Annihilation

The first time Kennedy saw it he was five years old and alone in a hospital ward next to his grandfather. It was a particularly grey day, and Kennedy had heard his father swear for the first time. He wasn’t sure why adults hated rainy days. Kennedy thought the clouds looked very much like marshmallows ready to be soaked in hot chocolate and the colourful leaves reminded him of different types of candy. Maybe the wind was a little too chilly, biting at his soft cheeks, but even then he smiled and tried to touch the wind gusts with his fingertips. He really had no idea why his dad would compare the weather to poo. Poo was a word he associated with taking his puppy out for morning walks, or with when his mum would force him to eat porridge.

Kennedy was sitting on the corner of his grandfather’s hospital bed, tiny legs swinging back and forth. His granddad had been asleep since before Ken had even entered the room with his parents, so he pouted at his mum when she followed one of the men dressed in blindingly white coats with milk-white teeth out of the ward, leaving Kennedy on his own. She told him to stay with his grandpa, so he did, even though he stomped his small leg against the floor before accepting his defeat and climbing up onto the bed.

He was staring at the clock on the wall, watching the second hand tick and run past the hour and minute hands before the latter two overlapped, the clock showing twelve in the afternoon. Out of the corner of his eye Kennedy could see a dark figure standing by the window, so he turned his head, curious to see who was there. His hazel eyes met a pair of brown ones, and the stranger quirked an eyebrow, his face showing a certain amount of astonishment, like he hadn’t expected the boy to look at him. Kennedy stared at the man’s eyes; they reminded him of the chocolate fondue his mum had made him for his birthday. The man was wearing a dark grey shirt and black jeans but it was his patch of red hair that mesmerized Kennedy. He didn’t like colours that reminded him of the dead of night but he loved how the strawberry red stood out. Remembering his manners, Kennedy hopped off the bed and stood in front of the tall man, looking up at him.

‘Hi!’ he chirped, showing the stranger a wide smile. He was polite like that; his grandmother had told him to always be nice to everyone. At first Kennedy had thought everyone also included inanimate objects and animals, so he had started to apologize to the door for slamming it too loudly, and to his bed when he fell on it too heavily, and to the pigeons by his house for scaring them when passing them on his tricycle. His mum had told him that doors and beds didn’t feel pain, so Kennedy had stopped. He still apologized to birds and stray cats, though.

The excited greeting only seemed to puzzle the stranger more. The silence stretched for about half a minute – Kennedy could prove that because he counted every single tick sound the clock’s second hand made – before Kennedy realized he probably had to say something else to earn a reply. The stranger’s eyes shifted between Kennedy and his grandfather, and suddenly it dawned on Kennedy that the strange man was probably there to see the elder. ‘My grandpa’s still asleep, if you’re here to talk to him. He likes sleep a lot so I don’t think you should wake him up. Last time I woke him up from his nap he took my candy away,’ Kennedy told the stranger.

‘That’s not a very nice thing to do,’ the man spoke and a shiver ran down Kennedy’s spine. He had never heard a voice so cold. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasantly cold, like a cold cup of hot chocolate. It was more like cookie dough ice-cream, Kennedy thought. He liked cookie dough ice-cream. Kennedy tilted his head, observing the man as he made his way closer to the hospital bed. He stared up at the stranger as the dark haired man stretched out his hand, touching his grandfather’s forehead.

‘What are you doing?’ Ken hesitated to ask. He had a feeling the man didn’t want to be questioned but Kennedy was curious and still liked the chocolate pools that were the stranger’s eyes - that being enough of a reason for Ken to trust the man.

‘I’m taking away his pain,’ the man responded, his hand travelling down from Ken’s grandfather’s forehead to his chest, resting above his heart.

Kennedy’s eyes widened and he stepped closer to the stranger. ‘Are you a magician?’ he asked, watching the man’s fingers massage and draw invisible circles onto his grandpa’s chest.

‘Do I look like one?’ the man inquired, looking down at Kennedy.

‘Not really,’ Ken admitted before holding out his hand. ‘I’m Kennedy,’ he told the stranger, waiting for a handshake.

The man looked at the hand and Kennedy’s expectant smile but, instead of shaking it, looked away, disinterested. Kennedy dropped his hand, sticking out his bottom lip. He didn’t like being dismissed, especially not by someone he had declared intriguing. The stranger was odder and more important to Kennedy than the chocolate bar in his backpack, which to him meant a whole lot. ‘How do you take the pain away?’ he asked instead, hoping to earn at least some form of acknowledgement.

‘I set the soul free from the body,’ the man answered, pressing his palm down harder against Ken’s grandfather’s chest. ‘It is then able to leave and find a new vessel,’ he continued.

