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oneoftheextras · 26 days ago

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lockjaw | j.t seven

masterlist | help me fund my top-surgery?

paring: hybrid puppy!jayce talis x f!reader

summary: after a recent breakup you find yourself adopting a hybrid to keep you company, but he's more feral than you can handle

series warnings: 18+, hybrid jayce (ears and tail), slight a/b/o traits (could argue alpha jayce), eventual smut, protective jayce, size difference

words: 6.5k

chapter warnings: fluff with a sprinkling of angst if you squint

proof-read by the pretty girl: @madschiavelique

want a handwritten letter from a character? / join the discord for updates

Saturday nights were supposed to be for going out, partying, getting drunk or staying up late to watch the sunrise over the horizon. Maybe when you were younger and more full of energy.

There was an underrated enjoyment of staying in, watching a movie curled up on the couch with a blanket, that the flashing lights and thumping music of a club or bar just couldn’t compete with.

A serenity that came with the cosy confines of your home, and Jayce seemed to think so too.

After leaving the café as the staff were actively packing up for the day, the two of you ventured on your journey back to your apartment, shopping bags in hand.

He’d fought you for carrying the bags, and you’d profusely refused, telling him that you were fine and they weren’t that heavy. His consistent grip on the plastic handle told you that he wasn’t going to give up, and perhaps you’d met someone just as stubborn as you.

Eventually, you relented and let him take the bag from you, mainly out of fear of the handle snapping and then having to contend with a rather awkward broken bag to carry the rest of the way home. He’d also tried to take the other one but a “one for me, one for you” seemed to settle his need to be the pack mule between you.

You pushed the door closed behind you and watched his shadow disappear into the kitchen. It was reassuring to see him moving through your home without guidance, considering it had only just been over twenty four hours since his arrival.

As you turned the corner, he had begun to set out the snacks you’d bought for the night, as well as some general groceries to keep you going for the week - you knew you’d probably need to venture out again after work to get more things.

But that was a future you issue, and you didn’t want to think about dragging Jayce around a huge grocery store just yet. All those people, the noises and the burning fluorescent lights made even you wince at the thought.

He’d meticulously placed everything on the counter into organised sections; all the tins and cans were together, with anything that could be stored in a cupboard, then the chilled goods were in their own pile next to it, and the snacks you’d both picked out together in a small cluster towards the edge of the table top.

A quiet chuckle left your nose in a singular puff of air as you put your shopping bag onto the free space he’d seemingly left for it, “This is organised,” you commented with humour in your voice and Jayce turned his head to your direction, not stopping his chore.

“Normally, I just reach in and put away whatever I grab first,” the weight of the bag shifted onto the hard counter and your fingers thanked you for the release. The thin handles had dug into your skin, leaving sore red lines in their absence. They would fade within the next ten minutes, but it didn’t make them any less uncomfortable.

Your thumb brushed over the ridges to soothe them as you spoke as if the small massage would give you your usual fingers back. Jayce’s seemed untouched by the bite of the cheap plastic, perhaps from any callousness he had, if he had any.

That fact was still undetermined. From the small contact you’d had with his palm outside the cafe only a few hours prior, it was hard to tell. Not that the question of the softness of his skin was a focus for you in that moment, especially not over the overwhelming warmth it provided against the cold winter air.

Jayce stepped towards you and began to unpack the bag you’d put down, your thoughts had occupied your brain and you’d mistakenly left the task unattended.

“No, it’s okay, I can-” you leaned your body into the counter to reach for the first item you could see poking its head out from behind the pathetically see-through white of the branded bag. His hand moved quicker than you’d expected, you felt the air that his large palm batted towards you before your brain could register that his hand was approaching yours.

It stopped before contact was made, instead making the gesture of batting your hand away like a fly honing in on a freshly made pie. You recoiled your hand, not out of fear of him actually slapping your hand away, but from a natural response to move out of the way.

“Seriously, you’ve already helped, let me,” you insisted after your body had switched off of autopilot. He stopped his motion in favour of staring down at you flatly, a glance that told you to stop.

