Ghost in the Machine (Undertaker x Female Reader)

Chapter Five.

!Trigger warnings this chapter:
Violence, mild profanity
!Lots of fluffy giggles and hmm maybe not-so-giggly fluff
!Not really NSFW but kinda Awkward FW?
!Do what you want tho

（'・｀ ）♡ （'・｀ ）♡（'・｀ ）♡

Chapter Five.

That afternoon, we found ourselves standing outside of a local optometrist's shop. I peered at the Undertaker from under the brim of my hat; his features were still sharp enough at this distance for me to observe his face. However, this distance was not much to speak of, as it was due to him insisting on holding my hand the entire walk to the shop.

He gently squeezed my gloved hand, its warmth permeating the kid leather. "Don't worry; it'll be fine."

I nodded, swallowing. I had nothing else to do but trust him, as I had had to since this adventure began. My only consolation, as I discovered my eyes newly ablaze with a furious, glowing chartreuse, was that my protector had experienced this discovery himself.

Staring in the looking glass, I had panicked. Tentatively, I pulled one eyelid slightly upwards, opened my eyes as wide as possible, and scrunched them closed with the expectation that when I opened them again, my own eye color and eyesight would have woken up from this strange dream and reinstated themselves.

This did not come to pass. Confused, I found myself tearing up, suddenly frightened to look at myself or anything else. I sank down in front of the looking glass, gathering fistfuls of my skirts in a tight, desperate grip, my chin tucked into my chest in an effort to hide my face and my fear.

The Undertaker, seemingly infinite in patience, had read my reaction, and within seconds of my meltdown I found myself tidily snugged into his lap in front of the looking glass. He had sat cross-legged on the floor behind me, pulling me against him. My sense of this breach of propriety was as dysfunctional as it had been while I'd been coming to terms with my new situation; I didn't protest at his arms as they crossed over my own.

His soft whisper was at my ear. "I'm afraid it's that you and I, being together, now share an affliction of the eyes; I might explain it as the price of me saving you." He leaned to one side, slipping a finger under my chin to lift it to look at him. "I'm sorry it's like this, but I can tell you there is an easy fix for it."

I looked at his eyes, twins to my own. Was this a symptom of a contagious illness? I'd learned about such things before, sneaking into my father's study to read, but hadn't come across anything like this. Infused with curiosity and fueled by anxiety, I shifted suddenly to sit facing him, taking his face in my hands as I sought answers. He jumped slightly; it seemed not all of my whims today were those he expected.

Despite this, he remained where he was, facilitating my explorations. I felt his cheeks warm slightly under my palms as I studied his gaze. Other than the color, his own eyes seemed to have remained unchanged; was there no other effect besides the change in vision? Could he even see me as well as I'd assumed he could?

There were other things, though. My fingertips brushed the cold metal piercing the flesh of his ears; noting that as the beginning of his more unusual features, I was drawn to the fading trail of scars that meandered across his nose and cheekbones. The pad of one finger—mine, I was surprised to note—brushed lightly along this trail, losing it at the other side of his face and picking it up anew on the notch of his Adam's apple. Every inch of marked flesh was a story beyond what I'd experienced; I both yearned and feared to know them all.

"...what happened to you?" My whisper was thunder in the silent tension of the moment.

His mouth opened slightly before he shut it, but he couldn't hide a fleeting look of desperation that flickered over his countenance. His brow furrowed slightly before he broke my grip on him, reaching to cup my face in the same way I had held his. Drawing our foreheads together, he briefly raised his lashes to dive into my own startled gaze, offering me a glance at vulnerability I had not yet seen in him. It was not entirely unfamiliar to me, having seen it in myself in the days and years prior to this moment.