Ch. 7 - Ghostly Caretaker

Damien returned to the academy in a rush. He'd never walked out of the Underworld in that manner. He had far from a sweet relationship with the Underworld, but they never fought either.

Damien could not understand the Underworld's need for someone like Naomi. He knew from that start to avoid getting involved with her.

She was frail, clumsy, and reckless.

Naomi had bright, bubblegum pink hair too. Damien hated bright things.

He hated especially how empty-minded she was. It was as if every move Naomi made, she made on pure instinct and feeling. It was her worst quality. Before they even formally met through Miss Labelle, Damien had already known to avoid her.

At that time, she was just a nuisance.

Now she was a threat to the Underworld?

No matter what, he'd never allow the Underworld to take her. Mortals' only fate in the Underworld was to suffer. Death would be a more gracious option for Naomi, but Naomi didn't even have that option.

No matter how cold Damien let out to be, he wasn't cruel. He'd never be.

When Damien was about to enter the room, the same bright pink materialized down the hall.

Speak of the devil.

"DAMIEN!"

Naomi charged forward, dressed in a black dress. It was more extravagant than her usual school uniform, and it was different from her usual Azalean colors.

But it fit her.

Naomi's excitement was overwhelming, and she had that stupid look on her face again—the one that looked eagerly at Damien for no reason whatsoever.

At that moment Damien had a few options.

He could enter his room and it'd be over in a single second.

He could walk away and it'd be over as long as he outwalked Naomi.

Or he could let her stay.

Damien's mood had been bad already. How worse could it get?

He waved back tensely. Just for a little bit, he'd talk to her.

As Naomi neared, her presence unexplainably felt more tolerable.

Although when she got close enough Naomi quickly noticed Damien's mood. She caught herself mid-sprint, and began backtracking.

In that single moment his mood turned worse again.

"I must've come at a bad time. I'll come back later," said Naomi.

"Stay."

A momentary pause sat in between them, and by then, Damien had completely lost all reason. He wanted her to leave, yet here he was telling her the opposite.

"Really. It's okay. You must be tired. Seems like you've just returned."

"You don't have to leave." Damien pointed at her hands, "It seems like you have something prepared."

Naomi pulled the box in her hands towards her, as if trying to hide it, "This?"

"It'd be a waste to let it go. You must've worked hard on it." Damien stepped away from his door, and made his way to Naomi himself.

If she wasn't going to stay, he'd go to her instead.

Naomi stood still, and the closer Damien got, the brighter her smile became. Damien still had no idea what made her smile like that, but if it had anything to do with him, somehow the thought satisfied him.

"It's just a small gift. I made it to thank you for the other day."

Naomi handed the box to Damien. When Damien opened it, he was met with a tiny toy plush. It was a plush of a grim reaper. Strangely enough it resembled Death.

Damien laughed at the irony, but also the tiny thing was endearing to hold, to see, to think it was handmade just for him.

"You like it?" Naomi asked.

Damien nodded, "It's fitting. Thank you."

Naomi snorted, as she fiddled with her hands, "Really, this is nothing compared to what you've done for me over the weekend. The porridge was delicious, by the way."

Damien thought back to the weekend. Perhaps he had done a little too much for Naomi at that time, but it was the least he could do after watching her die that slow death.

Thinking back to it still made him sick.

This wasn't going to work. Damien was getting too comfortable over the idea of Naomi. He was getting too comfortable with Naomi herself.

This wasn't going to work.

"I might've missed a thing or two, but I don't remember making porridge for you. I remember checking on you and at the very least setting a glass of water by your table."

"The rag?"

Damien shook his head.

"It must've been another friend of yours."

"Oh I must've been mistaken." Naomi smiled and laughed, though for the first time it wasn't fully reaching Damien. It was a different smile, a difficult smile to watch idly.

Damien avoided Naomi's gaze, but before he could check on her again she ran off.

"Still thank you!" She yelled back, and as quick as she came she disappeared just the same.

----

"Lenz. Do you believe in the afterlife?"

Lenz stared at Naomi, who hung low on his bed, her hair hanging to the ground.

"You're lucky that I don't dorm with anyone." Lenz wore a judging look.

Naomi groaned. "I don't either. You're welcome to come over whenever you want."

"Doesn't mean you are." Lenz scoffed, crossing his arms at the pathetic sight of Naomi.

"I get it. I look haggard."

"You look like you've been rejected."

Although it wasn't the case, it felt like it. So Naomi took it as that.

"I can't believe I made up this whole scenario in my head!" Naomi wanted to cry. "Do ghosts cook for people? If it wasn't him, then who? Doesn't that mean that a complete stranger entered my room that day? An intruder?"

Lenz sat next to Naomi and pulled her up, "Calm down. Your fear will cloud your judgment. Is there anyone else that might've noticed your absence."

Naomi shook her head, "Miss Labelle. Damien. You. The year's just begun. I hadn't met that many people yet."

"That doesn't help all that much either. Perhaps it had been Miss Labelle."

"She was teaching class that day."

"Perhaps it wasn't."

Naomi's stomach curled into itself, "So there really was an intruder."

Lenz pulled Naomi into a hug, "We can't know for sure if it was an intruder or a ghost, but we can be sure about one thing. Whoever it was, they took care of you whole-heartedly."

Naomi sunk into Lenz's arms.

How long had it been since she's gotten a hug?

Just like that all her worries seemed to wash away.