And there it was again. That feeling of smallness that came from being underneath his scorching gaze; that unnecessary reminder that he was bigger and stronger than you in every way. If he’d decided he wanted to squabble with you over unpacking your shopping, it would not be a long battle, and you both knew who the victor would be.

As quickly as his glance had immobilised you, he blinked and it was gone. You wondered if he knew how much power his eyes held. By how casually he continued to unload the food, your guess would be that he was completely unaware of its rule.

Stepping back from the counter and choosing to circle it to where the snack pile had made its home, you traced your fingers across the counter absentmindedly - something you always did in your own kitchen.

If you had taken the time to regard Jayce’s expression once again, you would’ve seen how his eyes followed your fingers across the polished table top; akin to the way a feline traces and tracks a red dot on the carpet, prior to it pouncing and launching its attack.

Luckily for your delicate skin, Jayce was a canine, and your fingers weren’t a mouse on a string or squeaky chew toy.

“Am I allowed to at least take these into the living room?” you asked with a tilted head and a tone that said you weren’t looking for permission. You were already putting the bags of treats into your arms before he gave you a singular nod and placed the remnants of the shopping onto the counter, balling the plastic bag up in his palm and looking around him for a place to store it.

“Under the sink,” you directed him verbally, putting the last of the snacks into your arms and stabilising the top of it with your chin, “There’s a bag I put all the other bags in,” your voice was slightly muffled from the pressure of your treat jenga tower pressing on the underside of your chin and throat.

He followed your words and opened the cupboard under the sink as you left him alone in the kitchen. As you started to turn the corner you felt the stack in your arms wobble and you froze - thankfully, there were no casualties of the short journey you’d only just begun.

It wouldn’t do well for you to drop everything after being so insistent on doing this task by yourself.

A successful landing produced the type of decoration on your coffee table that reminded you of your earlier years. Various bags and bars of confectionery lined up to form a spread of nostalgia. How long had it been since you’d had a sleepover to warrant such a buffet?

As you observed the horde of treats from your much taller height than your school years, a sad smile graced your lips. The last time something like this had found its way into your vision was with him.

The memory was fleeting, but would’ve been a fond one if not tainted by the stain of his misconduct. He led you under the guise of having made most of the food himself, but you’d found the takeaway bag in your garbage the next day - not that it mattered, it was the thought that counted. Not that thinking was something he did often, at least, not if it wasn’t about himself.

A clatter from the kitchen thankfully dragged you out of your melancholic reminiscence, causing your body to jump at the auditory intrusion.

There was a silence that followed; an uneasy silence that immediately threw your legs into panic mode. Rushing to the kitchen, you used the doorframe to swing yourself into the room faster as if it would make a difference and un-thunk whatever had fallen.

There was no emergency, no fire that needed putting out and no glass needing to be swept up and injuries patched up. It was just Jayce, stood looking at the ground with the cupboard door open. “Are you okay?” you attempted to steady your voice of its breathless panic as you moved around the island that blocked your view of the floor.

A part of you almost felt a little bit silly for how worried you’d been, and sounded, once you saw what had caused the commotion. A few cans were scattered on the floor by Jayce’s feet. That was all. “Oh,” you chuckled and approached him, bending down to pick up one of the rogue cans and he copied your motion, his hand picking up the remaining two. Absent-mindedly, you put them back onto their shelf in the cupboard and turned to him, expecting him to hand you the ones he’d collected but he was too busy inspecting the metal cylinder in his hand.

His thumb brushed over one in particular, rubbing a specific spot delicately. You retrieved the one that hadn’t captivated his attention with ease and pushed it onto the shelf with the other one.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him and attempted to take the last one from his grip, but he glanced up to you momentarily before returning his attention to the object.

His thumb continued to caress the tin, the indent in the side ruining it’s normally rounded shape. The label slightly hid it but he could still feel where his clumsiness had caused the imperfection. Would you be mad at him for his carelessness?

He wasn’t completely sure what it was that he’d broken, but in the time that you’d taken to arrive at the crime scene, he’d attempted to push the metal back into place with no joy. He just hoped it wasn’t expensive.

Tentatively, he turned it around to face you and placed his finger against the hollow surface, maybe if he admitted to it then it wouldn’t be so bad.

