Italics- thoughts/ flashbacks/ dreams

Bold- author talking

Underline- narrator talking, known as the main character

Normal- normal story

3132 words

ꨄ❦ꨄ❦ꨄ➪

"What if it's only hard when you touch it?"

"It's always hard."

"But there's no proof."

"It's common sense."

"But there's no proof that it's always hard. What if it's soft when nothing is touching it?"

He puts his nose in my hair.

"Wouldn't it always be hard since something is always touching it?"

I study the rock that's on the ground surrounded by dead grass. "I know your tricks. You aren't fooling anyone."

"Where'd you even hear this from?"

"Online."

"And you actually believe it?"

No, I just wanted to get you to talk again after hours of sitting here in silence.

I turn around and poke his nose. "Of course I do, you don't?"

"Hell no, this is so stupid."

I start laughing. "No, it's amazing."

He rolls his eyes. Heh. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, my crippled butterfly."

I turn back around and lean my back on his chest and lay my arms over his that are wrapped around me. His legs on the outside of mine.

I wanna ask but I'm scared. I don't want whatever that was to happen again. He's much better now, I can't ruin it. I'll ask something else.

"Aren't you cold?"

"No."

"How?"

"I have you."

Oh my poor heart. It's been through so many emotions these past like 3 days that it might explode.

I take his hand in mine and kiss the back of it, "You're gonna make my heart explode one day."

I feel him smile against my hair. "Έχεις κάνει ήδη το δικό μου να εκραγεί."

"Why do you talk in a different language?"

"Some words have to be said and not understood yet."

"So you're a riddler now?"

"Yes."

"I wanna know the language."

"It's greek."

"Teach me."

"What do you want to know?"

"How to say 'Nice to meet you'." Simple enough.

"Είσαι η πιο άσχημη σκύλα όλων των εποχών."

"That's so long for 3 words."

"I know."

"Say it again."

"Είσαι η πιο άσχημη σκύλα όλων των εποχών."

"Now slower, like stupidly slow."

"Είσαι... η... πιο... άσχημη... σκύλα... όλων... των... εποχών... ."

I try to say it but I sound horrible. He laughs.

"Don't laugh at me."

"I'm not. That was great though."

I turn all of me around to face him. "You were."

He leans his forehead against mine, "No."

I look at those perfect eyes that still look sad. I boop his nose with mine and trace the side of his hairline with my fingers.

"Why are you so sad?"

He pulls back and just looks at me. For so long before wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him. The silence unnerves me.

"They won't leave me alone."

I look up at him and he's staring off into the distance. I reach up and play with his hair.

"Who?"

"Everyone. All of them. The souls and memories along with my memories. All mixed together."

Oh.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Why would I do that?"

"So you don't have to carry the pain alone and I could somehow help you sort it out?"

He caresses my back, "I will not burden you."

The line every traumatized person says and knows.

"You won't be a burden." I wipe away a single tear.

"I will."

"No, no, no, you being helped is not a burden. It won't ever be a burden."

He finally looks down at me. "I don't know how this works."

"You say what you see and feel. What's going on and what's bothering you the most."

He stays quiet for a really long time. Like long enough for me to start counting for fun.

1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10. 11.12.13.14.15.16.17.18.19.20

21.22.23.24.25.26.27.28.29.30. 31.32.33.34.35.36.37.38.39.40

41.42.43.44.45.46.47.48.49.50. 51.52.53.54.55.56.57.58.59.60

61.62.63.64.65.66.67.68.69.70. 71.72.73.74.75.76.77.78.79.80

81.82.83.84?85.887.88.89.90. 91.92.93.94.95.96.97.98.99-

"Fine."

I'm in disbelief. Com- fimber- doodled that he agreed. He looks around before getting up while standing me up at the same time.

Does he think I'm a child that can't do things or something?

He walks over to the door, opens it and just looks at me. I quickly walk in and he does too. I follow him to the kitchen.

He puts me on the island counter and stands in front of me between my legs with each arm on each side of me. Muscles. So many. He looks down at my fiddling fingers.

"They won't leave me alone. These souls won't stop trying to take away my sanity. They show me every painful moment in their lives. Billions of souls show me deaths they witnessed through their eyes. Millions of images flash every second.

All the anger, fear and distress seep into every inch of me. With each passing day it gets worse. They wish the worst upon me because I took them from everything they know. All I do is separate the soul from the body, others decide what happens to them.

The confused little ones weep their little nonexistent hearts out. Souls do leave but more come just as fast. Since the world is absolute shit now, all I see is abuse and torture. They make me feel what they felt.

No one knows. No one knows how it feels. Being the 2nd most powerful creature in existence means nothing when I can't think straight. Sometimes I can't walk straight. Sometimes I black out with most of my memory gone. They weaken me till I'm no more. Till I'm a mess. Sometimes pain actually helps. . But not all solutions last forever.

But you," He starts a low sorta vibrating type of laughter and points at me while shaking his hand up and down. He looks at me. His face sinisterly sad.

