Imagine Book 2

Stabbed in the Back- Death of the Endless (DC Comics)

As requested by Brandonwilb18! Male Y/N

The field stretched endlessly in every direction, an expanse of soft grass that moved gently in an unseen breeze. It was neither too warm nor too cold, just the perfect, empty quietness of an in-between place. Y/N found himself there, disoriented and aching, a dull throb where his best friend's betrayal had lodged its finality in his back. He didn't know what to feel—anger, despair, confusion—but sadness engulfed it all, wrapping around him like an inescapable fog.

"Hey," a soft voice broke through the silence.

Y/N turned, startled, to find a young woman standing nearby. She didn't look like anything he would've expected from someone he instinctively knew wasn't just anyone. She wasn't clad in shining robes, wasn't cloaked in skeletal terror. Instead, she wore a simple black tank top and jeans, an ankh dangling from her neck, and a soft smile that didn't quite reach her deep, knowing eyes. She looked ordinary, except for the aura of something extraordinary—something timeless, something eternal.

"I'm Death," she said gently, sitting down on a wooden bench that he hadn't noticed until now, as though it had always been there but hadn't mattered until she did.

Y/N blinked, his breath hitching. "You're...Death?"

"Yep. That's me," she said, patting the empty spot beside her. "Why don't you sit down?"

He hesitated, then found himself moving without thinking, sinking into the bench with a heaviness that wasn't just in his limbs but in his soul. His shoulders slumped forward, and his gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, refusing to meet hers.

"So," she began, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of infinite patience, "this is the part where I lead you on to the next step. But...you're not ready yet, are you?"

Y/N exhaled sharply, his hands clenching into fists. "He...he was my best friend. I trusted him. I don't—" His voice cracked. "Why did he do it? I didn't deserve this. I don't..."

The words wouldn't come. He shook his head, his vision blurring.

Death leaned back slightly, her expression thoughtful. "You're right. You didn't deserve this."

Her simple agreement cut through the haze of his grief. Y/N turned to look at her, really look at her, for the first time. There was no pity in her eyes, no judgment—just understanding.

"Why are you saying that?" he asked, his voice brittle. "You're Death. Aren't you supposed to be, I don't know, impartial? Just...do your job?"

Death tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Who says I'm not doing my job? But being Death doesn't mean I can't care. And right now, Y/N, it really sucks. What happened to you wasn't fair, and if it helps, I think you deserved a whole lot better."

Y/N's throat tightened. "It doesn't help," he whispered, though his voice cracked in a way that betrayed the lie.

She reached out, resting her hand gently on his shoulder. "Sometimes it takes a while to let it sink in," she said. "But I'll stay as long as you need. This is your moment, not mine."

Her words made something inside him shatter. The dam he'd been holding back broke, and the tears came fast, hot, and unstoppable. He buried his face in his hands, trembling with sobs that wracked his whole body. Death didn't say anything. She didn't move away. She stayed right there beside him, her hand steady and grounding on his shoulder.

When his crying finally subsided, he wiped his face, exhausted but feeling the faintest relief in letting it out. He looked at her again, his eyes rimmed red but clearer. "How do you do this?" he asked. "How do you see this over and over again and not...break?"

Death leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "It's not about me," she said simply. "It's about you. All of you. Every life I meet is different, every story unique. It's not always easy, but I care because you matter."

Y/N frowned. "How can I matter? I'm dead now."

Her gaze snapped to his, sharp but not unkind. "Being dead doesn't erase what you were. It doesn't erase your value, your worth. You lived. You loved. You trusted. You were hurt, but none of that takes away from who you are."

He looked away, struggling to process her words. "I don't feel like it matters. I just feel...empty. Betrayed."

"I know," she said softly. "That's okay. Feel it. You don't have to rush past this part."

They sat in silence for a while, the field stretching on around them, the air humming with quiet reassurance. Finally, Death spoke again, her tone a little lighter. "Do you want to tell me about him? Your friend?"

Y/N hesitated but found himself nodding. He told her about the bond they'd shared, the laughter, the trust. He recounted the knife in his back, the betrayal that still made his heart ache, even in death. She listened intently, never interrupting, her expression open and attentive.

When he finished, she sighed, shaking her head. "You loved him like a brother. That's what makes this hurt so much."

Y/N nodded, swallowing hard. "And now I'll never get to...ask him why. I'll never get to know."

Death turned toward him, her voice firm but gentle. "No, you won't. But sometimes, the 'why' doesn't change what happened. It doesn't make it hurt less. What matters is that it wasn't your fault, Y/N. His choices are his, not a reflection of who you are."

Her words resonated, cutting through the fog of his pain. He looked at her, tears welling up again. "Do you really believe that?"

She smiled softly, her hand reaching up to cup his face. "I know that," she said. "And I'll keep reminding you as long as you need."

The warmth of her touch was startling, a stark contrast to the coldness of everything else he'd felt since dying. He leaned into it without meaning to, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice trembling. "For not just...moving on to the next soul."

She chuckled lightly, the sound like a bell in the stillness. "Hey, I've got time. Eternity, actually."

They shared a small laugh, the first genuine one Y/N had felt in what seemed like forever. When he opened his eyes again, he found her watching him, her expression unreadable but tender.

"You're not alone, Y/N," she said softly. "I'm here. I'll always be here."

The promise in her words made his chest tighten, but not in pain this time. It was something else, something he hadn't felt in a long time: comfort.

On impulse, he reached out, his hand brushing against hers. "What if..." he started, hesitating. "What if I'm scared to move on?"

She squeezed his hand gently. "Then we'll take it one step at a time," she said. "I'll be with you every step of the way."

Her words wrapped around him like a balm, soothing the ache he thought would never fade. He didn't know what compelled him, but before he could think better of it, he leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers in a soft, hesitant kiss.

Death didn't pull away. Instead, she deepened the kiss slightly, her hand moving to cradle his face. It wasn't urgent or passionate—it was tender, grounding, filled with an understanding that transcended words. When they parted, her forehead rested lightly against his, her breath warm against his skin.

"That was...unexpected," she said, her voice tinged with amusement.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, his face flushing. "I just...you made me feel like I wasn't alone."

Her smile widened, warm and genuine. "You don't have to apologize for that," she said. "If that's what you needed, then I'm glad I could give it to you."

Y/N stared at her, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper blooming in his chest. "You're really going to stay?"

"For as long as you need," she repeated, her eyes locking onto his. "I promise."

For the first time since his death, Y/N felt a small glimmer of peace. He wasn't sure what lay ahead, but with Death beside him, he believed he might one day be ready to find out.