"I do miss you. I miss you every day. And I stay up at night, thinking of you. That's your fault. You've made things a lot harder on me, Immalyn."
"My dearest Immalyn..."
hello, sweethearts! my name is alice. i am the author of wilting flowers, a story i wrote on wattpad when i was 13. now, i've improved, revised, and expanded upon it, but i do not have the energy to rewrite the entire thing. this blog is my solution.
i will post blurbs of what i now consider to be the improved version of the story here. blurbs will not necessarily be in order or give readers proper exposition. i'll probably make an exposition post eventually, but until then, here is the link to the original. do not feel obligated to read the whole thing. unless, of course, you want to (love you forever) <3
my main writing blog is @alice-is-elsewhere, my main MAIN blog is @ssstarbewwy
here is the chronological masterlist for all content. please note that you don't need to read chronologically! types of content are tagged. if you just want to look at a specific character, timeframe, or writing type, you most certainly can. this blog is more of a collection than a set narrative.
saturday was better. which is saying something, considering how bad it was. part one here.
Grim woke up at two in the afternoon with a splitting headache and a foul taste in his mouth. He spent the entire day on the bathroom floor, throwing up or pressing his face to the cold tile. Immy brought him water and tea.
"Do you need anything else?"
"I'm fine, sweetheart," he rasped.
"...Am I bothering you?"
"Of course not." He groaned, pushing himself up so his back was against the side of the bathtub. The lip dug into his neck. "But you must be bored if you're coming to see me like this."
"Something like that." She sat down across from him. "...Think you caught a bug?"
Grim felt his chest tighten. He leaned over the toilet and hurled. Immy looked away.
He coughed. Immy passed him some water. He sipped it gingerly.
"...No."
Immy frowned, but didn't press any further.
His father finally came home around six. Grim heard him speaking with Immy in the living room. He came down the hall.
A knock on the door.
"Dad?"
Mortuus opened the door. "You look terrible."
Grim considered himself, curled up on the floor in yesterday's clothes with a mysterious stain on his collar. He cracked a dead grin.
"Thanks."
Mortuus scoffed and knelt down beside him. He reached for his forehead. Grim put up his arms.
"Dad," he warned.
"Right," sighed his father. "I forget."
"Between you and Immy, we're all fucked."
He puffed out a laugh. He shifted so he could rest his back on the sink cabinet. He groaned. Now it was Grim's turn to laugh.
"Too much time at your desk, old man?"
"I suppose," he sighed. "So. What's wrong with you."
"I'm sick or something. I don't know."
"Well, it's nearly impossible for you to catch something now, so it has to be poisoning."
"Mm."
"What'd you eat yesterday?"
"Uh--" he swallowed. "That pasta you made."
"And?"
Grim opened his mouth and closed it again.
"Grim, was that all you ate yesterday?"
"I just didn't think about it."
"Grim," Mortuss sighed. "I swear to god, I'm gonna start hunting you down on your lunch break. Two meals a day. At least two meals a day."
"I know. Really, I meant to come home and grab something."
"I want to believe you, Grim." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You need to care more."
Grim was silent.
"You can't run on fumes all the time. Are you listening? Your performance will suffer. Especially right now. You're only making everything harder on yourself. Grim?"
"Yes, sir," he mumbled.
"Good."
Slowly, Grim sat up. He clutched his head, hissing. His father stared at him, gaze narrowing a bit.
"Hm."
Grim blinked. "What?"
"Grim. I want you to know that your answer to my next question will not result in any punishment nor severe judgement inflicted upon you."
He groaned. "God help me."
"Are you hungover?"
Now he groaned louder.
"Grim."
"No, I'm not. Check your liquor cabinet."
Mortuus hummed. "Okay. You're just experiencing similar symptoms. Thought maybe you were cracking under the stress."
Grim's chest tightened. "I'm fine."
"Obviously you're not. My next guess is that your nerves are just wrecking your body."
He swallowed, fists clenching. "Yeah. Maybe."
He watched his father scan him up and down and a wave of nausea hit him. He hunched over the toilet.
There was a hand on his back. Pressing. Steady. Grim's eyes threatened tears by the time he was done throwing up. He turned to him.
Mortuus made some disgusted noise and tore some toilet paper off the roll. He wiped Grim's mouth cautiously. "There."
Grim slumped back onto the floor.
"...You know you can tell me anything?"
He peered over at him. His father's expression was soft. Genuine. Maybe a little concerned.
Grim wanted to fold. He wanted to start sobbing and tell him everything. His breathing stopped. His mouth went dry.
I'm really, really scared, Dad. I'm scared of myself. I'm scared I'll hurt someone. I keep hurting myself. I know, you hate that. But it's scarier this time. Worse. I think I died last night. I didn't mean to. I'm really scared. This is so much worse than I expected. This job is fucking me up more than I ever thought. I think Immy was right. I think something really, really bad is happening to me. Something bad could happen to you, too.
He tasted the words on his tongue and swallowed them back down. Acidic. Poison.
"Yeah, I know, Dad."
Mortuus sighed. "You're not telling me something. I'm not gonna force it out of you, but I'd really like to know, if you're willing to tell me."
Grim curled into himself.
"Alright." Grim's father stood. "Taken your meds today?"
He killed his month supply of Xanax last night. He wasn't excited to ask Mortuus for a refill. It would have to happen eventually, but Grim wasn't prepared for whatever he would have to say about it.
"I can't keep them down."
He hummed. "Try to take them in the morning. And go to sleep early tonight. Had any water?"
Grim nodded.
"If you start feeling better, there's some soup in the fridge."
"Thanks."
"I love you. I'll be in my office."
Grim hummed. "Love you."
Thinking back, maybe that was the last time Grim had exchanged those words with his father. It made him a little sick.
Grim ended up passing out on the bathroom floor.
maybe if he'd told him, something would've changed. no use torturing himself now.
everyone is having a very bad friday. part one. (best read after this one, dear reader.)
Friday night. Friday night was really bad. Maybe that was the whole reason the following days were so terrible. Maybe if he just...
Of course, there wasn't just a single mistake Grim made. There were multiple. Tiny. Inconsequential. Friday night's mistake, however, was huge. Seemingly unconnected to the death of Mortuus Messorem, but Grim knew. If he hadn't been so stupid, something would've changed, and Grim's father still would have been alive.
It was sometime after dinner. Mortuus had told Grim that he was going out for the night and wouldn't be back until tomorrow evening. Typical, of course. Back when it was funny, Immalyn joked about how he was probably running off with some secret lover. As his visits became more frequent, it became more of an annoyance than something to laugh about. Mortuus was exceptionally cagey about the whole ordeal, which didn't help. Grim had weighed the likelihood of his father having an affair multiple times. He shouldn't have cared. He really shouldn't have, but he couldn't help finding it aggravating that his father could have a casual relationship considering everything he'd taught Grim.
"Do you love her?"
"...Um, I--"
"--If you love her, don't you let her get that close to you again. Do you think you have a future together? Do you think you'll become reaper and keep doing shit like that with her?"
"Dad, we weren't--"
"--No need, Grim. Do you think you have a future with her?"
