was that it had and he's alive because of it.

It didn’t change his wariness though. If anything, it only made him more resolute to understand who had brought him here and why.

Then Gavriel heard the door click open.

Jack Desmond opened the bedroom door, carrying a steaming mug of coffee and a bowl of warm porridge with one hand. The Toon man looked tired, having bags under his eyes.

He didn't have anything special in his kitchen at the moment so he was only able to put together a simple meal, figuring that even the scariest man in the world deserved something warm and filling in his stomach to help him heal. That was, if the food hadn't gone cold already by the time he woke up.

He took a few steps inside when he froze in confusion the moment he saw that the bed was empty.

“Huh?” Jack murmured, his brow furrowing. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of where the man might have gone, but there was nothing.

"Hugh!"

Coffee and porridge spilled to the ground as the cup and plate he'd been holding came crashing down on the ground, splattering everywhere.

Rough hands closed around his neck from behind. The force of the grip was firm, not quite strangling but strong enough to hold Jack in place.

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled down his temples, the hair on the back of his neck standing on its end. It felt like his heart was caught in his throat. He didn't even dare breathe too hard.

The presence behind him was suffocating, a dense wave of danger which didn't fit with the comfort of the room they were in.

The hand holding him didn’t need a weapon.

It didn't take much for Jack to instinctively realize that he was currently bordering the line of life and death, a primal understanding that this man could end him effortlessly if he chose to.

Jack’s throat bobbed as he tried to swallow, his mouth as dry as a desert. It was as if time had slowed down. He could feel his heart thundering inside, each beat thudding louder and louder in his ears as he stood there, unable to do anything but wait.

The silence was deafening. Jack's mind told him to yell, scream loudly for help, but he couldn’t even force out a sound.

Jack felt his breath hitch as the man’s deep, rumbling voice cut through the suffocating silence. The voice was hoarse from fatigue and pain, but it still carried a commanding weight to it as he spoke.

"Who are you?" the voice demanded, each word slow and deliberate, laced with a barely restrained irritation. "Where am I and why am I here?"

Despite the fear pressing down on him, Jack’s mind raced, and something other than terror roused his senses. He sniffs subconsciously, his nose picking up a change in the air. That sharp, metallic tang that made his stomach twist.

"I-I’ll tell you everything you want to know," he stammered. "But please, d-don’t move too much." He could smell it. The fresh, unmistakable scent of blood. "You're hurt, s-sir…"

With those words, the room fell into silence again. The man behind him didn't say anything, as if contemplating Jack’s words, yet the grip around Jack’s neck remained firm. Each second seemed to stretch into eternity, and Jack held his breath, waiting for a response as a cold bead of sweat rolled down his face.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the grip loosened. Jack released his breath, silently gasping for air as his feet planted into the ground, trying to steady his balance after that terrifying experience. Slowly, he turns around, stumbling away slightly as he looks up to face the much larger man.

The Grim man stood there, towering over him with one hand clutching his wounded side, blood seeping through the bandages and staining his skin anew. With a shadow cast over his face, his sharp glare intensified.

His dark eyes narrowed, scarred face twisted into a pained look of irritation. Even when injured, such a sight would be enough to intimidate anyone with the sheer menace he radiated.

But as Jack’s heart raced in his chest, his gaze drifted almost unconsciously to the man’s wound. The fear was still there, pressing down on Jack’s chest, but something else was too.

Concern.

The sight of the reopened wound stirred something deeply instinctive and kind in Jack, something that momentarily outweighed his terror. He couldn’t help it. Jack’s eyes lingered more on his injury rather than his scary appearance.

“You’re bleeding again,” Jack whispered, his voice small but genuine, before he pressed his lips, meekly looking up to meet the man's eyes. The words had slipped out before he could stop them, his worry winning over self-preservation for just a second.

The man’s glare remained unwavering, burning with a mix of suspicion and impatience. “Answer my questions,” he ordered.

Jack nodded quickly in agreement. “Um, m- my name is Jack Desmond, you’re currently in my apartment, and…” His eyes wandered back to the wound, which was now dripping with blood from the man’s side, pooling on the floor in droplets. 

“And.. and, um…” Jack tried to continue with his answer, but the view made him frown in discomfort. A wave of empathy coursed through him, unable to watch the man actively suffering in front of him while he does nothing about it. He took a small step forward without thinking.

The man reacted immediately, his expression souring like a cornered animal. His lips pulled back into a nasty snarl, and Jack immediately froze, eyes darting back to the man's face, his look carrying a clear message.

Don’t come any closer.

Jack was hesitant, taking a shaky breath before showing the man his palm, trying to let him know he was harmless and unarmed. “I just… I just want to help.” His eyes showed nothing but genuine concern, a warmth that was out of place in the tension.

For a long moment, the man didn’t move. His gaze bore into Jack with an intensity that made the Toon feel exposed but Jack held his ground, knowing that the man in front of him was in pain and had only been acting out of self preservation. Or he hoped that was the case.

