Interesting (AfterDeath)

Chapter 54

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Geno P.O.V

A number of days later, Reaper was given another job.

He was anxious about doing it, of course. Really anxious.

He was so scared of killing another person, for fear that that person would turn out to be someone I knew.

He was so fearful that the person would turn out to be someone who never in any way deserved to die.

Scared was an understatement, actually.  Fearful was an understatement.

He was terrified.

I had held him as he cried, as he debated it, as he feared the consequences of his actions. I comforted him as he shook, terrified of himself. I kissed him when he told me that he was scared, when he vocally admitted his emotions to me.

And then I slapped him when he told me that he was pathetic, that he was a coward, that he couldn't do anything right, and I told him that he was perfect just as he was, that he was stronger than any, that I would help him to be strong when he felt that he couldn't.

He kissed me, smiling in a half shy, half flirtatious way, whispering against my lips that I was too sexy when I was aggravated, then giving a small, broken 'thank you'.

In the end, he took the job.

I missed his presence far more than usual, needing his comfort, craving the warmth of his embrace.

His old cloak had become my second favourite clothing item - right after the scarf that had been gifted to me by Classic's dead brother - and I wore it all 24 hours of every day.

Reaper returned after only two days - 43 hours and 56 minutes, actually - and I had cried almost the entire time he was gone, fearing for his safety, unable to bear the thought of losing him. I hadn't eaten and barely slept, torn apart by fear.

I hadn't cut, though.

I wanted to stop. For Reaper. Even though he didn't know of it. I wanted to be strong for him. I wanted to try.

As soon as he was back, Reaper had held me in his arms, kissing me, providing his gentle comfort.

And I had been okay.

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Lilting melodies echoed through the air as I played a piano in a small, cosy room, complete with pastel bean bags and soft rugs.

It was an old, mahogany grand piano, perfectly tuned and likely never used.

I was just playing random melodies, not really thinking, just needing something to take my mind off of the temptation to cut, something to take my mind off of Reaper's absence.

My mother had taught me the basics when I was little - somewhere around six years of age - and I had continued to play right through to adulthood. It had been so many years, though.  Pressing the keys now felt like I was reliving an old memory.  Distant.

I was in the middle of playing a song when Reaper walked into the room. I didn't notice his presence, too lost in thought, continuing to play until he spoke.

"I didn't know you played."

I hit a wrong chord and jumped up immediately, whirling round to face him, then practically jumping into his arms, hugging him tightly.  I could feel his soft, relieved smile as he tugged me into a kiss, the way all of his tensenesses just disappeared at my touch.