Chapter 20: Chapter 20

S Ø R E N

HE WAS RATHER surprised that after what seemed like fifteen minutes of interview, Nadine suddenly turned the tables and proceeded to ask Søren a couple of questions. He had had the upper hand all of that time, and now she was catching him off guard. He froze, his pencil poised mid-air, but he knew that he could not show her any signs of instability.

“How did you die?” she had inquired, narrowing her eyes. “And how come you’ve never heard of the war? It didn’t happen long before you turned, so I’d think you would have at least picked it up in gossip or something,” she continued vaguely, and her gaze shifted away from his.

Søren gripped his pencil tighter and gulped, before flexing his fingers. He was not prepared to answer this kind of question. It was personal, and he had only told Savannah because he thought that telling her would bring some kind of comfort or understanding. It had made her stop moping, but it was not supposed to open up further discussion. Sharing that with Nadine —who was a total stranger and whom Søren did not trust in the slightest —would be like posting a super-secret journal on the internet.

Mortifying.

He blinked rapidly, as a series of images then flashed across his mind. He still occasionally had those—not every time someone mentioned his death, but it happened often enough. They reminded him that he could not forget —that he was not allowed to forget. Memories of what happened that afternoon whirred like a film reel. They used to unnerve him, but now they were a constant reminder of how he was suddenly plucked from his life and forced to take on a job that would then cause his sensory and emotional systems to shut down.

The images changed faster, but the people in them moved in a slow and blurry motion, and only her laugh echoed in the background.

Grass. The garden. A white tulle dress. Tumbling down hills. Long, dark auburn hair, with strands tangled between my pale fingers. A kiss.

It was a puzzle of different scenes inside of his head, and if anyone else could have seen it they would not think that they were very connected. A chill then travelled down Søren’s spine and the scenes shifted, growing darker and more ominous. A shadowy figure moved along in every room he saw, omnipresent and quiet. He had learned that this was the Reaper who was supposed to reap his soul that day. It never made the situation any more reassuring. The images then whirred again, more blurred and disjointed.

A garter belt. Tights. Boots. A white tulle dress, strewn across the floor. A red lipstick smile. Dark, and almost black brown eyes. Long, dark auburn hair, with strands tangled between my pale fingers. A kiss.

And another. And another…

Søren closed his eyes, letting out a strangled sound before he felt himself returning to the present, and the images turned fuzzy and distant, leaving his mind to rationalise.

I could have saved them both.

I should have been more alert.

She should not have distracted me.

Maybe I would have lived, and grown up to —

He shook his head, stumbling out of the fog. Everything returned to normal, and he opened his eyes to find Savannah, Lewis and Nadine staring at him.

He coughed and felt a wave of heat rise to the surface of his skin.

How would he explain what had just happened?

Søren opened his mouth, but still nothing would make its way up his throat, which only made him feel even more flustered.

“Are you okay?” Savannah asked gently. “You kind of froze up and…” she did not finish, and looked to Lewis and Nadine for help.

“Was it something that I said?” Nadine asked worriedly.

Yes, he wanted to scream.

But Søren still could not voice it, so he shook his head slowly instead. Everyone then went back uncertainly to what they had been doing, and he could tell that he had rendered the atmosphere stiff. He turned to face Nadine again, who flinched slightly at the movement.

“I suppose I hadn’t heard about the war because the Boss wanted to keep things under wraps,” the Trainer finally said; completely ignoring the first question. “I wouldn’t blame him. Reapers would probably have quit if they were informed of what that Titan…Kronos, did.”

If she noticed that he ignored half of her inquiry, she did not show it. “I guess…” she murmured, her eyes disappearing into slits.

“Hey guys,” Lewis then drew their attention towards the shelves, already slumping over with exhaustion, “Can we swap now?”

“No,” Nadine and Søren answered in eerie unison.

“…You’re supposed to keep going until nightfall,” Søren continued.

“Then we swap?” Savannah grumbled.

“Then we swap,” Søren confirmed.

After that had been cleared up, he turned back to Nadine and sighed. He felt drained after the flashback, and he was stiff from sitting in the same position with his legs crossed. He then uncrossed them and sat up lengthwise.

He was okay with the fact that no one wanted to bring it up, so he enjoyed the uneasiness to that extent.

“…How long have you been training her?” Nadine asked, nodding in Savannah’s direction.

“Almost two weeks now, which is already too long,” Søren huffed. “Sometimes I wish she came with a return receipt.”

