Chapter 6
Questions Answered… Sort Of
As the water runs across our bodies we stand in our post codal bliss, my back being hugged to his chest as he holds me up. After floating back from out pleasure he draws out, leaving an empty void feeling in his wake.
"Are you ok? Can you stand." Still incoherent I attempt to answer to the best of my abilities.
"Hmmm" Pulling me upright he tries to let me go to turn off the water, but my legs give way and I ended up falling to the floor.
"Ahhh. No, up we come." Pulling me back up he held his arm around me.
"I thought you said you could stand."
"Hmmm"
"Ok then, can you move?" Lethargically I wrap my own arm around him and lean my head on his shoulder. Smiling down at me I close my eyes.
"Can you talk then?"
"Hmmmm" Sweeping his fringe out of his face to look at me he leans in closer, kissing my cheek.
"Then I suppose I'll have to tell everyone about that naughty box of secrets you have, I'm sure they'ed love to know what you did with that little gift of mine, and how you moaned." Jumping up I find myself on the floor again in the stream of water.
"No you can't, that was your fault, I couldn't work out what it was and I dropped it when I turned it on." Stooping down he lifts me into his arms after shutting off the water, giggling at me.
"Don't you worry Birdie, it'll be our little secret... Only, if you tell me a joke."
"What? Why would I tell you a joke? Even if I did know some." Still holding on to his arms I pull away slightly, only to see that irritating grin plastered to his lips.
"Oh come one, everyone knows that it's the only thing of true value in this world. So please, give it to me. Please give me the gift of true laughter. Just one joke and all my information is yours." Saying this he becomes even more hyper and starts to jump up and down in excitement, little water droplets falling everywhere.
"Look Undertaker I don't know any jokes ok, not one. But if you do happen to tell anyone about my secret then I'll have to tell everyone exactly what you like in bed, and how you stalk young boys and watch them changing. So I wouldn't even try to let my little secret out, ok." Giving off a slightly confused scared look his smile fades slightly.
"I wasn't stalking you, I was just you know keeping an eye on you. I wasn't watching either, I just couldn't help but hear you. You don't exactly keep quiet when it comes to these things, you know."
Taking me by the waist he pulled me out of the shower he rests me down onto the chair by the bath. Picking a fluffy grey towel from a pile on a stool he begins rubbing me down, being careful of the scar along my side. Turning me around he gently rubbed the towel over my back and across my neck making me squirm.
"Hehehe is someone ticklish, so cute. My sweet little Birdie. It's ok I won't make you tell me a joke, and I won't tell anyone about you little box, so yous safe. Just don't tell people I stalked you, please." Going slightly red he turns away,but I turn him back to face me.
"I won't say anything, promise. And I'm NOT ticklish, I'm just a bit sore sitting down at the moment. Anyway it's your turn, give me the towel." Snatching it from his hands I start toweling the water from his skin, running up and down his arms and chest, somehow like this it just seems so innocent. Even with what we had just done. Concentrating on not leaving any water behind I don't realise the staggering giggle from the man in front of me until he's laughing his head off.
"What? Whats wrong with you. Did I miss a funny thing?" Still giggling he pushes my hands away from under his arms. He's ticklish, that's so funny a strong guy like him and he's ticklish.
"Hahahaha, sorry love but that's so cute your ticklish, now I know what to do to when I want you to stop laughing at me." Holding on to his sides I try to tickle him again but he grabs my hands before I can.
"No, your not tickling me or I'll tickle you back." Careful to keep my hands away from his ticklish areas he wrapped his arms around me.
"Good now we should get you dressed or you'll catch your death. Come on, going up." Wrapping my legs around his waist I hold onto his neck as he lifts me into the air. Still naked my bare chest presses up against his as he holds me close for added warmth.
Blindly walking into the bedroom he bends and lightly drops me on the the soft sheets, the cool material still musky from our earlier activities. Leaving me lying there he wonders over the the wardrobe and opens it up, selecting from its contents a t-shirt and a new pair of jeans, as well as some underwear from one of the draws. Coming back over to the bedside he throws the clothing on the bed and sits on the edge, helping me sit up. Wincing a bit I realise how sore my muscles had become from all the…um, exercise.
"Hehehe, I told you you were going to be sore, didn't I. You never listen to what I saw." Pulling at his neck I bring my face closer to his, and lock my eyes with his.
"Of course I don't listen to anything you say, you're mad. Absolutely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret, all the best people are." This makes him laugh as I pecking him lightly on the lips and release my hold on him and move to stand. But strong arms pull me back down to his chest.
"I wouldn't try standing just yet Birdie, just stay like this a while longer." Again ignoring him I pull myself from his hold and rise off the bed. Falling back I miss the bed as my legs give way.
