The paper containing the bucket list had haunted Grim's nightstand for the past four nights, calling out to him. It had been picked up and read over again and again, but it was a desperate, needy thing, craving more panic than what Grim was already bathing in.
The list, as Grim had memorized it, went as follows:
Watch the ENTIRE Star Wars Saga in ONE NIGHT
Try dragon fruit
Go to a butterfly sanctuary
Try fifteen cocktails (I want to try yours, Grim!)
Try absinthe
Go to an arcade
Go to a cat cafe
Go to LITERALLY ANY big fancy library
Talk to Lucy :(
Talk to parents??? (Probs impossible, it's alright tho)
The list was so easy, which made sense for Immy. She was relatively easy to please, what with little things bringing her so much joy. What eased her into her next walk from the cafe to HQ was a dog she encountered on the way.
The last two items were the problem. Although she insisted that the last one was only if there was a slim chance of ever being able to see them again, it still broke Grim's heart.
Lucy was possible. It might take a whole lot of effort—especially since Grim was absolutely opposed to another party, and Gabriel couldn't host, due to having been blocked—but Grim was willing to put the work in.
He just couldn't shake the feeling that there wasn't enough time. Immy would die any day.
Any day.
He couldn't shake the talks they had on Tuesday, either.
'Amata.' 'I need you.' 'I want you.' 'Wow.'
She knew what she did to him. The 'wow,' however, proved Gabriel's theories and Grim's fears true: he was actually doing something to her. He wasn't going to forgive himself for dragging her through the same hell he was in, and secretly enjoying it. Something had to be wrong with him. How could he just watch?
There had been many close calls over Grim's two days home. He tried to give more distance to her, for safety. He refused to push away her affection, however, and would melt as soon as her arms were around him. Too weak kneed to walk away, too infatuated with her to ignore it, he did the selfish act of reflecting the behavior.
And so, he lay on his bed at 2 AM, his body itching for more of it.
Confliction plagued his mind. The only emotions that didn't seem to be warring were guilt and longing.
The guilt was eating him alive, and the longing was joining in the feast.
He wanted nothing more than Immy and death.
Neither wish was attainable. Such was the curse of the reaper.
He tossed and turned, never certain of whether or not he would get any sleep.
When he heard the screaming, he decided.
Snatching his gloves off the nightstand, he threw himself out of bed, into the hallway, and up the stairs with ease.
Tugging his gloves on, he swiftly opened Immy's door, stopping it from slamming against its stopper.
"Immy," He breathed.
She was sat up in her bed. Her eyes glowed in the light from the main room.
He walked to her and sat on the edge of the bed.
She planted her face on his shoulder and grabbed hold of the fabric of his sweatshirt, her knuckles quickly paling more than they already were.
"Which one this time?" Grim asked in his softest tone.
"...The one where I plummet into the River Socrates," She whispered in response.
Grim only hummed at her, gently placing an arm on her back. He stroked the skin left exposed by her floral tank top. She relaxed a bit at the contact.
Grim smiled slightly, pleased by her reaction. Immediately, he stabbed the feeling in the heart. What a selfish pleasure. What a selfish person.
She sensed his hesitation and loosened her grip on the shirt, instead sliding her arm around his torso.
Grim sighed. Shit.
"Immy," He sighed. "This is dangerous."
She mumbled something about safety and dropped her arm.
They sat in silence.
"Does fate really exist?" Her voice rang clearly, almost startling Grim.
"...Depends on your definition," He explained. "The future depends on our actions, but it's preset." He rubbed her back. "What's going to happen will happen."
"How do you know?" She uttered.
"We hire people who can see the future, at HQ," He admitted. "Well, they can see anything that has or will happen to a person within a century by just a touch."
"Just within a century?"
Grim nodded. "There are more limitations, but I forgot. It's Axel and Dally's job. Freelance Allseers."
"Can they control it?"
"Nope. They wear gloves on occasion, for privacy purposes."
"Why does HQ hire them?"
Grim thought a moment.
"Court trials, mostly. It's useless to use them to prevent the future, because that simply can't happen. They get most of their business from people who are just curious or anxious. It costs a lot."
Immy went silent.
"...I don't get how people could torture themselves like that."
"The Allseers?"
