2. Suppressed by all my Childish Fears
Mitch grew up in your basic upper-class household in Dallas, Texas. The fact that he was born in 1955 and looked like he was born in 1995 was neither here nor there.
How was he born, you ask? His mother was immortal, too. Reproduction was difficult, but it wasn't impossible. Immortals weren't as rare as one would think. After all, they stuck around for quite a while.
In fact, chances are that most people had run into an immortal or two by the time they reached adulthood.
Now, whether they had run into one within a few months of their own death? Those chances were a bit less likely.
As with any population of beings, immortals could be placed into categories based on their character, morals, and general disposition. Basically, there were good immortals, and there were bad. Unfortunately, this line was blurry.
On top of that, some immortals held powers that others did not. Mitch and Kevin held your typical immortal capabilities. They were the standard model, with no bells and whistles, if you will. Eternal life, seeing people's expiration dates as they approached... and they could move through space instantaneously.
No, in the real world, this was not called apparating. In fact, Mitch read the entirety of Harry Potter with one giant eyeroll at how impossibly wrong they described the sensation.
No, you can't leave part of your body behind and become "splinched". No, you can't use objects to help you. There's no such thing as a portkey. Sheesh.
If you needed some of the more... higher-order tasks accomplished, you would have to ask someone with higher powers. Unfortunately, somehow, these individuals tended to toe the line between good and bad. And chances were, if you took them up on a deal, you'd pay for it, eventually.
Greedy bastards.
Mitch eyed the napkin on his bedside table. He wasn't sure why he was already planning on making whatever sacrifice he needed to in order to save this stranger.
His phone buzzed, and he grabbed it, assuming that Matt needed to be picked up from the gym.
Matt was the only mortal in Mitch's life who knew what he was, other than his father, that is. It was a risky move, to tell him, but one day when Matt would age and Kevin and Mitch would not, he knew that the questions would come flooding out. It had been easier to rip off the band-aid now.
And now, Matt really just liked to be transported around all the time.
But the name on his screen surprised him.
Scott Hoying: Hey guess what?
Mitch's heart fluttered, and he was immediately embarrassed by this fact.
Sure, an immortal sixty-six-year-old couldn't be compared to a mortal one, but the fact that he was crushing on someone who was one-third of his age was pretty strange. He couldn't remember the last time he had allowed himself to feel this way.
Mitch Grassi: Hello. What?
He cringed at his formality. He knew that Millennials found most forms of punctuation to be cold and angry.
Scott Hoying: Wow. Hello robot. 🤖
Mitch laughed at how he had predicted that response. Typical for the strange generation.
Mitch Grassi: Hello, mortal.
He laughed at the truth of his own answer.
Scott Hoying: lol
Scott Hoying: ANYWAY, Kevin said he's into music, and I got some free tickets to a concert tonight through work. You guys wanna come?
Mitch knew that he should ask Kevin. He also knew that the answer would likely be a resounding, "No."
Scott Hoying: You can bring the dog sitter too
Mitch Grassi: We'd all love to.
Shit. Kevin was going to kill him.
Figuratively, of course.
Dying was damn near impossible, in fact. He could be burned at the stake, drown, be stabbed, gunned down, hell, he could be blown to pieces. His heart could be torn from his chest and eventually he would grow a new one. His body would eventually recover. It would be extremely painful, but he would live.
There was only one person in the universe who could kill him.
That was the immortal of the highest order. There was never another who could replicate his abilities. He was the only one who could kill an immortal, and he rarely did so.
He was also a nasty man, the cruelest of the cruel. If an immortal begged for his mercy, he might strike a deal with them. But instead of following through on his end of the deal, he would torture his prey before setting them loose again. Damaged.
Horribly damaged.
It was inconsistent, leaving many with hope that he would follow through. Sometimes he would. Other times...
Mitch cringed at the thought of what had happened to his own father. He shook the memory from his mind. That would have to be saved for another day.
This man was called the Primus. Translation: The best, the supreme.
It was unclear just how old he was. He could do what all lower-order immortals could do, and then some. That much was obvious. Higher-order powers, like bringing someone back from the dead? Easy. But there were two versions of this power. The first version would bring back the mortal to where they were in their lifeline when blood was collected.