"Owww why does that hurt so much, my hips feel like hell." As he starts giggling again he holds my arms up above my head he slips the shirt on, while I am still sat on the floor with my legs wrapped up under myself.
"Told you not to move Birdie." Resting my back on the black painted side of the bed he slides my on my underwear and jeans, leaving the button and zipper to me.
"If you can't do buttons, how do you do up your jeans?" Hooking the button through its hole and sipping them up I bring my arms around his neck and pull myself infront of him.
"Well Birdie it just takes a lot longer, that or I leave them undone." How does he spend the day like that, surely someone would notice and wouldn't they fall down.
"Well not anymore, I'm not risking someone seeing you like that anymore. Come on, let's get you dressed too."
Unwrapping my arms from around his neck he rises and starts walking around the room, picking up all of his discarded clothing, sliding them on as he went, leaving the button and zipper of his trousers open.
"Can I get a hand? Or do you want me to show everyone what's underneath." A smile spreads its way across my face as I crawl towards his legs, and wrap both of mine around his ankles, using his firm thighs as an anchor as I sit straight and reach for his zipper.
"I don't know why you can't do your buttons up, their really not that hard. But I suppose I don't mind helping." Finishing with his jeans I reach my arms up like a small child, indicating that I want to be helped up.
"Hehehehe, someone's getting very dependent on me for help. Don't tell me that I fucked you that hard." W...what the hell… why?
"No I'm just a bit, um, stiff. It has nothing to do with what you did to me. It's just a natural reaction." As my face turns 50 shades of red I turn away from him, pouting at him. There is no way I'm going to let him win this one, especially since I didn't get to win last time.
Before I manage to get my way I am pulled up by my arms and crushed back into his chest and am held there.
"Get off weirdo, I can stand on my own, come on get off." Struggling I try to free myself, but he knows that I can't actually hold myself up, despite my words and he holds on to me.
"Why don't you stop struggling and let me carry you to the kitchen, otherwise we'll never get any breakfast." Lifting me into his arms he carries me princess style again.
"Fine, but if you call me a princess again I'm going to tickle you."
"Hehehehe, such a violent little Birdie aren't you. Maybe I should tie those pretty little hands up so you can't do any mischief with them. What do you think about that?" What?
"No, no, no, no. I promise to behave, I won't tickle you."
Squirming again, I try to get comfortable wrapped in his strong arms as he carries me out of the door into a long narrow corridor. Like my own room the walls are painted a dark grey and the doors scattered along them are all black, with intricate carvings into the much light on the end of the corridor was drenched in darkness, leading down an equally narrow staircase. As we drop down the staircase, I realise just how graceful he is, not causing even a bump for me as we almost glide over the black painted steps. Lining the walls are small picture frames, held within small colour pictures of people stand, almost abandoned, the people dressed in all sorts of strange costumes. One, by far the largest showed a young dark haired boy wearing an eye patch, dressed in an old fashioned blue waistcoat, with matching shorts and expensive looking shoes, while holding a cane. Just behind him stood a much taller black haired man in a black tailcoat. An old style butler completely normal except his eyes were red, even though its photograph his eyes look as though their moving.
"Who's that Undertaker?" Looking up at him I pose my question, but I do not get an answer. He just looks at the photo with a fond, caring look. Who are these people to him? Did something bad happen to them? Is that why he won't tell me? Turning away from the photograph he continues the walk down the stairs.
"You don't need to worry about them, they were around along time ago. How about a bacon sandwich for breakfast, now that it's nearly lunchtime anyway." Continuing on down the stairs he enters a large kitchen, a lot lighter than the rest of the rooms I had seen. The walls were a lighter grey, and the counters were almost a silvery dark grey, with dark grey cabinets hanging above them on the walls. Stood in the center of the room was a long dark wood table, covered in all sorts of bottles and ingredients, as well as a few dirty cups, plates and bowls. At the end of the room stood one set of double doors leading out into a courtyard, and on the adjacent wall stood another single doorway, without a door leading into another dark room, I could not currently see into.
Placing me down on a black cushioned stall I watch as he walks purposefully from one cupboard to another, selecting different boxed cups plates and ingredients from a hidden fridge in the corner. Placing them all on the counter in front of me he takes one of the pans from a rack on the wall and turns on the cooker hob, dropping some oil in the pan.
"So my little Birdie, how do you like your bacon? Crispy I suppose." Taking 8 rashes of the bacon from a plate he drops them into the pan, leaning back slightly as they sizzle and spit at him.
"I thought you would know how I like my bacon, seeing as you've been stalking me this whole time." Turning in shock he looks slightly guilty again.
"Hehehe. I said sorry about following you, but you were in danger and I can get a little too into my hobbies." I'm his hobby now, creep.
"So you admit that your creepy then?" Still smiling he turns back the the hissing pan and giggles again.
