Demon Boyfriend: Jolly Jay (complete)

Female Main Character x Male Monster (both cis)

I’m sick of smiling. It’s as simple as that. All my life I’ve been told to stay upbeat, to present myself as a happy, well-mannered person. But I’m disgusted with going through the motions of happiness now. I want to rage. I want to scream. I want to throw things and break them. I want to be angry all the time. But I have to keep smiling.

There are many other people who are exhausted from smiling and appearing happy all the time. Although it’s hard to meet these days due to the curfews, we manage to come together to show the emotions that are not ‘good’ ones. We cry, we rage, and we suffer together as we discuss how things could be different if someone just tried. But no one tries anymore, it’s almost impossible. Everyone must be happy, or else.

‘Or else’ could mean a range of things, none of them good. I’ve had neighbors come home changed, mentally or physically. The Government of Immaculate Unity sees to that. They call themselves a government to make themselves sound nice, and they took over a long time ago, slowly and quietly. Thanks to certain witch hunts, they were able to wiggle their fingers into positions of power, and those wagging fingers became more insistent that an upbeat nature would solve more issues than anything. I’m not too clear on timelines as the history isn’t taught. I mean, they teach something called history, but it’s only happy events.

I own a house that’s far too big for me, so I rent out rooms to make money, and it is usually profitable. I have a policy not to ask questions and no one argues with my prices after that. I see strange behavior often, and I barely bat an eye at it anymore. As long as I receive cash and the proper forms are signed, I don’t care what anyone does in the rooms. I pay my cleaning woman, Matilda, handsomely and let her take home anything left in the rooms. It was a good system until one day a few years ago, when two large, imposing men in lilac-and-yellow suits came to my door, casting a shadow over my desk. They offered me a lot of money. All I had to do was clean out my basement and rent it to them indefinitely, and see to the guest who would be staying there.

Knowing what I know now, I would have turned them away. Instead, presented with that kind of money, I agreed to it. I allowed them to outfit the basement with everything they needed. They took a lot of strange equipment down there, things that didn’t seem very homely. I never saw anyone move in, but I was given a new set of keys for the door, which was now bright yellow with strange markings all over it, sealed with several locks and bolts and had a window at head level and a slot for delivering food.

I was told to never open the door, what times to deliver food, and how to reach my new clients through an intercom they installed into the phone. I was instructed not to talk at length to the man in the room, and to deliver to him packages that would come each morning by someone else in a lilac-and-yellow suit. If I had any issues at all, they said they would be willing to pay more money. I argued there was a problem, and they paid me more money. Anytime I have a complaint, they just give me money. I’ve learned to be okay with it.

The first few weeks were strange. I didn’t know if I had a criminal locked in my basement or what, I just brought the food and packages and left whoever was in there alone. After a while, I began hearing strange noises, buzzes and beeps and static that interfered with my television and radio. I never used the things, but they started to switch on of their own accord.

One afternoon, as I was bringing down the breakfast and package, the slot in the door opened. I stood back, holding my breath. It had never been opened from the opposite side before. I always left before the food was taken in. I stood there, watching and waiting, hoping it might close again.

“Do you have my things, or don’t you?” The voice that came out was so smooth and lovely, followed by an equally smooth and lovely hand. The fingers were long and had an extra joint, and the nails were painted pastel pink and shaped like coffins. “Come, now.” The fingers wagged. “I smell that delicious coffee.”

I approach. “Sorry. I was surprised.”

“Of course,” the beautiful voice purred. “I’ve been quite shy up until this point.” It actually felt like silk against my ears.

I set the tray down then set the package in sideways. I wanted to hear the person speak more, but I was unsure what to say. I stepped back as he took his things, and then the hand was held out again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I held my mouth stiffly, having been trained to keep it flat rather than let it turn into a frown all my life. Better to look emotionless than lean anywhere towards being unhappy. “I’ll shake your hand later. Mine are sticky from the cinnamon bun,” I lied.

“Oh, of course.” The hand retreated back inside. “My name is Jay Bune.”

I was shocked. Everybody knew that name. He was the host of the most popular radio program on the air. Some claimed he was spreading propaganda for the GIU, while others said he was hiding coded messages in his broadcasts. Most of the world just knew him as ‘their friendly neighbor, Jolly Jay’. Hell, even I listened to him sometimes. “The radio guy?”

