Ch. 13

Theresa woke up reluctantly, ready to just fall back into unconsciousness; there was still no point in anything. She turned her body and felt fabric shift with her. 'That's odd," she thought to herself. Her eyes opened and she saw that she was back in her room. Something fell into her lap, and looking down she saw it was a wet cloth; she assumed that it was previously on her forehead, seeing as her forehead was damp.

Curious to know why she was in her room, Theresa got out of bed and stepped into the hallway. Nothing upstairs had been broken, just the items downstairs. She got closer to the stairway and heard the sound of sweeping coming from below. Somebody was cleaning up; Theresa assumed it was Ciel, or rather his butler. She rolled her eyes and headed downstairs. "Ciel, Sebastian, I thought I told you I wanted to be left alone!" In reality she hadn't said anything like that, but she thought it was pretty clear by her behavior earlier. She was a few steps from the bottom of the stairs when she looked up and saw who was sweeping the floor.

"You're finally awake, my dear." Undertaker said with a small grin. Theresa was frozen in shock; he was dead, he couldn't be here. This had to be a dream, a bad dream. Her left foot slid backward, ready to run back to her room so she could wake up. Undertaker saw what she was preparing to do and held out his hands towards Theresa, gesturing for her to stop. "Don't run! Please! This isn't a dream, I promise." Theresa came down off the stairs and approached Undertaker slowly. His hands turned so his palms faced up, and Theresa placed her own hands in his. They were as calloused as she remembered; this didn't feel like a dream, but Theresa still didn't trust her senses.

"How are you here?"

"The young earl persuaded a Mr. Spears to return my Cinematic Record. When I awoke he told me how he found you crying over my corpse. I admit I wish I could have seen something so touching."

"How did you know I thought this is a dream?"

Undertaker gently caressed her face with his slender fingers. "Because I would be thinking the same thing. There's been many a time in my life where I've had a chance at happiness, and it's vanished because it was only a dream."

Theresa looked up at Undertaker. He looked the way he normally did, including the hair in front of his eyes. Something told Theresa the surefire way to tell if this was a dream lay underneath his bangs. Her hand reached up and brushed away the hair. Sure enough, those yellow-green eyes were there, gleaming with wisdom and laughter. Theresa leaned in close, their foreheads touching like they did a week ago. There was no way this was a dream; no fantasy could ever recreate those eyes.

Once again, instinct took over, and Theresa placed her lips against Undertaker's. He snaked his arms around her waist and deepened the kiss. The both of them were lost in a world of pure bliss; probably the two loneliest reapers in the world found love within each other's arms in that moment. The kiss was broken and Theresa looked into Undertaker's eyes.

"Do you still think this is a dream?" Undertaker asked her.

"If it is, I don't want to wake up," she said.

"Well, whether you're awake or asleep, I'll be by your side. I love you, my most precious snowflake."