"I suppose I am, but I did it to keep you safe so it doesn't count as being creepy. Yes I do know how you like your bacon, and most other things for that matter." Turning he reaches for the eggs and selects two of the biggest ones, cracking them effortlessly into the pan.
"Where did you learn to cook?"
"Hehe. Well Birdie I trained in Paris for a while when I was working there, It was a very funny experience too. One of my friends there had a hand blessed by an indian goddess. He could make a mean curry." Smiling he flips the eggs and bacon over in the pan, which gave him time to slide 4 pieces of bread, and some butter over to me.
"Butter those for me would you, the cutlery is in the draw next to you." Taking a knife out I start applying the butter to the bread, as I watch the Undertaker move around by the cooker, his ass wiggling beautifully one way and then the other as he goes. How does he not have a girlfriend with an ass like that.
"Should you be cooking with your hair wet like that? Its dripping on to your back." Not taking notice of the damp back of his shirt he turns and places the bacon and eggs onto the bread.
"It doesn't bother me much. Plus if we went to dry it off then the sandwiches would get cold, so eat up." Accepting the plate I take a bite of the hot delicious food, savoring the homely feel the smell of bacon creates.
"Soooo goooood. Thank you Undertaker you're the… What are you staring at?" As I looked up I see his face laughing and staring at me, like I was a ghost.
"Oh sorry Birdie, I didn't mean to stare, but you have egg on your chin. And well… nothing never mind." Bending over the table he wipes the drop of egg from my chin with his thumb, then licking it off himself. I think he's trying to be sexy again.
"Was it something naughty Undertaker, are you fantasizing about bad stuff again." This time it was him that went red, embarrassed that his thoughts had been so easily decoded.
"Um… Sorry. I didn't mean too, promise." Wow, really mature Undertaker.
"It's ok, I don't mind. These things happen."
For the next couple of minutes we eat in silence, devouring our food. Soon enough the Undertaker had finished his food and was setting the kettle to boil.
"Tea?"
"Na, coffee please. oh and Undertaker can I ask you something?"
"That's unusual for you, and sure. What is it?" Turning back to me he goes to take the kettle off the stove but misses the handle, and burns himself on the side of the metal.
"Ow ow ow owow owowowow. Shit that hurt." Running about he starts to panic as I calmly take his arm to stop him.
"First stop running about. Second go and run it under the cold water until I say you can stop. Then come back over here to let me have a look. Go on then." Sending him away he growled at his hand and shoots over to the sink, dunking his hand into the cool stream of water.
"Oww, it's not fair. Why do I always end up burning myself?"
"That's because you never pay attention to the things you're doing, and you spend your whole life laughing at stuff. Any way you should be fine now, come here, let me see."
Holding my hand out to him he whimpers and walked over to me. Taking his hand I examine the small burn mark on his little finger, already beginning to heal itself into a scar.
"Aw you big baby, it's already healing. Stop whimpering like a puppy." Leaning down I peck the little patch of red.
"Is already healing, how does it do that? Did you have some of that stuff from last night too?"
Glancing up at his face I noticed that his fringe had dryed and fallen back into his eyes. So reaching up to him I try to pull back his hair, but he moves out of my reach.
"No don't, not right now. Please."
"Why? Whats wrong? You said you wouldn't hide." Determined to understand what's wrong and without thinking I pull his hair from his face and pin it to the top of his head with my hand. Beneath his hair his normally beautiful eyes now changed. They were now twisting swirling pools of dark green mixing with a lightning yellow.
"W… wha… what are you?" I release his hair, but not all of it falls down and I can't stop staring at his eyes. What is he? Whats going on?
"Please don't be scared. Please. I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I swear… Please don't be afraid of me." Saying this he leans his head on my shoulder and holds his arms around my thin waist, settling himself on my lap lightly. Thinking he's going to start crying I place my hand on his head and stroke his hair. I don't know what he is but I promised I wasn't afraid of him.
"I told you I won't run away. I'm not scared I promise, it just... started me a bit. Please don't cry. I'm not going to leave you. Please, you're ok, you're ok." He still doesn't talk, so I continue to hold him closer to me and bring my other arm around his shoulders. I don't know what he is, but it shouldn't matter. I'm going to look after him.
"It's ok, you don't have to be scared. I'll look after you." Mumbling into my shoulder he looks back up at me, his eyes back to normal except for the glossy shine covering them, where his tears are building up.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to scare you, I can't help when they change." He doesn't move from that spot for some time afterwards, waiting for my response. So I take his chin lightly in my fingers and make him raise his head so he is looking directly at me and I kiss him. A long sweet kiss filled with all of the emotion I can give him. He responds after a moment of confusion and leans into the kiss, tightening his arms around my waist.
Eventually however we have to release each other's lips to be able to catch our breaths. and he leans again on my shoulder.