“So you know me?” He chuckled. “Yes, that’s me. I know you are Imelda Fitzgerald, proprietress of this establishment. Thank you for taking care of me.”

I stared at the locked door. “I wouldn’t call it that.” I wanted to ask why he was here, being so beloved, but he beat me to the punch. “I know what you’re thinking, and no, I’m not locked up for some crime. Rather, I am here for my own protection.”

It was getting hard to hold back a frown. “From what?”

“The GIU,” Jay stated simply. “Or at least, what it is now.”

I grew cold and prickly all over. My neck went stiff and my jaw clenched so tightly that my teeth ground together. “I don’t need to know this.”

“That’s fine,” Jay’s smooth voice sighed. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you, for my own protection, but you see, I’m lonely. I know you have been told to keep your distance from me, but please, it would mean the world to me if we could talk sometimes.”

His voice was so lovely, it was hard to even think about saying no. But I had to tell him I would think about it. Jay understood and he bid me farewell.

Each day after that, we chatted a little through the door. One day, and I remember it very clearly, I hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and my morning hadn’t gone right in any way. I had to leave first thing to buy breakfast, as my stove was on the fritz. On my way to the store, my mask broke. People wore masks to cover their faces below the nose when they didn’t smile as much, and the masks had fanciful happy prints to make up for it. Mine snapped as I tried to put it on, so I had to go without it. Along the way home, I stopped smiling for half a second on the bus, and that’s when I heard the most vile words of my life.

“You’d be prettier if you smiled!” a man said, so jovially and confidently that I felt like a wild bear whose cubs were under attack. I looked at him sitting across from me with his mask on, staring me down, waiting for me to smile. Every fiber of my being hurt, but I had to smile. His comment of ‘much better’, made me sick to my stomach.

Once home, all I wanted to do was break down and claw out my hair. Instead I had to make Jay’s breakfast and take it to him along with the package that came every morning. I stomped downstairs and nearly threw his tray through the window as it opened. “Good morning!” I snapped.

“Jehosaphats, what’s wrong?” he asked coolly.

“Nothing!” I spat.

He was silent for a moment. “Bad morning, huh?”

I rubbed my face hard, probably smudging my makeup. “It doesn’t matter. Just eat your breakfast.”

“I will listen if you want to talk. Between me and the door, no one will hear your anger.” Jay held his hand out again.

I sniffled, feeling tears come to my eyes. “I can’t say it.”

“You hate smiling,” he said. “That’s okay. You’re not supposed to do it all the time, let alone think about it. And being told to do it makes it so much worse, doesn’t it?”

“How do you know?” I stiffened my jaw to keep from frowning.

“It’s not a secret in this world,” Jay murmured. “Happiness is not a constant.”

I stepped closer to the door. “But aren’t you Jolly Jay?”

He chuckled. “I’m more than that.”

After that, I began talking more and more to Jay, and found myself becoming quite close to him. I opened up in ways I only did around the people who shared the pessimism I did. He didn’t tell me much about himself, but he seemed to just enjoy the company of having someone there. I discovered he enjoyed anything lemon-flavored; tea, candy, food, even the scent.I started incorporating lemon into his meals, even bringing him treats. I liked to hear his voice when he was excited, and I liked to make him happy even more. It was one of the few things that brought a smile to my face without trying.

“I love yellow things,” he told me one day. “But lemons are special. Does that make sense?”

“Not really,” I chuckled. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Well,” he said thoughtfully. “They’re kind of like you.”

I scoffed. “What?”

“Well, they’re pretty and bright on the outside, but on the inside they’re sour, and they’re filled with things a body needs.”

I wasn’t sure if this was flattering or not. “You think I’m pretty?”

“And sour, but easily made sweet.” That laugh of his was more potent that day than it usually was, and it made me flush and my chest feel tight.

“I see. You’re trying to get to me. Good one.” I forced out a laugh.

“Not necessarily,” he replied coolly. “Just awkwardly trying to pay you a compliment. Trying to tell you that, just like lemons, I like you a lot.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I just kept quiet.

