[ WP ] You 're in bed with a terrible cold when you look up to see Death sitting in chair on the other side of the room . He is reading a thick book when he looks up and says , `` Do n't worry . Take your time . I just started this ... . ''

I arose from my latest bout of fitful sleep for another painful attack of coughing. I had gone through my third tissue box, and yet my nose was stuffy. Sometimes I hated the thing- it was either blocked as if someone injected my face with concrete, or running likes burst pipe. I did n't know if I needed another dose of medicine until I saw my clock illuminated by my lamp. The thing is, I do n't sleep with the light on. 
 
 
 I had just gotten awake enough to fee tired again- which also told me that I was due for another dose of that deceptively called'grape flavored' liquid. My foggy mind had gone back to the light; I assumed that my mom had turned it on, as I saw a steaming bowl of chicken soup in my nightstand. I smiled to myself until I saw the vile fluid that supposedly was medicine accompanying this gesture. `` Well,'' I sniffled, `` Down the hatch.'' As I regretfully swallowed the stuff, realized that I'd been living alone for a while now, and then noticed Death reading intently. 
 
 
 `` Uh...'' I stammered. Death glanced up at me from his book. `` Oh, hey, you're awake!'' He spoke in a voice that one would n't think belonged to Death; it was nether an unnaturally low whisper, nor a skeletal rasp. In fact, this voice sounded like to belonged to someone by the name of Chuck rather the famous entity that now sat before me. 
 
 
 Death put a bookmark on his page and closed the novel. He looked at me with a curious expression, as much as an iconic black hood can look at something curiously. A new expression replaced that one; with an air of realization, Death stammered: `` Oh, uh, sorry about touching your stuff. I just saw this book, and, it looked interesting, and I thought that the soup and medicine would make up for it-'' Death let out a sigh. `` Look, uh, buddy, you probably do n't care if I read your books, right? You're probably infinitely more worried about he fact that Death is in your house. Well, uh, as you can probably tell yourself, you're not doing to hot right now. Actually, you are- you have a helluva fever going. The point is, I'm here just in case you do n't pull through. So, in the meantime, you rest up.'' Death seemed to be satisfied with his spiel. 
 
 
 `` You made me soup?'' I asked quietly, although there was a sniff between the'you' and the rest of that sentence, which made it all the more pathetic. 
 `` Oh, boy...'' Death sighed. `` So,'' he began again, `` Look, uh, buddy-'' he noticed that I seemed to have heard him. `` Oh.'' He said. `` I mean, yeah. Chicken noodle soup. Eh... Is that ok? You're not a vegan or something, are ya?'' I shook my head. `` Oh, thank gosh. You know, out of all the groups and ideologies in the world, vegans might be my least favorite- and I've been around for'em all.'' I could n't help but give Death a quizzical look. `` Oh, except for Nazis and stuff. That just goes without saying, right?'' Death gave an awkward laugh, and then returned to his reading. 
 
 
 In a combination of the hazy effect of medicine and disbelief, I had become weirdly okay with the fact that I was just in the company of Death himself. It was my turn to stare curiously. Death seemed to notice after a while, and offered `` Hey, I can turn off this lamp if it's bothering you.'' In my sickly stupor it took a solid second for me to register what he was saying, and then I quickly shook my head. `` Ok, thanks.'' he replied. `` Oh, and I can, uh, reheat that for you if you're not hungry now.'' Death gestured to the bowl of soup. `` Thanks,'' I muttered, then inquired: `` What are you reading?'' 
 
 
 To this, Death flipped the book so he could read the cover. This habit, which altogether makes no real sense, was one he and I shared. `` Uh... Well, my last read was *The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy*, so I've been on a bit of a Sci-Fi kick lately...'' `` That's one of my favorite serieses!'' I interrupted, and then quickly apologized. `` Sorry. Also, sorry for'serieses'.'' Death waved his hand. `` Oh, no, do n't worry about it. You're sick. Anyway, this is, uh, *Red Rising*? Pierce Brown?'' Death made the statement a question, and one which I immediately understood; he was asking what I thought of it. `` That's another one of my favorite series! Although, it's on the other side of the spectrum of *Hitchhicker's*. It's kinda dark,'' I added, `` But I liked it.'' 
 
 
 `` Oh? It seems good so far.'' Death added. `` Yeah, and it only gets better! The world of the novel broadens up quite a bit, and it just gets better and better as the series goes on.'' I continued. 
 
 
 We continued this literary discussion for a while longer, and then I let him read. Death told me that I'd feel better with some sleep. `` Do n't worry,'' he said, `` Take your time. I just started this.'' 
 
 
 AUTHOR'S NOTE: 
 Sorry if this sucks. Also, the *Red Rising* trilogy is real and great for those looking for a good read. ( If you do n't like where it seems to be going at the beginning of the first book, I recommend persevering through the first book, as it does really open up! ) also, I had another ending planned but scrapped it in favor of just leaving it there. You can read that below. Now for some excuses:'Wrote on mobile, it's late, ball blah blah.' 
 
 
 Alternate Ending ( Ehhhh ): 
 
 
 When I woke up, I felt better, but famished. I looked over to where he was, and saw an empty chair. I had begun to think that it was some kind of hallucination from the drugs, or a fever dream of a sort, but I saw steam curling off the soup. Where the other two books in the series were on my shelf was a note which simply read: `` Hope you do n't mind if I borrow these.''
