Laughter Dies (Laughing Jack x Depressed!Reader)

Laughing Jack had always liked to hear you sing. Well, you were very good at it, after all (or so he insisted) and for him to have a private concert was almost all he needed from you to stay happy. Of course, he had to have you, your smiles and laughter, your heart before he could truly be happy, but the singing was always the best part. After he'd finally got his nerve to take your virginity, you had pet his hair and hummed to him softly as he dozed off. The feelings were probably bad to have, but he decided he liked the weakness you were to him.

However, though Jack saw your smiles, he didn't see your tears. Somehow, even with your small group of friends, a loving family, and most of the things you wanted, depression held you in its unforgiving grip. Maybe it was because of all the deaths you've seen in your family or friends. Perhaps the fact anyone you ever trusted, loved had gone, minus Jack? The world was so cruel, Laughing Jack your only escape. You sometimes tried to tell him in song how you felt, but he never liked them or listened. He'd hear the lyrics and insist you sing something happier. You couldn't help but comply, just to see his smile.

After a while, though, you began to give up. Under your long sleeves, scars began to appear, carefully hidden. You cried when Jack wasn't nearby and yet didn't tell him. He didn't suspect a thing when you insisted to him that he take your favorite plush toy and book when he had to leave one night. It was for the best, you reasoned.

Tonight was going to be your last night. You dressed up in a pretty black dress, many bracelets on your wrists to distract attention from the still red marks. Small black heels were put on and as a final touch, a small white tiara Laughing Jack had given you for your birthday last year.Make-up had been lightly done, your eyes a shadowy grey and lips carefully done into white/black stripes. (Something you had perfected for Jack's sake.)You looked at your reflection, her sad, (e/c) gaze staring at you, into you. Quickly pulling your (h/l), (h/c) hair into a simple style, you trotted out the door in a hurry to catch your ride.


At the small restaurant you'd be singing at, a stage had been set up. It seemed a lot of people were here tonight, but they didn't matter right now. After all, soon they'd be nothing but a useless memory... Gently reminding yourself that, you stepped up onto the stage and one by one, all eyes circled onto you. Far in the corner, you could see Laughing Jack, all fancy for once. A small smile slipped onto your lips and a song began to play.

"He stumbled into faith and thought,
"God, this is all there is."
The pictures in his mind arose
And began to breathe
And all the gods and all the worlds
Began colliding on a backdrop of blue

Blue lips, blue veins"

Your voice carried through the room, and people stopped their talking to listen, maybe whispering a thing or two to a tablemate or another party.

"He took a step but then felt tired
He said, "I'll rest a little while"
But when he tried to walk again
He wasn't a child
And all the people hurried fast, real fast
And no one ever smiled

Blue lips, blue veins
Blue, the color of our planet
From far, far away
Blue lips, blue veins
Blue, the color of our planet
From far, far away"

You saw Laughing Jack frown, most likely displeased with your song of choice. Throughout the rest of the song, your eyes were on his, sad and pleading for him to understand. From the way he stared back, he still had no idea... Your eyes pulled away from his and across the room, he became worried.

The song soon ended, and with a quiet, polite, "Thank you" you were gone. Many people stood up to clap at your performance, leaving Jack to get stuck behind. Not wanting you to be hurt, he looked around the streets for hours before finally deciding you must have gone home safely after all and teleported there. The sight that greeted him was unexpected and painful.

You lay on your bed, flopped to the left side like you had simply crashed. However, the blood flowing thickly from your wrist onto the bedsheets and dripped on the ground told the real story, the one he refused to believe. Tears threatened his sight, but no. This was nothing but a silly dream. (Name) had become such a prankster!

He picked her up and took her back to his carnival home, fixed up her injury and make-up, and lay her on his bed, cuddling up beside her cooling body. "It's alright now, my sweet little doll..." he crooned, stroking your pale cheek with his long black fingers. "We can stay here and be happy forever, isn't that nice?" When you did not smile, he used his two index fingers to drag the corners of your mouth into a smile.

Only then, with the light gone in your (e/c) eyes and a smile being forced onto your lips by his own hands, did he cry, clutching your body to his like a child who had lost his teddy bear.