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The caliginosity of night was when Jack preferred to venture, for he much preferred cold, clammy darkness to the searing heat of day- an idiosyncrasy that Percival was well aware of, and accustomed to.
His crepuscular employer would traipse into the shadows of nightfall unvaryingly during the more tranquil times of the Claywings, and would more often than not designate a suitable companion to accompany him- and, it would, almost customarily, be Percival.
Percival didn’t particularly relish the tame, stygian ways of the night, but actively feigned interest in sundown, and made sure that Jack knew he did.
For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Percival would give anything to do nothing more than stand next to his proprietor and watch the night’s slow breeze ruffle his hair. The spectacular zephyr of the night was a foe to many, and yet, it was almost always tame under Jack’s sharp gaze. The unobtrusive animal of the gust would cower under his scrutiny as a lion would cringe under the glare of a whip.
There was something under Jack’s eyes of emerald ash that made his heartbeat quicken. There was a certain perpetual tinge of pulsating flames embodied in the raging oceans of his irises- chaos reigned to serve him. The sclera surrounding them resembled hands that held eternity under their unwavering grasp. Whomever he trapped under his gaze was always dwarfed in comparison, although Jack was almost always Lilliputian compared to others.
The effortless manner in which Jack could intoxicate him distantly frustrated, yet entranced, Percival. It was a guilty pleasure of his- to grow drunkenly giddy at a mere flick of Jack’s eyes to his, to savor every moment he was drowned under his inebriating behold, to commit every glance Jack directed toward him to memory.
Every word that Jack let past his lips was sprinkled with sugar; threads of an eloquently woven tapestry. The tapestry strikingly one of articulate elegance; a poetically descriptive magnum opus.
Each sickly sweet utterance of Jack’s was the striking of a match, sparking flames of emotion in Percival. It seemed no more than a dream- a trick of unexplored psychology.
Although, he seemed to be lured into Jack’s articulations as if by a rope lassoed around him. He knew the effect his proprietor's words had on him, and yet he seldom resisted.
Jack’s voice was a familiar tune in unfamiliar and distressing surroundings, a half-forgotten melody hummed in a quest for comfort, songbirds’ whistling at dawn when one finds themselves unable to rest. It was a home away from home, a perch to survey troubles and toils from, the higher ground in a world of minute structures.
It was something to come home to when everything else has failed.
Jack’s decorous qualities seemed to flow through every aspect of him. His dark hair resembled ink cascading down the side of his face, framing his sharp features. His head was always held high, his walk one of demonstrable confidence. Jack was never one to doubt even the most perplexing of happenings.
Jack invariably regarded Percival with eyes of polished daggers, a certain twinkle evidently visible in them as he eyed him. It was as if Percival was being examined, stripped down to his simplest qualities- demeanor truly unveiled. The surveyor's arms hung freely by his side, pale fingers held against the soft fabric of a dark coat. His lips twisted into a slight smile- one you would give to an acquaintance.
An acquaintance.
Percival, with a painful twinge of his heart, realized that he was nothing but an acquaintance to Jack- simply someone useful to have around.
He wanted to regard him the same way- an employer, someone he’d decided to work for, and yet…
He wanted- no, needed- to see Jack as someone more, too. He needed to see Jack as someone whom he could love. Forbye, someone who could love him in turn.
Alas, the world is an unfair locale. He had been forced into the mere role of an employee, a lieutenant… but maybe merely knowing Jack would be enough. That was all he could ask for, isn’t it?
He knew he was wrong.
There are many, many more things he could ask for.
He could ask for Jack to recognize his feelings, although it was blatantly obvious that he was simply one appointed to run errands for him. He could ask to converse with Jack about anything other than official matters. He could ask to see Jack a few more times in the day, though he knew he was rarely at leisure. He could ask for someone he could care about, though he knew such a thing was next to impossible. He can ask for someone who’d love him for who he was, though he knew there was nobody who truly would.
Maybe Jack wasn’t the right person after all.
Percival thought about how every brush of his proprietor's hand against his sparked electricity. How every word exchanged clouded the rational side of his brain. How every time their eyes met he’d be stolen of this breath. How every time Jack complimented him his attention would falter. How every time Jack uttered his name his heart would throb in sympathy. How every debonair gesture of Jack’s would entrance his senses. How every moment they shared meant the world to him.
Percival wondered if Jack really was the right person, but it was simply the wrong time.
It aggrieved him to do so, but he hid every aspect of the love he held for Jack. He buried it all six feet under, as he would one day doubtlessly be.
He envied the time he’d first met his current employer. He’d been cautious and weary then- not as trusting as he was now- but he suspected that holding the same thoughts and feelings he held for Jack back then would now only deepen the wound.
He worried his walls would, one day, crumble and his words would involuntarily be spoken aloud. He worried Jack would discover the secrets he’d hid for so long. He worried about what Jack would think of him if and when he knew.
He still remembered the day Jack had approached him, asking for a volunteer to aid him in his intention of restoring Peculiardom to its prior greatness. He’d agreed to it- his subtle suspicions on Jack’s moral character overshadowed by the joy he’d felt at the prospect of being able to pursue his long-forgotten dream- but now he wondered if his slight dislike for Jack had then all but shadowed something else he’d felt for him.
The more and more time they’d spent together from then on had awakened his love for Jack, and he’d thought that they were growing closer. That their acquaintanceship was developing into… something more, but it all made sense, now.
He was never anything but a pawn to Jack.
He silently cursed himself for failing to see the truth all this time.
He knew Jack was insolent, maniac, sadistic, but there was a rare spark of light in him, too- and that was something Percival would forever hold on to.
All he could do now was stubbornly search the endless desert in Jack’s eyes of emerald ash for the one oasis that would aid him in the journey ahead- and that, for now, was all he could ask for.