Summary: William has a nightmare about Yanmei dying.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their rightful owners.
‘No...’ William gripped his book tightly, staring at the page in disbelief. ‘No no no no no no no.’
Her corpse was right in front of him. In this dingy, grimy alleyway. The rain fell in sheets, and lightning lit his own personal hell bright as day. The water from the sky caused the puddle of blood she lay in to become a river. The coppery scent that had become so normal in his day to day job suddenly made him want to throw up. He kept looking between her and his ledger, trying to find some kind of mistake. It had to be a mistake, there’s no way she could be gone.
‘How can she be dead? She’s so strong!’
But the hands that were usually clad in bejeweled, golden talons, that brought him comfort, that could make flowers bloom from nothing had blood caked under cracked finger nails. Skin that once ripple with muscle and sometimes spotted with black scales was now ashen and grey. A body that moved gracefully through martial arts stances, the currents of the wind and the dances of the world now lay in a puddle of crimson, soaked with rain. He couldn’t see any wounds, where was all the blood coming from?
‘She shouldn’t die! She should still be dancing through the centuries!’
Lime green eyes that once burned with fire and looked so gentle when they turned towards him had turned completely gold with that part of her mask gone but were now bloodshot and sightless. Lips that once comforted, defended and could unleash a blizzard now tinged blue with no air passing through them.
It was her. There was no mistake. It was her. He couldn’t see the ledger any more. He couldn’t see the date of birth, date of death or the cause of death. His normally lightweight reaper scythe had never felt so heavy. So he dropped it. It clanged loudly, echoing throughout that lonely alley. The only other sounds were the rain, and the rapid increase of his own breathing.
It felt like his heart had stopped, though truthfully it had stopped the moment he ended his life and became a grim reaper. Once he made that choice he no longer had a pulse, breathing wasn’t even necessary it was just a force of habit. His cheeks felt wet, wether from rain or his own tears he couldn’t tell. All he could focus on was the corpse of the woman who had started making his long sentence of hellish purgatory start to feel like a heavenly paradise every time he came home. He leaned down to feel her pulse.
He shot up from his bed with a gasp. He was back in his room, in his bed, in the reaper realm. A sliver of moonlight escaped the curtains and provided some light. Panting and drenched in sweat, William tried to calm down. It was just a dream. But his adrenaline wouldn’t slow down, nor would his breathing. Suddenly the high collar of his sleep shirt felt too constricting. Swift fingers unbuttoned it, he almost just tore it off but he had enough control of himself to avoid that. Tossing it at a chair in the far corner, he felt a shift in the bed.
“Will?” A raspy voice laced with sleep asked.
William turned and even without his glasses he could see Yanmei’s blurry silhouette sit up in bed. Though he couldn’t see well without his glasses, he could picture her, her braid messy from sleep, she was most likely wearing one talon ring, the only one she needed to contain her powers. He could see the white sheets pooling at her waist. Yanmei slept in the nude, something that took some getting used to but after so many ripped nightgowns because of her wings coming in during the night he eventually relented. Now it was just a normal occurrence every night.
“Will, what happened?” A warm and gentle hand cupped his cheek and turned his face towards her. Suddenly exhausted, he didn’t resist when she pressed his forehead against her’s. This close, he could make out the golden color of her eyes. What many people didn’t know was that the yellowish green color that they normally were, was a result of Yanmei letting down her mask only slightly to give them that color. Otherwise they were brown or gold with mask completely up or down respectively. It was more of a style choice.
William didn’t speak. Because he couldn’t? Because he didn’t want to? Both, he supposed. He simply shook his head, placed his hand over her’s as it rested on his cheek and closed his eyes. Yanmei breathed and it was one of the most calming sounds William had ever heard.
She pulled him down on top of her, resting his head on her chest. He felt a small patch of scales under his cheek. Her muscular arms came to wrap around him and she stroked his hair. With his head resting where it was, he could hear her breathing and her heartbeat. Both were steady and constant, reassuring sounds.
“You don’t have to tell me what it was about. But I’m here. A bad reaping or bad memory, I’ll help you. Or if this was brought on by other reapers being dicks, just let me know and I’ll fucking kick their asses.”
Any other night he’d reprimand her for her language, but he just nuzzled further into her chest. Yanmei noticed this and continued to stroke his hair. He was able to keep his shoulders from shaking but he couldn’t stop his tears, which she obviously felt. She didn’t comment on them, she just began to sing.
“Bei fang you jia ren...”
The next morning came and went like usual. He didn’t say anything so she didn’t either, but she did look at him with concern in her eyes.
He didn’t suddenly become overbearing or protective. He didn’t stop her from sparing with the new reapers and he didn’t forbid her from performing extreme feats of arial acrobatics when she took her sunset flights. He didn’t spout out some long winded declaration of love and his inability to live without her. But he was more affectionate in subtler ways.
After the last new recruit walked out of the gym and Yanmei was alone, taking off the wrappings on her arms William would ask for a progress report. The witch would rattle off on who was doing well, who needed to work on balance and who needed some more help with their round house kicks. While she did all this, William would stand behind her with his arms loosely around her. He’d gently take her wrist and with two fingers, find her pulse and simply feel it.
Now he’d watch her sunset flights whenever he could. Her massive black wings driving her high into the sky. The deep purple membranes going beautifully with the pinks and golds of the horizon. The sinking sun glinting off her golden horns and her bladed tail acting like a rudder so she could make even sharper turns. She’d land on his window and they’d sit together on the couch in the apartment or chair in his office if he could spare the time. He’d pull her onto his lap, rest his chin in the top of her head, one of her horns pressed against his cheek. He’d hold her as she talked. He’d occasionally pitch in, usually to chastise her language. But he’d always take two fingers and gently press them against her neck, feeling her pulse.
When they slept he’d simply find some way to feel her pulse. But after particularly exhausting days, he’d lay his head in her chest and let the sound of her heartbeat lull him to sleep.
He wouldn’t say this out loud but he would admit it to himself.
He never realized how much he loved and treasured her until he was forced to confront the prospect of losing her.