"...No, sir."
"You'll hurt her and yourself if you go any further. Understood?"
"...Yes, sir."
"...Don't look at me like that. I may seem cruel now, but I promise this is better for the both of you."
Funny. Funny that Mortuus could have some secret fling. But that didn't matter anymore. Not after everything.
Anyway, Mortuus left for the night. Immy was still a little shy around him since he had become the reaper, so Grim hadn't really expected to see much from her that night. It just so happened that he walked out into the living room as Immy was gazing back and forth at the piano and some sheet music, maybe a little glassy-eyed.
It had been a long, hard day. The whole week had been nothing but gruesome deaths and sleepless nights. All new reapers got to this point, a "disillusionment" period, as Magnus told him, but he somehow wasn't expecting it. He was a wreck. Truly miserable.
Immy working herself up over some sheet music was the funniest thing he'd seen all week.
"Hey," he said, laughing when she jumped at his sudden arrival.
"Um--hey!" Immy laughed as well. "Sorry, you uh--kinda crept up on me."
Grim looked over her shoulder. It was a vocal solo with a piano arrangement. F minor. "Non posso disperar. Is this your homework?"
Immy looked over at him, to her feet, and then back to him. "Uh--are you busy? Or--if you don't mind--"
She was stumbling over her words. Never in his life had he known Immy to be particularly bashful towards him.
Something twinged in his chest. Damn it, Immy.
Grim laughed, shaking his head. He walked around her to sit down on the piano bench. "I've got nothing I'd rather do. Let me see that music."
He watched her smile. The kind of smile that made him melt just a little. Soft and a little embarrassed, but genuine.
There she is. He had to shake himself back to his senses.
Still, something warm whispered, There's my Immy.
"Key of F-minor." He played through a few chords before letting his hands settle on the piano. "What tempo are you taking this at?"
"Um..." Immy laughed again, less embarrassed this time. "Around eighty-five? I start after the opening chord, so I'll just lead from there."
"Gotcha. Ready?"
Immy took a breath and then turned outward, looking towards the stairway. "Hello! My name is Immalyn Greystone. I'm a freshman majoring in vocal performance at Willow-Moritz University of the Arts. Today I will be performing Non Posso Disperar by Bononcini."
She was well rehearsed in her intro, at least. She nodded towards Grim, and he played the opening chord.
She began to sing. Grim couldn't help but lose himself as he began to play along to her voice.
He found the piano arrangement to be relatively easy. The hardest part was the timing and entrances. Both he and Immy were struggling with that bit.
Just before the second verse, the accompaniment had a long rest so the soloist could sing the first line. Immy hesitated. She swallowed.
"Il solo spirare--"
Off-key. Grim played the correct melody.
"Shit, sorry!"
"It's okay, that's a weird entrance. Let's start again--uh, I'll play the end of that last verse."
He could hear Immy sigh over the piano.
"Il solo spirare--"
"--Better!"
Her back straightened a bit as she continued singing. Grim grinned.
Listening to Immy's gorgeous voice, the satisfaction of the keys plinking under his fingers... everything felt so perfect. Normal. Like it never happened--like there was never anything to worry about. Neither of them were in love. They had never kissed and never yelled at each other--only smiled and laughed and hugged and sang and played and played and played and played. Death was only something beautiful, not traumatizing, not heartbreaking, beautiful and only beautiful, like Immy, like the piano, and there wasn't any danger beyond that. No threat of an infinite darkness, a forever death, because that was only something that happened to those really really bad people you hear about in the news. Because the reapers know what they are doing. They are responsible. They are well trained and fully prepared as soon as they receive their powers, so nothing bad ever happens to anyone. And they don't get lonely.
And Grim wasn't lonely. And Grim wasn't the reaper. Not with Immy here, not surrounded by her voice, not with the--
A pause. A rest. Immy breathed in to sing the last verse.
She looked over at him. He was already gazing up at her, waiting.
She breathed in again, looking away.
She stood with her mouth hanging open for a full ten seconds before slumping, putting her hands on her knees. Her long, thick hair fell over her face and almost her entire figure, shrouding her.
He really would've liked to look longer, but he supposed her wellbeing was much more important than the sight she was to behold.
"Immy?"
Her breathing went a little funny. She straightened up again. Her mouth was pressed into a line.
"Immalyn? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she choked, nodding. "Yeah. Could we maybe start at the top?"
"Oh--" Grim flipped back to the beginning. "Yeah. Are you gonna do the intro again?"
"No, just, uhh--"
Grim played the starting chord. Immy breathed.
"Non posso disperar--"
Grim began to play, but his hands seemed to be heavier now than they were before. He plinked out a wrong chord. Immy winced, trying to sing the next line and falling flat.
Grim swore under his breath. "Sorry, my fault. From the top?"
Immy nodded silently.
Grim played the chord once more.
"...Non poss--"
Immy couldn't choke out any of the rest. She broke down into tears and sank to the floor.
"Woah--hey--"
"--I'm sorry," Immy sobbed.
Grim slid off of the piano bench and knelt to the floor next to her.
He moved to put a hand on her shoulder before retracting it. He paused for a few moments, looking at his gloved hand.
"I want to know what it feels like. It's safe here."
"No, Immy. You don't know how bad it is."
"That's the point."
Grim remembered pulling off the new glove on his right hand hesitantly. Looking back at Immy's tear-stained face.
"Why do you want to do this to yourself?"
"To get it over with. Otherwise I'll kill myself wondering about it. And you will, too."
His left hand, the one still gloved, reached for hers. She took it and squeezed. He slowly brought his right to her face.
Nothing happened, of course. This was the one place nothing would. They were in the void. The in-between. Death of any kind wasn't possible.
But poor Immy. Grim watched as her lips parted, her eyes widened. She gasped on impact, but didn't pull away.
Grim should have. He didn't remember what had gotten into him to make him so cruel, but he held his hand up to her warm face for longer than necessary. Longer than even he'd been subjected to the touch back in reaping school.
After maybe ten seconds of a silent, horrified stare, Immy's face went blank.
She leaned into his hand.
Grim pulled away like he'd been burned, leaving her staggering, falling back on the wall behind her. She was trembling. Her face went gray.
Grim felt his throat tighten. "I told you."
Slowly, ever slowly, Grim put his gloved hand on her shoulder. She startled a little before relaxing into the touch, sniffling.
"God, it's been a rough month," he puffed out, smiling softly.
Immy nodded, giving a half-laugh, half-sob. "I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like I've just cried non-stop for days."
He built up enough courage to carefully put his arm around her shoulders. Her weeping intensified, but Grim tried not to shy away. He was going to be the brave one, this time. Show her that everything could be fine. He sat with her silently until she quieted and let her face out of her hands.
"...It's funny that I'm the one crying," she murmured. "I guess you seem to be handling things... well."
She smiled something painful.
"I'm so glad I've convinced you," Grim, flashing a dead grin. "I'm actually a fucking wreck and I wish I could die."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"...I'm sorry about that."
"Well," he sighed. "I'll get over it. Just like you will."
This was the wrong thing to say. Immalyn grimaced.
