Title: Don't Fear the Reaper
#: 05. It is Fine
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt
Summary: A fic about death - as in, everyone you care about dies; this is not an exaggeration. A fic wherein the Chagny family is of intense interest to a soul reaper.
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Warning(s): AU, reaper!Erik, canonical character death
Word Count: 5,764
Rating: T
A/N: Totally did burn myself out with Halloween. :( But, I'm trying to get back into the groove of things and hopefully this fic will be better for me having taken a break of some sort.
Story note: Apparently, you should never trust my chapter titles. D:
o.o.o.o
Raoul is twenty when he returns from the sea to temporarily make his home in Paris.
His brother waits for him to settle in yet another house that he has tried to make a home. It is another city and another building that Philippe hopes will convince Raoul to stay because he thinks it is far enough away from Chagny, far enough away from the memories of the past. He does not understand that there will never be a far enough away because it has never been about a place or about the memories. It has only ever been about himself, and as much as Raoul has tried to obtain a sense of freedom, tried to change, he can never seem to get far enough away from himself. The world has never been too small apparently; only his mind is.
He does not even know which part of him is so discontent with life to make him unhappy, but he knows that part is still within him even now. But, whenever he sees the expectation that mixes with hope in his brother's eyes when he greets him, whenever it is obvious that he is silently willing the universe to make it so that Raoul has found what he has long been searching for away from home, Raoul cannot bear telling him that there is nothing he can do. He doubts Philippe would believe him anyway.
This time, it is a beautiful house that his brother has obviously spent time and money into making it warm, safe, and familiar and Paris is a city with much to offer. Raoul, however, cares little for the carriages, the galas and the glamour. His brother has made residence here and that is the only reason he is in Paris. He is determined to spend as much time with Philippe as he can, just as much as Philippe has made it clear that he intends to spend every waking moment with him as well.
That desperate need to be in each other's presence is admittedly Raoul's fault. He has spent the past two years not staying more than a week at a time on land much less with his brother. He has sent letters whenever he has been able to; admittedly, it is not so much a constant as his sisters' letters, but it is the best he can do. Philippe's own letters often never find their way to him; he is at sea so often. Now, he has several months, near half a year of leave because they are forced to wait for the fall and winter seasons to pass before they can even begin to attempt a search expedition.
It is a reprieve and Raoul finds true comfort in the fact that Philippe is still as protective as ever. His brother has not changed and that is more reassuring than it would have been two years ago, even despite the not-so-subtle hints about staying in Paris as patron of the Opera Populaire – Raoul wants to laugh every time he thinks that his brother has actually followed through with his plan to choose a suitable occupation for him as he had suggested all those years ago. Beneath the humour though, there is worry in his brother's expression and Raoul just knows someone has told him the details of the expedition to the North even though he has been purposefully vague about his next assignment. The topic will come up eventually, but in the mean time, he can do nothing but try harder to make Philippe forget all about the future and instead, focus on the present, focus on taking in everything they have missed about the other while they still have time instead of dwelling on how finite that time is.
He has missed many a thing about his brother, not only the easy familiarity borne of kinship between them. He misses the warmth of Philippe's arm across his shoulder as they walk, a hand mussing his hair – the only person Raoul ever allows to do that – and the cadence of his voice that faintly reminds Raoul of his mother when Philippe is relaxed and his father when he is tense. He misses the weight of fondness in his gaze when he thinks Raoul is not looking. It is better than the terror or the apology he has sometimes glimpsed and he knows for what the unspoken apology is.
It is for what it has always been, and for some reason, Raoul cannot find the words to speak about the contract to him. He knows that Philippe still tries to break it. He would not be his brother if he did not, but where once they would be able to spend an evening good-naturedly arguing about it, now it was simply verboten. Philippe has been pointedly avoiding any talk of it and his reaper; it is yet another thing he has worked hard to make sure this new home will not accommodate.
Raoul does not have the heart to tell him that Erik has followed him here from Chagny. His presence is less of a surprise than it should be though. Raoul has seen Erik at least once aboard every ship he has ever served, in every port and every station. The reaper never approaches him though, never keeps him company as he might once have. His presence is not for him. Raoul only sees Erik when someone nearby has died. He sees less of the reaper's eyes and face than he does the bone hand reaching out, reaching down, and touching a body to take a soul. He has never seen Erik look so grim than the first time he witnesses him taking a fellow sailor's life.
