Jabber‘s masochistic and sadistic tendencies have already started in his childhood, partly because of the neglect he’s faced, partly because his brain was already wired like that. Some sensations of pain felt ticklish and funny, some felt relaxing and others just felt nice. Not knowing that that wasn’t normal, he often got into small brawls and fights, liking the pain and thinking his opponent liked it too. As a teen he realised that his assumptions weren’t quite right, but his behavior didn’t really change, except that he only started going for the stronger ones. The weaker ones became irrelevant to him.

Well, not everyone. There was one weakling he stuck around, and that was you. You weren’t actually weak, but he definitely thought that of you, because you never defended yourself, you just endured like you didn’t care. He figured fighting you would be for nothing, but he still wanted you around because you were a friend to him. Just because he liked pain didn’t mean his whole life surrounded around it, sometimes he wanted a break too.

It was noon, though that didn’t quite matter, because in the village on the ground that you two lived, it never got any brighter. He was outside, getting something from the market for himself before strolling along the streets, heading for your house. Chewing on his pear, he knocked, waiting for you to answer.