Grim idly brushed some hair behind her shoulder. "What, you don't want to feel better?"
"Of course I do." She looked away from him. Grim watched the curve of her neck as her head tilted away. She took a breath. He watched her swallow. "...Um--I don't want to bring up anything you..." she fiddled with her hands. "I mean, I mentioned this before, but you probably--Er, I wasn't super... calm? About it?"
Grim blinked. "None of that made sense."
Immy sighed. "I'm still..." she gestured to nothing in particular. "...I'm just anxious about nothing."
"Nothing as in actually nothing, or nothing as in you don't want to tell me?"
Immy's cheeks reddened a bit. "It's nothing I should be bothering you with."
"What, is it school? Immy, I'll always--"
"--No, Grim. It's things you don't want to hear. Things I shouldn't scare you with."
Grim felt a pit in his stomach. After a few seconds, he nodded.
"...It's that feeling again, isn't it?"
Her face and voice grew desperate as she spoke. "Grim, I promise, I promise I trust you, I really do--"
"--I thought you were just saying that," muttered Grim. "Or convincing yourself of it somehow."
Immy shook her head. She laughed without any joy behind it. "God, I hope I've just convinced myself. Maybe! Maybe I have! I'm driving myself fucking insane, Grim."
He took a deep breath. He sat with his thoughts for a moment.
Immalyn was always right about everything. It was a running joke and a weird party trick where she'd guess how old someone was, their star sign, maybe the color of their underwear. She'd bet five bucks with strangers at volleyball, or soccer, or racing. Their classmates stopped betting with her because she'd always win. She'd pick a number one through six and ask someone to roll a die. She predicted exam scores before they came out. She'd always know when bad weather was coming in.
Immalyn was always right. At least about matters of chance. Gabriel would call it premonition, but Grim never went that far. It was just luck, most things could be explained away, but every once in a while it would border on uncanny. She told everyone she never lied about it, that it always was just a guess, and Grim was inclined to believe her.
Now, he was scared. Completely terrified, actually, because Immalyn always knew, and she wasn't just fucking with him before the reaping ceremony, and she wasn't just right about the first couple weeks, because whatever terrible thing was in store for the two of them hadn't even happened yet.
He took a deep breath. Plastered on a smile.
"Immy." He moved so he was facing her, taking both hands into his. She was looking at the ground. "It's completely okay to be scared. Things are scary right now. Anxiety is fine." He held her hands to his chest. "I just... want you to question it. You're used to immediately trusting your intuition, but Immy, I seriously think your brain is being mean to you right now. You're just anxious. That's okay, that's my natural state literally all the time." That elicited a small laugh. She wiped a tear away with the heel of her hand. Grim helped her, wetting his glove. "Do you understand?"
She swallowed and nodded.
"You been sleeping much?"
She laughed again, "No."
"Maybe you should go to bed, Immy. We'll work on your music tomorrow."
He stood and extended an arm to her. She took it.
She hesitated before turning to leave. She stopped in front of him.
"Grim?" she breathed.
"Yeah?"
"Tilt your head up."
He laughed. "What?"
"Just do it."
He did as she asked, standing awkwardly.
Immalyn's arms wrapped around his torso. She was crouching, trying to make sure the top of her head didn't hit Grim's chin.
After a few moments, he relaxed, his arms practically moving on their own to hold her. She was warm against him
"Thank you," murmered Immy.
"Anything," whispered Grim.
He stopped short of anything for you, but Immalyn seemed to understand. She pulled away with a smile.
"Goodnight, Grim."
He held onto her hands as she tried to walk away, eliciting a laugh. He grinned and loosened his grip, allowing her to slip away. She headed for the stairs.
"...Goodnight, sweetheart," he replied under his breath. He thought he maybe saw her smile brighten before she shut the door to her room on the mezzanine.
Silence. For just a few moments. Grim slumped down onto the piano bench, feeling a little unsteady. If he had a heart, it would've been racing.
His hands touched the keys. Maybe he'd play something. Something soft. Something sweet.
His gloves were too hard to play the piano with. He took them off and set them next to Non Posso.
He stared down at his bare hands.
On second thought, he put the gloves back on.
He tried to remember if he'd taken his meds today. He had, in the morning, but he should've taken the PMs about a half hour ago. He sighed and closed the lid to the piano.
On his desk were various assorted pill bottles. His father had bought him an organizer, but Grim found it was a waste of time to refill it.
Lexapro, two a day. Adderall, two a day.
Xanax, two a day, unless if it's an actual emergency, was what his dad had told him. Xanax ended up being about three or four a day.
He was thinking about ditching the Adderall since he was taking so much Xanax. It wasn't working so well anymore.
He decided not to take one tonight. He opted for one Lexapro and two Xanax. He took them dry and collapsed onto his bed.
He was exhausted. He heard the upstairs shower kick on. He buried his face in a pillow and listened to the running water. Normally, Immy would play some sort of mortal 2000s pop, but she opted for silence tonight.
Maybe she also thought he'd play the piano.
Grim groaned. He wasn't getting up now. Maybe in a little while, after his bones stopped aching.
The water was nice white noise. Grim almost could've fallen asleep. He rolled onto his back.
After a little while, the water turned off, and he was left with silence.
Go play the piano.
Go play the piano.
Go play the piano.
The heater turned off. Dead silence.
He'd go for a run if he trusted his legs that much. He looked over to a pile of laundry collecting on his floor. He'd rather stick a loaded gun into his mouth. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. There was an unread message. Still would rather stick a gun in his mouth. He threw the phone onto his floor with no real aggression. It hit the hardwood with a noise that hurt his head.
He sat up. Took a breath. Air seemed a little difficult to get in. He looked to the bottle on his desk he knew to be Xanax. How much time had it been since he'd taken them? They weren't working. Finally, something he could get out of bed for. He snatched the bottle off of his desk and popped another two.
There. Now I'll actually fucking sleep.
He thought about changing his clothes or brushing his teeth and flopped back down on his bed. Boring. Gun in mouth.
God, I'm disgusting.
He remembered the multiple people he'd seen just this week that had actually shot themselves. He shuddered. He'd have to find a more niche way to say he didn't want to do something.
Immy's door creaked open.
There. She's brushing her teeth. Get the fuck up.
He groaned into his mattress.
There was some sort of coping mechanism for situations like this. Grim couldn't remember it.
Jesus fucking christ, Grim.
God, could this Xanax fucking kick in already?
The bottle had been left on his bed. He stared at it.
No. No, no, no--absolutely not.
He thought of Immy upstairs. He wondered if she was actually going to sleep, or if she was pretending to be comforted for his sake. Maybe he shouldn't have brushed her off like that. Maybe he should've stayed with her longer. Maybe he never should've yelled at her before the reaping ceremony. Maybe he never should've kissed her back. Maybe he never should've become reaper, because reapers are responsible and he is not fucking responsible.
Maybe she was right. Something terrible was going to happen.
There was a worst case scenario. It had played inside his head over and over since even before the reaping ceremony.
Immy, Gabriel, or Dad. Somewhere public. In front of kids. In the middle of a crowd. Nowhere to hide. That would be the absolute worst case scenario.