It is intentional, Raoul is certain, that he is saying more in this silence and his actions than any conversation between them could have achieved. Raoul simply chooses not to respond. They have yet to speak to each other and that is fine with him because he still does not know what to say. He had tried to apologize once but Erik simply left and Raoul had refused to call out to him. He still refuses to call out to him because it is easier that way. He thinks it is easier on Erik as well, that maybe they were never really supposed to become so close because death should not be so intent on preserving life.
Erik must have realized it, too, and decided to make the distance between them even farther. It is the only reason Raoul can think of for Erik giving him the ability to see when he is taking a soul. Erik has made him witness his true nature, witness the things Raoul had only ever thought of in the abstract. Two years is a long enough time to ensure that the foremost thought when Raoul sees Erik is that he is a reaper. He flinches when Erik appears because he wonders who is next. He wonders if it is the man beside him, a friend he has made, a villager, an enemy. He has even stopped wondering about territorial lines because there must be something in the contract, some deal he has made with the other reapers so that the region immediately surrounding Raoul is automatically Erik's territory.
In Paris, it is different. Erik lingers. It takes nearly a week of seeing him consistently, of the reaper being present near him at odd hours of the day before Raoul stops expecting someone in his immediate vicinity to die. And it is insupportable because Erik is not allowed to simply visit any more. Once, it had not been discomforting because they would talk and even when they did not talk, they understood. As they are now, there is no reason for him to be so present. He tries to stifle the part of him that hopes Erik is trying to reclaim the friendship they once had because he does not even know if he wants that much less, if it is possible. They are much too changed.
So, Raoul ignores him, hoping he does not yet know that two years living a life he has chosen has not freed him entirely from his anger. He is not happy so much as he is no longer in a rage. The discontent has not gone away and perhaps staying trapped on a boat for weeks and months at a time has not helped him, but he has learned how to better contain the anger. He has learned how to reason away the guilt and how to forget how much he hates himself. That elusive happiness he once had as a child seems impossible when he thinks about the daily reminders of the contract he had with Erik by his side.
Without even such daily reminders, the separation has only made Raoul think more about the contract, think more about Erik and frankly, it makes him want to leave again and try even harder to be someone new, to be someone else. However, he is already tired of running. He is tired of being away from his brother and his home. He just does not know how to stop any more. He promises himself just one last expedition. He will give himself one last chance to find that freedom and happiness he so wants and then he will come back and settle like his brother wants.
For now though, he tries to forget about all that. His brother and the Opera Populaire are enough distractions to do just that, especially when he finds that his and Christine's paths have crossed once more. The few times Philippe is otherwise preoccupied, he spends the scant hours with her in the opera house sharing tales of his adventures. She is a captive audience and his throat is usually sore when he returns home because he has amassed quite a good deal of stories.
Tonight, he has just returned from dining with her. He does nothing more than fall into his bed and attempt to fall asleep, but it is difficult when Erik is present and staring at him from across the room. His expression is unreadable and it has been so long that Raoul cannot even decipher the small little clues that Erik gives away. He no longer knows what his crossed arms might mean or the tight line of his lips pressed together, the tensed shoulders, the seemingly dispassionate eyes; so, he shuts his eyes to it all. Raoul may not be able to sleep but he refuses to be the first person to speak.
Erik eventually moves when Raoul is just beginning to think he should just feign sleep in hopes that the reaper will go away. He surprises him by sitting on the edge of his bed like he used to do when Raoul had been younger.
"Have you returned for good?" His voice is low and Raoul might have said hesitant, but he does not think Erik ever hesitates. It sounds more as if he would prefer to speak on something else but the words simply refuse to come out.
Raoul opens his eyes and the situation makes him feel years younger. It is all so familiar. His bedroom may not be the same but the dip of the bed, Erik's suit, the play of shadows across his face, the warm body to curl around and the gloved hand he could reach out and hold if he just let himself indulge in the touch are all so nostalgic.
He remains lying on his back. The only indication he has heard Erik is the fact that he is staring at the ceiling. He takes several calming breaths before he responds.