He watched you inspect it, then look up at him with furrowed eyebrows - you didn’t seem angry, more confused. The object slipped from his fingers and transferred into your smaller ones, you rolled the can over in your hand and reached up to put it with the others.

Shuffling forward with one cautious step, he caught your attention with his sudden movement. Perhaps you hadn’t seen the damage he’d done and he needed to be clearer. “What?” your voice didn’t sound angry either, it was soft and laced with concern.

His tongue graced his lower lip and he blinked rapidly a few times before returning his eyeline to the tin. When you inspected it again and traced your thumb over the same place his had just a few moments prior he awaited the repercussions of his actions.

“It’s okay, it’s just a can, the insides are still fine. We can still use it,” you reassured him once the cogs in your brain had turned enough to understand that maybe he was worried about the contents of it. He must’ve seen a tin of food before, they were so common that they must have had them around the Sanctuary.

Unless they weren’t allowed to make their own food? There were so many unanswered questions that you had, but were too afraid to ask them in case it made you sound stupid. The last thing you wanted to do was insult his intelligence when he’d already shown you on so many occasions just how smart he was.

He contemplated your words, was there really a usefulness to something that had been dented beyond returning it to its previous form? He exhaled as if he would blow the thought away with such a small puff of air. It was silly to compare himself; it was just a can after all.

You slipped it back onto the shelf and closed the cupboard door, “Come on,” you reached the hand out to him, gesturing your fingers towards you in hopes that he would take it. He did not. Okay, too soon.

“I need your help, if you don’t mind,” he followed behind you as you returned to the living room, adding the last part of your request to be polite and not assume that he was going to be overjoyed doing manual labour for you. If you could call this manual labour.

You stopped just in front of the couch and turned to him excitedly, “Have you ever built a blanket fort before?” you clapped your hands together gently, ensuring they didn’t make a loud noise. He shook his head side to side, his ears wiggling with the gentle motion.

The smile that spread across your lips was so sudden that even if you wanted to control it, you probably couldn’t. “Great!” you exclaimed and started moving towards your bedroom, “Well, not ‘great’ that you haven’t-” you corrected yourself, “-I meant, ‘Great!’ as in I get to show you how.”

It wasn’t the best explanation, but you weren’t entirely sure how to describe the joy it gave you to be the first one to build a fort with him. It was clear that you were given the gift of seeing him experience many of his ‘firsts’.

You returned shortly with a bundle of blankets and pillows in your arms, of course, he hadn’t moved an inch from where you’d left him. “We need to move the table for a second,” you grunted as you tried to maneuver yourself around him and throw the bundle in your arms onto the couch.

Before you’d had the chance to turn back to face him, you heard his footsteps come closer to you and your back instinctively bristled with the expectation of contact, but there was none. Instead, you continued your rotation and watched as Jayce clasped his hands on either side of the table cautiously - presumably not to spill any of the treats you’d presented on it.

“Careful, that’s-” once again you cut yourself short as he lifted the table gently and with an uncanny ease that - if you hadn’t tried and failed to move it yourself in the past - made you question whether it was forged out of cardboard, “-Heavy,” your sentence trailed off.

Jayce held the table and looked around his immediate surroundings for somewhere to put it down, he cautiously shuffled a few steps to the side before settling on a spot. You tried not to dwell on how undemanding the weight of the table was to him.

Instead, you rearranged the couch cushions until they created a wall between where you would sit and the arms of the couch. Then you started with the additional pillows and blankets you’d retrieved, and it wasn’t long until you’d made a small nest for the two of you.

“Will that be enough space for you?” you turned to him, unaware that he had been silently watching you work in awe.

He met you in front of the couch, puffed a few of the pillows, and sat down to assess the comfort of his new space. He rearranged himself a few times, leaning back and trying different angles until he was happy.

Meanwhile, you’d grabbed the spare bed sheet you’d found in your closet, unfolding it until the cotton hit the carpet beneath your feet with a thump as gravity took over from you.

You grabbed at the fabric, pulling it up towards you again until you found what you thought was around the center, and carefully stepped onto the couch.