Jack cautiously inched closer, his palm still raised and facing upwards to try and ease the man. The closer he got, the more he could see the strain in the man’s features. It was a silent battle between the pain and the effort to appear unwavering.

Finally, he reached the man’s side. The man's eyes followed, but he didn’t stop him as Jack extended his palm towards him. Jack's hand flinched and hesitated for a second when the man's grip on his wound tightened… Jack steeled himself and gently touched the lower side of the man's hip, his fingers being stained with the blood that ran steadily down it.

Despite not being injured himself, Jack still winced sympathetically at the sight. Though the Grim’s face showed no change, Jack didn’t miss the way the muscle around the injury flinched at his touch.

“Okay… okay.” Jack murmured, his voice soft but determined. His mind buzzed with worry, already trying to think of what he could do to keep the wound from worsening.

With a pang of dread, it finally dawned on him in fullness that this was only the beginning of him having to temporarily keep this dangerous man in his apartment.

Oh, boy. This was going to be a long week.

Chapter Text

The small bathroom was quiet except for the occasional droplets of water from the leaky faucet. The Grim man sat on the closed toilet lid, tense, yet worn down from his nasty injuries.

Jack sat on a stool in front with a needle and thread in hand, his face taut with concentration as beads of sweat slid down his forehead, trying his best to sew the wound as cleanly as he could. He tried his best to ignore the man’s pupils bearing holes into his skull with how intensely he’s looking at him…

The Grim man's eyes stayed transfixed on the Toon’s hands and face, his gaze looking a bit scary from the way they were slightly bloodshot. He saw the way the Toon’s hands would pause mid-air, trying to steady them from shaking, before going back to sewing carefully. He saw the way the Toon’s face cringed or scrunched as he worked.

His brows furrowed at this. It was unclear whether it was out of displeasure or something else, his expression as unreadable as ever, even during this painful procedure.

In the midst of tense silence, the Grim man finally spoke up.

"What do you hope to gain from this?"

Jack blinked, looking up at the man's eyes with a startled look on his face. Then he furrows his brows, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Nothing..?" He answers, sounding just as questioning about his own decision as the other was. Then he sighed, pausing his task to think of a proper answer.

"To be honest, I... didn't want to bring you here at first." He angled his gaze downwards, feeling heavy with guilt at admitting to his real feelings and scared of how the other man might react. "I mean, you were scary and obviously not from around here.”

He fidgeted with the needle in his fingers as he recounted his terrifying encounter with the man. "I’d meant to just call the authorities on you or something' n' leave, but…"

Jack lifts his head up to look back at the other. Mixed within the nervousness in his eyes was genuine care. "You just looked like you needed help, so..."

The Grim man's gaze narrowed. Cold sweat continued to creep down the side of Jack's face as he swallowed his saliva, but he didn't look away, fearful that his true intentions may get deemed disingenuous by the other as he stared at him.

…

…..

After a while, the Grim man heaved a deep sigh and looked away, done with their brief conversation. Jack's tense frame relaxed the moment the man's eyes were off of him, inhaling in relief before quickly huffing the air back out in disgust as the smell of blood assaulted his nose. Right: the wound.

He went back into stitching, and the room was back to quiet after that.

Trying not to pay any mind to the silence, Jack's attention eventually began to zone in on the task at hand.

While working on the nasty wound, Jack internally thanked the stars he still remembered stuff taught to him years ago in school.

For a Genre with healing properties as ridiculous as theirs, all Toon citizens were required to have basic knowledge on medical care. Or at the very least, learn proper first aid if advance medical assistance is beyond them. 

Jack's memory on this is vague by this point since it had been such a long time ago. Apparently, a lot of the practices they’ve created back then were cultivated mostly to care for the people outside of their own Genre, as they were more prone to injuries than they were.

He didn’t know what happened to the other man in order for him to end up in such a situation, - and he didn’t have enough courage to ask him to be honest - but the thought that this happened near the area he lived in made his heart brew with fear.

Was the man attacked? Did he do this to himself? What if he was the assailant?

It was an unending waterfall of thoughts, and the uncertainty of it all made him feel a tad bit too afraid. He didn’t want to think about it too much.

Jack did his best to finish it up as quickly as he could, though not hastily as his nerves might do more unnecessary damage to the injury, imagining how much in pain the man was probably in right now.

Snip.

The thread gets cut off with a small scissor. And with that, they were done.

"Phew." Jack stretches, popping a few joints that had become tense from having to keep them steady in the air for so long. He gives the newly stitched wound a hard look, examining it.

...Still red and angry, but no more bleeding. He's largely inexperienced, but hopefully this was good enough.

With that out of the way, he now had to deal with the man himself who had returned to staring at him a while ago. Their eyes met, and the side of Jack's mouth curved up into a smile without his control, looking more like a grimace at being observed so intently by such a scary individual.

"So! Uh..." His voice wobbled. He cleared his throat and stood up, walking to the sink and turning on the faulty faucet to wash off the stain in his hands, struggling to appear more casual.