He never let Dad take him to therapy, but in high school, he ended up with the counselor at least once a quarter. They always told him to imagine a worst case and best case scenario and weigh the likelihood of each.
Odds were not small. The odds were never, ever small. Grim was the danger, so the people he held close to him were always at risk.
He began to feel nauseous. He picked up the bottle and didn't count how many he poured into his hand before he popped them.
Gabriel. Gabriel was going to be working beside him in just a few weeks. He'd be around him regularly in a fast paced environment in the afterlife. Not the void. Somewhere he could actually...
He hadn't seen Gabriel in a while. He was probably the one who texted him. What a good friend.
Grim stared at his phone, still laying on the floor.
What a good friend.
Grim sighed and reached for the phone. His head spun a little from the movement. He took a breath and dialed Gabriel's number.
He answered in two rings.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Gabe."
"Grim! Dude, I've missed you. Haven't spoken to you since, what, the reaping ceremony? How are you?"
Grim smiled in hopes it would show in his voice. "I'm great! Everything's... a lot, but y'know, it's to be expected."
"Disillusioned yet?"
Grim didn't respond.
"That's a yes."
"I'm hoping it'll go away soon."
"I'm sure it will, Grim. How's Immy?"
"Uh--" He swallowed. "Not great. College is kicking her ass."
"Well, that and everything..."
His throat closed up a little. He waited a moment before responding, "Yeah."
"...Cheer up, man. She'll get through it. She's Immy."
"Yeah."
"What about your dad?"
Grim made a noncommittal noise. "He's been going out a lot."
"Like drinking, or with the girlfriend?"
"We don't know he has a girlfriend."
"With the secret hookup."
"Again, we don't know he even has a... hookup, or whatever."
"Fine," laughed Gabriel. "So he's been out a lot. Does he seem okay otherwise?"
"He's about as high-strung as I am."
"Yikes."
"Yeah." Grim stared at the ceiling. It almost looked like it was moving. He really had to get to sleep. He laughed a little.
"What?"
"Nothing. I'm fine," he said. "How about you? How's everything?"
"Oh, uh--I'm great! I got that internship I wanted."
"I heard! What's that for again?"
"Archives. I'll be taking names from you, Grim."
Grim let out some air.
"So you'll be at the desk."
Gabriel laughed. "Yeah. Tucked behind the desk, safe and sound. You were worried?"
"Is the sky blue?"
"Not here, it's dark already. And it's never blue where you are."
"Pff. Well, yes, I was worried."
"Gee, thanks. We'll be fine, Grim."
"Uh--" Grim swallowed. He was struggling for air again. "--How are you?"
After a few seconds of silence, Gabriel laughed. "You asked that already, Grim."
Panic flared in his chest. "Fuck, yeah, sorry. I'm out of it. How's everyone else?"
"Um... Axel and Dal are studying to be allseers."
"Really? Are they any good?"
"Dal's sure it's like, his calling. Axel...Eh."
Grim grinned. "Think they're just after immunity?"
"It'd be hard to stay together without it. God, can you imagine?"
He snorted. "I mean, yeah, I can."
"Oh my god, Grim--" Gabriel snickered. "Sorry. Yeah, you can. Touch-based powers. I'm an idiot."
Grim laughed until he couldn't breathe.
"No, no, seriously, I'm happy for them. Lucky motherfuckers."
"Jealous~"
"Yeah, fuck-ass, you would be too."
Now Gabriel laughed.
"Grim, I think you need to go to sleep or something. You sound drunk."
He couldn't breathe. "No, no, I'm sober--"
"--yeah, but your words are slurring together."
"I'm fine." He swallowed. He needed water or something. He couldn't breathe. "How's your sister? It's her senior year now, right?"
"Uh--yeah, I mean, she's fine. Senioritis, or whatever. She likes to crash at my place on the weekends, so you know she's tired of Mom and Dad."
"Aw, I love your mom and dad."
"Great people. She loves them. They're just chaotic, y'know. Also, I think she just wants me to do her homework for her when she comes over."
Grim laughed. "It's her senior year now, right?"
"...Grim?"
"What?"
"You need to go to sleep. Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fff--" He sat up too quickly and clutched his head. The room was tilting around him. "--fuck, yeah, I'm fine, I'm just tired. It's not even that late, is it?"
"I mean, no, but if you're so sleep deprived you're--"
"--I'm fine."
"Grim, I'm serious. I'm gonna hang up."
"Gabe, no, it's--"
"--I love you, man. Go the fuck to sleep."
The phone clicked. Grim let his phone drop to the floor. He laughed. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.
He started gasping. Tears were pricking at his eyes. He looked at the room around him.
Five things you can see. Four things you can... Three...
Five things he could see. Bottle of Xanax. Good idea. More Xanax. His desk. His nightstand. The lamp on his desk was too bright, it was hurting his eyes.
Was that five? He looked at an empty wall and watched it swirl. He heard his door open. He looked over his shoulder.
No one there. The door was closed. The knob was turning. Everything was turning. Okay, more Xanax. His hands were so weak that he struggled to open the cap.
Why wasn't it working? Why wasn't it working?
Grim's vision started to go out. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.
i believe i promised a chronological masterlist!! please note that this story (at least this version) isn't really meant to be consumed completely chronologically. it's more of a wiki page than a narrative. read it however you please!
Grim's father had just left for... wherever Mortuus went when he wanted to get away for the night, Immy hadn't been out of her room since dinner, and Grim was trying to take his nerves out on the piano as he recited the reaping laws over and over again in his head. Like it would do him any good, now. All of his testing was over. Now, he only had to wait and see if it paid off.
He pressed multiple wrong keys at once and shook himself, swearing.
And if it didn't pay off?
It would pay off. Or...
Grim's stomach twisted. It would pay off. Surely.
And assuring himself of that didn't soothe his nerves any more. Becoming Reaper would kill (figuratively or literally) any other dream futures, as well.
Immy's door creaked open.
Speaking of which...
Grim cast a glance over his shoulder, an offering to the girl staring down at him from the mezzanine. "Evening, sweetheart. You've been real friendly tonight."
Upon her lack of witty response, he turned around to actually greet her. Her face was red and her eyes heavy. Fuck. It was this again. "What's wrong?"
She had been vaguely miserable for the past couple of weeks. She denied it over and over, but it was glaringly obvious, and she didn't seem to be attempting to hide it too well. She wanted him to know, but wasn't ready to tell him. Which was annoying as hell.
She opened and closed her mouth a couple times upon making eye contact with him. Grim sighed and rose to his feet, heading up the stairs.
"I--Uh--Oh, okay," she laughed nervously as she watched him ascend.
He stopped in front of her and touched her arm. "Immy."
She glanced down to his hand and back to him. Her eyes glazed over for a split second before she regained whatever control she had. "I--" She glanced to her door. "Can we talk?"
Oh, thank god. She was finally getting out with it.
He smiled. "Of course. Always." Immy looked back to her door. Grim followed and backtracked to it. He turned the handle.
He walked into the charmingly cluttered room, illuminated only by fairy lights and a single lamp in the shape of a leg.