"No. The people who hire them. If you can't change the future, why would you want to know it?"
"Maybe if you're anxious about something," Grim laughed nervously. "To ease worry."
"Or make the situation ten times worse, because some far off event is going to be the worst thing ever. Unnecessary suffering. I can see it for legal reasons, though."
"...Hm."
He was definitely going to tell Gabriel she said that.
"How many pieces of evidence did we add in the past two weeks alone?" Gabriel explained, trying to tally it on his hands. "'Years keep getting shorter', Geico, arm, paranoia, allseeing- didn't you say something about Latin?"
Grim's face ran hot.
"Yes," He muttered. "She apparently didn't know the meaning of a word she used. Uh..."
"But it was very meaningful to you," Gabriel teased, snickering.
"Yeah," He mumbled. "That one's a stretch, though. The arm thing is too."
"I agree, but combined with the other shit and her reactions?"
"How long have you even had this theory?"
"Eh- I considered it a long time ago. I think it started when she talked about her knack for finding things? I never seriously considered it until you told me about her nightmares."
Grim racked his memory.
"When did she talk about finding things?"
"There was something about Fifty Shades of Gray and your Mom's spaghetti recipe, so... first time we ate dinner at your house?"
"Oh my god, you're right," Grim laughed. "I found angry letters between my dad and Xen after that. Cried a lot."
"Were they having an affair?" Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows.
"Nope. They were talking about me. Something or another."
"Damn. They could've just shot emails!" Gabriel shook his head. "That's just dramatic."
"They're both old fashioned." Grim shrugged. "Immy found one of the letters, I found the rest."
"Reinforcing the theory-"
Grim cut him off with an exasperated sigh.
"Whatever," He laughed. "Either way, I should probably get started on those bucket list wishes. If the 'premonition' is getting worse..." If it's getting worse, she could be dead as we speak, He thought, immediately regretting following the train of thought.
"I get it," Gabriel stated. "You haven't told me anything that's on it."
Grim inhaled in preparation.
"Binge Star Wars, try dragon fruit, fifteen different cocktails, and absinthe, go to a cat cafe, fancy library, arcade, and butterfly sanctuary-" Grim took another breath. "-Talk to Lucy and possibly see her parents again."
Gabriel stared at him.
"No way you memorized it," He breathed. "You're kidding."
Grim shook his head.
"Am I mentally ill, or am I mentally ill?" He grinned.
Gabriel's jaw hung open.
"Uh, yeah-" He scoffed, smiling slightly. "That checks out. Jesus Christ."
Grim shot a finger gun at him.
"What do you think I should start with?" Grim inquired, leaning on the front desk. "Knock out the harder ones first, or..."
"I'd get as much as I could done first," Gabriel suggested. "So, the easy ones? You could knock a lot of the drinks out as you do the Star Wars marathon. That way you can work on the Lucy and parents bit."
"That's a good idea," Grim hummed. "I wouldn't be able to go to the butterfly sanctuary. Tiny flying things—not taking any chances. The cat cafe seems risky too."
"Queenie would take her."
"Of course. A little sad I won't get to be there for her, though." He scratched his face. "I mean—I want to be there for every fulfilling moment she has. See her face... and stuff."
Gabriel smiled. "You're hopeless," He sighed. "'And stuff.' You bitch."
Grim cackled, "I know, I know. Hopeless romantic. Sue me, fuckass. I happen to like her face 'and stuff.'"
Gabriel rolled his eyes.
"You'd better take Vix's shift before Xen kicks your ass for me."
"Pff, She's not back yet. Not my fault."
"Yeah, yeah. Go fuck yourself."
"Woah, man. Unprofessional language!" Grim put his hands out in front of him. "Xen might kick your ass."
"Like you didn't just call me a fuckass."
"If we weren't in a space where I could be photographed, gossiped about, and fired, I'd be making a very vulgar hand gesture at you right now."
"Too bad."
Finally, Vix showed up with three kids in tow.
"Sorry about that," She yawned.
"Are you okay?" Grim asked, laughing awkwardly.
"Yes. Just busy." She murmured something to Gabriel before continuing. Gabriel typed on his computer for a moment before getting out of his chair and ushering the children down the hall. "What with Margot, sleep is rare."
