Chapter Text
“We can’t return, we can only look. Behind from where we came, and go round and round and round in the…”
Geno held their note, looking expectantly at their patient, waiting for them to finish the phrase.
“Circle game.”
“Yes, awesome!” Geno smiled sweetly, playing the final chord and finishing out the song.
His older patient smiled, clapping their hands as Geno played the last chord and rested his arm on the guitar. “A good session today, Jan!”
“Oh, are we… finished already?” The older patient stirred in their chair, turning to Geno.
“Unfortunately so. That’s our hour.” There was a hint of sorrow Geno expressed, yet still composed and professional. He stood up, collecting all the instruments and materials he brought with him, his signature guitar strapped across his torso.
“Oh, I always have so much fun.” They spoke, frail and sincere.
“I do too, I love singing and playing with you.”
Geno looked up, smiling at the patient before him, but his eyes couldn't ignore the looming figure hovering above them.
Cloaked in black, voided eyes, a scythe around their back. No one else could see this being but him, that he knew of. A sickening smile plastered on their skull, The Reaper smiled back at him.
“Well, thank you.” The patient smiled, Geno mirroring the gesture. “Will I be seeing you next week?”
For a moment, there was a flash of discomfort, a strained smile, before it vanished and genuine relief graced his expression as he saw the hidden guest nod, ever so slightly.
“Yes, yes you will.”
“Then I will see you next week, Juno.” The patient smiled, Geno held his tongue on correcting the other. He had been working with them for around a month now, it didn’t bother him.
“See you next week, Jan.” He waved at the other as he walked out the door.
Placing his materials on his cart of other instruments he left outside his patient's room, he snagged some hand sanitizer before leaving and pushed the cart to the elevator.
Surprisingly, the elevator was empty, allowing space for him and his cart. He had learned a long time ago to no longer feel ashamed or awkward for dragging the cart around. Why should he? Maybe it was aloud and took up space, but it was for his job, it was easier for everyone involved, it held his equipment. He didn't need to feel bad or apologize for it.
He pressed to the 2nd floor, that’s where his next patient was. He watched as the elevator closed, but not before a certain someone joined him.
“Beautful singing.”
“Thank you.”
“And wonderful playing.”
“Thank you.”
“Another sweet moment.”
“Yes, indeed.”
“And another patient, that gets to live for one more session.”
“Yes.” Geno nodded, looking straight ahead. “And I am forever grateful for that.”
The temperature dropped significantly as the familiar figure stood beside him.
Geno shouldn’t be alive. But he was.
He never went into detail when explaining it to others, but he was sick as a child and had an accident as a teenager. He somehow survived, and lived to see another day.
That was why he could see The Grim Reaper, standing before him in this freezing elevator.
Well- Okay- He wasn’t actually sure if that was the reason, that was just his only conclusion. Though he knew he wasn’t exactly a common case, he certainly wasn't the only case. But it was strange, he's never met or heard of anyone else who could see the being beside him.
At first, he hadn't seen The Reaper, he wasn't exactly around many dead or dying people a lot. But since starting his job as a Music Therapist working with elders, he crossed paths with Death more times than anyone should.
It was surprising and… awkward… at first. But overtime, he got used to it.
“Are you going to see Eloise, now?”
“Yup.”
“Alzhiemers?”
“A general brain injury.”
“She’s making good progress, isn't she?”
“She is.” A small, subtle smile on Geno’s face, he didn’t even realize it had appeared. “She’s starting to recognize me, and her grandchildren's faces. They visit a lot since our sessions.”
“Hmm. How nice.” The Reaper contemplated this for a while, before smiling. “What a shame, all that progress is going to waste.”
Before Geno couldn’t ask any further questions, the elevator dinged, stopping on floor 5. A nurse walked in, giving Geno a polite smile.
“Hey, Geno.”
“Hi.” Geno forced a smile as he watched The Reaper shift to allow room for the newcomer.
“Uh- where you headed?”
“Ground floor, please.”
Geno leaned over and pressed ‘G’ on the elevator, before straightening up, avoiding eye contact from both the nurse and the looming creature.
“Wooo. It’s a bit chilly in here, isn’t it?”
Geno watched The Reaper’s grin widen as he responded. “Yeah, I think it’s something with the AC on unit three.”
“Ahh I see.” The nurse nodded, wrapping their arms around themself.
Remember when he said he had gotten used to seeing The Reaper? That was only a little bit of a lie.
Getting off on floor two, pushing his cart to the next room, he couldn't help but feel uneasy with The Reaper's last statement, following close behind him.