The pillows and blankets dipped slightly under your foot, but you could feel how you were tilted to the side Jayce was sitting on, his own body weight making your climbing surface uneven.

‘Don’t fall on him,’ you thought to yourself as you reached up to grab the small disco ball hanging from a hook above the couch.

It had been here since before you moved in, the previous tenants had either forgotten it, or not cared enough to take it with them.

Some of the little silver squares that made the light reflect from it had fallen off, revealing the cheap white styrofoam underneath. Your fingers pushed the bottom of it up until the plastic ring that kept it on the hook lifted and allowed you to remove it from its home on your ceiling.

The moment you moved it a thin cloud of dust littered the air, some drifting towards your nose and face. You quickly blew out puffs of air to redirect its flow but it still made your nose crinkle and you inevitably sneezed, the sudden jolt making your body wobble from its podium atop the couch.

You somehow didn’t fall, but - not that you had noticed from your own concentration not to tumble - Jayce had put his hands out, ready to be your safety net in case your balance had not prevailed.

Once you were sure you weren’t in danger of losing all of your dignity in front of your new housemate, you gently tossed the disco ball onto the armchair, watching it bounce once before arching off of the chair and onto the carpet; leaving a small circle of dust on the cushion in its wake.

It’s okay, you’ll pick that up later.

With the bed sheet in hand, you reached up towards the ceiling hook but it wasn’t even close to touching the metal. Letting your arms rest for a moment, you dropped them to your side with a huff, accidentally draping the fabric over Jayce’s shoulder.

He didn’t seem to mind despite how you immediately felt bad. Instead he took it between his index finger and thumb to pinch it, rubbing the fibres between his tips with contemplation, “Sorry,” you smiled gently, and he allowed you to slowly pull the fabric from his touch.

It was so soft, unlike any type of sheet or blanket he’d ever felt before. Even the ones that you’d given him last night weren’t as luxurious as that; he wondered why that was, and hoped that the simple pinch of his fingers wouldn’t be the last contact he had with it.

Stretching once more towards the ceiling, you tried to persuade yourself to grow a few inches taller just so you didn’t need to get a stick or a ruler and play a strange version of bed sheet ring toss in your living room, but it was no use. You’d attempted to reach the hook again and again but failed miserably, with a huff.

You felt the surface under your feet shift and you teetered on the spot as he rose, the redirection of weight taking you momentarily by surprise. Jayce had stood from the couch to step back and observe your situation.

Perhaps he was getting irritated by the cover waving around his head, you knew how sensitive his ears were after all, but he didn’t seem the slightest bit annoyed - more curious than anything else.

Slowly, he approached you, easily lifting his foot - with his shoes still on - to stand next to you on the couch. You felt the cushions shift again.

You were about to start vocalising your concern for the structure of your furniture, it was cheap and it had been here for as long as you had, and most definitely in need of replacing. Still, you didn’t want any of the slats inside to snap, then Jayce would have nowhere to sleep.

But in advance of you forming the words to begin your worry, he placed his hand next to yours on the sheet and sharply nudged his head to the side to instruct you to step down from the pedestal so he could take over. Hesitantly, you did just that; letting go of the fabric and allowing Jayce to take the weight of it instead.

If you thought he was tall before, he was a giant now.

From your position on the carpet, you could see how his hair was very close to the ceiling. If you took a photo of him and put it into an editing software, all you’d need to do is copy and paste his head and drag it on top of the original for his crown to brush against the drywall.

He barely needed to stretch for the fabric to make contact with the hook, he casually lifted his arms up to tie a small knot around the metal.

Your intention had been to position the sheet in a way that it made a teepee around the couch, giving your little fort a little roof, but as you surveyed the area your eyes fell on the grey hoodie he was wearing. Or, moreso, the lack of it around his midsection.

It had been possibly a size too small for him, that much was evident from when he came out of the bathroom wearing it, but now - with his arms above his head - the fabric had nowhere else to go but up with his appendages.

You shouldn’t be staring, it was inappropriate and rude, but the stark contrast between the light grey cotton and the tanned skin of his stomach was so noticeable that it would’ve caught your eye regardless of how polite you were trying to be.

