They say grief is like a glass bottle, the moment that someone dies it smashes into tiny pieces so sharp you can't handle them, they say over time those sharp pieces soften and it becomes easier. They say this.. yet why is it so untrue.
"Singto? What's happening?" The young boy cried, tears streaming down his face, his chest tightening as if he was being squeezed, the pressure is too much. His heart slows down. "S-sing?" He breathes his last breath. All for what. What is the point. We all live to die but why so soon? What did we change? How precious is one small life?
This is the legacy he carries. With every life, every soul he takes, it doesn't matter. It didn't mean anything to him anyway, he will never be happy, never be sad, never cry. Never love.
He is death itself.
Another. Make them fall. Another. Make them cry.
Another. Take their life.
Most of them go to heaven. He won't see them again, they're innocent. Yet their time is up. So many, different times, different ages... different people.
Fall in love.
Mend their heart.
Kill.
That is how he works, he draws them in, leads them on.. makes them believe in love, in trust. Then, when their time is over... well you get the rest.
I am repeating myself. It is a repeating process. How many times had this happened, he doesn't know, he doesn't care. It's his job. No thoughts. No feelings.
Or so he thought.
It is frowned upon for a reaper to love a mortal, it can't work, reapers don't love. Humans can't survive. It will never happen. It can't happen.
Why?
YOU ARE READING
Death is his lover.
Fanfiction{on hold} "I can't kiss you." People that fall in love with death.. never make it out alive.
