Chapter Text
The Grim Reaper had seen all manners of death before.
It could get brutal. He’d seen mangled children, teens taken with their whole lives ahead of them, people kidnapped, raped, enslaved, beaten. Murdered.
You get used to it after a while. Or at least you know what to expect. And it wasn’t like he was new to this job. Even the Angel of Death needs to retire at some point, so he’d taken over for the last one about, oh, a couple thousand years ago, give or take.
It was rather unceremonious. He’d been chosen at random, a face plucked from the masses. Given a dark cloak and a sick-looking scythe and told, “It’s your turn now. Go fetch those whose time it is.”
I mean, there was a bit more than that, of course. Some introduction, some explanation. But I’m paraphrasing.
One of his favorite things about being the Grim Reaper was that he had the ability to watch. He knew someone’s time was coming when he found he could see them, see into their lives. This always happened exactly one week before the individual’s inevitable and inescapable death. He got visions. He'd randomly see moments of their life, fragments torn from the fabric of their story. It was a sign, a warning. A preparation.
It had been troubling at first. Seeing them. Knowing what waited for them. And he had tried to save them, but there was nothing he could do. He could access the living world, sure, wander around (although no one could see him until their last breath was exhaled), and even interact with inanimate objects (he’d had a lot of fun with that one), but no matter what he did, they always died.
So over time, he began to take solace in knowing he could provide the dead with one last bit of comfort and reassurance as he guided them to the afterlife. The children cried. Begged for their parents. The teens were scared and confused. The older folks were quiet, even the crabbiest ones.
He enjoyed listening in on conversations of modern people. And wished that he could laugh in the face of everyone who said animals didn’t have souls. He himself wasn’t in charge of that department, but he’d bumped into the other Reaper on more than one occasion. She always met his gaze with eyes of pity. They both heard what the elder Reapers whispered about him - he’s too soft, he’s fragile, he’s weak.
And maybe he was, but he was working on it. Working on caring less.
So when he had a vision of someone with bright blue hair in the living world, he tried really, really hard not to rush immediately and examine the victim. This self-restraint lasted for about two seconds.
It was a guy. Maybe mid-twenties. Neon blue hair that was certainly… a choice. Yet somehow, it looked good on him. Plain gray clothes that were damp from the rain. His head was down, but the Reaper could see a bruise blooming under his right eye.
He was alone, back against a brick building in a narrow alleyway. It was Seattle, so of course, the downpour was relentless. A black cat was curled under his legs, uncomplaining about the wet, and softly purring as her owner gently ran a hand along her matted fur.
Andre. The name came to him unbidden, as they always did. It had a nice ring to it. Andre. The Reaper could work with this. He stepped into the hole carefully, closing his eye as he felt his body shift between worlds.
When he opened his eye again, Andre was staring directly at him, mouth slightly agape.
The Reaper stared back, confused as to why this man looked at him as if he could see him.
Andre began to shake his head, getting to his feet. "Please, no. Please. Just go. Please."
"Andre, I am not here to cause you harm." He said the words delicately, telling himself not to feed the hope that someone could actually observe him before their death. But it has been so very long, and I have been so very lonely.
"I won't go back," Andre hissed, scooping up the cat in his arms. His eyes darted around the alleyway frantically, scanning for an exit, some kind of escape. "You can't make me."
"I am confused, Andre." The Reaper reached for Andre, to comfort him in some way, but his long, clawed fingers only seemed to frighten Andre more.
"I won't go back!" Andre screamed, and when the Reaper startled backwards, snatching his hand to his chest, the blue-haired man ducked under his wing and dashed for the open street. He was fast. And before the Reaper knew it, he was gone.
His heart thudded in his chest, systems overheating in his head as Andre sprinted down the sidewalk. He dodged bystanders, fear rising in his throat as his feet thumped against the ground and his blood roared in his ears.
I won't go back. I won't go back. I won't go back.
He could hear Soup's voice in his head, urging him onward. Faster. You're losing time. He didn't dare look behind him. I won't go back.
