Chapter Text
No one saw it coming.
The day had started like any other. Thomas got up at seven in the morning, went to school and was now walking home with his friends. He wasn't exactly very popular, but the few friends he had were enough and meant the world to him. Ever since their friendship was tested in the most dreadful way imaginable, they were inseparable and he had no intention of letting them go.
As they were walking down the street they didn't notice that someone was following them silently. They just continued their engaging conversation, not being aware of what was about to happen.
“I really can't believe that she actually kicked me out of class. I mean, Teresa is super sassy – the whole time, but soon as I open my mouth I'm the bad guy,” Minho complained loudly.
“Might be because my comments are classy-sassy whereas yours are dumb.”
"Have you ever considered that maybe he likes you?"
"Ew."
They all laughed. But for some reason it felt different than usually. They weren't as carefree as they used to be, Thomas knew that, but there was something else. He sensed that something bad was about to go down. However, he shook that thought of his away. Why ruin a nice moment?
There was no need to hurry. None of them had a curfew (and even if, it was still late afternoon.) They enjoyed the moment. That was, until Thomas' cell phone started ringing. From there on, everything happened really fast.
He fell behind to answer his phone.
The creepy guy came closer.
The others didn't notice.
Answering his phone was a waste of time. Someone had dialled the wrong number and hung up soon as he or she heard Thomas' voice on the other side of the line. Thomas didn't think much of it (he later cursed himself for the way things turned out in that moment.)
"Hey," he heard a husky voice say.
Thomas turned around to face the stranger standing in front of him.
"Gimme all the money you have," he demanded.
"What?" Thomas asked in confusion.
"Today's not your lucky day, kid," the man said and pulled something out of his bag. A knife. Thomas was a little bit scared. Maybe not just a little. And maybe not scared. Terrified was a better word to describe his current state. His friends slowly seemed to have noticed that he had fallen behind and turned around with questioning looks. But Thomas had something more important to take care of.
He was about to start running away when he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his stomach.
The stranger had been too fast.
He had already jammed the knife into Thomas' body.
The pain was almost unbearable. It felt burning hot. Blood started dripping out of the wound. Everything around Thomas became dizzy and he couldn't concentrate anymore. He heard someone saying his name. It was Teresa. She sounded concerned. Thomas wanted to reply, he wanted to assure her that everything was all right. But it wasn't.
The man had pulled the knife out of Thomas' stomach and more and more blood fell to the ground. But the red liquid wasn't the only thing falling to the ground. Thomas felt his head hitting the street. He tried to cover his wound with his hands and kept telling himself mentally that he needed to stay strong. At least until help arrived. (He really hoped that his friends were intelligent enough to call an ambulance.)
And then something weird happened.
Suddenly, Thomas felt cold. He couldn't shake the feeling that the temperature had dropped a few degrees and he shivered a little. He tried looking at his friends. They were kneeling beside him. Teresa totally freaking out. Minho trying to stay calm. Alby stood in the distance screaming something into his cell phone. And his little brother Chuck just held his hands with tears forming in his eyes.
All of them looked concerned. But they didn't seem to be cold.
Thomas looked at his hands. One of them intertwined with Chuck's, the other one still lying on his wound. Nevertheless he could see all the blood under it and he began feeling sick. Everything started spinning and he had to close his eyes for a second.
When he opened them, he noticed someone standing a few metres away from him and his friends. It wasn't his attacker, that he was sure of. It was a boy. Maybe his age or perhaps a bit younger. But the boy just stood there, not showing any emotion. Almost as if he wasn't aware that someone was lying in front of him, bleeding to death.
Thomas tried to get a closer look at the boy.
He had blond hair, which almost reached his shoulders. He was tall but Thomas couldn't tell if he was taller than him or not. The boy's clothes were black - completely. He wore a black t-shirt, black ripped jeans and something that looked a lot like a cape.
The pain in his stomach brought Thomas back to reality.
He groaned loudly and pulled his knees towards the rest of his body, hoping it would make the pain go away (of course it didn't.)
He heard the stranger laughing dryly.
"You really think that's gonna help you?" the boy asked while folding his arms in front of himself.
"Who-"
Thomas tried to talk but it took too much energy. He felt something dripping out of his mouth. Blood.
"Don't speak," Teresa said in between two sobs, "the ambulance is on its way."
Thomas took a deep breath and then tried to point at the stranger. Minho's look followed his gesture.
"What's he pointing at?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know, there's nothing there," Alby replied whispering, "He's lost too much blood already."
Thomas' eyes widened in fear. What did they mean? Couldn't they see that kid?
"They cannot see me, you bloody idiot."
He wasn't an expert, but Thomas was pretty sure that he was having a panic attack. The blond boy came closer to him and the grass underneath his feet wilted.
"Hate to break this to you but your time has come."
The words hit Thomas like a train. His time had come? As in, he was going to die now? His life was just over? He inhaled sharply and tried to make a sound, but nothing but air left his mouth as he exhaled the oxygen. Who was that boy?
"You're wondering who I am, right?"
Apparently he could read minds.
The next thing he said threw Thomas completely off.
"I am Death."
Again, the boy took a few steps towards Thomas, who was still lying on the ground, surrounded by his friends.
"All it takes is one touch and you're gone," the stranger whispered to himself.
He came closer and closer and when he was separated from Thomas by only a few centimetres, he extended his hand to him. When his skin almost touched Thomas', the boy stopped moving. Something in his eyes suddenly changed, as if he noticed something he hadn't before.
"I..."
He didn't finish his sentence. Instead, he pulled his hand away and shuffled back like a scared animal. His eyes were filled with fear as he looked down on Thomas. But a few seconds later he was back to his stony facial expression.
"This time, you're lucky."
Those were his last words before he vanished into thin air.
And Thomas passed out.