"May I ask for your name, sir?" He asked, trying to start a conversation to lessen the tension that's been building between them since the man woke up.

The other's expression doesn't shift. After a beat of silence that stretched on for a bit too long, he spoke.

“No.”

'Yep, I figured.' He thought to himself. "Right," Jack chuckles, drained of the usual humour he carried.

To be honest, he was exhausted. He could really use a quick nap right now… Jack hoped the man would at least be nice enough to not murder him in his sleep. He saved his life for crying out loud.

Turning off the stream of water, he flicked the water off his hands and turned to leave. "Well, feel free to help yourself here. I'll go and get you something clean to wear."

Jack exited the bathroom, and he was relieved to feel the man’s line of sight leaving him.

Pushing aside how he probably wasn’t following a lot of medical regulations taught to him, - and to be honest he kind of forgot - with all the scars on that guy, he assumed that it was probably fine to just leave him be for now, right?

Surely a violence-prone-looking man like that would already know how to take care of himself when he's hurt, right? He sure hoped so. He didn't wanna come back to a dead body.

With that thought, Jack went off to retrieve the clothes he had left for him by the nightstand.

Gavriel sat in silence in the bathroom, the soft hum of the distant city and the ambience of the Toon’s neighbors filtering through the walls. He was left on his own, leaving him to reflect on the situation.

Shifting slightly, he grimaced as pain flared through his side and throughout the rest of his body. The stitches pulled, a stark reminder that he wasn’t in any shape to defend himself if something went wrong. Not that it mattered. If the Toon wanted him dead, he’d already had the chance to let Gavriel bleed out.

Why hadn’t he?

That thought didn’t bring comfort to him, only deepening his unease. The Toon’s actions were naively kind, something which he understood yet hesitated to accept.

So far, the other hadn’t given him any suspicious answers. Every question Gavriel asked had been met with genuine - albeit bumbling - honesty. The nervous man stuttered more often than not, but he hadn’t hesitated, nor had he tried to deflect or go off topic.The only weird thing happening right now was the fact that the Toon was helping him.

This behavior didn’t seem to come from a place of deception and ulterior motives. Or perhaps it did, and Gavriel just couldn’t see it yet.

In the bathroom, Gavriel could hear the other’s voice phasing through the thin apartment walls. Though his words were muffled, he sounded mournful with phrases like, "I spent money on that..." and "Tsk, tsk. What a waste." followed by a heavy sigh.

Gavriel pressed his lips into a thin line. Despite himself, the lament struck a chord.

Money and food. Those were two of the main things a person must never waste in their life.

Gavriel hears the gentle pitter patter of the Toon’s feet. He appeared a moment after, quietly stepping into the bathroom with clothes at hand. He glanced at Gavriel, who was still seated on the toilet, and carefully placed the clothes on the dry part of the sink’s edge, not having much space to put them anywhere else. His movements were quick but not rushed, clearly trying to avoid intruding too much on the other man’s space.

"Here," the Toon said softly. "The clothes I left for you. I can get you something else if these aren’t... comfortable,” he offers, looking at how much smaller the size of his own t-shirt was compared to Gavriel’s body.

He glances at Gavriel briefly before looking down at the floor, the tension in the room thick, but Jack manages a kind, almost awkward smile.

"I’ll… leave you to it then." Without waiting for a response, the Toon does a polite little head bow before turning on his heel and leaving the bathroom, even making sure to gently close the door behind him, leaving Gavriel to change in peace.

Gavriel turned his attention to the clothes Jack had left neatly folded on the edge of the sink. Standing up, he walks over to inspect the clothes given to him. They looked cheap and would probably be a bit too tight for him to wear but it was better than staying cold and bare.

He glanced back toward the door, his brows furrowing. The Toon hadn’t lingered, hadn’t said anything besides the brief statement that the clothes were for him, nor were there any lectures, insistence, or attempts to force a conversation. Just a quiet exit. Probably to clean up the mess Gavriel had left in the other room, he guessed.

Gavriel shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to people like that Toon. People who gave generously without any strings attached or wanting something back, people who respected him, not like the wariness of his enemies or the reverence of his underlings, but simply out of basic human decency - albeit with reasonable fear. The Toon… Jack Desmond was painfully normal, perhaps a touch too kind for his own good.

His mind wandered to Desmond’s face earlier. The nervous and awkward glances, the apologetic grimaces when the needle went through his flesh, and the reluctance to meet his eyes, yet his determination to keep helping despite the tension. It had been... odd. Gavriel couldn’t pinpoint what irritated him more. Desmond’s clumsy kindness or the fact that it seemed genuine.

Gavriel sighed, his breath heavy with the weight of his thoughts. His fingers tightened around the clothes.

Chapter Text

Jack sat slumped on the living room couch with a TV remote in hand, the screen flicking from one channel through the next. With his attention still mostly focused on the man in the bathroom, his ears twitched as they picked up the noise of the faucet being turned on.