Immy followed and closed the door after her. She took a breath. "I... I don't think you should become reaper."
His phantom heart stopped for a couple seconds. Once he remembered how to breathe, he replied: "You don't think I should, or you just don't want me to?"
She looked down. "I--It's both, Grim."
Grim stared at the wall behind her. "Okay." He took a breath. "Okay. Why?"
"...I know this is what you want. I know this is your dream. I just..."
"Out with it."
She winced in a way that invoked a deep guilt in his chest, heavy and aching.
"I don't think this'll be good for you. This job, it's--"
"--heavy. It's a burden. It's difficult physically and psychologically. I know that," Grim defended. "I know what I'm signing up for, I've literally trained for six years."
"I know, but--"
"--no, you don't. I've seen what it's like. I've studied under Cass. It's scary. It's depressing. It's extremely difficult. I can handle it, Immy. I got through it then."
"And now you'll have to do it alone!"
"Yeah, I will! That was the entire point of the internship!"
"I'm not saying you don't know how!" Immy exclaimed. "I'm saying you won't have any support!"
"I don't need support."
She blinked at him. "What the fuck are you saying? Of course you--"
"--yeah, yeah, everyone needs support, blah, blah," huffed Grim. "You act like I'll be alone all the time. I'm staying here! I'll just be on the job during the day! It's not that different!"
"But I don't know how to support you through this," she cried. "I don't know the first thing about what you'll be going through. I don't want you to feel isolated."
Grim sat in silence for a few moments. "Immy. Immy, Immy, Immy--" he sighed, crossing his arms. "--I'm so sorry. But I think you're projecting."
"...What?"
"Immy, I know you get lonely. I know you're scared that--"
"--no--"
"--I'm leaving you but I'm not, Immy, I'm still--"
"--Grim, nothing's gonna be the same! Don't tell me--"
"--Of course, things will be different!--"
"--Oh my god, listen to me!"
Grim went silent. After her outburst, Immy seemed to shrink a little. Her eyes darted to the floor. Her cheeks reddened. She wrapped her arms around herself.
"I--I'm sorry." Her lips pressed into a line. She sniffled a little. "I'm sorry."
Grim sighed and stepped closer to her, pulling her into his arms. She sniffed a couple more times before cracking, letting her head rest on his shoulder.
"...I know you are, sweetheart. I'm sorry, too." Her arms wrapped around his torso. "I'll listen. I will. But I can't promise to follow your advice."
After a few moments standing like that, something shifted. Her hands moved to scratch at his back. She tilted her face towards his neck.
He heard her swallow.
"It won't just be me, Grim. You know that. You can't actually think you're gonna be... fine after this," muttered Immy. "Look at us."
Grim considered her words.
They had always been close. Abnormally so. It bothered Grim's father to no end. They were too close to be like friends, too intimate to be like siblings. Forbidden from being lovers. Which was probably a good thing.
Definitely a good thing, Grim entertained as Immy continued to draw patterns across his back. We're screwed as it is.
Fuck, she has a point.
"Of course, it'll hurt." Grim moved her head so he could look into her eyes. He brought a hand to her face. "I hope it does. I'll miss this. I'll miss how things are now." Immy leaned into his touch. Her cheek squished against his hand. Grim fought with himself not to swoon. "...I really will. But we'll figure it out. We'll get used to not touching. It won't be that difficult. We'll still be best friends." Something in Immy's face twitched at that. "We'll talk and laugh and all the rest. We just have to be careful. Safe."
She froze for a moment. Then, she pulled his hand off of her face. He caught a glimpse of her expression. Her brows were furrowed. Lips trembling. She buried herself in his shoulder once more. She took a breath.
"Grim?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't call me crazy."
"...Okay--?"
"--and I want to preface this by saying I could never, ever be scared of you."
Grim went silent for a couple of seconds. "Immy, what is this?"
She pulled away from him. Her hands moved to his shoulders. She took another breath. "Something terrible is going to happen."
Grim blinked. Once. Twice. "Immy--"
"--don't call me crazy, I'm not fucking crazy, I can feel it."
"Immy!"
"I can! I swear to god, I just can't shake it--"
"--Immy, you can't let your paranoia become--"
"--I'm not fucking paranoid!"
Grim huffed. "I listened before. I tried really hard. But, this, this stupid hunch--"
"--You said you wouldn't--"
"--I'm not saying you're crazy. You're anxious. I get it--"
"--No, you don't, this is real, Grim--"
"--You're not fucking magical, Immy! Just because you have a strong intuition you think you can tell the future! You can't!"
"I know I'm right! I always guess right! I know it. Please, just--"
"--No! Absolutely not! You can't entertain this fantasy just to try and stop me--"
"--this isn't just--"
"--don't you trust me? Do you really think I would ever--"
"--of course I do! It's not you I'm scared of. I'm scared for you."
Grim shuddered, shaking her hands off of his shoulders. "This is really fucking mean, Immy. Quit trying to scare me."
"I'm not--" Immy took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not trying to scare you. I wanted you to take me seriously--"
Grim scoffed. "How am I supposed to take you seriously when you're like this?"
And of course, she was crying again. Grim was just about sick of it.
"...I thought you loved me."
"Oh, Jesus Christ, Immalyn!"
She started laughing, wiping her tears away with the heels of her hands. She took a breath and locked eyes with him once more. She opened her mouth and closed it a couple times. She shook her head and stepped toward him--
--and her lips were on his. And he hardly knew it was happening, for about the first two seconds--it was all anger and shock and fear. And then, the longing. Oh, the longing--a teenage, wounded, desperate creature that ate him from the inside out, crawled out of his chest just for a chance to reach her. It wanted to eat her, too. It tried.
Grim's hands moved to the back of her head--a gesture he would quite possibly be extremely dangerous in under 24 hours, and a reminder of everything he stood to lose and everything he had ever worked for. He pressed her to him, kissed her back fiercely--he was so fucking angry. But he wanted her so bad. Her lips were warm, hot, even, salty with tears. Dramatic. Manipulative. Bitch.
Immy. Immy, Immy, Immy.
He softened. Pulled away for a moment.
The way she looked back called him back into either a beautiful and tragic truth or a terrible lie. Her eyes were wide and glassy--like a deer in headlights. Maybe she was scared. Maybe she was nervous. Maybe she was in awe.
Grim leaned back in first, and upon Immy's arms wrapping around his neck, took it as a go ahead. He kissed her softer, then. Because maybe she really meant it. Maybe she was--
Wait. Wait, wait, wait--
--the reaping ceremony is tomorrow and she's doing this fucking now?
Grim breathed and he was facing the wall farthest from her bed, groaning, muttering curse words.
He turned around and immediately regretted it. Immy. Immy, Immy, Immy, and she was crying because of course it was Grim's fault she went and kissed him and also his fault she was just now doing things maybe she should've thought of two years ago.
Grim laughed. "Oh, what the fuck," he spat.
Immy sniffed. "I'm--"
Shut up, shutthefuckup, shut up.
He kissed her again. And he wanted her to push him away so she could argue with him instead of playing perfect little martyr forever. But she only made a pathetic little noise when he startled her and held him tighter, pulled him closer.