"Margot," Grim exclaimed. "Pretty name. I'm sure she's an excellent alarm clock."
"You would think I'd be more prepared, her being my fifth baby. I never am," She chuckled. She messed with her watch before Grim's own buzzed.
"Well, if you ever need a babysitter, Immy's almost always over the moon to watch a kid."
Vix smiled. "I'll think about it. Goodbye, Grim."
"Bye, Ms. Vix!"
In a flash, he was gone.
"News!" Immy exclaimed. "Good news!"
She was jumping, holding her phone above her head.
Grim chuckled.
"Just walked through the door," He started. "And you're already ecstatic. Well, let's hear it."
"I was thinking about the list, and I found a butterfly sanctuary!" She grinned. "It's not super far from The Capitol—not that that would really matter—and it's like this huge glass building with gardens and fountains—oh my god, Grim. It's so pretty!"
He laughed again before speaking.
"Well, I'm glad! Maybe you should invite Queenie to come with you, soon," He suggested. "She'd be down."
Immy tilted her head, looking a little crestfallen. "Are you not coming?"
"No, I'm not. Tiny flying things. I don't want to take any chances—even if they're just butterflies." He smiled at her reassuringly.
"Oh, okay."
"Sorry."
"No, it's fine!" She insisted, laughing awkwardly. "No worries. Yeah, I'll ask Queenie."
The air was a little empty as Grim pulled off his cloak and hung it on the coat rack. He went to the kitchen to make coffee. Immy followed, silent.
"...Tired today?" He asked her, grabbing some coffee grounds and a spoon.
"Hm?"
"You didn't sleep very well," Grim restated. "Are you tired? Do you want some coffee?"
"Sure, I'd love some," Immy exclaimed. "I am tired, but y'know. Work lets me get free drinks as long as I make them myself."
"Bet you're using half the cinnamon."
"I need my cinnamon dolce lattes! Only thing that's consistent between dimensions." She rolled her eyes and scoffed, smiling.
Grim sighed, pressing the brew button on the coffee maker.
"The bad thing about me being a pretentious fuck and wanting fresh coffee is that it takes forever." He clicked his tongue and shook his head.
Immy's laughter filled the kitchen and hit Grim in his chest. He watched her from across the island. Despite her recent disappointment and lack of sleep, color flushed her face.
"Everyone's pretentious sometimes," Immy stated. She lowered her voice and muttered, "Some more than most."
"Fuck you!" Grim wheezed. He pulled out a stool from under the counter and sat down. She sat across from him.
"Uh—about the butterfly sanctuary," She began. "When should I book a visit for?"
He shrugged. "Ask whoever you're going with first, then try and arrange a date. Sooner the better, though."
Immy nodded, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "I guess I'll text Queenie," She sighed.
"You seem sad."
"Only a bit. I love Queenie, really," She admitted. "I just wish you could come. I've been... sentimental, recently. I miss a lot of people back in my old dimension. Even people I still see, just not often..."
"Lucy," Grim stated.
"I miss her. I'm worried about her, too," Immy breathed. "—And I know we've been over this. That whole ordeal. I just can't shake that it's so off."
"I get it. I've pretty much given up trying to contact her."
"She's, like—withdrawn. No one can."
"...She blocked Gabriel."
Immy went silent.
"What?" She uttered, her tone grave.
"I know, I'm upset too."
"No, no—" She continued. "They were so close."
"I'm sure that was the issue."
"But you weren't blocked."
"I wasn't seen as a threat."
"What do you mean?"
"There's no way Lucy would have the heart to pull away. It was all Luke, I'd bet money!" Grim insisted. "If anything were to happen and Lucy needed comfort, Gabriel would be there immediately. A friend's shoulder to cry on can turn into something different really quick."
"Competition."
"Of course."
Immy took a deep breath.
"Brainwashed." She shivered. "I hate him."
"Join the club."
"Established by whom?"
Grim thought for a moment.
"Gabriel, circa 2026."
Immy smiled. "Pfft- and when was that?"
"When Luke stole his favorite person and turned her into a shell of what she actually was."
"You should write poetry."
"Trust me, I do."
She looked into empty space before looking back at him, grinning mischievously. She pressed her fingertips together as if she was about to make a business proposition. Grim couldn't help but laugh at the sight.
