[stolen] criminal!afterdeath (COMPLETED)

-chapter four-

a/n- this is probably going to be the last part or two of the story (gomen ne :( ), I have no other plans written out for this. I do have more ideas and content for this story (like how crossmare met), but they are not really written down so...

I love these characters as much as the people reading this, so I will gladly take requests if anyone wants me to write some crossmare or some oneshots of afterdeath and stuff for this au thing. okay? okay.

ONTO THE STORY! (aka- everything is already pretty f'ing bad for everyone involved, but somehow I'm going to make them sadder then make them super happy bc fanfiction) sorry this one's going to be a filler... gotta fill up those growing plot holes

Reaper's POV

It's been almost a week of me feeling this... emptiness inside me. I haven't eaten anything other than cups upon cups of black coffee to keep me sane. Though I could barely call it that- unless having a strong desire to end everything you are and everything you have is what you consider "sane". I haven't taken a shower since Geno left, and all I do around the house now is just lay in my bed, trying to take in the smell of Geno on the bed sheets.

I've been refusing to take money for murder ever since Geno left. It would make me too guilty- after all, he still thinks I'm worth something. I don't know where he got that idea from, but I feel like I would be disappointing him more than I have already by laying even a scratch on another person for the rest of my life. I couldn't even give his stuff back to him- he's missing a wallet, a phone, and his damned butterfly knife.

God, I miss him. But he's not coming back to me, why would he?

I rolled over in bed, staring at my bedside table and the sheets around me. Dirty coffee cups were piled up on bedside tables, and the bedsheets weren't their usual pristine white and black pattern. There was a single dried bloodstain where Geno had slept next to me, and evidence that I had probably spilled coffee a few days ago. Not that I cared- I couldn't care about anything at all at this point.

There's nothing to care about.

The one person who has ever understood me has been snatched away from me within a day. It's pathetic, really.

I rolled over again in bed, still wearing the same pajamas that Geno wrapped his arms around when I was slipping into sleep. I was face-down on the bed sheets, still trying to make my mind believe that Geno had been here, next to me on this bed just a week ago. I mean, I had to believe it- the entire bed smelled like him. The metallic smell of blood, the bitter aroma of coffee, and the scent of fire filled the air.

A groan escaped my chapped lips, and I got up to look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I flicked the white fluorescent lights on. I looked like garbage, which is a thing that I thought I would never say to myself. Before this fiasco, I was more confident in how I looked than this. But it was reasonable, I guess. I did look like a mess. Dried up tear streaks covered my cheeks, and prominent dark circles and eye bags were under my once-perfect eyes. They were also tinted red and swollen from last night's sobbing. Great. Just great. My clothes were wrinkled and somewhat coffee stained, and I looked the thinnest I've ever seen myself.

I put my face in my hands and rested my elbows on the cold bathroom counter. This was pitiful.

I walked out, flicking all of the lights off again. I walked into the kitchen, sitting down at the dining table. The breakfast Geno cooked was still on the table. I haven't bothered to put plastic wrap on it and put it in the fridge. What a waste. A waste of good food, and a waste of Geno's energy on me. This is pathetic. I'm a famous assassin, I'm better than this!

The positive thoughts faded away as soon as they were thought, instead, they were being replaced with longing and loneliness for Geno. I pulled out my phone- the digital clock reading 5:37 a.m. I unlocked it, scrolling through phone contacts. Tapping on the contact named "smiling slayers X)", I scrolled through the contact info and notes. "Owed favors to me!- 48."

A weak, pained smirk crossed my face. This was a stupid plan, but it might just work.

Geno's POV

To everyone else who lived in our apartment, I was completely fine and was happy to be alive. But in actuality- I was falling apart. I had so many questions, and I didn't have closure with anything at all. I was getting even worse with the depression, and it made it even worse that Error was so guilty for doing nothing at all, Cross was downright murderous, and Nightmare was... changing. I winced at the memory of Reaper's desperate face.

I barely remember it, but as Cross and I left, I whipped my head around to look at Reaper one last time. I can barely remember anything else about that moment- but the look on his face... was absolutely unforgettable. Haunting even. How empty his eyes were, but at the same time, his eyes made it seem like he was screaming in pain even though his lips were barely mouthing the word "no". It wasn't the rage that I saw after Cross punched him. Reaper didn't even attack us. If he were, I know it would have only been in self-defense. He wasn't angry at me, he was angry at Cross. And by the look on his face then, I can safely say that he at least misses me. Not even just missing me- he's probably in a state of mild depression right about now. The way he was so vulnerable to me when... when he was crying like that really shows how little he's told his feelings to other people, and also how much he hasn't been understood for the entirety of his life. The way he held onto me makes it seem like I was the only person in this world, the only one who understood him. It's quite surprising the intimacy of it... besides, the most we had shared is the fact that he was going to kill me, and that we talked about my family a small bit. Even though we were basically strangers, I couldn't help but feel concerned for him. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. I couldn't help wanting to help him. I definitely couldn't help wanting to be with him again.

I couldn't. I truly, truly couldn't help it. I sighed, walking back onto the balcony. Cross and Nightmare were out doing whatever, and Error has locked himself in his room playing video games. He's probably playing them so much so he can try to defeat emotions itself in a boss battle. He hasn't spoken to anyone voluntarily, and when anyone did try to talk to him, he either didn't respond, or he would lash out violently without any reason whatsoever.

Another sigh slipped out of my lips. I envy Cross and Nightmare... they're the only ones who have managed to repress the entire thing. Nobody even brings it up anymore. It's probably for the best anyway. Whenever we bring up Reaper, Cross gets enraged and throws a fit for every little inconvenience, and Nightmare... he simply gets more and more apathetic and locks himself in his bedroom to try to enhance his poisons. I envy them. They've gotten over it, to some degree. But yet, here I am, a mess. It's already been a week- I shouldn't be like this. I should be over this. I should already have repressed this forever. Like Cross and Nightmare. I should be over this. I should be over this. I should be over this.

But somehow, with Reaper, it seems impossible.

Another damned sigh. I should step outside.

Unlocking the glass sliding door to the balcony, I stood and watched the later phases of the sunset. The horizon was crimson, then slipping into shades of orange and yellow, then cream as my eyes traveled from top to bottom looking at the sky. The highest parts of the sky were pastel blue, then it faded into navy blue. Like the paint on Reaper's walls.

Tears flowed, drop by drop, from my eyes. Everything is stained with the thought of Reaper now. Like bloodstains on white sheets.

I was standing on this balcony when this entire ordeal started.

But it seems like it still hasn't reached its climax.

A hand covered my eyes, and another wrapped its fingers so tightly around my neck, the sunset faded to pitch.