He thought she might've sobbed when she pulled him down onto her bed.
He was going to be sick.
"No. No, no, no, no--" He pulled away, shook her arms off of him. "What is wrong with you?" He stood over her for a moment, eyes burning into her, until she shook with tears again. A poor, sweet, innocent girl beneath him.
Oh, what a saint! What an angel! Sacrificing her purity to save me from myself. What the actual fuck.
He clenched his fists and backed away.
She stilled a little, watching him. He put his head in his hands, covering his eyes, and groaned.
He wanted to say something, anything, to go off on her, to call her terrible things and leave. But more than that, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to throw away everything for a girl who didn't even love him like he loved her. And he was going to think about kissing her for the rest of his immortal life.
God fucking damnit.
He stood taller. Took a deep breath. Removed his head from his hands.
He looked down at her. She sat on the bed, face flushed, covered in tears. Some of her hair was stuck to her face. She looked at him like she had just been caught in the act of something shameful. Her eyes gazed back at him.
Grim took another breath.
"...That was really mean, Immy."
He didn't wait for her response. He silently walked out of her bedroom and shut the door behind him.
a little sample of grim and atlas in the boardinghouse.
Immalyn. Immalyn had sent him a beautifully worded letter in dreadful handwriting, sprayed it with her lavender-vanilla perfume, and shipped it to the fucking boardinghouse.
Immalyn. He turned her over in his mind, clutching the letter to his chest. God--
The letter, he was appreciative of. It wasn't particularly flirty--mostly, it was her moaning about how much she missed him and how lonely she was in the house by herself. Like it wasn't her fault for dropping out of college.
"I hope you don't plan on boarding for too long, or I may just have to room with someone else," she had written. "Gabriel would maybe take me. I'm sure he'd take GREAT care of me."
That comment made Grim's face warmer than he'd like. Gabriel would not be "taking care" of her, as her teasing implied. Gabriel wouldn't dare touch her.
A self-pitying part of him thought that, maybe, if he couldn't have her, Gabriel would take care of her. In a non-sexual sense, of course. Seriously considering her innuendo made him feel nauseous.
Anyways, the letter was nice when she wasn't teasing him. And only one vaguely sexual comment was a mercy.
But, fuck, the perfume? What was the intention? Tormenting him?
That was exactly Immy's intention. She must've thought it would make him hurt enough to come home. It made him want to stay away longer out of spite.
If he had any sense, he would've stashed the letter away somewhere he wasn't constantly inhaling its scent, but obviously, he had none. Every exhale came out as a swear.
He laid in bed, staring up at the bunk above him and the photograph he had taped there. Immy and Gabriel in some shitty point-five selfie. Right now, he was honestly wishing he had a photo to jack off to that did not feature Gabriel.
But that wasn't happening much, anyway, considering he shared the room.
"Grim~" Atlas sang as he sauntered in through the door. Grim didn't look.
"Atlas."
He snorted. "Someone's friendly."
Grim blinked a few times, sighed, and turned his head. "Sorry. Don't know what's wrong with me."
"You know exactly what's wrong with you." Atlas snatched up the letter, earning a disgruntled noise from Grim. "Quit sniffing this, you'll cream your pants."
He scoffed, face burning. "That's mine."
"Calm down, Messorem. I wasn't gonna read it." He held it above his head as Grim reached for it. "Now, though..." he mumbled.
"Hey!"
"I was just joking, Jesus!" He put the letter on top of the dresser in the corner of the room. "What sort of shit is that girlfriend of yours writing you, anyway?"
Grim huffed, his gaze turning back to the photo. "Not much. And she's not my girlfriend.
Atlas clicked his tongue. "Oof. Not anymore?"
"Never was."
"Really? Huh."
Grim looked at him then. "What is it?"
"You're totally obsessed with her."
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are. How long have you been crushing on her? She's been living in your house for, what? Seven years?"
Grim chose to stay silent.
"Did you never ask her out? Or..."
Grim sighed. "Dad wouldn't have it."
That shut Atlas up. They sat in silence for a few moments.
"Dad told both of us as soon as she moved in that nothing romantic could ever happen between us, 'So help him stars.'"
"...Why?"
"I don't know. She's mortal, for one thing." Grim wrung his hands as he spoke. "So anything long-term would just be painful. She was under his legal protection. His ward. We were never like... brother and sister, but maybe he was hoping we would be? Makes it kinda weird," he muttered. "Also, I had serious hopes for this position ever since I was really young, so, he probably didn't want me starting anything I couldn't finish."
Atlas hummed. "Smart, but... did it work?"
"Obviously not. I'm in love with her, she's super attached to me--begged me not to become a reaper, and I mean begged-- and we've both been hurt, even before..." I killed him.
Atlas clambered up into his bunk, but put his head over the side. "So. Nothing ever happened?"
Grim's cheeks warmed once more. "...Nothing big."
Atlas gasped and let out a laugh. "So something did!"
"Just a lot of little things! I mean, until..."
"Let me guess: the night before the reaping ceremony?"
That gave Grim pause. "...Yes?"
"I knew it! She was your last meal!"
"My what?"
"Serious candidates for reaper tend to try and get laid right before the reaping ceremony--"
"--Wait. Wait, wait, wait," Grim protested. "We did not have sex."
Atlas squinted. "Wait, so... are you a virgin?"
Grim turned over to face the wall.
"Oh my God, you are! They are going to eat you alive next training year!"
He groaned. "Don't be weird."
"No judgement, no judgement! Maybe some. I'm just shocked. Whatever. So what really happened?"
Grim sighed, curling in on himself a little. "I told you how she begged me not to become Reaper?"
Atlas hummed in response.
"She begged me until she cried. And then she kissed me." He rolled onto his back. "Really kissed me. It took me a minute to pull away." His wistfulness soured back into spite as he stared at the photo. Immalyn stared down at him. He crossed his arms.
"So she is actually in love with you?"
"If she is, she can get the fuck over it. She waited until after I had trained my ass off for years," he bit. "But I don't think she is! That's the thing! She knows I'm in love with her! She thought she could talk me out of my dream by... hooking up with me--"
"--I thought--"
"--Yeah, no, we didn't, but she was definitely trying." He swallowed. "And now she sends me a letter sprayed with her fucking perfume thinking she can get me to come home. I'm going to--" He cut himself off.
"What? Kill her?" Atlas laughed.
Grim tensed. "No. I can't joke like that anymore. It's too real."
"So what do you really want?"
"Pff. Isn't it obvious? Her! And I can't have her. Can't have my cake and eat it too. I chose this, not her, and now she's--" he waved his arms around. "--fucking with me or something! I can't stop thinking about her and she knows that and..." He seethed, groaning through his teeth. "God, I don't want to kill her, but I want my hands around her throat sometimes."
After a few moments of Grim just breathing, Atlas snorted.
"Do you always have such violent sexual fantasies?"
when grim finally came home after three months in the boardinghouse, three months since it happened, four months since the world turned on its head, two months since he returned to work, he dropped to his knees in front of immy. he held onto her pajama pants and cried.