“I know this job was thrust upon you, but I’m grateful it was you.” Jay’s hand came out of the small window. “I would have been miserable had I never gotten to meet you.”

I swallowed and reached out, touching his hand for the first time. His long, strange fingers laced with mine. His skin was smooth, and he was warm. I held his hand for a long while, not saying anything. “I’m sorry if I have said too much, Imelda,” he chuckled. “But I do mean every word.”

“You’re fine. It’s fine.” I leaned against the door.

Jay sighed. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“About?”

He ran his thumb along the side of my hand. “Keep me safe, and you will become powerful.”

I wanted to let go of his hand, but I kept still. “I’m not sure I like how that sounds, Jay.” My voice cracked as I spoke.

“You will see. Over time, you will.” He let go of my hand, then placed something in my palm. “You are my keeper now.”

I looked at the ring he had given me, a simple gold band. “Jay, who are you?” I asked.

He chuckled. “It’s best you don’t know, at least not for a while. I am your friend and charge for the time being. Eventually, that may change into something more. But I’m happy with where we are now.”

I placed the ring on my middle finger, and it fit perfectly. “I can live with knowing you’re a friend. I suppose it would be better if I don’t know anything more about you.”

“Exactly. I want to keep you safe, like you keep me safe.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know. But I was aware that the less I knew, the better. Whatever the packages were, whatever he was, was all secreted away for one reason or another. Then came the day I actually met Jay.

I came home from shopping to find the people in the lilac-and-yellow suits inside my place. They were taking out equipment from the basement and replacing it with newer things. “Ma’am, this will only take a few hours, so we moved Mr. Bune into a room upstairs. We ask that you go to your room until we are done.” They took my groceries and gave me money. I just rolled my eyes and went upstairs into my room, shutting the door and taking off my sweater.

“My, my. I came for a conversation, not a show.”

I jumped, pulling my sweater back over my chest. Sitting on my bed was a very long, thin man. He wore an impeccable suit of yellow gingham, although he wore only a vest over his shirt, and his sleeves were rolled up. His jacket was folded neatly on the bed. He also wore a mask. It was extremely glossy and bore a massive grin upon the front.

“Jay?” I asked, breathless and alarmed.

He raised a long finger, tapping it over the grin on his mask. “I’m not supposed to be here. Keep your voice down. I wanted to see you, and this may be the only chance I get.”

“You see me all the time.” I adjusted my sweater.

“Not like this.” He rose from the bed, looking like a giant praying mantis. “I never get to be in the same room with you. There’s always a door between us.”

“You’re tall,” I murmured.

Jay chuckled. “Are you surprised?”

“Very much.” I glanced to the door, hearing noise from downstairs. “What are they doing, anyway?”

“Replacing my radio equipment. They’re hoping for a better signal that can reach farther and be less detectable.” He sat back down on my bed and folded his hands in his lap. “It will take a few hours, so we can spend some time together.”

I nervously fiddled with my hair, trying to tuck it away, but I was playing with it too much for it to stay in place. “What would you like to do?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just happy to be here.” He patted the bed beside him. “Come sit with me, and maybe we’ll think of something.”

I took a seat, and Jay offered me his hand to hold. I laced my fingers with his. “You’re still wearing the ring I gave you,” he commented.

“It’s nice. I like it.”

“Good.” He looked at me with his masked smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Can you take that mask off?” I asked. “It’s creepy.”

He touched the mask, smoothing his long fingers down it. “I am afraid I can’t do that, Imelda, even if I would like to. I have to keep the mask on, for your sake, at least.”

I softened my neck. “My sake?”

“This mask may appear creepy to you, but there’s something underneath that I fear is much worse than this. I would hate for you to look at me and… never look again.”

I squeezed his hand. “I like you too much to care about what you look like.”

“I’m glad that you do,” he murmured.

I smiled up at him, and felt him smiling back at me. I hated to smile, but when it was with Jay I didn’t have to force it, or hide my anger behind it. It was genuine, and it was mine alone.

The years went by, and Jay remained in my basement and broadcasted his show. Over that time, I became known as the Keeper to the people wearing the lilac-and-yellow suits. I was referred to with respect, and even looked upon as someone of high ranking. Jay told me I would be powerful, but I had never realized how it would happen.