He sighed, knowing where this was going.
"Is there any way—any way at all—that I could manage to—"
"No."
"—Any way I could read some of your stuff?"
"No, Immy."
"I'd love a good peek into that brain of yours," She announced. "Or lack thereof."
Grim choked out a laugh. Realizing she misspoke, she gasped.
"I mean that you literally don't have a brain!" She wheezed. "Not- Oh my god." She facepalmed.
"Well, the few times you've had a sneak peek into the deep dark pits of my brain—" He grinned. "—Or lack thereof, you did not like it very much."
"Like what?"
"Would you like a fucking list?"
Immy considered it for a second and shrugged.
"I'm clueless," She sighed.
Grim cleared his throat.
"The hell thing, the 'attachment issues', the deserving thing, the legacy thing—"
She appeared to be almost startled.
"—Lots of 'things'," She hummed.
"Mhm. Self-harm, alcoholism, the works—not to mention 'food poisoning'." He made air quotes with his hands.
"Jesus," She exclaimed. "Now that you list it..."
Grim nodded.
"Any other burning secrets you'd like me to know?" She laughed.
"I'd tell you, but I'd have to kill you."
She covered her mouth in faux shock. The coffee machine beeped.
Grim poured two steaming mugs and set them down on the island, one in front of Immy.
Placing a box of sugar cubes, a bottle of vanilla coffee creamer, and a spoon on the surface, Grim smiled.
"I still don't get how you can stand this stuff black," Immy said, reaching for the sugar cubes. She added one to her mug and stirred. "Bleh."
"Pure sorrow," Grim mocked.
"Exactly!" She responded, eyeing Grim's mug. "What was it I said about your alarm the other day? Every morning, I swear!"
He chuckled and leaned forward.
"Not everything is pure sorrow."
"What even gets you energized in the morning? Like, emotionally?" She asked, pouring some creamer. "Your job must be mentally exhausting."
"You don't say," He teased. "I was trained for it."
"Yeah, but how do you do it?"
"...I have things to look forward to."
"Like what?"
"Fuck," He laughed awkwardly. "You, mostly. I see you in the mornings, at lunch, and after my shift, so it makes me feel a little better."
Immy stared at him for a moment before giggling and covering her red face.
"Damn," She breathed. "I'm—uh," She stammered before catching her breath and continuing. "I'm glad! Like, really flattered, too. Careful, you'll fuel my ego."
He chuckled, a little smug from her reaction. He wondered if he could afford to push her a little further.
"You have that effect on people. To me, though, it's like life support."
"Or snorting a line of coke." She grinned, posing in her seat. "It's the Immy charm~"
"Damn right, it is."
"What is it that draws people in?" She asked. "I'd need a goddamn psychology class to actually get it."
They locked eyes again. Grim's nervousness was outweighed by his intrinsic need for banter. He laughed.
"Fishing for compliments?"
"Eh... That's only half the reason I asked. It's half of a genuine question. I'm curious," She explained. "What makes people like me?"
"So, so much," He swooned, slumping in his chair.
"You can be objective, Grim. I know you can."
He sighed. His silence was met with a patient Immy, waiting for his answer. He looked to the ground.
"...Natural charisma all around. You ooze confidence, it makes people feel secure," He started. "Once they're hooked, you're refreshing to be around. You treat people well, even if the world is on fire. You're funny, and sweet, and—"
"—Objectively."
"That is totally objective!" Grim exclaimed. "It helps that you're pretty, that adds to the hook—"
"—To you. I'm not exactly pretty to—"
"—Shut up," Grim scoffed. "You're very attractive, if that's objective enough for you."
"Something objective would be why you see it that way."
"Why would you ever think you're not?"
"Eye bags, messy ass eyebrows, hairy legs, weird hands, and I'm definitely not skinny, Grim."
"Immy."
"What?"
"Here's a secret I'll let you in on. Headquarters says I can't say shit, so don't gossip."
Immy, slightly confused, nodded.
Grim leaned in and dropped his voice to a whisper.
"Literally no one cares."
She gave his arm a shove, laughing.
"You dick," She wheezed.
"I'm right! Objectively, your eyes are attractive because they're large, and you've got long eyelashes. Slightly down turned, which gives you resting sad face, but that goes in and out of trend... not to mention, you've got a great body—"
"I get it, stop listing." She sighed. "Fine, I'm hot."