"Thank you for understanding love. I hope I didn't scare you too much. I'll tell you all I can ok, but you need to promise not to tell anyone, ever. Do you understand Birdie?" Rising from my lap he goes again to the stove top and retrieves the kettle. Pouring the steaming water into the two cups resting on the counter in front of me. Taking one I watch as he walks slowly back around the counter and settles onto one of the stools next to me.
As the silence stretched out between us he turns back towards me, finally ready to explain.
"I need you to promise me that you're not going to tell anyone what I'm about to tell you, ok. Promise me." Nodding I allow him to continue.
"Ok, so I know this may sound a bit weird. But It's totally ok and normal, well sort of and I won't hurt you because of it, so just don't freak out, ok?" I nod again and he continues.
"Well… I… I'm… a Grim Reaper." Whispering the last part he looks down into his coffee regret and fear of my rejection taking over his face. He's a grim reaper? Like collecting the dead kind of grim reaper?
"Like, what do you mean, like you collect dead bodies for a living? Is that it? Or the actual death scythe, soul stealing grim reaper?" He laughs at this, his eyes alight with humor.
"Hehehe. We don't steal the souls we collect them when it is there time to die and decide whether the deserve to either continue living, or pass on into the afterlife. But I do also collect dead bodies for my actual work."
Silence stretches through the room as I tip my head to the side slightly, narrowing my eyebrows in confusion.
"Ok, so you evidently don't understand Birdie. Let me explain. I used to work as a real Grim Reaper, collecting souls and passing judgment on the people that die. But I retired so now I work as a mortician in the shop through there." Pointing to the dark doorway behind me he continues. "Do you understand now Birdie?"
"Ok so you're telling me that you used to work as an actual Grim Reaper, with the hole death scythe thing and all. But you quit to become a mortician that buries dead people instead… WAIT, does that mean that there are dead people in here?" Shocked from the idea of sharing a home with dead bodies I forget about the Undertaker being, well an Undertaker and jump into his chest.
"You understand how creepy that is, don't you? Were basically sharing our home with dead bodies that could get up and kill us as we sleep, making us join their army of the living dead. I don't want to become a zombie." I continue to cower into his chest as I can feel the vibrations from his laughter.
"How many zombie films do you watch? Hehehehe really that's just- hehehehe." he pauses to steady his laughing "You'll be fine Birdie, they can't come and kill you. I made sure that they are all definitely dead. Ok?" He pulls me into his lap once more and takes up my cup from the side, handing it to me with delicate fingers. Taking the cup I notice that all of his fingernails are different lengths, with the black nail varnish chipped in several places. Taking a sip of my drink I take one of his hands into mine and examine the nails, they've evidently been ripped off by something, but they are still fairly long. I remember when he saved me at the bus stop his nails were really long, but now they're all uneven.
"What happened to your nails, they're all scruffy." He looks down at his hands, expression changed.
"Oh, you know I completely forgot about them. That must have happened when I took him down. They didn't hurt you last night, did they?" Reaching down he pulls a thin metal nail file from his pockets and starts to even out his nails, taking care to make them even without making them too short. Once finished he places the file back in his pocket.
"There, all ok now. Anyway didn't you want to ask me something before I burned myself? What was it?"
"Well you see, I was wondering… When I was younger, when Hannah died, just before I passed out I saw something. It was beautiful. Like a silver flash. And when you saved me from dad, it was there again, and at the bus stop. Was it you.. who saved me… when I was little?" Stuttering my question to him, I shift in my seat.
"Yes. It was me who saved you... Your mother had asked me to look in on you all if she hadn't come to see me that day, but when I got to the cafe she wasn't there, and when I went to the house he had already turned and it was too late... I'm so sorry I didn't get there sooner, and this time too. I couldn't protect y-"
"But you did protect me. If you hadn't come I would be dead. So you did help." Interrupting him before he could start blaming himself for Hana and mum I take his hand in an attempt to distract him.
"Sorry, I got really heavy just then. Anyway was there anything else you wanted to know?" Gazing at him I can see he is still worrying, but I chose to distract him with more questions.
"Who was he talking about, when he said I 'look like him'?" Instead of answering right away like he did before, this time he stopped, lowered his head and began fiddling with the handle of his now empty coffee cup. Not the response I wanted, but it is kind of a heavy question.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to say. I've already said too much. I'm afraid Birdie that you'll have to find that out for yourself."
Still avoiding eye contact he places his cup on the side and holds his hand out to me.
"Come on Birdie, don't look so down, you'll find the answers you're looking for eventually, just not today. Plus I need to make the finishing preparations for a funeral, so maybe I'll have you help me. If you're not feeling too stiff that is, hehehe." The light humor doesn't distract me from the fact that he didn't actually tell me, but whatever. But what's this about a funeral.