"Do you not know already?" The words come out more defensive than he wants, but he means it. He doubts Erik does not know how long his leave is, does not know of the expedition to the North. If his brother has somehow found out, then certainly the reaper has as well. He frowns as an errant thought about them crosses his mind, but the thought quickly passes.
Erik does not rise to the bait, does not react to his tone. He says instead, "Are you so intent on shortening your life?"
It is a struggle to remain lying down, but he manages it. He fists the blankets in his hands though and closes his eyes in an effort to calm himself. "You own my death." He shakes his head, hair tousling against the pillow because that sounded too loud in his ears. He whispers, "Why does it matter to you how I spend my life?" It is a more important question because he truly wants to know. He cannot figure out what Erik has to gain with his life and he has spent endless sleepless nights trying to reason why.
Instead of answering, Erik asks, "How was your dinner?"
He is not particularly surprised by the redirect. He remembers ruefully that Erik does not lie. If he is unwilling to answer a question, he will simply keep his silence. Raoul, on the other hand, has no problem with telling half-truths, but he knows he cannot outright lie to a man who has never lied to him.
He refuses to reveal the fact that dinner was less than optimal. He and Christine had finally exhausted all topics about the present and Raoul's adventures, and they went so far back to speak about their childhood, more specifically about her father. He could hardly look her in the eyes when she began to speak about Monsieur Daae, a man for whom she still mourns. Her smile had faltered. Her eyes had begun to shine with unshed tears, and she simply shut down. She became increasingly quiet, her words growing as distant as her gaze had been. Even though Raoul had done his best to comfort her, all he had been able to wonder was if he should have warned her, if pre-knowledge of her father's death would have somehow made it easier.
He tells himself that it would not have. She would have only worried endlessly and their last days together would have been tainted with fear and desperation. At least, he tries to convince himself of this fact. In truth, he wants to avoid her at any cost now. The guilt is too much.
"It is a surprise that she is here. We have been catching up. She is…" He does not know what he can say about her. "She has grown to be a beautiful woman," he admits and that is the truth. He has seen the crowd of men waiting to meet her after her performances. He could not be happier for her newfound success, but any hope of rekindling his first love is rather hopeless.
Erik is gone before he needs to say anything else, and it still takes him hours before he falls asleep.
After that night, he sees Erik more but it feels as though the silence between them has only grown deeper. Despite his best efforts, he is consumed by a feeling of dread and his natural instinct is to wait expectantly. He waits for the next person to die so that he can see Erik remove his glove and reveal pristine white bone contrasting starkly with his dark suit. He wonders if it will be Christine and Erik had been trying to tell him in their conversation or perhaps it is finally Raoul's time and Erik simply does not know how to admit it.
The worry and fear manage to ruin only fractionally what time he spends with his brother. His brother's enthusiasm has a way of sweeping Raoul up in its wake. They have so much to catch up and Philippe has cleared his schedule specifically to shower him with time and affection. His brother does not say it aloud but Raoul rather thinks Philippe does not expect him to return from the North Pole expedition. It is dangerous, but he has seen worse in his time with the navy, not that he will admit that aloud.
He rather basks in the attention in which Philippe lavishes him. They breakfast together, go drinking, and reminisce late into the night. They eat out every day and watch the opera whenever they can. His brother tells him of his niece and two nephews, filling him in on what he has missed in the two years of his absence. They roughhouse and Raoul finds that the navy has been kind to him because he can finally beat Philippe in their wrestling matches and if he is lucky, in the swordfights. Eventually, the fear uncoils from his stomach.
Of course, that is when his brother decides to bring up the conversation about the North and Raoul is caught completely unaware.
"I would like you to stay here." It is such a simple statement. They are in the parlor and Philippe has been nursing a single tumbler of his favorite bourbon, lost in thought for much of the evening while Raoul catches up on all the books he has been unable to read. "Everything you need is here. I have ensured it."
At his words, Raoul places a finger in the book and says warningly, "Brother." He knows Philippe's seemingly innocuous statements are less statement than they are a segue into a much larger conversation. His brother has been quiet for much too long after dinner for that to be the end all. "If it is about the expedition to the North, you must know that it is quite safe for us."
Philippe looks a little confused by the topic of the North and Raoul wonders if he has revealed it prematurely. His brother shakes his head slightly as comprehension dawns, and in all seriousness says, "I worry for you. Wherever you may be," he adds. "But, here… I know this may not be the life that you want." He gestures to the room.