He sniffed. That sharp, metallic tang of blood clung stubbornly to his nose still.

Jack had already called in sick earlier, using last night’s downpour as a convenient excuse. The few days off will give him some breathing room and time to watch over his new guest, though he couldn't help but feel a little guilty about shifting his workload onto his colleagues. They're good people, he knew they wouldn’t hold it against him, but still, the nagging thought lingered.

His nose itched. “ ACHOO! Oh!” Jack sneezed loudly, startling even himself. He rubbed his nose, muttering a soft “bless me.”

The apartment felt too quiet now. Jack glanced toward the hallway leading to the bathroom. He sighed, sinking deeper into the cushions as the tension from earlier lingered. The encounter had left him feeling a bit more muted than usual, but at the same time, he knew he wouldn’t have acted any differently.

“What have I gotten myself into...?” he mumbled under his breath.

His dulled eyes fixated on the TV screen, though the flashing images barely registered in his head.

"What now?”

Some Toon actor was bouncing around, spouting catchphrases in a voice too cheerful for his current mood. Jack's thumb hovered over the remote, but he didn’t bother changing the channel. The noise was better than silence at least.

He supposed he should be grateful the Grim hadn't turned this situation into some Toon-Noir crime scene, though he was surprised it hadn't already, especially with what happened earlier. Still, how long would this last?

The thought made him groan softly, dragging a hand down his face as his impulsive decision slapped him in the face once again. "Sweet," he murmured in frustration, though it was mostly directed towards himself. "Just wing it with a literal Grim-mob-boss-looking guy in your house. No big deal."

The flickering light of the television danced across his face, but his expression was devoid of any response, like the static had seeped into him. The thoughts churning in his head felt distant.

Why did he always have to care so much?

Sure, the Grim guy looked like he was on the verge of death when Jack found him, but wasn’t that all the more reason to take him to a hospital? Or the authorities? Somewhere, anywhere , better equipped to deal with a situation like that? Jack had no business dragging him back to his apartment like this just because the man said “no.”

What if the Grim died in his apartment?

The thought settled over Jack like a heavy, suffocating blanket, but even that couldn’t stir much from him. His breath came out soft and steady, not quite a sigh but close enough.

What would he have done if the man's blood had soaked into the floor and left a corpse behind? Call the police? Try to explain why there was a man dead in his apartment? Would they even believe him?

What if it was him who got killed? Shot in the head with that gun in the man's suit, the one Jack took away and hid from him when they arrived in his apartment.

If he had, his mama and papa would be sad if they heard about it. He felt apologetic when he thought about how his parents would react if news reached that their son had been left for dead in the city they thought had been the safest for him. He knew not to worry them but he does these things anyway.

Thoughts continued to circle lazily in his mind, but none of them seemed to matter all that much. Not really. None of them had mattered back then either. It had been raining, he saw someone dying, and he’d acted. That was all there was to it, even if the decision felt dumb now. Still, was it the right thing to do?

The TV show's laughter filled the room, a stark contrast to his blank stare.

Jack was pulled from his spiraling thoughts by the faint sound of footsteps. Turning his head toward the source, he saw the scarred man standing in the corridor entrance.

The clothes Jack had left for him were a tad bit tight on the mobster’s muscular frame, but he didn't seem bothered by it, which was good. The Grim's sharp eyes looked around the apartment, taking in every detail with the same wariness that hadn't left him since he woke up.

Jack snapped out of his pondering, and offered him a tentative smile. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Ah, sorry if the place looks a little... unkempt," he said, his voice lighter than he felt. "It's usually a bit more put together, I promise. Just haven’t had much time or energy lately to clean up."

The man didn’t respond right away. His gaze lingered on the coffee table, where a few cans of beer sat among scattered wrappers and an empty cup of noodles. They looked like they hadn't been taken out in a while. Then, his gaze shifted to the bedroom doorway where Jack had hastily cleaned up the remnants of the spilled food from earlier.

His eyes finally met Jack's. The Toon resisted the urge to shrink under the weight of that gaze. Instead, he smiled at him. "My place ain't much, but make yourself comfortable."

The silence stretched between them as Gavriel's expression didn't change and went back to looking around the small room. It wasn’t exactly the warmest start to a conversation, but Jack supposes he should start getting used to that.

Still, something about having the Grim man standing there, alive and fully clothed, was oddly grounding. It's a bit amazing seeing him able to get up and walk around in that condition, actually. Especially without any painkillers. How was he not writhing on the ground in agony?

Jack's smile faltered, slipping away as he found himself staring at the man without realizing it. His gaze trailed over his big frame and drifted to the scars etched across his skin. He'd seen them while he was tending to his wounds, running along in numbers from his face down to his ankles.

How does someone end up with scars like that? It was the kind of curiosity that gnawed at him, the kind he knew better than to voice aloud. Whatever had left those marks behind probably wasn’t the kind of thing the Grim would ever want to talk about, let alone to someone like Jack.