As the session came to a close, it was another polite conversation as he gathered his things to leave.
“Thank you….. again… Mr. CQ.”
“Oh it’s nothing, you can just call me Geno.”
“I love… singing with you.” She spoke, pausing every word or so, finding her words. “You… have such a… a pleasant voice.”
“Thank you, I enjoy singing with you too.” Geno spoke genuinely. “You have a good taste in music.”
“Well…. what can I say? I use….. used to be a…. a musician.”
“Did you?” Geno smiled, sparing a quick glance to the family members sitting on the other side of the room.
“I loved…. to sing. I was…. the best…… singer in my….. my high school choir.”
“Did you sing in college?” Geno prompted, seeing how much more he could get her to remember.
“Oh, no. I….. didn’t go to college….. but… I always wanted to.”
“Well, why didn’t you?” Geno asked.
“Oh…. you know. I was a…. a young…… naive young girl. I got married to…. to the love of my life after…… high school and…… started my family. Oh, my daughter, do you know Diane?”
“I… I do know Diane, yes.” Geno could see the patient's family murmuring to each other, listening intently to what their mom and grandma had to say.
“Well... she was the joy of my life. And… my son, Jason. What a trouble maker. And then Louise….. so spirited, she…. she was the one who…. who got my music….. musical talent. And Annabelle. Oh my youngest….. sweetheart. So shy. She would never leave my side.”
“Did…” Geno looked over at the two of the children she was talking about. “Did Diane and Jason not… get your musical talent?”
“Oh….. no…… they did. Diane made….. She made sure of that. When she was….. Really little, she would sing… to the radio all the time. Whenever….. I was cooking for….. for my husband before he got back from…. work, she would….. sing with me in the kitchen.”
“And Jason?”
“He tried to…. to woo every girl with a song!” She gave out a hearty laugh, Geno cracking a smile. This was progress. “He’s like his father in that way.”
“He would.. Would write his own song. A new song for every girl he fell in love with.” Geno smiled, nodding, mentally writing notes in his head to write down for later.
“That’s….” Geno paused his sentence, the room suddenly getting cold. “...Sweet.”
“I wonder where they are now…” She went to move, trying to sit up and look around. Geno was quick to rush to her side, putting a gentle hand on her chest to lay her back down. It wasn’t advised she move in her condition at the moment.
“Well- How about… you write a song for them. Hmm?” Geno spoke, composed in his voice yet a visible panic on his face.
“Write… a song?”
“Yes. And… and then…” As he settled her down, he eyed the looming creature above her bed, the chilling smile never leaving its face. “And then when it’s finished. Then…”
He looked to the other, looking for confirmation if he could make this promise or not. The cold smile on its face refused to move, giving Geno nothing.
“Then maybe, we can share it with your kids, how about that, hmm?”
“That… would be nice…. Yes….” Geno held her hand, nodding with a forced expression, trying to remain calm. “I’ve never…. Never written a song before.”
“Well… maybe we can…” He looked once more to The Reaper, searching desperately for anything. “... We can write a song at our next session… hmm?”
The Reaper was motionless, merely staring at them, before the shadow of a nod answered him back.
Death watched as the others' faces flooded with relief, a genuine smile found its way back to Geno’s face as his voice became clearer and confident. Assured and light.
“There is always a first time for everything, right?” Geno laughed, pulling back, his hand now resting on top of the others.
“Ohh you… Mr. CQ are funny.” His patient spoke, patting his hand, holding it in her own cold and frail grasp.
“Thank you… ma’am.” Geno held her back, his own cold palms meeting her touch.
He waved to her goodbye, discussed with the family, before he walked back down the hall to his next patient.
The Reaper followed along, watching the other hum a tune unknown to him, walking down the hallway like nothing in the world mattered to him. Watching him push his silly little cart with silly little doodads that made silly little noises. It was so strange to The Reaper. He didn’t understand it. Most of all, he didn’t understand Geno.
“I don’t get it.”
“Hmm?” Geno looked to the being following along.
“Why do you…. What is this?”
“Music therapy.”
“I don’t understand.” The Reaper narrowed their gaze. “Help me see.”
Geno smiled, parking his cart right outside of his patient's room, moving to the sink across the hall.
“Music, physically, can do a lot to a person.” Shooting the other a snarky glare. “A mortal.”
“It triggers a part of the brian, multiple parts, actually. Many times, music ties to a memory and can help someone regain those. It can help with the part of that brain that recognizes patterns. It can help the part of the brian that controls speech when singing lyrics. Singing, apart from the brain, can also help with breathing. Music in general can help the heartbeat pulse to the beat of a song. It can help with motor skills and playing instruments or even simply tapping to a beat.”