Sidi was silent in his arms, claws digging into his gray skin. He could sense her fear. It seeped into his veins, fueling his legs as they carried him far away from whatever that - that creature was.
The bruises on his cheek and wrists throbbed. Everything ached. He was in so much pain but he couldn't stop moving. He wouldn't go back.
"Hey, watch where you're go- hey!"
Andre full-body slammed into something, and his head hit the ground with a dull crack. Ears ringing, heart in his throat, and for a moment he was overcome with sheer panic when he blinked and dots flooded his vision.
He let out a low groan, his insides churning, and struggled to get up. Sidi. Where was she? The long-haired cat was nowhere in sight. I need to find her, he thought hazily, but just the idea of getting to his feet felt impossible.
"Hey man, Jesus, you okay? What the hell was that?" Someone's hand was on his shoulder. He could see the feet of other bystanders pausing to look down at him, curious, although few of them offered any help.
"Okay," he mumbled, his tongue feeling clumsy. He rested his forehead against the wet sidewalk, letting the cold seep into his artificial skin and cool his internal systems. It did nothing for the splitting headache he felt.
"You, yes you, get over here - God, where is Lin? I need help getting this guy up. What are you waiting for? Get your ass over here-"
You need to get out of here, Soup hissed. There are too many people around. You're causing a commotion, making it easier to be found.
I need to run, Andre thought. He opened his eyes, letting the cracks in the pavement come into focus slowly. Get up and run in three, two-
Hands slipped under his arms, lifting him up, and he couldn't stop the cry of pain that came out. His body was littered with wounds from his escape, and his underarms had been badly cut up from a barbed wire fence he'd gotten caught on. The concerned voices around him blurred together - what's wrong with him? - probably a concussion - just get him up and I'll take him to the hospital -
Danger, Soup screamed. "No," he managed, his voice weak. "No hospital. No doctors." Not after what they did to me last time.
The man, presumably the one he collided with, sounds confused and irritated. "Look man, you have a concussion. You need a doctor."
"No doctors," Andre whispered. He reached out a hand and clutched weakly at the stranger's sleeve. "Please."
After a moment of bewildered silence, the man huffed a sigh. "Whatever, fine. You're coming home with me then. Jesus, Caelin, there you are. We've got a new roommate. Help me get him. You folks can go now."
Three of the hands disappeared from holding Andre, while another two took their place. Andre was half dragged, half carried to a car parallel parked along the sidewalk a few blocks down. Honestly, he kind of blacked out for most of the journey there, despite the two strangers asking him a multitude of pointless questions.
Sidi, he thought as he was hauled into the backseat of a beat-up Subaru and the door was shut behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut. I need to find Sidi.
When the man he'd originally slammed into got into the driver's seat, Andre managed to lift his head, finally getting a chance to observe him.
He was rather short, with dark skin and a bright yellow raincoat. He took the hood of his coat down, and Andre spotted freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. His eyes were a light chestnut, guarded by long eyelashes the same golden-brown as his messy hair.
Andre squinted, then turned to the other stranger and startled at just how similar he looked to the original. A little taller, blue eyes, and a red raincoat instead of yellow, but they looked identical enough to be twins.
The second one glanced into the backseat and gave Andre a friendly wave. "Hey there. I'm Caelin. We're kind of kidnapping you."
"Shut up, Caelin." The driver looked over his shoulder. "Don't listen to him. Since you're adamant on not going to the hospital, we'll have to look after you at our place. Or we can take you home, if you'd rather. But you don't look like you're from here."
Andre blinked at him. "Ummmm. Okay."
"Aaaand, his name is Collin, as he so graciously introduced himself," Caelin said flatly. "But don't worry, he's not actually mean, just bad at social interaction." He put a hand to his mouth to whisper to Andre, "He doesn't get out much."
"Shut up, Caelin." The original, Collin, tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He said nothing else. Andre was content with that. He rested his head against the cloth seat, letting his eyes close, and finally feeling his systems cool down.
I have to find Sidi, was his last, hazy thought before he drifted into an uneasy sleep.