Maybe it would’ve been just a tiny glance, but the thin dusting of dark brown hair trailing from his belly button to below the waistband of his jeans had held your attention for a few seconds longer. However, that was not the thing that made you stare. It was the faint light lines drawn into his skin.

Fortunately, if one could be fortunate in such a situation, there wasn’t an exorbitant amount of them. You had counted maybe six thin and short squiggles of different shapes and angles. Of course, six was already too many but from the small glimpse you’d gotten of his back by comparison six wasn’t disproportionate.

There it was again, that pang of sadness in your heart you felt the first time you saw him in the Sanctuary.

Within such a little action of assistance from him, there was the constant reminder of the needless violence that lurked in his shadow. You hoped that he would stand in the sunlight with you for long enough to scare whatever he didn’t speak about away so it would let him know peace.

He hadn’t noticed, or at least, you hoped he hadn’t noticed your eyes pencilling their pattern on his stomach, “Yeah, there looks great!” You encouraged him from your spot below, “If you can tie a knot in it then it should hold, or I can get a hair tie or something!”

As soon as you suggested it, you started patting down your pants as if you’d tucked some away in your pockets in preparation for this moment, but they were empty.

You watched him delicately pinch the fabric between his fingers and try to tie a knot a few times before he looped it around his index and middle finger and managed to thread it through, securing your makeshift walls to the ceiling.

He looked towards you hesitantly as he let the fabric go, testing whether it would stand on its own from his attempt at a knot, and when it didn’t immediately crumple to the ground in a heap with the pillows, he smiled.

It was brief, just a small flash of his teeth, but it was genuine. It had only been just over 24 hours since he’d come to live with you and whilst it only lasted for no more than a millisecond, you would take what positive indicators of progression that you could.

It was infectious, his smile. You found your own lips curling up in response to his momentary happiness, and you wondered how long it had been since you’d smiled so naturally. Not a forced one to be polite when greeting people, or the one you did in team meetings to make it seem like you did actually want to be there, but a true one that had crept up on you in the most unassuming moment.

Whilst this one was more a grin of victory through achievement, you hoped you’d be able to recreate it again and make it last for longer.

Maybe it would only be for a minute or two next time, or perhaps an hour, but it would be happiness nonetheless.

Between the two of you, it didn’t take long to tuck the sheet down the sides of the couch to create a teepee in your living room. It was smaller than what you’d intended, but - you supposed - the last time you made something like this was with someone else, and someone much smaller.

It would be a little snug but hopefully he didn’t mind.

“If you don’t like it, we can always take the sheet down,” you reassured him as you repositioned the pillows again; they’d been momentarily flattened as a casualty of using the couch as a stool.

You didn’t want to make him feel forced into a small space, even if it was made of cotton and polyester.

Finding your own spot amongst the pillow nest, you left the right side of the couch free for him. He waited for you to stop moving as an indication that you were comfortable, then, without you needing to ask, he picked the coffee table up again and placed it down in front of the couch just as easily as he’d moved it the first time.

“Oh, thank you!” you avoided eye contact, still slightly unnerved by the strength he held within him that you’d somehow forgotten. Almost as if you thought having him in a domestic setting had removed his uncanny biology, and a simple glance would wave away the cloud of disbelief you were hiding behind.

Instead, you reached forward and grabbed one of the snacks you’d bought for yourself as well as the TV remote - using restraint to leave the packet behind and only take what you could fit in your hand, just in case Jayce wanted some too.

It was little things like this, things you’d never thought about, that would possibly take you the longest to adjust to.

Jayce ran his hand over the lip of the hut you’d made together, letting the fabric move slightly against his touch but managing to keep its triangular shape. You watched him observe it cautiously before he ducked under it and entered your blanket fort.

Once again, he shuffled on the spot, rearranging the pillows and pulling some out from between his thigh and the arm of the couch to put behind his back instead.

You were closer than you’d intended, the angle of your fabric roof had severely minimised the actual space you had, but out of fear of getting too close to him and making him uncomfortable, you settled on part of the TV screen being obstructed.