Raoul will not admit that maybe this could be what he wants: the quiet, the stillness, the fireplace keeping the chill at bay, the house that is a home because his brother has made it so, because his brother is here. The walls are not so pressing, the rooms not suffocating. He has just finished a satisfying meal and he is not worrying about anything. He is warm and though it might not be the happiness he imagines is out there somewhere, he is content. Right now, this is all he can imagine wanting. If he could somehow freeze this moment, he would stay in it forever.
"But you may learn to love it," Philippe says hopefully.
There is no way to stop time, Raoul knows. "I cannot stay here forever," he says apologetically.
"You do not have to," Philippe is quick to respond, though he somehow feels distant to Raoul through it all. "You need a home."
Raoul stares down at the book in his hands because he cannot look at his brother when he agrees with him. He would like a home.
Philippe finally stops staring at his tumbler and downs the rest of his bourbon. "Perhaps you can settle down."
Raoul clings on to his phrasing. "Settle down?" he laughs, hoping to distract Philippe from his train of thought. "I am not so old as to do that, am I?"
His brother spares him a grin. "And you are calling me old?"
"I am calling you," he jests and it is easier than the truths his brother might have uncovered, "experienced, knowledgeable. It is you who should be settling down and I swear" – he crosses his heart – "that I will be present for each and every single one of your sons' births."
Philippe just stares at him blankly, a sad sort of smile in place. "You should have heirs," he mutters.
Placing his book down, Raoul moves to stand up, but his brother places a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated.
"Please think about it. I just want…"
Raoul easily knows the end of that sentiment. "Want me to be safe."
Philippe musses his hair. "Safe and happy, Raoul. I want you to be happy. You may think I have not noticed, but the navy has not made you so."
Raoul ducks from his hand and he just pats his head instead.
"This old man needs his sleep." Before Raoul can react, he bends down and sloppily kisses him on the forehead. "I love you."
He walks away and Raoul watches him go in bemusement. Though affectionate, his brother does not often say the words aloud. Raoul does not think he really has to because he already knows without a doubt in his mind that it is so. He calls back immediately though, "I love you, too."
Raoul can hardly concentrate on his book after their conversation. He expects to see Erik eavesdropping as he normally does, but he does not appear. Giving up on the pretense of reading, he heads upstairs to go to bed early as well.
Some time in the middle of the night, he wakes and cannot discern why. His room is empty and all his things are in place, illuminated well enough by the gibbous moon. There is no unnatural silence. No nightmares chase him from slumber, but he is wide-awake. He lies still and wonders if he should even attempt to return to sleep. The answer is obviously no; he gets out of bed and he has enough experience trusting his instincts to lead him out of his room and down the hallway. All the candles have been extinguished but he has spent almost two months in this house. He knows it well enough to be able to find his way. The only place he would ever want to go is to Philippe's room to see if he can bother him.
His brother's room, too, is dark, but that does not stop Raoul from turning the doorknob as quietly as he can and slowly pushing it open. He peers around the door only to freeze. The moonlight is enough to reveal a scene that nearly stops his heart.
Philippe is asleep in his bed, comforter having fallen down to his stomach as he lays on his side, hugging a spare pillow to himself. That is normal. What is less so, is the fact that Erik stands over him, his right hand bare and skeletal, reaching out to him.
"Erik!" Raoul lunges forward, swinging the door open so that it bangs against the wall and bounces back to slam shut. He does not care about the noise he makes because it startles Erik away from the bed. He dives across his brother who lets out a gust of air at the sudden weight upon him, and Erik immediately pulls further away in alarm, careful to stay away from him, lest he touch the wrong Chagny.
"What are you doing?" he says accusingly.
Erik will not meet his eyes. He focuses on carefully tugging his glove into place.
Raoul does not have the opportunity to ask him again, though he wants to. His brother shifts beneath him letting out a gasping sort of cough, and he takes the hint to move off him. He half-kneels on the bed, keeping himself between Philippe and Erik. Holding an arm out in front of his brother, Raoul glares at the reaper. "Stay away from him."
Erik lifts his head slowly to meet his eyes and Raoul swallows with some effort because there is no guilt there, simply sadness. Understanding. And the conclusion Raoul is quickly drawing is not one he can accept.