"You make it all leave. The touch of your heavenly beautiful skin blocks everything. Every little creek and cut. Your beautiful forever pure soul cleans all their tears and claws from my thoughts. You are the only thing that works.

Your smile makes me a weak little boy. Your laugh makes me lost in the most clear water. Your eyes are my night pond with the swans and the star lit sky. Your delicate fingers leave me senseless in a field of beautiful flowers. Your thighs make me feel less empty. Your personality makes me live to experience it.

And your determination is what painfully kills me. Your desperation to help reminds me when that same urge left your eyes many, many times. Always the same thing. No matter what I try you would leave me to come back later with no memory.

I've always loved you and I forever will but after a while the pain blends in. Nothing makes sense anymore. Every time I think of you I think of you dying again. You are the answer lost in the sea of problems.

Each time I lose my mind and it comes back when you do. The memories of mine and others play with me till you come back to get rid of them. Everything that happened from forever ago resurge. You stop them seconds before it's too late each time.

Each night I forget you're in my arms till I wake up and get blinded by your scent. Each morning I remember the pain and suffering is worth it for just a little longer."

He hangs his head again. I wrap my arms around him. I'm now the one crying, crying for him. That's so depressingly sad.

"You don't deserve any of this."

"That's what I tell myself sometimes. Some lies aren't made to be believed. Just false comfort."

"But you don't deserve this. I'm sure whatever you've done is paid for."

He shakes his head and puts his nose in my hair. His arms are still holding him up.

"You don't and you're so fucking strong and thank you for opening up. I'll never tell anyone anything."

He stands straighter and wraps his arms around me. We stay like this for the longest time.

Like long enough for my legs and the edges of my hands to fall asleep. The side of my face is stuck on his chest like when you fall asleep or lay your head down too long in class and it's a hot day. My tears have dried.

I almost fall asleep but get interrupted.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything."

I trace the muscle dents and uneven skin on his back, "you did nothing wrong."

"I did. You deserve the world and I can't give it to you."

"Oh but you can. You can take me around the world. No one should own the world but anyone can see it and you can let me see it."

He stops functioning for a second before kissing my hair.

I then feel it. Why now? I lean back and ooo the side of my face gets air.

I look up at him, "excuuuse meeeee."

He looks at me confused and takes a step back. I hope off the counter and walk the walk every girl knows. Through the whole damn house.

The only time when the house so big it is a problem.

ꨄ❦ꨄ❦ꨄ➪

I walk out of the bathroom now fixed and see Death sitting on the edge of bed with his hands folded in his lap and mansplaining, of course.

The bed is fixed. Completely clean like nothing happened. Clean sheets and everything. I walk over and stand in front of him. He looks at me.

"Thanks."

He shakes his head, "Thank you instead."

"Me?"

"Yes you."

"You're welcome?"

He looks at me like I'm dumb before wrapping his arms around me. He then stares into my soul for a long minute.

Maybe an hour. Damn I should find out what time it is.

He then smiles an evil smile that puts me on edge. He then stands up, lifts me on the bed so I'm standing on the bed. I'm taller by almost a foot.

This is great. I love being tall. I'm now like over 7 feet tall. I can reach the ceiling almost.

He pushes me onto the bed by my shoulders and I fall.

"Ohhww my gawd."

He laughs for a good ol' minute before getting on the bed and laying next to me on his back. "The fear on your face was amazing." I glare at him as he pulls me to lay on him.

"What ya do that for?"

"You look so beautiful when you're scared."

"What the fuck you do that for?"

"Fun."

I shake my head and poke his nose for 'fun'. He smiles.

"So why'd you leave?"

"Oh- uhm- uhhhhhh- reasons."

My cheeks hurt. I poke them trying to make them not hurt. Stupid smiling.

Big ol' hands covered with intricate jagged lines cover mine and pull them away from my face.

He looks amused, "what are you doing?"

"Trying to make my face not hurt."

"Deforming yourself won't help you, my crippled butterfly."

I look at him. Interesting choice of words.

He takes my cut hand and looks it over. He then looks concerned before unwrapping it. He then studies the cut.

"Take a shower so I can wrap this again and it could heal the right way."

"The right way? What's wrong with it?"

He turns the palm of my hand to me. Oh holy Jesus what the hell is that?

"The bandage is supposed to be replaced every time it gets wet."

"Oh."

I then remember him being sad and me taking care of him and my face doesn't hurt anymore. Not from me helping him, he should be helped all the time, but the pure sadness in the eyes that own every perfect shade of blue and the way he was hurting.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you still hurting?"

His face softens so dramatically it's like a whole new person but a bit happy.

He talks so gently. "No, whatever the hell you did worked. Now take a shower."

"What do I do with my hand?"

"Wash it?"

"But like the cut. Can it touch water? I've never gotten a cut this big."

"Well it's sealed enough to not bleed. You will be fine."

"But-"

"Shhh." He helps me get off the bed.

