As Far As I'm Concerned [Ziam Palik AU]

iii. The Family of a Reaper

Dedication: I'm officially starting dedications to readers for comments/reading dedication, etc. because you all deserve it, and I don't recognize that enough. So this one goes to @silkensunrise, for encouraging me with her Ziam-shipper transformation ;) and always thinking outside the box when it comes to my crazy plots! I also think she's been reading my stuff forever (or pretty dang close), so massive thank you to her! :) 

[Chapter Three: The Family of a Reaper]

            Zayn was used to death. Obviously, seeing as it kind of came in the job description of ‘Reaper’, but hey, it was the truth. He was used to getting that feeling in his gut that it was another soul’s time; that a life needed to end for a soul to move on. He was used to it all.

            It wasn’t exactly a feeling type of feeling anymore though, if that made sense. Since becoming a reaper and condemning his own soul for eternity, Zayn just didn’t feel anymore. Almost, but not quite.

            After fifteen years though, Zayn had become accustomed to suicides as well, common among the piles of deaths. He heard once that someone committed suicide every four seconds in the world, and though he didn’t know if that was true or not, he assumed so, considering he got a pretty decent handful of them a day.

            The thing with suicides though, was that they weren’t purely the human’s fault. Sure, human nature was a cause of death – they weren’t perfect creatures – but suicides were different, more complex. They usually had an outside influence that took it to a whole different level.

            So when Zayn got that tugging feeling in his gut again, he was unsurprised to disappear and reappear in a place that seemed to be a university dorm room. There were two beds against one side of the room, two desks, and two wardrobes along with a bunch of other clutter that basically screamed adolescent.

            The first thing he spotted after all that was the boy though, rocking back and forth a bit in the center of his bed. He was handsome, no doubt about it, with a mop of brown hair and broad shoulders that stood out, especially with the way he was hunched over.

            Even so though, he obviously looked haggard and worn, hair a mess like he had run his hands through it several times. Zayn’s eyes dropped then, noticing that in his hands he was gripping something else, a sleek, dark pistol.

            Suicide.

            The next thing Zayn noticed was the man on the bed beside him. He had bright ginger hair like hell-fire – which Zayn had only seen once, mind you – and a round face, a face that would look almost innocent if Zayn didn’t know what he was.

            The ginger-haired man was lounging on his side next to the boy, propping his head up with one hand. His other hand was on the boy’s shoulder, massaging the skin and muscle with a delicacy like he was something worth treasuring.

            Zayn knew that the boy couldn’t see or feel the man, but that he was likely to be his downfall. That is, unless he was strong-willed enough.

            Somehow, Zayn doubted it though.

            “Oh Josh,” the man cooed, suddenly sitting up and moving close to the boy’s ear, speaking in just barely above a whisper. “Why don’t you just do it already? What else is there for you to live for? Don’t you want to see that strong father of yours again? That girl who you loved with all your heart?”

            Zayn simply leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the scene unfold. Admittedly, he wasn’t surprised to hear how much this boy had lost already, considering most people that committed did.