"you were right. you were right. you were right about everything. oh my god. you were right, immy."
it took a couple of days to respond. still, he regretted not taking longer, because his own letter came out more emotional than he ever intended. and way longer.
My dearest Immalyn,
Hello, sweetheart. I've read your letter over and over, and I've spent most of my day thinking about you. I'm pleased to hear that you're not thinking poorly of me, and flattered you miss me so much. I have to apologize, however, because I feel very strongly about a few things.
Your loneliness saddens me. What maybe saddens me more is how you dropped out of school, something you worked so hard for. I will not call you lazy. I will certainly call you a whiny bitch, but I will not call you lazy. I understand you are struggling. You were struggling even before everything happened. I'm sure you're incredibly stressed. I do sympathize. I am also incredibly pissed off that you could do that and then complain about loneliness. You damned yourself to loneliness. You could've made all the friends in the world at University. It's natural for you. And you wouldn't find yourself bored.
I know you're sad. I'm fucking sad. Please, try to have some goddamned fortitude. You won't get anywhere without it, you whiny freeloading bitch.
I do miss you. I miss you every day. And I stay up at night, thinking of you. That's your fault. You've made things a lot harder on me, Immalyn. Maybe I'm not as upset with you about college as I think. Maybe I just wish you wouldn't do little things that you know make me miss you more. Your letter was incredibly sweet. Spraying your perfume on it was mean. I miss you so much, Immy, but don't you know that I'm boarding for you? For your safety? Or maybe it's just selfish, maybe I'm a little fucked up because I just killed my dad and could use some distance! I'm so sorry you're lonely, but I'm not coming home for a while. I won't make a date or a set time frame. I'll let you moan to me about it again in another month, love. We'll see how I'm feeling then.
Again, I am sorry. I meant for this letter to be more passive aggressive than angry. I'm not truly angry at you. Just bothered. Really bothered. And really, I have no real room to be mad at you when you could very well choose to be mad at me. And you haven't. That's really, really sweet, Immy. Don't take my harsh words too seriously.
Speaking of harsh words. I think I've given you a false impression that I want to clear up.
You are NEVER indebted to me. I joke about you being a freeloader, but Immy, I don't want you to feel so hurried to earn your keep. You owe nothing to me. I know I'm the only one making money now, but in case you hadn't noticed, we are not in need of cash. Dad had quite a bit in savings and I'm getting paid more than enough. You forget that poverty is a mortal issue. Do not feel worried about getting a job for my sake. I want you to be fulfilled. That's all I want. I don't want you to just rot in the house. You love people. Go meet people. I don't care if you get a job. I just want you to do something meaningful to you. That's it.
I think I've exhausted anything there is to lecture you about. Like I said, don't take anything too hard. The last thing I want is to hurt you.
Life at the boardinghouse is nice. There aren't very many people here at the moment, but I'm told reapers cycle in and out a lot. When I arrived, they already had a room planned for me. Apparently Magnus told them I might change my mind about living at home. I don't know what that could mean. I don't know if he always thought I would end up such a wreck. Maybe I shouldn't assume. He just tried to do what was best for me.
I really miss Dad. I get sick when I think about what happened. I'm so fucked up over this. I don't want to mope too much in this letter, but I am fucking miserable.
They get it here. Apparently, this happens more than you'd think. Well, this kind of thing. When Magnus and Xen walked me into the boardinghouse, Magnus pulled Grant, our keeper, to the side. I watched Magnus whisper to him. He looked to me and grimaced. Later that night, he asked if I wanted to talk about it. I said no. He nodded.
"I don't envy you, kid. Things like this are most often a matter of luck. You happened into some very, very bad luck. Try not to beat yourself up."
Did they ever tell you what really happened, Immy? Do you even want to know? Dad held onto me while I teleported out of the house. My magic landed us on the steps of HQ. As you know, I wasn't wearing any gloves. That was maybe my most grievous mistake. It could've so easily saved my father's life, if I hadn't ripped my gloves, if i'd had another pair, if I would've just worn your fuzzy winter ones. Then, my next mistake wouldn't have mattered. He was behind me. Calling after me, trying to slow me down. I was ignoring him. Just trying to get to work, to forget I was ever upset, to just keep going and going and then maybe I'd never sit with my thoughts again. I knew things were bad. I didn't know they could get so, so much worse. He reached for my shoulder.
I didn't even think. I'm so fucking sick over this, Immy. I swatted his fucking hand away. That was what did it.
Bad luck. Maybe a little. But I was so, so stupid. I can't believe it.
He may not have been your father, but I know you loved him. He always thought of you as the daughter he never had. I'm so, so sorry Immy.
I haven't talked to Grant about it since. He knows about you, though. Everyone does. Especially my roommate. Who is actually pretty cute, but could never replace you. He's an asshole. I like him a lot. Atlas Heron. You'd get along, I think. Maybe he'd like you a little too much. Nevermind, he's ugly, stay away from him. He's 27, which is still a baby by reaper standards. Y-7. D-13, maybe? I forgot. His stats are pretty decent. Low accident percentage. Hate to say it, but I'm a little jealous. His precision rate is lower than mine, though, and so was his gauntlet score, so I feel a little better. He was new when it was last a retraining year, so he knows more about reaper culture than anyone this young should. I've learned: reapers are weird. Especially around each other. I could tell, just by being around everyone in the boardinghouse. Personal space is not a thing. Everyone's touch starved, so everyone's in everyone's business. And this place is like some weird breeding ground. Young reapers come here to fly the coop, and old reapers come here to find a date. I suspect Atlas is here for the latter, but no one will take him since he's so young. He knows I'm not interested. We are constantly flirting, though. He has almost as dirty a mouth as Luke, which is one reason I think you should maybe stay away from him. He has heard all about you, though, and is eager to meet you. Immy, if you come visit, I'll introduce you, but if he comes onto you, I'm sorry. And please don't flirt back. I may perish.
Anyway, he likes to aggravate me and then listen to me rant. It might actually be good for me? I don't know. He comes to run with me in the mornings. I like it because he's too out of breath to talk my ear off. But he's not too bad for a chat if you're okay getting weird. He knows way too much about my personal life. I wish I didn't know as much about his. If he starts talking about a "cling wrap trick," don't let him. Leave the room or something.
Anyway, life here is fine. They have a piano, but I don't have any of my sheet music, so I've basically been playing the same two songs over and over again. Pretty boring. I'm trying to figure out some simple melodies by ear. That's pretty fun. You know. I've tried to figure out Clusterhug for you, but it's not going super well. Maybe I'll try once I get home. I miss accompanying your solos. Again, fuck you for dropping out, blah blah. Whatever. Just don't stop singing, please? I'd offer to grade you like Dad used to, but I think I'd be too biased. Not that he wasn't going easy on you, either. He never gave me more than a B+ on my playing. You got multiple A- solos. Fuck you! I miss your singing so much, Immy.
I should've told you I was turning in my phone. I'm sorry. Really I just didn't want to have to answer people's texts. Sympathetic ones or otherwise. It's been nice without it. Quiet. Not that I was ever on it a whole lot, but it gives me a sort of freedom knowing the outside world can't reach me very easily. Not when I'm off the clock, at least.
