Goth sat quietly on the edge of a bridge.

He was waiting for someone, expecting to see them at exactly 9:03 pm. At the moment, it was nine. Sharp.

He sighed, watching the three minutes tick by at a horribly slow pace. How he wished he wasn't here. How he loathed his job. How he despised it. 

After Geno's death, Goth was raised to be a Grim Reaper alongside his father to replace the old reaper which died. The reaper, Goth found out later on, was his dad's brother. After he discovered this, he began to finally notice the subtle tells of his father, how he looked at him in a sad way, how gently he spoke with him, how careful he was about what he would say. It was saddening to Goth to only be a horrible reminder to his father. At least, that was how he felt. He was the reminder of his dad's dead love and his deceased brother. At times, Goth found it best to avoid his dad whenever he looked especially tired or sad. 

Has time gone as fast as he had thought? For some odd reason, it only felt as if a few weeks had passed but it has been years. Long enough for the little reaper to start mortal middle school, well if you ignore his slow aging process like his family. Through the years, he witnessed his father spiral into, what he could only guess as, sever depression. Reaper usually did this kind of thing, actually. He was the one which promised to handle all of the cruel, saddening deaths ever since that day. The day he cried as a little boy to his father, how that little girl was...

Well, he shouldn't dwell on her, but he could never forget the screams. That day, you could say that he lost his innocence and finally saw the world without some childish blind filter. The world was a horrible place. As the only active grim reaper (His dad stopped leaving the save screen about a few years ago. Goth used to ask why but his dad never answered. He decided to stop asking after a while.), he only had time to see the death of people, people at their dying breathe. It was awful and Goth constantly asked himself how the heck could someone stay sane after a few days of this. 

He tore families apart. He tore loving pets from their owners.  He walked among scarred battle fields and picked up the forgotten soldiers which would only be remembered as a percentage in a mortality rate. 

It broke his soul.

It really did.

It was 9:03 and right as it turned, a girl walked by. Her face was stained with dried tears and her hands shook as she looked over the bridge's railing. Without a word, she grabbed the bars and hoisted herself over, looking down below into the shimmering black water. Goth sat beside her on the railing, waiting.

Her eyes remained focused on the distance below, but Goth could tell that she could see him. "Will it hurt...?"

Goth looked down himself, analyzing the distance. He calculated silently in his head before he responded. "Only for an instant."

She swallowed back her incoming tears and her fingers loosened on the bars, the only thing holding her up. She took one step forward, taking a sharp breathe, and plummeted downward.

Goth quietly sat there, alone on the bridge, staring at the moon's reflection in the water's surface. He counted to himself.

1

2

3

4

5

Splat.

The sound was drowned out by the passing cars behind him, but he still heard it. He always heard it. Goth stood from his place, holding out his skeletal palm. As expected, the sorrowful soul of the girl gently floated into his palms, her sorrowful cries still echoing softly from the core. Then, finally, Goth released the soul, letting it fade to the afterlife and finally into peace.

They always do this during the night time. Goth had slowly learned that. Maybe it's because it's easier to do it when it's dark and no one can stop you.

He took a slow, deep breathe before leaning back against the railing. He always wondered what it was like to fall, to have yourself splat gown below. He was always curious.

Without a second thought, Goth leaned forward and let go.

1

2

3

4

5

Goth looked up at the sky, his broken body lying on the ground.

It didn't hurt that much to him, as he had thought. Only for an instant as he promised the girl. However, that was if he was mortal. He wasn't. 

The pain lingered in every bone in his body, like someone tore him to pieces and continuously snapped his bones in half. His joins were on fire. His body felt fiery hot and icy cold at the same time.

It was such a horrible feeling.

Why do mortals do this? 

Goth closed his eye-sockets.

He knew why.

It was to escape the world. This horrible world.

Then Goth remembered his father. The father, despite his terrible silence which began a few years ago, despite the fact that he couldn't even bare to look Goth in the eye, despite the fact that he was a shell of his former self... was still waiting for him to come home.

Because Goth was the only family he had left.

So, the young reaper called out for his dad. He did it again and again, waiting for him to show up.

By the fifth time, to Goth's shock, his father appeared before him. He watched as his father's usual solemn and empty face morphed into one of pure distress. He watched his father disappear before his eyes, only to come back with Goth's aunt. 

He watched as the two sat by his side, reconnecting and stitching his body back together.

He watched them.

Then, he looked up to the sky. As if it was a miracle in itself, a shooting star flashed through the sky, reflecting in Goth's eye-sockets for a moment. He remembered the stories of shooting stars, how they were believed to grant unbelievable wishes. How they could make the impossible happen.

Goth personally never believed in those tales, but now, just for a moment, he did. He believed in those tales with all of his soul and he stared up into the night sky, wishing for one thing.

I wish for my father to be happy.

I wish it more than anything in this world.