Hi! This is my first story. I welcome all comments, including reasonable criticisms and feedback. :) Thank you in advance!
I'm thinking about having a somewhat sequel for this Undertaker X OC pairing.
Let me know what you think!
I couldn't resist writing about the Undertaker after reading the manga HAHAHA
Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji, only my OC! If only my mind was as creative T_T
He should have grabbed that hand, should have held it tighter, should never have let her go. Her hand was always waiting for his. Why didn't he cherish it more? They thought that they had all the time in the world. Until the moment her name appeared in his 'To Die' list.
No. No. No. NO. NO! Not her! Anyone but her!
Desperation. Please don't take her away from me. Please don't. Please. Please. Please. PLEASE!
Despair. He was alone. He wasn't always. But he was, now.
Numbness.
Insanity and outrage. How dare they. How dare they. He couldn't imagine continuing in this endless life without her. How dare they. How dare they. She couldn't leave him. He wouldn't let her. How dare they. He wouldn't let them. How dare they. HOW DARE THEY TAKE AWAY WHAT WAS HIS.
A whisper of his name. The Undertaker slowly turned around, dread and anticipation in his veins. There was only one person who referred to him by that name. A name she gave him.
"You're here again." There she was again, sitting on his desk like she belonged there. She did. She belonged wherever he was. She was smiling at him, a twinkle in her eyes as she beckoned him closer with a wave of her hand.
"I'm always here. You just never see me."
"I've always been looking for you, waiting for you. But you never came back." His face was expressionless as he strode closer to her, but his tone revealed the betrayal and hurt he felt.
"Silly," She chuckled, hand reaching out to tenderly stroke his head as one might to a child that just woke from a nightmare. He closed his eyes, basking in the feel of her fingers combing through and weaving into his silky grey strands, head slightly leaning into her touch. "I've always been here. I'm always with you."
The room lapsed into silence, both savouring the closeness and the touch of the other. His name broke the silence, drawing his attention to the question asked.
"Are you happy?"
He didn't answer. How could he? The things he had done in his quest to try to get her back.
"You don't have to look for me in those bizarre bodies. I'm not there. I won't be there, no matter how many you look through."
He didn't dare look up at her, despite his aching longing to see her delicate features again. He knew that he would see disappointment in her eyes, eyes that always knew what he was thinking. But yet, he didn't regret it, not anything, not at all. He needed to find a way for her to come back to him. He wanted her - needed her - by his side again, no matter the cost. Her, who was taken away so abruptly and roughly, unwillingly.
"Are you happy?" She repeated. No, I'm not. But that's not important.
"That's the most important thing. Are you happy?" I'm happy when you're here.
He raised a hand to brush her cheek with the back of his hand, aching to feel that soft skin on his again. A distant memory from a time past long ago. He could almost hear her voice calling his name and chiding him, almost hear the sound of her laughter, almost feel the warmth of her skin beneath his palm, almost feel the touch of her lips against his. Almost deceive himself that she was still here by his side.
She turned around, eyes crinkled adorably in that radiant smile, hair of that regal blue shade gracefully swishing around her in an arc.
"Come on! Hurry up!" Her beautiful laugh echoing in his ears. Everything about her was wonderful, a breath of fresh air in his dull repetitive life of death. She made everything better, she made him laugh effortlessly. She made him happy. Her hand outstretched, waiting for his, for them to go together. He would have gone anywhere, as long as he was holding that hand.
Memory blended into present, and he reached out for the hand still waiting for his. He should have taken that hand, back then.
"..But you're not here anymore." You're not anywhere.
His breath hitched as his fingers passed through her hand. They weren't together anymore. Her form gradually turned translucent and then, disappeared with no trace of her ever being here. He was left staring at the spot she was just standing in moments before, hand still outstretched in the air, an unreadable expression on his face.
"You're not here anymore."
The three words he couldn't say, the words he never said. Why didn't he say it? He should have told her. She would never hear it now. Did she know it, though? Did he show her? That he loved her? That he never stopped loving her? That he would never stop? Even after all these years? Always. I love you.
The day he saw her again, he was struck dumb, unable to take his eyes away from that soul, her soul. The color of her hair was different. Her eyes, her hair, her face, her name. They were all different. Except her smile. It was still the same, it still carried the same kindness and care, it still seemed to make the world brighter. He would always know that smile. The shades of the world were no longer monochrome. Colors were slowly seeping back into his view, starting with the fiery orange of her hair and the turquoise of her eyes.
"You're here."
