Deviation Actions
Literature Text
“Thank you.” Undertaker simply smiled his signature grin. Theresa gazed at his face, and found her eyes focusing on his silver bangs. What did his eyes look like? She knew what color they would be, since he was a reaper. Or did she? She had to know what lay beneath his hair. Considering it the first of the many mysteries she was determined to unravel, Theresa set her beaker down and closed the distance between herself and Undertaker, who didn’t seem to question her actions. He remained still as Theresa’s hand drifted up to his face, secretly loving the feel of her fingers against his skin. Theresa took a breath and slowly moved the hair away from Undertaker’s face.
His eyes were unlike any reaper eyes Theresa had ever seen. The yellow and green blended together in perfect harmony, making it seem as if his eyes were one captivating shade of green, like emeralds with golden sunlight filtering through them. There was a deep sense of mysterious wisdom in those orbs, with pinpricks of light filtering through from his love of laughter. But overall there was a foreboding, yet welcoming impression of darkness, a darkness obtained only from observing death for longer than anyone could tell. These were the eyes of a true death god. Theresa subconsciously leaned in closer, as trying to see if there was more to those compelling eyes, their foreheads touching softly. His long, dark lashes brushed downward as he slowly blinked, breaking Theresa from her trance. She leaned back quickly and shook her head, freed from the spell that were Undertaker’s eyes.
“Did you like what you saw deary?” Undertaker moved his hair back in front of his eyes. Theresa nodded with a blush.
“Well, I better be off to bed. Goodnight Undertaker,” Theresa turned to leave the room.
He seized her wrist before she could walk away. "I've shown you one of my secrets, now you need to show me yours." Theresa arched an eyebrow in confusion. "Come on deary, I've seen your glasses. They're much too thick, which could only mean one of two things: one, you're blind as a bat, or two, you're hiding something, and I'm guessing it's the latter."
Theresa decided that it was only fair she share her secret. She gave a heavy sigh and removed her glasses, closing her eyes and lowering her head as she did so, still feeling hesitant about this. She felt Undertaker's hand tilt her chin up slightly. "Come on snowflake, stop delaying the inevitable." Finally she opened her eyes, revealing something that shocked Undertaker. Instead of the standard yellow-green shade, Theresa's eyes were different colors: one was an ice blue while the other was a deep violet. They were gorgeous. Suddenly he found himself at a loss for words.
"I know. I look odd." Theresa said.
"No! Not at all! I was just.... just.... wondering why you hide your eyes." Theresa gave another sigh.
"While working with the reapers I was often caught between worlds. I wanted to fit in with the others, but at the same time I wanted to retain some of my unique traits. Most of the time the desire to fit in won out, so I conformed to the basic eye color with glasses that had a layer of color changing glass. That's also why I wear men's clothing."
"I never knew you so torn. It almost makes me wish I hadn't tried to get you your job back."
"Don't say that; it was a sweet gesture." She smiled at him as she talked, and as she did, something inside Undertaker finally broke. He turned away from Theresa, his feelings for her colliding with his opinion of himself. How could she do this to him? Every day she made him love her more and more, but he always knew there was no real love in her actions, because no one could ever love him.
Theresa watched as he walked away, curious as to his sudden change in demeanor. Then as she continued to watch she heard something that she would have categorized under the impossible; she heard the Undertaker crying. "What's wrong?" She asked with a noticeable amount of worry in her voice. No response, just more crying. Eventually her concern became too great and some form of instinct took over. She walked to Undertaker and hugged him from behind. She felt him start to try and free himself from her embrace.
"Let go of me," he commanded. Theresa refused and placed her head firmly against his shoulder blade. He continued to try and get her off. "I don't need your pity!" he shouted at her.
"This isn't pity!" she shouted back.
"Then what is it?"
"Love," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"What?"
There was a sudden silence as Theresa was asking herself the same question; had she just said she loved him? It wasn't that she didn't, she really had come to love Undertaker; she was just wondering why she said it now of all times. As she thought about it her grip loosened and Undertaker turned around to look at her. She saw through his bangs and noticed a glimmer of anger in his eyes. Was he really mad at what she had said? 'Of course he is you stupid girl,' she told herself. 'He doesn't feel that way about you, and no one ever will.' Once again instinct took over, this time causing Theresa to run from the shop and towards the rooftops.
Undertaker watched her run out the door as his heart filled with despair. He was right; she didn't love him. If she had meant it when she said it, why did she run? 'Just forget about her,' he told himself. 'She's not coming back." But how could he forget about her? Theresa had become a major part of his life ever since she came to him to try and find a serial killer. The whole time she had lived with him he had kept trying to show his feelings for her. The whole time she never seemed to notice. Theresa had inadvertently created a paradox in Undertaker's life; everyday she made him love her, and every day she made him hate himself, because part of him was convinced his love for her wasn't mutual.
"Well, this is quite a dilemma."