Nadine then laughed at that, and he enjoyed the melodious sound, even if it was a little forced. “…Hey,” she then sighed, stretching out her arms. “You want to have a quick lesson on the Greek gods? It’ll take our minds off of…things,” she suggested tactfully.

Søren thought about it. He only knew basic Greek mythology. Growing up in a strict Catholic estate did not allow for much depth into the study of Greek culture.

But he supposed that since his boss was in fact a god himself, he had to start somewhere. “Yeah. Sure, why not.”

✠

After two strenuous hours of trying to understand the gods’ family tree and their blatant and unapologetic incest and infidelity —namely Zeus, Poseidon and Ares being a few of the guilty parties —it was finally around the time of nightfall. Lewis and Savannah did not really want to interview each other, so they lay sprawled on the floor without exchanging a word.

“Hey Søren,” Savannah then said sometime later, before he could finish dusting another book. He turned in surprise before she took his hand and dragged him around a corner so he assumed they could be out of earshot.

“What?” he said, unsure of what she wanted.

She looked down and folded her arms, hesitating. “I just…wanted to check up on you. I don’t believe that Nadine had nothing to do with it. I figured that maybe her question about how you died might have thrown you off and kind of…put you into a state of shock,” she whispered, looking upwards and meeting his silver gaze, “…or something.”

Søren clenched the feather duster tighter in his fist and sighed heavily, cursing himself because he really should have seen this coming considering Savannah’s naturally caring nature. He could not tell her the whole truth.

He could not really lie either. So, he settled for halfway, hoping that she would then drop the subject. “I just had some…flashbacks,” he said quietly.

“Flashbacks?” she repeated, cocking an eyebrow.

“Mm hm…” he hummed, twirling the feather duster between his fingers.

She narrowed her golden eyes at his, and then shifted her weight to the left. “Was it what I think it was about?”

“What do you think it was about?” Søren retorted, raising his own eyebrow. She paused, before looking like she was deliberating over telling him whatever her guess might be. And that made him grow suspicious, because depending on why she was hesitant to tell him, it was not sounding like an idea to which he was going to be open.

“…That girl,” she finally hissed, being super vague.

“Which girl?” he mimicked her tone.

“You know —your computer,” she elaborated, “You always seem so protective over that name and I figured it might have something to…do with…” She trailed off as she noticed the angered expression on his face. In that moment, Søren hated her mostly because despite her assumptions based on little evidence, she actually was not wrong.

In fact, she was pretty on the mark. Rage pulsed through his veins and shallow breathing ensued. He hated that she simply had good intentions. He hated that he could not let her in. So, he turned around to walk away before his fist had the chance to prevent her from ever wanting to talk again.

“Hey, wait,” she whined, grabbing hold of his arm and stalling him in his tracks. A growl grumbled in his chest as he tried to tug himself free. Somehow, though, she was stronger than him and managed to keep him where he was. “…I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. I just figured you wanted me to be more specific,” she murmured.

She had been too specific.

Søren frowned and turned back to face her anxious face, feeling betrayed. “…I never asked for you to be specific,” he said through his teeth.

Savannah nodded understandingly, and then she did something completely unexpected. She darted forward, and hugged him fiercely, burying her head in his chest. Søren gasped and stumbled backwards, causing them to crash into the shelves. He was slumped against the hard cover books limply, with Savannah’s arms still wrapped around his waist. He tensed, suddenly overwhelmed with the scent of lavender and pine. He felt unsure of how to react —it had been the longest time since someone had hugged him. He then flinched, trying to send a message. The redhead did not move, and he wished that she would, because her hair was scratching his exposed skin and she was way too close; her body radiating warmth where it came in contact with his. “…I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He huffed before trying something different and wriggling in her grip.

“You’re never going to tell me, are you? Though, I would completely understand. But sometimes it’s good to talk about the things that are bothering you,” she went on, lifting her head.

Her gaze met his and she gave him a pitiful look. His hard glare returned it, and he gently pushed her away from him, creating some space between them. Then Søren thought her question over.

Would he ever tell her? He certainly did not want to any time in the near future. But he looked into her shining eyes and pleading face and felt two things. Guilt, and reluctant yielding.

He softened, knowing that the small detail he would forever avoid could not stop him from telling her one day. He nudged her completely away and her arms finally dropped to her sides, freeing him.

“…I’ll tell you some day,” Søren whispered. “When I’m ready.”

And then she nodded slowly, and a smile found her lips, letting him know that she was just fine with that.