Death (Puss in Boots) x Reader

Chapter 2

Y/N clocked in to her appointment with the village doctor. This was the first time in a long time that she'd checked in with him. With the doctor, that is. She'd seen the man himself many times, but as a vet, witch doctor, barber, and so many more. Now he would be a doctor. Y/N felt now would be a good time to check in, not because of the recent incident, but....
...okay, so the incident freaked her out a little. But that was over a month ago now. Well, she did have reason to be freaked out--someone had just appeared out of nowhere on her own bed. Of course, no matter how much she pleaded her case to others, no one would take action, if they believed her.
Everything had gone back to being completely untouched the moment the wolf disappeared. There was no evidence, so there was no crime, and there was no investigation. Y/N worried mostly for her own good, but also for the good of other people who may encounter the individual. Maybe he would, or has already, killed someone. Maybe he'll invade someone else's home, someone Y/N knew. Maybe they wouldn't get out alive...
Who knew what such a mysterious figure would do next. Heck, Y/N hardly understood why he would ever show up in her home of all places. But now was not the time to worry about it. Now was the time to worry about the disease that plagued Y/N for years.
"So, how often have you been taking your prescription pills?" The doctor asked.
"Twice a day, every morning and night." You replied proudly. You felt like a kid who could finally tell the dentist they really had been flossing.
"That's good," he said, glancing down to his clipboard for a second while taking some notes. "Any days you might have missed taking the zyrophome?"
"Nope," you reply once again. "It's always right next to the entrance to my pantry. Always hard to forget then." You chuckled, but the doctor's face wouldn't change.
"Are any symptoms acting up more than usual? Do you feel anything out of the ordinary? Anything at all?"
"Well, maybe just a--" you paused. The doctor looked very concerned, scared even. "What do you mean?"
"What I'm trying to figure out is, well," the doctor took off his hat. "I don't know exactly how, but your sickness has come back even stronger. It's been spreading like wildfire throughout your body. I have to say it's been like this for about a week."
"Wait, that's it?" You say. "That doesn't sound too bad, does it? I mean, it can come and go every now and then, right? It has strengthened a bit every once in a while throughout the years."
"But this time is different. It's meeting a state of fatality," the doctor said with guilt dripping from his voice.
Your heart plummeted down to your stomach. Your eyes sagged open as well, peeling open from the shockwave of confusion, fear, and dread. Just one simple sentence, and you were emotionally intelligible. You were a mess.
"But don't worry," the doctor said. A flutter of hope in your heart. "You still have one month to live your life. You know, see family. Do what you've wanted to do. Spend your time well." Your heart dropped all over again.

Walking back home had to be one of the worst experiences from your life. You were just holding yourself together, in front of all these people. How were you supposed to feel? This dumb disease you'd been fighting for years now was winning. Your biggest flex was how you'd been able to hold up this strict routine for so long, but knowing that it didn't work, shattered your confidence. It was a strange thing to think that you only had around one month to live. Not even an exact date. You supposed your time would come when it came. For now, getting home was your concern walking through a bustling crowd at the market.
Your ear perked up. For a moment, you'd heard a whistle. Not a nice, go-lucky whistle to a happy tune. An unsettling whistle. It was loud, too, carrying over the sounds of the crowd. Before it could finish, a cart short says in front of you crashed onto the ground. The wheels had been crushed by the load on top of the cart. The driver came out and yelled at the top of his lungs while the crowd shifted away from the accident. Once your ears pulled away from the disc reaction and refocused on what was around you, the whistle was no longer there to be heard.

"....."
"Hello..?"
You got home hoping to call your family, friends, and others about the news you'd just received.
"Y/N?" A voice said on the other side of the line. "Y/N!! How are you doing? What's new?" The voice asked inquisitively. It was your mother. She continued to babble on about how she'd missed you, asking why you haven't called, if you were okay, etc. You just stood there, silently frozen on the other side of the line. You had everything planned out, why were you freezing up now?
Well, it's not every day you need to tell your parents you're dying.
"Mom...I..." you squeezed out. She stopped talking.
"Y/N? I'm listening.." she paused for you to speak, but nothing came out.
"I'm sorry, mom, I just..." your throat squeezed shut. It was suffocating. You could imagine how worried your mother must be in the silence. "....I wanted to check in. Since, you know, I haven't talked to you in a while."
"Oh." She said. "Well, thanks, honey. But are you sure everything's okay?"
"Yep."
"...Okay.."
"So, how's dad doing?"

........

How do you tell your parents that you have one month left to live? That you've somehow failed to protect your own body? Should you even tell them? Or just let them live happily, unaware of your situation? They could be living stress-free for the next month. It could be a normal, out of nowhere death. They wouldn't expect it. Would that be better than to live knowing the approaching doom? Would they be mad at you not to tell them? Was there anything they'd want to tell, or show you before you were gone?
You pondered all of this buried in your sheets. You were a bit wary of the position you were in, since it had been the exact position the wolf broke into your home not too long ago. Oh, well. The windows and door were closed and locked when you were home. That was all the best that you could do to prevent another break-in. In the meantime, you slept.

Your ears shot up.
A whistle sounded.
It was the same whistle you'd heard from the marketplace, eerily creeping along three bedroom walls until it slithered into your ears. It send chills down your spine. You buried yourself further into the blanket. In your tired state, you didn't care whether or not you'd be killed at the moment. You were going to die anyway.
Your eyes were dripping down once again, but just before they closed you shifted upright in the sheets and looked at your window. The last thing you saw was the vanishing of a shadow outside your window.

A/N:
Sorry this took a few weeks to get our. Hopefully these chapters don't take that long to write. I've just worked out a schedule to writing all of my books so that should help updates come around faster and more evenly.