Basically, if Mitch saw someone bleeding to death, to use blood that he collected in that time would be futile. Because if he brought that blood to an immortal who could bring them back, they would be rejuvenated just in time to suffer again, because the blood was collected too late. They would be doomed to die again.
But the Primus could bring back anyone, and reset them to any time. He could change lifelines. He could override someone's expiration. He could do pretty much anything.
If he were to take mercy on Scott, for example, he could change his expiration date to anything. Decades, centuries... He could save him.
He was the only one who truly could.
It was too bad that observing suffering was his favorite pastime, and that Mitch knew countless tales of immortals who brought loved ones to the Primus' doorstep, just to watch him destroy them over and over again.
Like it was a sport.
"You're an idiot." Kevin muttered.
"Trust me, I've been telling myself the same thing all day." Mitch replied.
"Well, I for one am excited." Matt interrupted, with a bounce in his step. "I'm sorry the dude's gonna die. That sucks. But hey, seize the day."
"If you let the cat out of the bag about this..." Kevin warned.
Matt held up his hands in defeat. "My lips are sealed. I just wanna listen to some music. I won't tell the poor kid he's doomed."
They transported themselves to an alleyway a block away from the venue. Mitch adjusted his jacket. "Do I look young and hip?"
Matt laughed. "You look like a perfect Millennial. But don't say 'hip'."
As they approached the doors to the venue, Kirstin waved at them with a smile. She was alone. "Glad you could come! Our sort of 'Welcome to the Neighborhood' gift to you."
"Welcome to the neighborh... oh. Right. Yes. We are brand new," Matt began. "I'm Matt. Nice to meet you." He reached for her hand and she shook it as her smile grew.
"Nice to meet you too, Matt. Kirstin." She turned to Mitch and Kevin, and pulled tickets out of her pocket. "Here you all go. Scott's already inside. He had to do something for work, but he'll join us on the floor when he's done."
They were led to a section on the right side of the stage that was cut off by a barrier. Kirstin was let right in, and pointed at each of them in turn. They sidled up to the edge of the stage.
"I can get used to this treatment," Kevin teased.
"Not bad, right? Too bad Scott doesn't ever get Beyonce tickets."
Mitch wracked his brain to remember who that was.
"One day I'll get you Beyonce tickets. That's when we'll know I made it," a low, teasing voice came from behind them.
Mitch's heart warmed at the sound of his voice. He had never felt that way about a sound before. It was soothing and comforting, even projected over the sound of the crowd.
He turned to face him, preparing himself to look into his eyes. He watched Kevin do the same.
A red light. A silver car. A truck with a blown tire. Flames. Pretty, blue, lifeless eyes. September 3, 2021.
He held eye contact until the images went away. The fact that he would have to watch this unfold each time he greeted the man on a new day filled him with grief.
He admired the man as he introduced himself to Matt and greeted Kevin. Butterflies attacked his insides as he was pulled into a hug afterwards.
"Glad you could come," Scott said as he pulled him close in a friendly embrace.
"Us, too. Thanks for the invite." His voice was small and uneasy. Kevin shot him a look as if to say, "You are so fucked and you know it."
I know, Kev. I know.
"That was awesome. Everything about it," Matt said happily as they returned home that night. He turned to face his friends. "Thanks for including me."
Mitch nodded. "Of course." He meant to sound upbeat, but his voice was shaky.
"You okay?"
He nodded, hesitated, then shook his head. "Not really. I can't believe I did this."
He thought back to the concert.
How his back just casually moved to rest against Scott's front as they watched the show. How Scott would lean forward and talk into his ear, resting his hand on Mitch's hip as he did so.
How he made him laugh.
"You seemed to be enjoying yourself. I don't think I've ever seen you cozy up to someone like that."
"I don't even know why."
"Yeah, me neither," Kevin interjected, his tone stern.
"It's a shame. I really liked both of them. There's nothing that you guys can do for him? I mean... nothing at all?"
Kevin shook his head, but Mitch was thoughtful.
"What on earth are you thinking?"
"That I need to go talk to my mother."
He vanished from the room in that moment, leaving an exasperated Kevin in his wake.
"This is going to end horribly."
Matt grimaced. "Yeah, even I can see that."