Noticing Jack's staring, the man’s sharp gaze shifted, landing back on him. Jack blinks, realizing he’d been caught staring. He mustered up a sheepish smile, just a slight upward tilt of his lips that teetered on the edge of awkwardness.

“Uh. There’s food in the pot,” Jack offered. He gestured toward the kitchen with a quick nod of his head. “And some leftover rice in the rice cooker. Help yourself if you’re hungry, okay?”

The man said nothing, his expression impassive, but his attention lingered on Jack for a moment longer before finally glancing toward the kitchen. Jack's smile fell once the man’s gaze moved away.

He made something with whatever he had available in his fridge, goodness knows it had been a while since he actually had to cook for himself. Nothing fancy, just a simple porridge. Rice simmered in broth until it was soft, with just a bit of shredded chicken and a few vegetables tossed in for flavor. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was warm and filling. He hoped his guest wasn’t a picky eater.

Seeing the man just checking the place out, Jack decided to turn his focus back to the TV.

He lazily changed the channel and the screen flickered with images of a car accident somewhere in the city, the voice of the reporter droning on about casualties and road closures. Jack wasn’t really paying attention.

He’d never been exposed to a Grim before. Were they all this unfriendly or was it just this one?

Jack yawns, a bit groggy. Maybe he was overthinking it, or maybe he wasn’t thinking enough. Either way, he was exhausted, especially after spending the whole night awake taking care of that man.

His body slowly slid down the couch, lying down with an ungraceful sprawl, his consciousness slowly slipping into sleep. 

Chapter Text

Gavriel noticed the stretch of silence. He glanced back at the other man in the room before noticing the Toon was then fast asleep.

The scarred man frowned at this. He hadn’t even so much as glanced at Gavriel before drifting off, to check and assure that he hadn’t been making any suspicious movements with the intent to hurt him. Any blunt or sharp objects in this room could have easily become a weapon in Gavriel's hands, and the fool had left himself wide open, completely defenseless.

Gavriel shook his head disapprovingly. He wasn’t gonna touch the food the Toon had offered him. What if it had been laced with something? Not that he doubted his stomach wouldn't be able to handle it — he’d been poisoned with way worse, but the experiences were never pleasant.

Though, now with his main concern asleep, he allowed himself to relax a bit and took a closer look around the shabby but homey apartment. He'd never been to a Toon's place before. Some parts of this place were a bit worn down from time and lack of upkeep, but the windows provided decent natural lighting inside, so it didn’t feel stuffy at all.

The difference in the overall atmosphere here and the one he was accustomed to felt weird. The color palette was warm, but the fluff wasn’t overbearing at all.

Just comfortable.

Gavriel wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Perturbed, he walked around, inspecting every room in the small apartment before he soon spotted the sliding doors connected to the balcony. Gavriel didn't have his burner phone with him. He was unsure if it fell out of his pockets when he was fleeing or if Jack had taken it away. All the same, he wanted to take a look outside to try to guess where the hell in this unfamiliar city he had managed to end up in.

He habitually checked for any CCTV cameras before stepping into the balcony when he found none, and he was welcomed by the cool morning wind caressing his face, chilly from the heavy rain the night before. He took a deep breath, the feel of the frigid air penetrating his thoughts.

Speaking of CCTV cameras, that foolish Toon. Gavriel clicked his tongue, displeasure seeping through his features. Had he been seen dragging his body here? What about the blood? Did the Toon take care of that, too? Did the residents here know about his unwelcome arrival, or was it just him?

The more he thought, the more his brows furrowed. He couldn’t stay here, he needed to leave.

His hands grasped the railings as he scanned his surroundings, his pain-muddled mind slowly grinded into action as he tried to remember which portion of the city contained apartment complexes comparable to or identical to this one. Unfortunately for him, a great deal.  

Uneasy, he subconsciously scratched the gnarly scar that ran along the side of his neck. Nothing much to gather from that. He also wasn't familiar enough with this city to pick out any particularities about the place either, so he was basically stuck.

The scarred man sighed and tipped his head down in simmering frustration. “Shit.”

The wind blew gently, swinging around and playfully swaying his bangs, but Gavriel’s mood was too bitter for him to notice. He took that moment to think about what happened to him that day. Before he collapsed in that alleyway.

Gavriel's guarded nature earlier hadn't come from nowhere.

He was coming back from an exhausting trip. Cel City was the midpoint road from his previous location and back to Grimwoods City, his home. They were driving down a long crowded lane when something strange started to happen.

A few cars that acted normally before began to swerve and drive wildly, hitting and causing mayhem on the road before eventually making a reckless turn to chase after the car Gavriel and his men were in.

Guns went off and vehicles screeched as people attempted to avoid them while Gavriel’s gang were pursued down the road at high speeds. One of the cars following them collided with a truck and flew into the air, striking Gavriel's car and a few others as it flipped before landing upside down on the ground, nearly destroyed from the hard collision.