"Attractiveness aside, you make my life not constantly miserable."
She smiled. "Again, Immy charm!"
"Basically. I just want you to know that you're super important to me."
She rested her head on her hands.
"You're important-er to me," She stated.
"Doubt it."
"Seriously, first thought I have when I feel any strong emotion? You."
"I win, you lose. You're the important one."
"You're wrong. You can't prove it."
Right here. This was the moment that in normal circumstances he would have kissed her. He'd think more about it later; he was bound to lose some sleep, anyway.
He took her hand.
"How could I, ever?" He asked.
"Exactly. You can't." She smirked. "What else gets you going?"
Grim laughed.
"Shut up," Immy exclaimed, realizing what she said. "I didn't mean that and you know it. What gets—how do I make this not weird?"
He shrugged.
"You're no help," She huffed. "What else makes you energized?"
"Xanax and Lexapro." And Chopin, but she doesn't need to know that.
She rolled her eyes.
"What else, a flask?" She joked.
The room drastically warmed.
He did start carrying a flask after what happened and the skating rink. Not like he would tell her, that would be a recipe for disaster.
"Maybe," He laughed.
Scoffing, she took the spoon off the counter and stirred her coffee.
"You bastard," She chided.
Grim grinned. "And proud!"
Immy's phone buzzed. She picked it up and beamed.
"Queenie's on," She proclaimed. "Tomorrow!"
Immy's impromptu butterfly sanctuary trip did not go as planned; for her, or Grim.
Just ten minutes after she had left, Queenie returned to their house with a pale Immy. Her posture was slouched.
"She's not feeling well," Queenie announced, sighing. "We were going to stay a little longer, but I seriously think she might pass out."
"I'm not—" Immy protested, cutting herself off and huffing. "I'm just a little sick. Thank you for taking me home."
Immy gazed at her, wide eyed.
"No problem!" Queenie smiled at her expression. The Immy charm. Black magic, more like it. "Get better soon, okay?"
"Okay," Immy sighed. "Thanks again. Bye, Queenie." She formed a tired smile.
"Bye!"
And Queenie was gone.
Immy exhaled, her expression of relief.
Grim cocked his head to the side.
"...I'm not sick," She answered his unasked question.
"Ah," He breathed. She sat down next to him. "You wanna talk?"
"No," She mumbled, pressing herself against his side. "It just... keeps getting worse. I don't get it."
Oh.
He thought before saying anything.
"Ironic, isn't it?" He chuckled sadly. "You come to me, of all people, for comfort."
"You're comforting."
"When you're grappling with death?" He uttered. "Maybe I shouldn't be."
Immy went silent.
"I've thought about it a lot." She picked at her nail polish. "It may be irrational. I'm still afraid of things that could kill me, even in the void. Not you. Even in places where I could totally die... being reaped—I can't stand the thought, but it's just you."
"I'm confused," He puzzled.
"So am I, in so many ways," She sighed. "It kills me. It just eats me inside. I can't—" She cut herself off. Out of the blue, she laughed. "Conflicting emotions, am I right?"
Grim nodded, still a little unsure of what was going on.
"It's like, I'm just some dude, and the reaping's an entirely separate thing?" He clarified.
"Yes!" She remarked. "I'm so scared, Grim! You're my favorite person I've ever met, but I'm terrified."
He cupped the side of her face in his hand and sighed.
"So am I, Immy." He stroked her hair, and she leaned into the touch. "So am I."
He pulled away and got up off the couch. Immy mumbled protests.
"...You wanna hit some more of the bucket list?" He asked. She smiled.
"You got absinthe?" She asked.
"Of course I do," He laughed. "I've got problems, but classy problems."
She snorted.
"Thank you, top shelf booze, for turning Grim's alcoholism into a pretentious affair," She wheezed.
"Hell yes!"
He hurried to the kitchen and pulled the absinthe bottle out of the liquor cabinet.
"Do you take shots of it, or what?" Immy inquired, leaning against the table.
Grim shook his head. "Unless you wanna revisit the hospital, it's not a good idea."
"Is that from experience?"
"I once took an entire swig of this shit. I probably should've went to the hospital."
