Kiss of Death - 1. The God of Death

I wake the next morning feeling rested but tired all the same. Some groggy beast has taken over my senses and I can barely open my eyes which now carry an insolent lead like quality.

I reach for my phone resting on a red ocher bed stand. Tilting it towards me, a blistering bright light, almost blue in nature, causes me to squint my eyes before I'm able to adjust.

Noting the time I realize I'm late.

"Crap", I verbalize.

I don't know if I have time to shower, so I throw on my nearest clothes, spray a ton of deodorant and grab my bag, hoping my hair is slightly tasseled and not as elegantly terrifying as a dear recently hit by a truck.

I pop my earphones in and head to campus, waving to Earl the bus driver.

He smiles an odd smile, happy to be noticed but yet it seems to emanate a discrete sadness. A reminder that not many people take him into account, merely considering his being as an inconsequential part of their routine existence, albeit the fact that we are all entangled in each others lives.

The bus pulls to a halt, it exhales a disappointed sigh as the doors screech open.

I step onto the cement grey curb and breathe in deeply, taking in the lingering scents of fast food mingled with the light fragrance of cigarette smoke and booze, in my opinion the epitomy of college life.

The song changes, accompanying the scenery in an interesting fashion, almost exposing the landscape in greater detail.

For awhile I become absorbed by it. Intrigued by the simple complexities taking shape, going unnoticed by those too preoccupied with hastily living out their lives to appreciate it.

There seems to be a rather large crowd gathering near the entrance of the lecture hall.

It looks like a group of people swooning over some guy.

I guess he's attractive but something about his face is distinctly familiar, I just can't put my finger on it.

He seems to be passing out his contact info.

I overhear him whisper, "Call me if you need someone to rock your world."

Wow. What a boner killer.

He, unfortunately, catches my distasteful gaze, possibly mistaking it for something else.

"Hey, my name is Azrael. What's yours?", he says, turning to me with the most condescending smile I've ever seen. Perhaps he thinks I'll grovel at his feet, grateful to be breathing the same air as him. Unfortunately looks can only get you so far without a degree of good nature or class a I prefer to call it.

He bites his lip and watches me expectantly.

"I'm not interested.", I say coldly as I push past him to grab a seat.

I whip out my books and start jotting down notes as the lecturer begins to talk.

The annoying man plops down next to me.

"Is this seat taken?", he asks.

"Help yourself.", I say sarcastically, gesturing, under my breath.

"Thanks.", he winks, still oblivious, not really getting the point.

He tries to talk to me but I profusely ignore him, hoping he'll go away and at some point during the lecture he leaves.

Thank God.

When I get home, I'm standing outside my apartment door. I reach for my keys and notice the door is left ajar.

I walk in quietly, down the corridor and into the kitchen, making sure I grab a knife for you know self-defense.

The t.v in the living room is softly blaring. I can make out a figure sprawled on the sofa munching on a bag of chips.

I edge closer, when one of the floorboards creaks.

He gets up and turns to face me, I'm taken off guard. It's that guy from the lecture.

He smiles sweetly and asks, "Where have you been? I've been waiting for you."

"What do you mean? What are you doing in my apartment?", I say raising the knife defensively.

"Oh that", he chuckles, "Well before you get mad, I don't think you know who I am."

"I don't care if you're the Queen of England, that doesn't explain what you're doing in my apartment?", I retort angrily.

"Well do you remember that wish you made yesterday?", he questions.

My mind recalls the entry.

"Yeah, and what's it to you?", I query, raising an eyebrow amusingly yet still ensuring that I'm on guard. He's probably a psychopath. In situations like this, I think it's best to keep the conversation going till you can figure out a gameplan.

"Well the other Gods think you need divine intervention, so that's why I'm here.", He grins devilishly.

"You're crazy. I'm calling the police.", I say, firmly grasping the knife protectively in my hand and reaching for the phone in my back pocket.

"Wait no, I can prove it.", he exclaims, snatching the knife from me.

"You see, I'm the God of Death, mere mortal weapons can't hurt me.", he slices his arm, conjuring a grotesque amount of blood.

"Fuck", he groans.

"What are you doing?!", I yell.

He drops the knife and without thinking, I rush over.

"Stupid Greater Gods!", he cusses, clutching his arm, as the blood drips to the floor, "They said they'd limit my powers but not make me mortal."

"Uhmm, okay!", I exclaim, "Stay there, I'll be right back."

I hurry out of the room to grab my first aid kit.

"Where would I go? It's not like I can make it very far with an injury like this. I'll probably bleed out before I get to the door.", he yells down the hall.

I return, giving him a bemused look, "That's a tad bit dramatic. By the look of it, if you frequently 'charm' people into bed as you did earlier, you'd sooner die from an STD."

"Okay, first, Ouch. That was a low blow, I've never had to worry about that when I was a God and two, I've never bled before but from my experience, all the humans I've seen die afterwards."

I purse my lips. He's defintley a loon. Delusion of Grandeur perhaps?

"I'm going to need you to take off your shirt", I say indifferently.

"That escalated quickly, I'm bleeding out here but hey, they say you should always die doing what you love and to be fair, I wouldn't mind having sex with you either. Even if I die during it.", he grins.

"That's not what I meant!", I blush heavily, "It would be easier to treat your wound if you did".

"Fine, could you help me?", he asks as I begin to slip off his long sleeve top.

He watches me in his skin-tight jeans and muscular, toned body and I feel embarrassed. I apply pressure with one hand and slowly dab a piece of cotton with saline solution to the area, to try and clean around it.

"Fuck, that's cold.", he groans.

"Could you not make this weird for me?", I ask nicely.

"Sure but why are you so freaked out?", he beams, "I think I know why."

"Why?", I ask curiously.

"You're still a virgin", he sings.

"And so what if I am. As a matter of fact, I'm saving myself till the right guy comes along.", I say proudly.

"You sweet thing. I know more than anyone that time is short and you shouldn't waste it like that, albeit how admirable your conviction is."

"Whatever. Are you suggesting what I think you are?", I retort.

"Maybe I am.", he smiles, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Maybe I'll consider it.", I state coldly.

"Really?!?", he suddenly perks up.

"Yeah.When my standards drop.", I say avoiding his gaze.

"Ouch.", he chuckles.

By the time I'm done cleaning the caked blood, I notice that the wound is gone.

"This doesn't make any sense.", I comment.

"Well, would you look at that", he remarks, "So they didn't forsake me after all."

"So you weren't joking about anything were you?", I ask.

He shakes his head.