Days flew by while I am stuck in this afterlife.
The rustling of the leaves brought about by the cold winter nights sent me chilling while the death angel wandered like how I did on my first days.
I was so tempted to come near him and say words of comfort but I didn't dare because my self doesn't even know how to comfort herself.
I was afraid I might not be able to help but instead make it worse. I am not good with words.
"Tristan," I tried starting.
He looked at me with a smile. I was taken aback for a while. He was smiling with his eyes, a far cry from what he showed the previous days.
Not knowing what to say, I lowered my head and looked around instead.
I heard footsteps walking toward me. I think I'm almost shaking. "Are you okay?" he asked, seemingly concerned while he felt my forehead.
I reacted way too impulsively as I pushed his right hand away. "No! I mean, yes! I'm okay! Sorry!" I said really quickly.
"Sorry..." I repeated. "I'm just..."
He was trying not to laugh, I can see that! I am not funny!
"You're acting cute and that is not good," he said in a sing-song.
My eyebrows furrowed at what he said. "I am not!"
"Yes, you are."
"No!"
"Yes..." he teased, a smile plastered on his face.
I don't understand how something could make you excited and nervous at the same time.
I sighed in defeat and crossed my arms in front of me. "Okay, I'm going."
He laughed this time. "What?" I asked.
"You're not acting but you are cute." He continued smiling. "That is not good because it gets me every time, you know."
"Don't look at me," I managed to say but I stuttered.
