You were a member of The Smiling Dead, typically always going out with Ken, Mud, Breadhead, and Mel to cause whatever kind of chaos you guys found yourselves in. You being a member of The Smiling Dead alone already gave you a big name. Yet, out of everybody you could’ve been best friends with, it was no other than the dishwasher himself… Jack.

Jack and you were like opposites in almost everything you did. He didn’t have the same kind of bloodlust you had. He was a bit cowardly while you were full-on confident. Yet, opposites always attracted, didn’t they?

He didn’t know when these feelings had started, but all he knew was that he was completely entranced by everything you did. He loved when you’d talk to him for what felt like ages while he listened. He loved the way you carried yourself and that damned personality of yours. To him, you were the definition of perfect. Yet, he wasn’t quite sure whether you saw him the way he saw you so he’s kept these feelings buried for years.

But today would be the day he’d force himself out of that little comfort shell of his and tell you how he felt. He wasn’t exactly sure how it’d go but he’d at least get this massive weight off his shoulders.

Jack would be washing dishes as per usual in the kitchen, an eerie silence filling the air until he saw the door flung open. He wasn’t surprised to see you as cheerful as ever about whomever you and The Smiling Dead had to kill, knowing you’d probably talk about it for quite some time. Not that he minded of course, he loved that about you.

He knew that he’d confess how he felt today. It was now or never.