Chapter Text
Doe had been pacing outside your house for hours. Where were you? Were you safe? Why hadn’t you called? Texted? He scratched at the worn fabric of his jeans, ripping little holes and pulling apart loose threads in his nervousness. There had to be a reason, a logical and perfectionally rational reason why he hadn’t heard from you in six hours and fifty-five minutes(and twenty seconds), right? Ration had started slipping from him so long ago, though, and his infatuation- no. His obsession with you was all his brain needed to go over the edge. You consumed his every waking thought, his every unconscious dream. Every song made him think of you, and every aspect of his life was crafted upon seeing you repeatedly.
Five pm turned into six pm, which gave way to seven. As the sun began to climb lower and lower in the sky, he saw a familiar set of headlights, and could barely contain himself as he lept up and ran to the curb. Buzzing with excitement, it took every ounce of his will not to fling himself against the vehicle. He came close as the small sedan slowed to a crawl against the curb, his hands already fumbling over the handle.
“Are you going to do this every time I come home from work?” You sighed, popping open the door, amused by his fervent energy. After a seven-hour shift, all you wanted was to come home and relax, so you hoped this was what your boyfriend would like as well. However, he seemed never to complain when it involved spending time with you, so there was little to worry about.
“Only when I don’t know where you are, my love! I tried messaging you so so many times, did I upset you?” His words came out quickly and anxiously, the imagined threat to the emotional well-being of the relationship very quickly turning his heart from excitement to terror. You quickly find his hands fidgeting and reach for them, squeezing them for a moment before going back to collect your things from the passenger seat.
“Doe, honey, you know I’d tell you if something was wrong. It was just work, things got busy today. My manager put out a new sale that's been bringing in a lot more customers than we usually see.” You see your partner visibly calm down as you explain the misunderstanding, feeling relieved this was all it took to calm him this time. “But never mind that, let’s go in.” His eyes lit up and he reached for you eagerly, holding your arm and taking you in, barely giving you enough time to shove your wallet and phone in your pockets.
John Doe was unusual. Creepy? Most definitely. Violent? Yeah, that too. Delusional, obsessive, stalker-y, psychotic, murderous, cannibalistic. Yeah. But you weren’t much better. Maybe you liked it too, maybe there was a part of you that loved this. Maybe it fed a part of you that’s been empty for such a long time that this is what you ended up stumbling into and accepting. At a bus stop on a shitty Wednesday. And you met John Doe. After a week of the weirdest dreams of your life, and several subsequent run-ins, you decided to see where bringing this… person into your life would lead you. And apparently, it led you to share a one-bedroom apartment that violated some serious health codes.
You clamber into your second-floor apartment, nearly being dragged off your feet by your overenthusiastic boyfriend. He speaks in a rushed voice, a nearly childlike sense of hyperactivity bubbling up from his words.
“Oh, my love I’m so glad you’re home I’m so glad, I love you so much! I love you so much and now you’re here and I’m here and we can do so many things together!” You could tell he was practically vibrating from this whirlwind of emotion that was you… coming home from work. But it was quite cute to you nonetheless. You looked around the apartment you shared with Doe and noticed several things out of place, which was putting it lightly.
“Could you do something for me first, darlin’?” As you speak, you take one of his hands in yours, feeling him soften under your grasp. Already knowing he’ll say yes, you continue with your request. “Could you clean this place up a bit while I make dinner?” As much as he loved to offer to take on the task, you’ve seen what he created when given access to raw meat and didn’t feel like getting on your hands and knees to scrub the floors again. He turned his head around to either side to assess the damage done to the shabby apartment over time. “Aah.. yes! Yes!” He scampers off to start picking up laundry, not waiting for any additional instruction.
You turn down the hall, hearing the soft patter of Doe’s feet in the living room as you enter your shared bedroom. After changing clothes, you head into the kitchen, reaching within the fridge for the vegetables and meat you purchased earlier in the week. A simple steak dinner would be fine, you assumed. You began washing your potatoes and carrots, hearing your boyfriend tidying clothes and dishes in the background as the sink ran cold water over the vegetables. Chopping your ingredients, you started slowly adding them to a steaming pot, mixing up a honey glaze alongside them.
Cooking has always been one of your passions, especially for someone else. The intimate act of crafting such a sensory-rich experience for someone you cared about meant a lot to you. Cooking meat was an enjoyable experience for you, as well as grilling. Seasoning steak in particular was a delicate balance when cooking for someone like Doe. He was finicky about his meals, preferring it as raw as possible, which ended up making it inedible for you as well. You’ve crafted the genius solution of buying two steaks to solve this problem.
Simple seasonings would work best with this cut of meat, so you reach for your salt shaker and shake it gently over the slab of raw beef laid before you on the cutting board. At that moment, you heard Doe’s steps as he came up behind you, wrapping an arm around your hips lazily, and looking over your shoulder. He always got like this when you were preparing raw meat. It reminded him of you in a sickly sweet way.
Reaching for the pepper, you heard Doe’s breath quickening in your ear. You lay your hands over the cut of beef and work the salt and pepper into the muscle, flipping it over and coating all sides of it. Doe’s fingers teased themselves under the hem of your shirt, his breathing turning to panting as he watched you work. His fingers cautiously dug into you, pressing against your skin sharply. You wince but do nothing to stop him, continuing your preparation.
Cracking open the garlic was next, you eye your knife block and choose a larger blade. You feel Doe’s hands move across your skin, one of them snaking up the counter and towards the knife you held. Holding the clean knife, you move your arms to prevent him from interfering and turn the blade to the side, pressing down on the bulb and freeing the cloves from the skin of the garlic. You could feel Doe’s breath on your neck, hot and quick as you peeled the leaves off of the small cloves, his body was right up against yours now, and his hands had moved to curl around your waist and hips. God, he was so cute when he got needy like this.
Ignoring every obvious sign from your boyfriend, you grouped all of the ingredients on your board. Tidying your workstation and scanning over the counter, you finally relent and turn around, meeting the large black pupils you’ve gotten so accustomed to. He hungrily went for your lips and moved his hands to wrap around you in an embrace, pressing you against him.
“Can’t you see I’m trying to make us dinner?” You sigh out jokingly between his kisses, holding his cheek in your hand to focus his attention. He bit his lip and nodded quickly, looking sheepish and very cute.