"Raoul," Philippe whispers and the denial is nearly on Raoul's lips, so he is grateful for the distraction. Saying it aloud would only make it more possible. He ignores Erik, turning his back completely to the reaper as he grabs hold of the hand that Philippe has on his arm. He cannot understand why he suddenly looks so pale and fragile. He blames the moonlight, blames the all-too-busy schedule his brother normally maintains.
"Brother," Philippe offers him a smile but it is shaky and it is all wrong because that smile looks more like a wince. "Everything is fine. It is fine. It is." He glances towards Erik and Raoul freezes, hand gripping Philippe's tightly.
"You can see him." It comes out in a single exhale of disbelief, of denial. He looks between them. "Why can you see him? You cannot see him!" His voice rises and when his brother does not answer, he turns to Erik. "Why do you reveal yourself now? What…?" He cannot breathe and only Philippe's hand anchors him in the moment. Erik looks away again like he cannot stand seeing Raoul like this, like for once in his existence he is ashamed of what he is because it has led them to this point. He is about to demand an explanation when Philippe speaks.
"I am unwell, Raoul." He places a hand to his chest and his eyes shut for a moment. "I have been. Erik has…" he struggles to explain, "helped. He has waited because I have asked and there is…" The words just stop and he takes a moment to collect himself, and Raoul wants to know why he does not sit up, wonders why his brother is not fighting this and struggling and how can he lie down in a moment like this. Philippe settles for the statement, "He has waited," as though that is explanation enough, and unfortunately, Raoul understands. His brother does not have the strength to move.
He fights the tears that quickly brim and fall. Shaking his head, he falls into his brother's waiting arms that clutch him close. There surrounded by his scent, his warmth, his strength, Raoul thinks of a future without him and he sobs. He thinks of two years worth of memories they could have filled between them and he cannot breathe through the tightness in his throat. A slew of thoughts insignificant and mundane manage to break what little control Raoul has on his emotions: his brother during breakfast, behind his desk, hiding behind the morning paper, laughing as they race upon their horses, or playing with their niece and nephews because Raoul knows the children love their uncle already. His brother would make the best of fathers.
"Go back to bed," Philippe suggests when the heaving of Raoul's chest has lessened, when his sobs are quiet enough. "You are not meant to be here, and I suppose it is time." He glances at Erik, giving him a slight nod. He does not think the reaper sees the motion because his gaze is fixed on Raoul. He rubs circles on Raoul's back and tries to tame the mess his hair has become. "Go back to sleep."
Raoul shakes his head and clings to him more, tears soaking Philippe's nightshirt. "No." He pushes himself away so that the words are not muffled. He looks at Erik and demands, "Make another deal. Another contract."
Erik glances at Philippe and Raoul wants nothing more than to block their line of sight. It feels wrong; they should not be so well acquainted that a single look is all it takes to convey a message, and Raoul wants to know how long Philippe has known, how long they have been waiting just for him to come home.
"I cannot," Erik says.
"What do you mean you cannot?" Raoul sits up further and he knows his face is streaked with tears and his cheeks are probably blotchy but his voice does not crack and that is all that matters. "Mother was dying, and you saved her." It would not matter if his voice cracks because he needs to do this for his brother. "Save him."
Philippe and Erik share another look and Raoul wants to grab Erik's face to keep him focused on him alone, but when the reaper finally looks at him, it is to slowly shake his head.
"I have strengthened his life as much as I could," Erik explains haltingly and Raoul knows it is because he is not allowed to explain at all. There are concepts there that he cannot put into words and at the moment, all Raoul hears are excuses, excuses for letting his brother die. "There are instances where there is nothing left to extend. He is already too far gone."
"If I mean anything at all to you" – he launches himself at Erik, his hands gripping Erik's lapels the only thing keeping him upright – "save him."
This is the closest they have been to each other in more than two years and all Raoul can do is shake him. He himself is shaking regardless. Erik's face looks the same, his eyes, his deformity. The expression is new though. Raoul knows reapers never age, but it did not stop the expectation from being there. It is yet another thing to be angry with him for because his brother has felt the passage of time all too clearly.
Philippe puts a hand on his back and the touch alone is enough to extract Raoul from his grip on Erik. "Raoul."