Being back at work is tiring. It's a little better, with Gabriel around. I was afraid to see him at first, but he's been really normal for me. We just talk. I'm sure he knows how much I hate the grief talks. No one really knows what to say, and I don't really know how to respond. I mean, he doesn't act like it never happened, but he hasn't pressed me about it. I also appreciated that, in your letter. Anyway, work is work. Back in the line of duty. Xen keeps an eye on me, mostly asking to make sure I've eaten and telling me to take care of myself.
That's another thing about the boardinghouse: They force me to eat a shit ton of breakfast. Gross. I feel like I'm just gonna puke it up on the job one of these days. It's because we're so active, and I never come back for lunch, so Grant worries. I've mostly gone out for air on my lunch breaks. It gets crowded in the smoking section, so I go up to the roof. It's nice, no one's ever up there. I like that it's getting colder, it's really refreshing. Also I sweat less in all my layers. I wish I could go for a run, but I'm way too scared to be on the streets, yet. I could use the track at the boardinghouse, but I'm scared they'd make me force down more food. Then I'd definitely hurl. Yikes. I miss my protein bars. So much easier. Please don't lecture me about not eating, I'd eat lunch if they weren't giving me two pounds of grease each morning. What, do they think I'm too skinny? A little skeletal? NO SHIT! It's annoying. Maybe if I asked Grant, he'd buy me something a bit more appetizing. I miss Dad's cooking. Yours is okay, too, I guess.
I miss you. And you're really, really mean. And of course you're still my favorite. Hot, funny, whatever. I'm sorry for leaving you all by yourself. Please don't try to fuck Gabriel. He'll go into hiding in fear of me. I'll come home eventually, I promise. It just might take a while. I'm also sorry for being so angry. You frustrate me.
I love you. Even though everything else has changed, don't feel like that's different. You're my dearest friend, first and foremost. Everything else I feel for you is secondary. Don't complicate it in your head. I won't hold you to everything that happened before I became reaper. Take care of yourself, sweetheart.
immy threw out a letter. the handwriting gets poorer and poorer as it reaches the end. some lines are scribbled out.
Dear Grim,
Hi! How are you? How are you feeling? I miss you a ridiculous amount. Like, an insane amount. Fuck you for leaving me. But, also, I get why you did. It's just painful for me, specifically. I hope you come home soon. Please come home soon. I was so happy when Gabriel told me I could send post. I'm worried sick about you and I'm so lonely in the house by myself.
I have something to tell you. You're gonna hate it. I dropped out. I know, it was too soon, I should've waited longer. I just couldn't handle it. I thought maybe I could wait but then everything happened and I'm really really sorry but I just had to. Please don't be mad. I just couldn't do it by myself. I'm really sorry. I'll get a job or something. I'm working on it. I wasn't able to handle it. I'm not strong like you are, Grim. I'm sorry.
I'm so lonely. Lucy and Luke are already working at HQ. As you know, Gabriel's doing that archivist internship. You guys will work so well together! Axel and Dal are both studying under some allseer. I guess everyone really is growing up without me! It's funny. I thought things were supposed to go slower with you immortals.
People are checking in on me. I have that teleportation pad Mx. Xen gave me. I've gone grocery shopping and cleaned the entire house. Except for your room, of course. And the office. It's not locked, though. I checked. I'm too scared to mess it up. Like I think he'll come home. I went in there and I just started Sorry about my bad writing! I've never been as good at this as you. I'm a little frazzled, I guess. I keep writing sentences that don't make sense. As I was saying, I've kept busy, so don't worry about me. Seriously. I'm fine. I'm making it a bigger deal than it is. I am lonely. I'm so lonely. Grim, it's okay if you're mad at me, but please please come home--I won't get it the way. I won't bring it up. You don't even have to talk to me. I just keep feeling so crazy in this house. I'm so lonely. I miss him. But I miss you more. I'm not mad. Please dont think im mad im not i just want you back. please come back. please come back. its so quiet here and i cant sleep at night and i keep thinking i hear him in his office and i miss him so much and i miss you so much so come home. dont die on me too. do you hate me? i always believed in you. i was just worried. i was right and now you hate me dont you? i knew it i fucking knew it i knew this wouldn't happen why didnt you listen??? why didnt you listen im not mad im not i promise im just so so so lonely and so tired please come home grim i love you just please come home
this is the letter she actually sent. it sits in a box in grim's bedroom. it's been sprayed with lavender-vanilla perfume.
Grim,
I miss you more than I can write. I really hope the boarding house is treating you well, and that you're feeling better. Or at least okay. That would do.
I'm going to try not to skate around the hard things. I'm not mad at you. I want you to know that. I could never, ever be mad at you for this. I know this is more painful for you than I could possibly imagine. I miss him too. And I know you're dealing with that and more. Please know that I'm not planning on ignoring any of this. I'm certainly not planning on torturing you over it, either. So there.
Now, for the lighter stuff. I'm SO FUCKING BORED! I'm bored and I'm lonely because you were right about everything and everyone is growing up and I need to, too. I dropped out of Uni. Please don't be mad. I know you think I'm stupid. It was just too much for me to deal with right now. It does suck though, because everyone's doing things and I have nothing to do. I go get groceries I don't need. I clean things that aren't really messy. I wish you were here to leave your things on the table. Or spill coffee everywhere. Or please just play the piano, because the house has been dead silent for two weeks straight and now I can hear colors. Send help!
Anyway, I'm really lonely without you. And your father. But mostly you. I hope you don't plan on boarding for too long, or I may just have to room with someone else! Gabriel would maybe take me. I'm sure he'd take GREAT care of me. So come home soon. Before I fall prey to temptation. I'm a restless woman, Grim. I need it once a week. Conversation, I mean.
So. I'm. Uh. Kind of freeloading off of you now? I can job hunt, I swear, I just need a month. Or maybe two. Or maybe as long as you'll give me? I know I said I was bored before, but I might be even more miserable having actual responsibilities in the state I'm in. Which, I guess, is funny for me to say to you. I'm sorry you have responsibilities right now. If you didn't, maybe you'd be home. I never thought about that.
We could maybe almost pretend you don't, though. We could take a Friday night and eat pizza and watch movies. We could do nothing but sit on the couch all weekend, if you wanted. Or just in the same house. I could knock on my floor to make sure you're still around. Or make a comically long tin can telephone. Grim, I'M SO LONELY! Anyway, I'll get a job if you really want me to. I just might be a little whiny about it. If I'm not already whiny enough, for you.
Anyway, I'm sorry for being a whiny freeloading bitch. I miss you a lot and I want you to come home, but I know boarding will be good for you. Please tell me all about it! Do you have a roommate? Are they cute? Are they replacing me? Send word so I know you're not in the trenches or something. And that I'm still your favorite. Remember how much I care about you and how I'm also hot and funny.
Yours,
Immy
she then drew a heart, sprayed the paper with her perfume, and shipped it off to the boardinghouse. later, she would confess she thought of leaving a lipstick mark, but thought it would be over the top. grim was relieved she didn't, considering the perfume nearly caused him a come-apart, anyway.