Immy gasped.
"You're kidding."
"Nope!" Grim grabbed a whisky glass and a shot glass. "I can only fill about half of this."
She hummed in response.
He filled the shot glass half full with absinthe and put it in the whiskey glass. He pulled a spoon out of the drawer.
"This," He exclaimed. "Is an absinthe spoon. See the flat part with slots?" He handed it to Immy so she could examine it.
"What's that for?" She asked.
"You'll see. First, smell this."
Taking the whiskey glass, she sniffed it and drew back.
"It's like licorice." She handed back the glass.
"Yes!"
He reached up into a cabinet and pulled out a box of sugar cubes.
"You don't have anything particularly flammable on the counter, do you?"
Immy shook her head.
"Why—"
"—Just watch."
He got a lighter off of the counter and balanced the spoon on the glass. He placed a sugar cube on the flat part and drenched it with more absinthe.
"Here comes the fun bit," He chuckled.
He took the lighter and set the cube into flame, letting it get caramelized. His eyes wandered to Immy, who was staring at the fire in awe. He laughed.
After a bit, he poured cold water over the fire, diluting the absinthe. He stirred the drink and set it in front of Immy.
Immy sat down and Grim sat beside her.
"Uh, wow," She laughed. "Very much a presentation drink."
"Oh, totally," He agreed. "It's really fun. I figured it'd cheer you up a bit. Try a sip."
She did as he said. She hummed and nodded her head.
"Right?" He asked. "Just a glass and you'll feel tipsy."
"Damn," She laughed. "Want some?"
She handed him the glass.
He took a careful sip and noted that it was even stronger than what he usually would make for himself. "I think I used not enough water."
"It's strong! I like it," Immy exclaimed.
Grim grinned at her enthusiasm. "Noted."
He took another drink before handing it back to her, who sipped it and smirked at him.
"I know that look," Grim sighed. "What did you do?"
"Nothing! I was just thinking..." Her face went red.
"Thinking what?"
"...Can you get sick? Other than, y'know, poisoning."
"Did you poison me?" He laughed. "Uncool."
"Maybe I did. But I'm talking about, like—germs."
"I kill germs."
"In the void?"
Grim thought for a moment.
"I think they avoid me?" He suggested. "I guess I could get sick though. I'm just not getting a lot of germs."
What could she mean? He puzzled. It's not like she's worried about me getting her—
Oh.
Oh.
"Is this because I, um—" He muttered. "Drank from your glass?"
An indirect kiss.
Holy shit.
Immy laughed. "Yeah, I just know your immune system isn't the best, so..."
Her face grew even hotter, and Grim cherished the expression.
He grinned.
"Fuck," She chuckled nervously. "I'm digging myself a grave."
"Yeah, you're not helping your case," He hushed. "Didn't even realize until you asked."
She handed the glass back over and grinned. He sighed and took it, taking a larger drink this time.
"I think I can already feel it," Immy laughed.
"Either it's the absinthe or the effects of you 'exercising' my immune system."
He almost wanted to shove the words back into his mouth.
"We never speak of this conversation again," He suggested.
"Speak of what conversation again?"
"That's the spirit."
Grim stood up.
"Star Wars?" He asked.
"Star Wars."
Grim glanced at the clock.
4:16. Okay, so if each movie is roughly two hours long, and nine movies—12?
"Are we counting clone wars?"
"Nah, then we'd have to watch the series. That's for a later date."
11. 22 hours, spare 1, 23? There's no way.
"It's gonna take us almost 24 hours to finish."
"Then you better buckle down, bucko."
She grinned.
Grim fought the rush of anxiety that twinged at him. It's nothing. Of course there's time, what am I, five?
He couldn't help but glance back at the clock.
Any day now.
He sighed.
"C'mon!" He chuckled. "We'd better get started."
Immy laughed that warm laugh that hurt his insides.
Tick,
Tock.
Tick,
Tock.
~~~
OMGOMG
IM SO HAPPY YOU GUYS
BIG STUFF COMING UP. HUGEEE
ILY GUYS!!!!
Fr, take care of yourselves!!! Drink water, eat food, bathe, brush your teeth, yadayadayada. Self care, bitches!! You are worthy of love!!
-Alice/Craz <3