It was cold.

The room was dark and empty; the moonlight gleamed in with a pale sapphire ache. Thunder rumbled hollowly outside.

Sweet, moist breaths rose from her lips as she breathed, the gradual progression from panting to the slow, rhythmic respiration of sleep. He stared into her wide eyes, his pupils open and clear and amazed.

His skeletal fingers flexed beneath her head.

This night a sin had been committed. The only sin he could commit. He had followed her. Watched her. Learned her every habit and flaw. And he had been bewitched by her.

She looked up at him with her radiant aqua eyes. Eyes so wide with pupils so full - never had he seen any like it. Any so ethereal. So inhuman. And so opposite his … so alive.

Yet she was more like him than any living being he had ever come across. She was pale and thin with long, black hair. Her mind was carefully woven into the most peculiar of shapes; her every thought glistening like a carefully built piece. They fit together in the most fascinating ways - she was constructed differently. Wired differently. She was hardly human at all.

The girl shifted beneath him, her soft, warm torso rubbing against his gaunt, cold ribs. It made a tremor run through his lifeless frame and he leaned closer. The proximity made her exhale shakily, eyes closing and her full lips parting.

She truly was incredible.

Tiny form flexing, she pulled herself up by his gaunt, gray shoulders. He pushed back slightly at the way it made his insides constrict, but she pulled until her soft lips pressed against his. A distorted sound echoed from his hollow lungs as she rubbed them timidly over his mouth, and his long, jagged nails pressed into her hair.

He was in love with a human.

Desperately.

Many fears plagued him - one would die. Her days were plentiful yet fixed. His lengthening of them would number his own. Yet he had chosen to forget; to ignore the pain of fact for one short piece of all time. To feel what he had never felt before, if only once.

And, more importantly, to be her first.

A little sound of pleading bubbled up from her throat as she pressed her mouth to his once more. Her ten little fingertips were warm on his tautly-stretched flesh. Her legs entangled with his moved as she drew them up, and with a low sound of defeat, he leaned forward, forcing her against her pillow.

He couldn't resist that mysterious beauty. Years of seeing what it did to people still wasn't enough to stop him from deepening further his foolish mistake.

If he was going to die, he might as well make the most of it.


I honestly don't know where the inspiration for this came from. I like Death Note, and also have a fondness for the strange and socially unacceptable. I don't know, is having a god of death as your boyfriend socially unacceptable? These days it might not be. X3