Geno dried his hands before opening the cupboard across the hall and pulling out gloves, a mask, and a thin paper gown.
“Mentally, it helps improve someone's mood. Improve their time in a place like this." Geno gestured to the hospital around them. “It allows them to feel in control when so many things are out of it. It helps them feel seen. Feel important. Feel supported. Feel like they aren’t alone. Feel like they have a purpose.”
“Music is magical, Mr. Reaper.” Geno turned to the embodiment of death, looking at it with soft, kind, determined eyes. Covered head to toe, the reaper couldn't see the smile, couldn’t see the steady hands, couldn’t see his poised stance. But he knew it was there. He didn’t need to see it with his eyes to know Geno was getting passionate, getting confident, getting excited.
“It can do wonders, it can do so much. It can heal, it can talk, it can bring together. Music is something so special to so many people.”
“To me.”
There was a longing in his voice, something distant in his eyes, before he shook his head and grabbed a couple antibacterial wipes and went back to his instrument cart, starting to wipe some down.
“What I do is I help other people experience this magic, in whatever way they need. If they need to talk, but can’t get out the words. If they need to move, but can’t get out the motions. If they need to feel, but can’t remember how.”
“That, Mr. Reaper.” Geno strapped his guitar around his chest again, turning to face his patient's door, looking over his shoulder to The Reaper. “That is my work.”
“I see…” Its voice was quiet, pondering. Thinking about the words Geno had said and trying to wrap his knowledge around it. He didn’t recognize some words, couldn’t grasp the concept of others. But as he looked up and saw Geno go to knock on his patient's door, he reached out to him.
“Geno.”
Said skeleton looked back over his shoulder, waiting expectantly at Reaper, an unreadable expression on his face.
“I don’t believe…” Reaper retracted his hand, standing up straighter to face Geno. “You understand my work.”
Geno narrowed his eyes, inspecting the other closer. “You take the souls of the dead.”
“Yes, I take them once they’re dead.” The Reaper explained, his voice almost wavering. “I don’t kill them myself.”
Geno tilted his head, confused. Why were they telling him all this? What was The Reaper trying to get at?
“Their time limit, I cannot control.” He went on, trying to word in ways Geno could comprehend. “It is up to the fates, how long their string is. How much sand is in their timer. How far they are able to walk the path.”
“Though I would love to elongate her life, as of many others, that I simply cannot control.”
Eyes widened, Geno thought about how The Reaper looked at him, nodding when Geno silently asked if his patient would be able to write that song in their next season. How that may not have been true.
“You look to me, as if asking for me to change their fate,” The Reaper watched dread fill his face, realization settling in, understanding what they meant. “Change the way the sun rises, the fire burns, the tide crashes, the earth turns. Change the inevitable, change something out of all of our control.”
“I cannot.”
“I follow along with the way the world moves, and though it is my job to finish the deed, to bring them to their final step on the mortal plane,” Reaper held Geno’s gaze, making sure he heard the words he was saying. “It is not my choice. It is not in my control.”
They watched as the grip on his guitar tightened, looking at The Reaper, though with a blank face, he could tell in the depth of his eyes, the hollow emptiness held the fear of what this meant. All he got wrong. All he had assumed. All he was reassured. It meant nothing, and it all crumbled with The Reapers speech.
Bowing his head, The Reaper turned away, not following Geno into the room this time.
“I’m sorry Geno.”
He offered no support, no care, no further explanation to Geno as he disappeared out of sight. To where, Geno couldn't know. What could he know? He knew nothing, apparently.
He had just started to get used to Death’s presence, just started enjoying its presence.
But how does he react now? How does he feel now? What does he say now?
He was cursed with this gift, to see The Grim Reaper loom around, witness Death itself do its job. Take and take and take.
For so long it had been this thing. This being. This figure.
Now, he was just another nurse, doctor, employee working in the hospital. Another to witness the pain of wanting so badly to save a soul, but having to witness it leaving anyway. Of caving, growing numb to how the world decides to take away life after life, out of anyone's control.
Shaking his head, Geno took a breath.
He stood right outside another patient's door. He couldn’t think about that right now, he had his own job to do.
But as he knocked on the door and was let in by the patient's family, the room was warm. Uncomfortably pleasant to be in. There was a looming presence missing. And though he was relieved by that fact, he couldn’t help the pit in his stomach as he realized another life before him could disappear in the night, no matter how much music he played.