Well he gets me off the bed. Well him, not the bed. I stand confused for a minute before getting clothes and taking a shower.

...

I stand in the shower thinking over everything that's happened. Over everything that's been said and expressed.

Every feeling that's been described and every minute of vulnerability. Every tear and every movement.

I don't know how to help. I've never not known how to help. I can't keep years of self made promises right now.

All I can do is listen and be nice. The 2 best things I know but I can't do it just for him. I gotta find a balance in between.

One that can help him without losing my self worth.

I'll just have to treat him as a special person. He is special. This is the most unique relationship I've ever had.

It's a plate full of nonsense with all the sense on the side. There's a giant bowl of emotions all mixed together like a tossed salad.

Take the plate of sense and slide it onto the plate of nonsense. Use the empty plate to help sort out the emotions. Use the extra space in the bowl to help heal.

The table holding everything has each leg a different length with the chairs chained to it. The chains are stronger than the wood of the chairs and table. Splatters of different paint types everywhere and cracks, ridges and dents. Antique lines curved into the sides of the table.

The chairs with their own stories covered by flakey paint. The chains shiny and brand new connected to the abused are table. A table that is a combination of everything, holding all the thoughts on ceramic plates and bowls.

The table with smooth spots and splintery spots. Some rotting with other spots perfect. Tear stains in the trail of carvings that make a path through every little detail.

It all is so bothersome. Wanting to help someone but not knowing how. All I can do is listen and show him it'll be alright even though it won't.

Learn along the way what he needs. Learn how he needs to heal. Learn how to not let it get to me. Learn more about him and what happened.

I put my hand on the wall and lean my forehead on it while the water hides my tears. Tears that are here for more reasons than I can count.

I'm behind on everything. I'm failing everything and losing everything. It feels like everything is being taken away from me and something is holding me down but it's not.

I haven't been talking to Athena as much even though it's been a day or 2. I'm not talking to my family as much. My grades are going down, work is becoming too much. Nothing is clear anymore. Not seeing the sun as much as making me depressed.

Not being able to fulfill my only purpose in life is heart wrenching. The only thing I'm good at and I can't do it. I want to give up on everything.

But I've come this far. I didn't do all that for nothing. I can't give up now.

Actually I am doing this all for nothing. I'm going to die whether I give up now or keep trying. In the end it doesn't make a difference in the end.

But it makes a difference right now. Right now is what matters.

And right now I've been hiding in the shower for too long while Death waits to wrap my hand.

The hand with an ugly cut from 2 stupid best friends.

I get out of the shower and fix myself and put on my hoard of bracelets and fix my hair some. Doing everything I can to not use my left hand so I couldn't put on 4 bracelets. I can't do shit.

I take my 4 bracelets, necklace and horribly done hair and leave the bathroom and walk over to Death who is holding a bunch of things. He's sitting on the edge of the bed as usual.

He looks at me surprised.

"What?"

He takes my left hand, "your hair is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

I give him a deadpan look. "It ain't that easy."

He does whatever he did last time with my hand and wraps it up. He then takes my right hand and takes the jewelry before putting each bracelet on their designed spots on my wrists. The exact size I put each one at.

How does he know? "How do you know what to do?"

"It's not that hard to pay attention." He says like it's normal before standing up and walking behind me.

He moves my hair to the side and puts the necklace on. I look at it, it's not backwards like I have it all the time.

"I'm gonna cry. You're so nice."

He doesn't respond but holds my hand and pulls me over to the bathroom. He stands me in front of the mirror and grabs my hair stuff and starts fixing my hair. He separates my bangs that are tangled with everything much better than I can. I'm in awe.

I'm in love. I'm in love with all of it.

He fixed my hair and smelled it a few times. Just a few. He then picks me up like nothing and walks over to the bed.

Everything that was there is now gone somehow and he drops me on the bed. He gets on the bed and pulls me against him. He falls on his side while holding me so now we're laying on our sides facing each other. I wrap my arm around him, under his arm.

"You should get therapy."

"Hell no."

"Why not?"

He looks at me like I'm stupid, "What the fuck would you expect me to tell this stranger? Why would I talk to a stranger?"

Oh that.

"I shall study therapy and become your therapist."

His face says, 'I'd roll over and ignore you but then I would fall off the bed.'

"I gotta get a bigger bed."

"I 100 percent support that idea."

ꨄ❦ꨄ❦ꨄ➪

So I finalllyyyyy drew a picture of them. (The 3rd one but whatever)

If it were normal^

Horrible version of the lines^

My dad called death a werewolf cuz of the angle and stuff lol. He also asked if Irina is his daughter or something and I said no and he was confused and I rannnnnn. 

He wanted to know why she is so small and when I took the dogs out I was telling my sister about it and how I wanted that dramatic height difference for once cuz in all my stories it's such a small height difference.

My sister is the only one in my family that knows anything about the story cuz I'm so scared for them to judge meeeee.

Picture took 16 hours to draw lol