Living with Death

Episode 6-2 | Zaire

Zaire

I blink my eyes open at the first entrance of the orange, dawn sunlight slanting in through the windows beside me – my personal alarm for the human world's mornings. This way, I usually wake up before Wynn and don't have to bother worrying about what she would do if she woke up first.

Not that that would ever happen. Her phone has this really annoying screaming sound that goes off every single morning. The first day it happened, I accidentally transported back to my world, simply out of pure, unadulterated shock. Anyways, she often lets this awful, shrill, woe-to-thee sound go on for at least a full minute before she turns it off.

I never brought it up to her, because, well ... if she can handle that noise, then I'd better be able to, too.

I go through my new ritual of twisting my body to get rid of the kinks that these uncomfortable human beds cause. As I rotate my head along with my torso, something on the other side of the bed catches my eye.

Wait. What's she doing there?

I scratch my head in confusion, still partly-drowsy, and try to recall what happened last night for me to have been such a generous person again.

The textbook slides out of Wynn's hands and lands on her lap. Her head is tilted into the crook of her shoulder as she dozes off, eyes tightly closed.

I glance at her and lazily blink my own eyes, wondering how in the world such an intellectual human being could be so irresponsible. Of course she'd fall asleep while reading that ridiculously boring chemistry textbook. It's practically sleep fodder.

I contemplate shoving her off the edge of the bed to wake her up, but decide that the only thing that would come out of that is my amusement and her wrath. And the latter is scary enough to convince me not to.

Inwardly sighing, I place the book lightly onto her nightstand and order the bedspread over her oddly-curled up form.

Guess telekinesis is actually serving a purpose in this world, for once.

The moment I cautiously drop her head onto the pillow, Wynn balls up into a fetal position, officially deep in sleep.

It doesn't take long for me to feel the drowsiness hit me as well.

"Wow. I am too freaking nice," I mutter to myself, glaring at a continuously-sleeping Wynn. "You are so lucky to have a reaper such as myself. Imagine if you'd been assigned to anyone else –"

I immediately shut my mouth as Wynn shifts underneath the covers – hopefully not from my talking out loud – and slides up into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes wearily.

It's funny, because I see her awakening expression go from confusion, as she pats the blanket around her, to dismay, as her sanity returns to her, and finally, to horror when she notices me. What's even funnier is that she lets out a yelp and topples out of the bed and onto the ground.

"I blame you," I immediately call out.

"Why am I here?" she demands, lifting her head slightly over the bedframe to look at me.

I pretend to consider this, tapping a finger against my chin. "Well, if I'm going to use your words ... I believe it's because it's your room and your bed. At least, that's what you keep telling me. Am I wrong?"

She picks herself up and looks around. "I wasn't supposed to fall asleep here. I was supposed to be studying." Her eyes flick around the room until she sees the chemistry textbook, and she quickly snatches it protectively into her hands.

"I'm starting to wonder how you managed to be a good student, when your studying skills are so lacking. Everyone knows your bed is the worst place to study," I point out.

"That's not the point." Wynn hastily shakes her head. "What have you done? Did you put a spell on me? Did you knock me out? Did you try to kill me but accidentally put me to sleep?"

I stare at her with an unamused face. "Do I look like I wanted to deal with you screaming at me first thing in the morning?"

"Then how did I ...?" She points at the bed, unable to finish her question.

I sigh, audibly this time. "Did you maybe consider that you were tired, and reading a textbook on a subject that you're not that interested in made you fall asleep on accident?"

Her mouth opens as if she's going to make a comeback, but she closes it after a moment and nods. "Fair point," she agrees. "And ... you let me stay here? Didn't you want to kick me out?" She brings the textbook over her mouth, cowering behind it. "Did you ... sleep here, too?"

I allow there to be silence between us for a few moments before I smirk, "Well ... what do you think?"

She reminds me more of a nine-year-old than a nineteen-year-old as she squeaks and races out of her own room. I shrug to myself. I wonder why she's so bashful. She acts as though, as a girl nearly reaching her twentieth birthday, she's never had to sleep in the same bed as another –

Oh. Oops.

I keep forgetting that she's such a boring human being. Poor thing. She's probably traumatized.

I'm starting to enjoy the thought of her fragile mentality when I suddenly hear her shout outside of the room.

"What the heck, Zaire? Why am I awake at seven in the morning?"

Woman. You tell me.

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