Gilded Coffins (Undertaker X reader)

Chapter three: Green

Song: Little Mix ~ Little Me

I step back in shock, further into the darkness of the shop, unaware of how close the coffin behind me really is. How could this so-called Undertaker sneak up on me like that? 

I find myself focussing on his scars. One around his little finger, one around his neck, and one across his face disappearing beneath his fringe.  I begin to wonder how he'd got them. What kind of fight did he get into to earn those marks? They almost look stitched, as if he was wounded and couldn't get medical attention and had to address them himself.  But what would stop him from getting medical help? And why as a Shinigami would he be working as an Undertaker? Doesn't this man have souls to reap? So many questions flit through my head, none of them making any sense. Maybe Will was right, maybe he is dangerous. 

He sure is creepy.

After taking in Undertaker's appearance I realize I'd been staring at him for some time. A light shade of pink dusts my cheeks as I quickly look away. Undertaker, however, stays in front of me, staring eerily between me and the coffin. Neither of us says anything.

Realizing I should break the awkward silence, I decide to speak up a little- and note the 'a little' part. Even though I'm a Shinigami and deal with people every day, I find social situations rather out of my reach. Even when I was younger, I didn't really talk to people, perhaps because they didn't like me. Every time I meet new people something seizes up inside me and I fail to act normally. I always guessed people didn't like me because of my eyes, it made me different, unable to fit in. Even when I was still human I had the bright green eyes. Maybe it was fate's way of telling me I was destined to end up as a reaper. Even now as a young adult I can hear their comments when I have nothing else to listen to. 

'A girl like you doesn't deserve such nice eyes, (Y/N), A girl like you deserves nothing.' 

'Are you going to run home to your parents (Y/N)? Oh, yeah....they're dead.' 

'You're so creepy (Y/N), why don't you go join your dead family, I'm sure you'll fit in nicely  among the cold corpses.'

ENOUGH! I mentally scream at myself, noticing I'd momentarily zoned out. They're gone, long gone. Only stupid intrusive memories.  Those people will never bother me again.  I tell myself that, like I always do. Just remember you're you and NO ONE can change that. They can't hurt me, my biggest enemy is myself. They're in the past. I'm going to be OK. 

I didn't notice the small tear trickling its way down my pale cheek till I tasted its saltiness on my dry lips and saw the quizzical look on half of Undertaker's face. Flashbacks always made me cry, even if I didn't mean to.  Even if I didn't want to, and half the time I never even knew, but I did cry, because it hurts deep down, and nothing will ever change how I feel. Instead of speaking first, like I planned, Undertaker took the chance. 

As if he knew what was up, Undertaker decided to comfort me. "You're alright dear. You're safe. I wouldn't worry about it. The past is in the past, and the present is today. Please don't cry." 

Undertaker continues to stare at me, waiting for a reply. A small smile finds its way onto the corners of my mouth. His words are so generic, but I guess as a funeral director he's brought down by all his grieving customers and feels the need to make them happier, to in return cheer himself up. Maybe he isn't as bad as he looks. I wipe the tear off of my cheek. "Thank you," I respond, guessing it's about time I spoke.

Undertaker smiles. "Now then," he says gently,  "Shall we get to work?" 

I nod in response, eager to not stand awkwardly in silence. Undertaker starts walking away and beckons me to follow him. We arrive at a  workbench with numerous carpentry tools set out. There are a couple of candles dotted about the shop and I can just about see what I'm doing. 

"I believe your name was (Y/N), a fitting name for such a fitting girl. Well, you can start by helping me finish decorating your coffin." he suggests, "Every assistant I employ I build a coffin for, so they know what quality of work I expect and how comfortable the 'guest' should be. It also gives me a chance to see your skills. I did see on your application form that you are apparently very skilled when it comes to the dead, but not so on the carpentry side. Don't worry dear, I'm sure you'll pick it up fast enough, come this way." He explains, relieving me that he doesn't expect me to be good at the job. Undertaker motions with his arm for me to continue following him. Complying his order I make it deeper into the shop. Now happier that I know I won't be needing the coffin for any questioning circumstances. 

Despite his appearance, Undertaker does seem nice, even if a little bit different. One thing does bother me though, how did he brush off my crying so easily? How did he know it was something to do with my past? And why do I feel like I've met him before? 

Thanks for reading!! :) Please tell me what you think!!