Page 23 of Living with Death

He folds his lips. “Sorry.”

I sit on the edge of the sofa, wondering when I'll ever enjoy speaking with my mother. Why does it always have to be like that with her?

He interrupts my thoughts. “So, what does a night in with Mabel look like?”

I smirk. “I thought you'd been watching me.”

A soft shade of pink appears on his pale cheeks. “I have, but I don't know everything about you, and I'd like to.”

“You baffle me.”

He angles his head. “Why is that?”

I look past him, seeing a spiderweb in the corner of the room. “I've been trying to understand why you want to do this and why you want to do it with me.”

He looks down for a moment before gazing back at me. “You won't let this go, will you?”

“Would you?”

A light chuckle erupts from him. “Touché.” He sighs, biting his lower lip. “I've lived a long time, Mabel. A very long time.” I listen intently, thinking this conversation fascinates me more than any conversation I've ever had. Maybe I don't do anything because nothing interests me, or perhaps I'm just a hermit, as my mother says.

“I'm older than the sea. I was created before all living things because I am needed for them to be. Every life must have an end. It keeps things balanced. I am that end.” He slants his head, looking at me intently. “It's a very lonely and dejected way to exist, and I've been doing it for such a long time, just as you've been doing it here.” He watches me for a moment, and a shiver sweeps down my spine.

“The pizza is here.”

“How do you...?”

The doorbell rings. I give Azrael a puzzled look as I hop off the couch and get some cash from my wallet before walking to the door. “Mabel?” the guy asks.

“Yes.” I hand him a few bucks for a tip.

“Enjoy,” he says.

“Thanks.” I shut the door with my foot and step back into the living room. “I'm excited for you to try this.”

Azrael gets up from the window seat. I grab the remotes from the coffee table and place the box down. “I'm going to grab some napkins and something to drink. What would you like?”

“Whatever you're having,” he says.

I step up and walk down the hall into the kitchen, opening the fridge. Liquid Deathwaterstares back at me. I smirk. He should get a percentage of their sales, considering they're using his name. I grab two cans from the fridge and a few napkins.“Water is always the best option.”

Shut up, Mother.

I walk back into the living room and hand him a can.

He looks at it oddly. “Liquid Death,” he reads. “I like the name.”

I smile. “I thought you would.” I open the box and sit down. “You gonna sit or stand?”

“Sit,” he says, placing the can on the table before bending beside me. I grab a piece of pizza and a napkin, sitting back before taking a bite.

He watches me before doing the same. I chuckle as he takes a big bite, his face lighting up. He chews thoughtfully before swallowing. “This is very good.”

I smile. “You'd die over the pepperoni.” I wince. “Bad choice of words.”

He agrees, taking another bite.

“So, you're doing this because you're tired of being alone?” I ask, grabbing my water.

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