"What do you want to do before you die?" The words hung in the air between us. "I can make a list for you, if you want. We can explore everything you never had the chance to enjoy. What do you think?" It was the only way I could think to get through to him, to show him that the relentless chase of dreams, work, and a love he never received had exhausted him, making him forget the small things that bring us joy.
"Those things are not for me," he said, his voice turning sharp and cold. "This isn't a joke. What I want right now is to find a doctor, not to engage in useless activities." The force of his words was a physical blow. I never imagined that a simple offer of happiness would upset him so deeply. He stood abruptly, his jaw tight, and turned to leave.
"Can I just go with you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He let out a harsh, incredulous sound. "Am I confusing you? You are a Reaper, not my wife. Or do I need to remind you of your job?"
What is wrong with him? What did I do? I whispered to the empty air.
"What did you say?" he snapped, his head whipping around.
"Nothing," I replied quickly. "It was nothing."
We got in the car, and a heavy silence descended. He didn't speak a word to me for hours, his focus entirely on the calls he was making, connecting with the best doctors in the country. He wasn't going to the hospital; he was building a network from his car. I wanted to ask where we were going. I assumed we were heading home, but he took a different highway, the city lights blurring into long streaks of neon.
"Where are we going?" I finally asked.
"Doesn't your magic tell you?" he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Something inside me snapped. A hot, unfamiliar anger boiled in my blood. Why was he treating me this way? Everything I said, everything I did, was for him. It was for him to feel, just for a moment, that there were still beautiful things in the world. I might be the last person qualified to talk about happiness, but at least I knew it was out there, waiting to be found.
"Hey," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "Behave. If what I said earlier offended you, I'm sorry. But you had better watch what you are saying to me. I'll take your life whenever I want to. I am trying to understand your problem, but if you're going to act this way, I can't help you."
With a sudden, furious stomp on the brake, the car screeched to a halt, throwing me forward against my seatbelt. My heart hammered against my ribs—I swore Death itself had just brushed past us. Ben-Oni flung his door open and stumbled out onto the shoulder of the road, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. My anger propelled me out of the car after him.
"What is your problem?" I shouted, embracing the Reaper role he'd cast for me. "If you want to end your life, don't rush. It will happen on my schedule."
"What do you know about me?" he roared, spinning to face me, his face a mask of raw agony. "What do you know about the life you're so eager to take? Which life is it? The one where I grew up listening to my parents tear each other apart? The one where I walked in on my mother sleeping with her driver when I was a child? Or is it the life where my selfish mother pressured me to be her perfect trophy so she could flex on my father? Oh, maybe it's the one where I had to watch my dad die slowly from a terminal disease!" He was breathing heavily, tears streaming down his face. "You know what? For all of that, I still fear death. I fear the pain. I fear the idea of what will happen to my mother when I'm gone. You ask me what I want to do before I die? I don't even know! The funniest thing? I've never even been on a roller-coaster. While other kids were out playing, I was in my room with my hands over my ears, trying to block out the screaming."
His words hit me, each one a shard of glass in my heart. I regretted every flippant threat, every moment I'd played this stupid game. For me, it was a role. For him, it was a confirmation of his deepest fears. We judge before we listen. We see a composed surface and assume the depths are calm. We think people have healed, but the wounds are still open, gaping, in need of new memories to stitch them closed.
Slowly, I reached out and touched his hand. His gaze, wild with pain, locked onto mine. The words slipped from my lips before I could stop them.
"Let's go do every silly thing in this world."
A broken smirk touched his lips. He brushed the tears from his face with the back of his hand. "No, I can't."
"Why not? It wouldn't take much time."
"I know, but... I'm a grown-up," he said, though his smile was a little brighter now.
"So what? Who said grown-ups can't have fun? Please, don't say no. I won't annoy you, I promise."
"Okay, okay," he relented, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. "If you don't annoy me. So, where are we going?"
"To the roller-coaster," I declared, my face breaking into a grin.
From behind, a car glided past. The passenger window slid down, revealing a middle-aged man with a tattooed face. He stared at Ben-Oni. "Hey, buddy! Stop talking to yourself or check into a mental hospital!" We both burst into laughter, the absurdity of it all breaking the last of the sorrow. For a moment, we'd forgotten how the rest of the world saw him. We headed for the park.
The park was a symphony of chaos and light. The air was thick with the smell of fried dough and spun sugar. We started with the roller-coaster. As we plunged down the first drop, Ben-Oni's laughter erupted—a raw, unpolished sound that startled me. I couldn't stop watching him, marveling at how someone could look like both a man and a boy in the same heartbeat.
We tumbled into a photo booth next. He tried to pose seriously, but the camera, of course, could only capture him. When the strip of photos printed, I took a pen and drew a little stick-figure me beside him in each frame, my arms thrown up in a victory sign right over his head. "Perfect," I declared. He just shook his head, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
Then came the cotton candy. A crowd swarmed the stall, and the maker ignored our calls. I leaned closer to Ben-Oni. "Wanna see a trick?" He smirked and nodded. Focusing my energy, I lifted a swirl of pink sugar from the machine, spinning it in mid-air. No one noticed—except a little girl who tugged on her mother's sleeve. "Mommy, look! The candy's flying!" I froze, but Ben-Oni reacted instantly. He stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body, and caught the perfectly formed candy floss as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He dropped a twenty on the counter, leaving the vendor utterly bewildered. We found a bench, sharing the treat. An old man stared at Ben-Oni with wide, disbelieving eyes as, from his perspective, the candy simply vanished into thin air, bite by bite. We laughed until our sides ached.
At the game booth, he tried to knock down the targets and missed, time after time. "Wait here," I whispered. I slipped through the back of the stall and nudged the target forward until it was impossible to miss. His next throw sent it clattering down. "Genius," he murmured, the attendant handing him an absurdly large stuffed bear. "Here," he said, pushing it into my arms. "You hold it."
"Better if you do," I teased. "Less confusing for everyone else."
The Ferris wheel was slower, quieter. At the very top, the carriage swayed, and I lost my balance, stumbling into him. For a long moment, we just stared at each other, the carnival lights reflecting in his hazel eyes. "Sorry," I murmured. He didn't answer.
When we finally left, I said, "Let's run."
"I'm a grown-up," he protested again, but I grabbed his hand and pulled him along anyway. We ran through the emptying parking lot until my foot caught on the pavement, and I went down, dragging him with me.
He landed beside me, close enough that I could smell him—like wildflowers after a cleansing rain. My heart hammered so loudly I was sure he could hear it. "It's getting late," he said softly, his voice a low rumble. He helped me to my feet, his touch gentle.
Even as we walked away, I knew I would never forget the way he looked in that moment, bathed in the soft glow of the midnight moon.
Back at the house, I walked past him, heading for my room.
"I never asked you your name," a slow, warm voice said from behind me.
"I'm Cassopia," I said, turning back. "You can call me Cass."
"Cassopia," he repeated, testing the sound. "A unique name. Just like me. I'm Ben-Oni."
"Yeah, I know," I said with a small smirk.
He looked down, a genuine gratitude softening his features. "I wanted to thank you for... all of this. I had so much fun. Thank you."
A wave of pure happiness washed over me. I had enjoyed every second, but hearing him say he was happy made my own joy feel ten times brighter. I simply nodded, my throat tight with emotion. "Goodnight," I managed, and disappeared into my room.