The Waves of Fate - Undertaker X Reader

31: Impatient Waiting

A/N: HEY GUYS! A bit of drama for your reading pleasure~!

Anyways, I'm just posting this up before I head out with my friend for a bit of R&R time. I don't have ANY idea what we could do with almost everything closed, but we need a break from other people and stuff like that. So... yeah!

I hope you guys ENJOY this chapter and I'll post the next chapter soon enough.

!@#$%^&*())(*&^%$#@!

You were starting to think that maybe you did something wrong.

But hey, why should you think that way?

You're not the one refusing to talk to him! It's been the other way around!!

Ever since you woke up, he has refused to talk to you, except to give you some advice or tell you were to put a body. That's about it.

It's infuriating.

He was giving you the cold shoulder and you were getting sick of it.

But you fell into a bitter routine. You'd walk up and get dressed, notice breakfast had been made, eat some food, get to work, and then stop to have some lunch. After lunch, you went back to work, and you stopped early to make some dinner before falling onto the bed and sleeping.

Even as you managed to have an encounter with the man and sit down, he wasn't talking. You tried, but he wouldn't, so you simply stopped.

You did as you always did when you were getting frustrated and alone, talk to yourself. Of course, not in front of him, but when you're alone. When you felt safe to, to not be judged. Occasionally Cyrus would chime in, but it was always the same:

'Man, that Undertaker guy is acting like a dick. There's not point in trying anymore. Maybe we should go.'

Yes... leaving. You thought about that. It wouldn't be hard. You could stay at the Phantomhive manor if you're feeling unsafe, or the townhouse to have some alone time. Heck, maybe you should just quit this undertaker job. You're starting to realize that maybe it wasn't all that you wanted. You don't have everything you have in the future and hygiene is harder to come by. It just takes one body for you to get sick and die. The smell of formaldehyde is starting to give you a headache.

So why don't you leave?

Because... damn it. You still like the guy, but this constant cold shoulder is enough for you start to hate his guts! Why should you feel bad? No, he should! It's his fault you feel so alone!

But before you could walk down some very dark thoughts, you suddenly heard a knock at the door, and with a tired sigh you slipped into the parlor room to greet the new customer. "Hello miss. What can we do for you? –"

"Lena! No need for formalities with me," a young blonde hair girl giggled, her curls bouncing on her shoulders, and you blinked before giving the younger lady a content smile.

"Lizzy. I wasn't expecting to see you here –"

"I was getting worried. Mother hasn't heard from you for ages now. Are you alright?" she asked, grasping your hands with her gloved hands, and you sighed contently and let a light smile appear on your face, but you could tell that she was seeing right through your façade to notice how drained you look.

"I'm fine. Just... I-I needed some space for a while. All the excitement and expectations were taking their toll on me."

"Oh. I'm dreadfully sorry –"

"It's not your fault," you chuckled nervously. Of course, you weren't going to tell her that you were feeling rather stressed lately, and you especially didn't want to explain your asthma problems. For you, stress leads to pain, and it's best to pretend that everything is alright... on the outside.