It was only the top left corner, nothing that interesting or plot heavy would be happening within those pixels so it would be fine if you missed it.

In silence, you turned the TV on and loaded Netflix, scrolling down all the options and categories.

Ah, the second hurdle of the night, what to watch.

Admittedly, you hadn’t put a lot of thought into what film you wanted to show him; there was nothing in his file about what genres of media he enjoyed, but by his enjoyment of board games and chess, maybe he would like something logical? “Is there anything in particular you want to watch?” you allowed your thumb to continue clicking the button of the remote as you glanced at him for his reaction, short snippets of audio played from the TV as you slowed your clicking.

His shoulders lifted and then dropped quickly as he gently shook his head side to side. Why was it not surprising that he would say no?

As you opened your mouth to start listing genres of films, you saw his eyes widen and his attention pin onto the screen like a dart hitting the bullseye on a dartboard. You lifted your thumb from the remote to stop it scrolling to the next movie and followed his eye line so you could see what had enamoured him.

Your TV showed a man doing intricate hand gestures, orange sparks followed his fingers like a sparkler on a cold autumn night, drawing shapes into the space in front of him. It then transitioned into another scene where the walls bent and spun as if they were collapsing in on themselves from a mere touch of hand.

You glanced back towards Jayce, his eyes shone with excitement. They were practically sparkling with the same golden flame as you saw on the screen.

“This one?” you lifted the remote and used it as a pointer to gesture towards the TV. Jayce immediately stifled his eagerness and looked to you out of the corner of his eye; you wished he hadn’t felt the need to quell his enjoyment, and a part of you felt bad for interrupting his moment of intrigue.

From his reaction alone you’d decided that this was the movie you were going to watch, so you didn’t wait for a nod.

You leaned forward again to place the remote onto the coffee table once the film had started, the opening title card playing loud and excitable music as you picked up another handful of your treats.

Looking down to your snack-filled palm, you thought back to outside the cafe. How he’d saved half a strawberry for you only a few hours prior, and so soon after having a frustrating misunderstanding. Jayce was kind and considerate. In all the time you’d spent with him it totalled to no more than a week, and you already knew this to be fact.

“Want some?” you flattened your hand and let the treats sit on your palm the same way he had, whispering as if you were in the movie theatre and someone a few rows back would shush you harshly for daring to speak while the movie was playing.

You didn’t recall any mention of a like or dislike in his file, but this was one of your favourite snacks and you wanted to share it with him. Not out of politeness or to gain anything from it, but simply because you wanted to share things with Jayce.

He looked at you first, then down to your hand once he realised what you were offering him. Then hesitantly took the smallest piece from you, and you tried to ignore how a twinge of disappointment went through you when his fingertips didn’t touch your skin.

It was silly to get your hopes up over such things. The first time outside of the cafe had been an accident, and you were not delusional enough to believe that your friendship had progressed to the lengths of physical contact within one day.

He put the treat into his mouth, but not before inspecting and sniffing it first, and you tried your best not to watch his microexpressions for any indication on if he liked it or not. After a few moments he nodded, confirming that he did.

As the film continued on, your pile of snacks had dwindled down to the wrappers. It had taken a bit of encouragement, but Jayce had helped greatly in the downfall of your treat empire. You’d made a mental note, which you would transfer into the physical file you had in your kitchen drawer later, of which ones he’d gone back to for seconds.

It wasn’t until another hour had passed and the movie was drawing to its conclusion that you felt the weight in the couch shift, you quickly turned your head towards Jayce to see his head slumped to the side and the slow rise and fall of his chest.

It was only then that you remembered he hadn’t slept much last night.

He must’ve been exhausted. The day had been filled with a lot of new experiences, both positive and negative, but they were new experiences all the same. Christ, you were exhausted and today was pretty close to a normal weekend for you, you couldn’t imagine how drained his social battery must be.

The movie became an accompaniment to watching him doze peacefully next to you, if you ignored the small line that separated his eyebrows. Then you remembered the pillow and your eyeline drifted to his hands; even in his sleep they were tensed, the tendons and veins rising to the surface to make indented lines under his skin.