Raoul cannot bear to look at either of them as he slumps back down onto the bed and Philippe sounds like he normally does, all chastisement and fondness and a sob breaks free. He shakes his head to what, he is unsure, perhaps to the entire situation.
"I have…" Erik starts.
But Raoul simply does not care. Erik will not save him. "You have done nothing!"
Philippe sighs. He gently tugs Raoul's arm and Raoul turns and naturally curls up against him, head resting on his shoulder. "He has been holding me together for months," Raoul flinches at that, but Philippe continues, "and I can feel myself slipping away."
"Hold on tighter." Raoul says, as though it is that easy. "For me. For me, please." He knows it is not so easy. The words are muffled against Philippe's shoulders and a fresh surge of tears begins to fall. "I will not go to the North. I swear I will not. I promise. I promise."
Pressing his lips to Raoul's temple, Philippe takes in a shuddering breath and Raoul tries to look up to see if he is crying but Philippe holds him down. "Go back to sleep." His grip does not loosen on him though. "I did not want you to see this."
Raoul clenches his brother's shirt in his hands. "You expected me to wake up and simply find you dead?" His voice cracks at the last word and he tries to cover it up by sniffling loudly. "How is that better? How?"
"Listen to your brother." Erik says.
"No," Raoul spares just a moment to glare at him because the anger feels better than the misery that threatens to overwhelm him. "You do not get to tell me what to do."
Erik clenches his teeth through his retort, "I know that."
Philippe's next statement has all of Raoul's attention though. "I was selfish." His smile is all wrong again and it all makes sense now even though Raoul does not want it to. "And I wanted to see you one last time even though it would not have lasted. I could not tell you."
And Raoul wonders how long he will mourn, if his grief will rival Christine's. "I am not leaving." Even as he shakes his head, he can feel Philippe relax beneath him. "You will not die alone. You… There is so much…"
Philippe kisses him on his head. "I am so proud of you." His voice is rough and Raoul does not need to look up to know that he is crying. His body is relaxing in increments, relaxing and Raoul wants to tell him to fight harder. "I never get to say it enough, but I am so proud of you."
Instead, he tries to memorize the words, the feeling he receives hearing them from Philippe's voice. He tries to imprint them in his very being because it is all already slipping from his fingers.
"No. Not yet." He begs, "Not yet."
The hand on his back makes lazy circles. "I am sorry."
"For what?" Raoul sobs and he rambles, sentences falling in quick succession, "You have been the greatest of brothers. It is I who am sorry. I never should have left. I should have visited more. I should have been here."
Erik turns away from the scene. He cannot block out the sound of Raoul's choked sobs or Philippe's contrite tone though.
"I am sorry I am leaving you alone." Philippe quirks a smile. "I never meant to."
Raoul's breath hitches. He cannot speak. His throat spasms and constricts because there is still too much left to say. He sees movement from the corner of his eyes and he tries to cover more of Philippe's body, make it impossible for Erik to find any part of him to touch. He would sacrifice his body if he could.
"Please no." His voice cracks, sounds too weak. He reaches out and knows Erik lets him grab his wrist. The tears blur his vision so much, the bones getting closer to his brother could simply be a pale, pale hand. Erik waits for him.
"Shh," Philippe coaxes, trying to calm him. He can feel the rapid rise and fall of Raoul's chest. "It is fine. It is fine," he repeats over and over and Raoul knows he is trying to convince the both of them. "You will be fine," he whispers. "I love you."
"I love you," Raoul replies. It is not enough to say it once. "I love you," he says but he means do not leave me, do not go, do not die.
Do not die.
Philippe understands but does not make empty promises. Stroking Raoul's head, he settles more comfortably with him on his chest, as though they are still children not worried about what their future holds, implicitly believing that there is still a future for them both.
Raoul has to let go of Erik's hand to properly hug him, to make sure all the words he has never found the time to say is transmitted through his touch, through this one last embrace, through his tears.
His brother's hand stills and slides onto the bed well before Raoul's tears stop falling.
Raoul is twenty and he memorizes the sound of the last beats of his brother's heart.
o.o.o.o
End chapter 05
A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: One of the first on-screen deaths we read. D: Not the last of course, but it's there. Actually, if it'll sooth your mind. I think there's only one more death in this story. Also, this chapter killed me to write. It gets dramatic and honestly, I like it dramatic because when else am I going to write about death?