Everything else had been a blur of gunshots and yelling after that, yet he distinctly remembered the moment he saw the door of the fallen car being slammed open from the inside. Whoever had been driving that thing had survived the fatal car crash.

The person’s bloodied and broken body climbed out, dragging themself forward. A few joints were turned the wrong way and injuries littered their body, but they pushed themself up and stood without as much as a flinch.

Gavriel glared, appraising the person before realizing something odd that made him pause for a moment.

It was a Toon.

More of them appeared, coming out of cars that were previously driving away or have been hit. Their simplified cel-shaded hands held guns far too detailed and foreboding for their wholesome appearances.

The sight of Toons holding guns had already been peculiar, though something else caught Gavriel's attention. Their pupils were rolled to the back of their lids with capillaries crawling in their eyes, almost like they've all lost their minds. Were they drugged? Gavriel wasn't sure, but those people hadn't looked like they were capable of reason at that very moment, and they were very clearly there to hunt them.

Gavriel and his gang were eventually forced to retreat. He managed to escape, but not without losing a few of his men in the process and taking a few lethal wounds himself. He didn't know if there was still anybody alive amongst his Grim subordinates or if they were all dead.

So when he awoke to the care of Jack Desmond, a Toon, he was wary of him being one of them. But not only had Desmond chosen to help dress up his wounds and given him his bed to rest on, he was also dumb enough to sleep in the open with Gavriel in the same room as him. Though, there was always a chance of all of that being a show he was putting on.

Having lived years of his life through hell and back in his line of work, he could never be too sure about the nature of people he was unfamiliar with. For all he knew, Desmond could just be skilled in putting up a front. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time he's met somebody similar; the "nicest" ones were somehow always the most deranged.

…He needed a phone to tell someone about the attack and to get a ride back home.

Meanwhile, deep in his blissful sleep, Jack stayed unknowing of the dark picture Gavriel painted about him. If he knew, he'd surely cry out in despair. His act of kindness was being misinterpreted and twisted, he was being wronged! Wronged, he'd tell you!!

Chapter Text

Jack felt his body being lightly shook back and forth. He slowly came to consciousness and took a groggy glance at the scarred hand that held his shoulder. His head slowly tilted upwards and he was greeted with the glare of a very displeased Grim man.

“Give me your phone.”

A ROBBERY?!

“I need to call someone.”

Oh.

Startled and half-awake, Jack’s hands scrambled down to his pockets and he clumsily grabbed his old flip phone, almost dropping it on the ground before he held it up to the other man. Gavriel pulled back and took it from his hands, clicking the power button and waiting for it to turn on.

A beat of silence.

…

Jack awkwardly stared up at the other man as he started repeatedly pressing the power button, the Toon’s expression starting to get nervous as he noticed the Grim man seemed to be having some technical difficulties with the unresponsive thing.

“It’s dead,” Gavriel stated simply and handed the phone back to Jack, disgruntled.

“Um.” Jack politely took the phone from him and also began pressing the power button, giving his attempt to turn it on before realizing something. “Nuts, I almost forgot! This thing is broken!” 

He would've bought a new one yesterday if it weren't for that darn rain pouring down on him just as he left work… and also the Grim man he had to drag back home. By the time he got back to his apartment, he'd completely forgotten. Plenty of other things he had to worry about.

Jack pocketed the flip phone and tilted his face away from the pressure of Gavriel’s piercing gaze, scratching his chin as he began thinking for a solution. “Well… There’s a telephone booth outside. I guess you could try that?”

The man paused, contemplating. The possibility of there being CCTVs here was still far from being eliminated. What’s being exposed outside of the apartment once more? Hiding wouldn’t do him anything.

“Take me there,” Gavriel ordered, his dour voice giving Jack no room to say no.

The Toon sputtered, unable to help himself from sitting up in his chair. “Woah, now!” He turned his face again to look back at the other man, who was still glaring down at him, but Jack’s nervous expression came from a place of concern this time. “You shouldn’t go outside in that condition, sir!”

“I’m gonna call for a ride, it won’t take long,” The Grim specified, and Jack wavered slightly.

The thought of having this dubious looking man out of his place was certainly very tempting. He currently wouldn’t know what to say to anyone if they questioned him about who he was or why he was housing this stranger in his apartment. Jack wasn’t exactly a liar, much less a good one.

He eventually snapped out of his thoughts. The Grim man stayed surprisingly patient throughout his musing. Feeling less pressure and given ample time to think, Jack finally succumbed and sighed, “oh, alright. Just gimme a sec.” He stood up and started his walk towards his bedroom.

With the Toon out of sight, Gavriel let himself wince and clutched his abdomen, still feeling the wounds pulsing with pain from the exertion of his body. He gritted his teeth and bore with it. He’d have plenty of time to rest when he got back home.

Hearing footsteps reapproach, Gavriel smoothly went back to normal, a swift mask of his pained expression with a look of gloomy indifference. Jack walked back out wearing a jacket and carrying a knitted wool scarf.

“It’s cold outside. It ain’t much but take it.” He extended his hand out towards the Grim man, offering the scarf.