They had ripped apart the soft fibres of the pillow and the innards had come spilling out as easy as water from a broken bottle. He was, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, still dangerous. Perhaps letting him fall into unconsciousness next to you was a bad idea? But then again, nudging him awake seemed not only the more stupid option, but also the less considerate.

So you let him breathe slowly and deeply, praying that you wouldn’t become pillow shaped in his dreams.

There was so much uncertainty around Jayce. Of course, you had his file, but the words inside it was as unfeeling and unpersonable as reading the dictionary, just a list of facts printed in ink as if he wasn’t a complex being beyond a simple string of bullet points.

There was so much about Jayce that was unknown, undiscovered, and even with the benefit of the doubt, within the confines of your common sense, you knew it was because of a lack of trying.

Carefully, you leaned forward to pick your phone up off of the table, making sure not to disturb his slumber in the process. You unlocked the device and opened the web browser, tapping the screen until the word “Hybrid” formed in the search bar, and hit enter.

Nothing. There was next to nothing online about them, save for the rare article of an attack - both to and from hybrids - or a Reddit thread stating less than unsavoury things, but none based within the world of fact.

It was as if they didn’t exist, as if they had been shoved into a container and covered with a blanket so no one would see them. The only traces to be found where the occasional tapping of the glass which was quickly hushed back into silence.

You put your phone down against your thigh and took a moment to stare at the movie’s end credits. There had to be something out there about them, surely not every crumb of information had been swept under the rug. That cafe had books on them, which meant there were authors who specialised in documenting them, so where on earth was it?

You raised your phone again, this time leaving the browser tab and navigating to your text messages, clicking on the most recent entry. Henry. He had specifically said if you had any questions to contact him, and, well, this was a question.

There was a reluctance you had to asking for help when the internet was so readily available, one to many ‘Google is a free service’ thrown your way had dissuaded you from doing anything other than independent research.

But, you had Googled, you had searched, you had looked, and it seemed to be an information blackhole on the subject.

So, you typed out a quick message. “Hey, it was nice to meet you today!” It began, short, sweet and polite - get the pleasantries out of the way before making a request, “I was just doing some research on hybrids and I can’t really find anything, and you said to message if I had questions, so here I am!”

You internally cringed at how you’d taken the long road around simply asking for what you wanted.

Staring at the phone for a few seconds you waited for a response, but when the seconds turned into minutes, and the minutes turned into twenty of them, you realised that maybe Henry was the type of person who wasn’t chronically on his phone.

Reaching for the TV remote, you pressed the power button and sat in the silence of your living room. It was odd now, to hear only the rushing of cars outside when you were so aware of another presence in your home. It was a feeling opposite to loneliness, but not quite companionship. A feeling you had yet to name.

You stood as slowly and carefully as you could from the couch, feeling your weight transfer onto your feet and the fibers of the rug flatten beneath your sole. So far so good, Jayce was still asleep and your fluffy white pillow stuffing had remained inside of you.

Shuffling around the coffee table as best you could, you watched his face intently for any sign of him waking up, but as you circled the mundane piece of furniture, his expression remained unchanged. A sight of slight discomfort, but an underlying essence of peace across his features.

You wanted to say goodnight so he wouldn’t wake up at some point in the night and wonder where you’d gone or why you’d left, but on the balance between that and allowing him to get a decent night’s sleep, you chose the sleep.

It was only when you’d crept down the hallway and gently closed your bedroom door that you realised you had a couple of text messages.

Henry had replied, which surprised you, considering it was now pushing 2am. What was he doing up so late? But, you guessed, the same thing could be said about you.

“Yeah, you wont find much online unless you know where to look.” Blunt, to the point. It would seem he wasn’t as chatty over text as he was in person, but there was a second message containing a link, “Start here. A warning, it’s not a pleasant read.”

Your heart sunk slightly at the precaution he’d given you, it was obvious the history you were looking for wasn’t going to be some fun little bed time story, but for someone like him to warn you made you think the worst.

With a sharp inhale, you threw your phone onto your duvet and got ready for bed. Once you were under your blanket and comfortable, you clicked the link and prepared yourself for whatever you were about to discover.

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