Jack failed to notice the careful analytical gaze Gavriel gave him for a moment before the man took it and wrapped it around his neck, just wanting the Toon to hurry up already. 

They walked to the front door and exited. The Toon shivered from the chill and Gavriel barely gave a flinch. Despite it already being past 6, barely anyone was out this morning. Coming from a rather quiet area, not many started their days early here. A jogger passed by the road and a small restaurant owner nearby opened their rolling shutters.

The walk down was silent, both too tired and cold for a conversation.

Jack’s heart thumped loudly as he took nervous glances at every hallway they came across like a guilty man who’d just done something wrong. He was desperately hoping not to bump into anybody in the apartment building.

It was mostly just the anxiety getting into his head, no thanks to the poor events prior. Still, he wouldn’t know how to explain himself if his neighbors asked who the Grim beside him was. He wasn’t exactly a very good liar.

Fortunately, they didn’t encounter anyone, and they got out just fine. They reached the telephone booth just by the road. Jack paid for the fee and waited outside the booth to give the Grim his privacy.

Gavriel had one particular person in mind. His fingers smoothly glided through the buttons as he inputted a number to give a call.

Ring… Ring… Ring…

Gavriel waited for his recipient to pick up. 

Click.

It was silent on the other end. One would’ve mistaken the call to not have gone through if it weren’t for the barely audible sound of somebody breathing.

Already anticipating this response, he switched to his dialect. “Morning, you grasshopper muncher.”

Without missing a beat, the other replied. “What’s up, four eyes?” Reciprocating the name calling immediately.

The tension in Gavriel’s shoulders relaxed a bit after hearing the familiar voice.

Conversations were always much safer done in person, where the risk of being recorded or spied on were more detectable. Unfortunately, Gavriel didn’t have that kind of luxury at the moment.

“Ran into some complications,” he said simply. “Mind if I borrow you for a bit?”

Outside the telephone booth, the sky had turned back to gray.

Jack slowly blinked one eye then the other. The cold air surrounded him, making the cogs of his brain feel like it was slowing down in real time. He wanted nothing more than to go back inside his warm apartment and fall back asleep.

Starting to drowse off again, his head slowly tilted forward before he snapped out of it, jolting back and wiping away the drool on his mouth.

BEEP! BEEP!

A taxi pulled up not too far away.

“GET OUT!” From within came a furious roar, and the door slammed open with a bang.

A drunken middle aged business man with a beer belly was kicked out of the car. He rolled around with a comedic tumble before stopping, flopping onto the ground face first. “AND STAY OUT!” The driver shut the door before driving away.

The middle aged man looked well groomed and wore an expensive suit, but his intoxication made him look like quite a fool. Completely wasted, the middle aged man staggered to even stand up. “Darn- hic! You darn nincompoop! You’re fired! Fired, I tell you!” He cursed at the taxi in the distance, waving his arms up in the air indignantly.

Then he spots the telephone booth at the side and begins to walk his way towards Jack’s direction, swaying left and right like he was about to fall over on his own two feet. “I oughta give my buddy a call and- hic! Gimme a ride…” His words slurred, hands grabbing on to the telephone booth door to steady himself and get it open. 

Seeing the middle aged man trying to enter the telephone booth, Jack sputters in surprise before briskly walking over to grab his shoulder, trying to stop him. “Oh, sir! The booth’s occupied!“

“Bah! Hic!” The man simply slapped his hand away and waved at him dismissively, even having the self-assurance to be the one to get furious. “I’ll just tell ‘em to get out!” 

With liquor fueling his nerves, he used all his strength to slam the door open and yelled at the person inside.

“HEY! BEAT IT!”

The middle aged man paused when he saw a person’s broad back turned away from him.

As the middle aged man’s head tilted upwards, the person turned his body at him and he was greeted by the intense stare of a very vexed Grim, scowling down at him with a nerve popping out from the side of his forehead, his prominent scars making him look absolutely fierce.

“Huh?!” The scarred Grim snapped, his words coming out as a guttural growl in his fury.

“HIC?!”

The middle aged man sobered up immediately, wide eyes bulging as he stared at the scary man glowering at him.

Breaking into a cold sweat, his head worked fast to try and correct his mistake. “S- sorry there, boss! I didn’t see you inside!” He shifted into a more respectful tone, even calling Gavriel his boss to try and appease the man by putting him on a higher pedestal as himself.

It was obvious from his appearance that he was quite the respectable man from whatever business it was he worked for. A nepotistic heir as the others called it, but he prefers the term “blessed.” Anyone would feel flattered by a man in his position acting obsequiously towards them, right?

Unfortunately for him, Gavriel could not care less.

The angry vein on the side of Gavriel’s forehead became more prominent as anger coursed through his system.

Who the hell was this random? Does he have a death sentence?

Gritting his teeth and holding back his fury, Gavriel spoke in a repressed voice. “Get. Out.”

It didn’t take the middle aged man another second to bolt away, a pile of dust with the outline of his shape leaving in his wake as his drunken demeanor seemingly disappeared completely, running away as fast as his legs could take him.

Jack grunted when he was bumped into. The middle aged man hit his shoulder by accident but didn’t stop to apologize for it, only focused on running away from the Grim like he was being chased by him! He ran off to the distance, screaming for his life!

Jack exasperatedly raised his arms in the air, disbelieving at the man’s shamelessness.

Behind him, the Grim called out. “Hey.”

Jack turned to look back at the scarred man. Gavriel asked, “Tell me the full address of this place.”

Assuming it was probably for whoever was gonna pick him up, he answered, “xxx Cartoon Crescent, Apt. xxx, Shady Flats, Cel-City, TS xxxxx.”

Gavriel goes back on the phone and repeats what the Toon told him. The person on the other line hums. “We rarely have business with the Toons, if ever. It’s gonna take a while for my guys to get there.”

But not for them. There were unspoken words at the end of their sentence, ones that Gavriel could roughly guess from years of knowing the other person. He sighed. Gavriel knew for a fact that they didn't have the legal papers to enter since they seldom left their home genre, but they’d probably find a way to get in without one anyway.

What a fool.

“Thanks.”

“Before you give your thanks, listen to me for a bit.”

Jack from outside watched him. He didn’t know what they were talking about, but he saw Gavriel making a troubled look the longer he listened to the person on the other end.

After a few more back and forth, Gavriel hung up with a frown as he thought.

That day hadn’t been a simple act of terrorism that they’d accidentally been involved in. The look in the eyes of those people weren’t normal.

Urban areas bustling with people always cultivated corruption in one way or another, so the gang of Toons wasn’t what he was surprised about.

He was more so questioning why they decided to ambush him and his accompanying men in the first place. It didn’t look like they were focused on attacking anybody else. The civilians hurt were just collateral damage.

Gavriel knew his branch had never once interacted with any Toon syndicates. So what caused the incident that day?

He had speculations, though none of them made much sense after adding a bit of reason.

One thing was for certain. Disrespecting a Guktav branch heir like Gavriel and almost getting him killed was no different from being condemned on a death row. The severed head of the catalyst will be the only thing that’ll end what follows afterwards.

Jack saw the Grim open the door and walk out. “So what did they say?” The Toon asked, a bit anxious to hear for more details.

Gavriel stopped in front of him with a deadpan look on his face. “I’m gonna be staying with you for a bit.”

The hopeful expression in Jack’s face dropped. Similarly, Gavriel didn’t look particularly happy about it either.

…

In the foreign lands of the Grimwoods City, deep in a vast land of tall dark trees and prowling wild life was an old manor, standing tall and proud under the solemn moonlight of the night.

Despite the vines that clung to the gaps of its exterior, it didn’t look the least bit withered away. The crawling growth only added to the manors forbidding appearance, like sound proof of its existence withstanding the hold of time and nature.

Inside, everything was clean and very well maintained. The floors were polished to a reflective sheen, as well as the silvers and golds that decorated the walls and ceilings. Furnitures, items, and jewelries looked as luxurious and new as they’ve always been in the past.

The lights hadn’t flickered, yet darkness expanded in a hallway within the manor.

Crickets stopped chirping, the fluttering leaves slowed down to a halt, and nocturnal animals twitched in vigilance. Not even the wind dared to stir.

Like a chain reaction, everything had turned silent.

Footsteps approached from somewhere. A person walked in the darkness, their movements appearing a bit strange as the silhouette of their long black coat swayed with each step.

A cheap feature phone sat loosely in their grasp, its dimly lit screen glowing faintly before slipping from their fingers. The device fell, but before it could hit the floor, it disappeared, swallowed whole by the abyss that pooled beneath them.

"Cel City..." the figure murmured.

The darkness grew denser, more unnatural as it slowly overtook the entire hallway, appearing to swallow everything whole. Yet strangely enough, it did not consume the figure.

It came from them.

Their well polished shoe clacked on the floor, its sound amplified by the hall of the manor. As they stopped, the void turned still.

In the stretch of silence, a single order was uttered.

"Find him."

Silently, the shadow expanded, painting the entire corridor pitch black.

Then in a split second, it was gone.

The chirping of crickets resumed, animals returned to their endeavors, and a soft breeze blew through the leaves of tall trees and blades of grass.

The lights turned visible once again, casting a calm glow in the hallway like nothing happened.

Chapter Text

The story will be put in HIATUS!

All chapters kept having multiple tweaks long after it's already been published due to me finding mistakes or OOC behavior WAY later, and the chapters haven't even reached up to 10 yet.

I've obviously rushed into the story due to fandom pressure. I can do better than this.

With the story on hiatus, I can focus more on tidying it up a lot better and planning ahead of time before writing, because I definitely didn't think things through before then.

(NOTE: Everything written here is still considered canon until future adjustments say otherwise.)

Read End Notes for extra info. Thank you for your time.