‘What’s a vessel?’ Kennedy tilted his head, feeling left behind. He had never heard his parents talk about being able to free his grandfather’s soul from his body, so he was excited to see it happen. He didn’t want his grandfather in pain. He had felt pain a few times himself and it had always ended in him biting back tears. Just a couple of days ago he had been running after his pup when his foot got caught in his own shoelaces and he ended up falling face-first onto the hard pavement. He managed to stretch out his hands before the impact so his palms, elbows and knees were the joints that ended up in bruises. Once he managed to get up, the pain seemed unbearable and he couldn’t help but cry for his parents. His mum rushed up to him, scolding him for being so careless but Kennedy didn’t hear it, too focused on watching the strange, dark red fluid dry on his knees. Kennedy hoped his grandpa didn’t feel the same amount of pain, but if he did, Ken was glad the mysterious man was there to help him.

‘It’s a new form, a new body that is still developing and lacking a soul. Once the soul is free, it can choose a new body to rest in,’ the man elaborated and Kennedy found himself nodding even though the concept still seemed odd to him.

‘Do I have a soul?’ Ken asked instead, watching the stranger take his hands away from his grandfather’s sleeping form.

‘You do,’ the stranger assured, his eyes still trained on the sleeping man.

‘Do you have a soul?’ he asked next, climbing back onto the hospital bed.

‘It’s a little different for me,’ the man said with an amused smile before putting two fingers up to the elder's neck.

‘You’re weird, is that why?’ Kennedy questioned and the man breathed out a laugh. Kennedy grinned, proud of himself for making the man in front of him grin so widely.

‘You could say so. But now it’s time for me to leave,’ he concluded and Kennedy furrowed his eyebrows, sulking. The man finally locked his eyes with Kennedy’s again, making the boy’s lips form a smile despite his sour mood. ‘And you’re not all that ordinary either, Kennedy,’ he stated before turning to walk away.

‘Wait! What’s your name?’ Kennedy exclaimed, not wanting the stranger to leave just yet. To his surprise, the continuous beeping sound that had accompanied the room became flat, the high-pitched sound piercing Kennedy’s ears. He looked over to his granddad, poking his hand to wake him up so that he could stop the sound but to his surprise he was met by a limb that seemed almost boneless. He looked back to the window, the stranger watching him with curiosity.

‘I think you’ll find that most humans fear me,’ the man stated and Kennedy blinked, confused as to why anyone would be scared of a man so beautiful and fascinating. He climbed off the bed, his small legs carrying him to where the man was standing by the windows. The stranger watched the boy come closer before kneeling on one leg, whispering something in Kennedy’s ear. The boy blinked but smiled nevertheless, happy to finally know what he guessed was the man’s name.

A minute later the man who Ken's mum had followed rushed in, rudely grabbing Kennedy by his tiny hand and dragging him away and out of the room. He looked back but there was no sign of his mystery man so with a sigh he allowed himself to be shoved towards his mum, looking up to see her wide-eyed and teary. He was puzzled as to why she, as well as the white man were both so terrified of a simple piercing sound. Sure, it was annoying, but in Kennedy’s mind they were overreacting. Instead, he looked up at his mum and pulled at her trousers.

‘Mummy, I met someone nice,’ Kennedy giggled, hoping to improve his mum’s mood.

‘Not now, Kennedy,’ she whimpered, her voice breaking.

‘But he was so kind! He said he was going to help grandpa’s soul,’ Ken explained to his mum. The woman’s eyes widened and she stared at Kennedy in shock, the words burning in her mind along with her son’s oblivious smile.

‘Kenny, sunshine, who are you talking about?’ his mum asked, pulling her son onto her lap as she sat down on one of the chairs outside the ward, tears still streaming down her face.

‘He told me his name is Death,’ Ken giggled, resting his head against his mum’s chest. All he saw when he closed his eyes was his birthday’s chocolate fondue and strawberries.

---


The second time Kennedy saw it he was fourteen. He had just come home from school, dropping his bag in the corridor before calling out to his mum. He made his way to the kitchen, fixing himself a chocolate pop tart. His mum hadn’t been feeling all that well for a while now yet she refused to call her doctor, claiming it was simply an unfortunate flu. Kennedy’s dad was on a trip and his older siblings had gone straight to their friend’s for a sleepover, which meant that Kennedy was the one who had to take care of his mum. He knew that if he wanted to get some food, he had to order Chinese takeaway before 5pm because after that the phone lines would be going crazy. He scrolled through the menu, taking a large bite out of his pop tart and making his way down the hallway.

It was then that his legs nearly gave out underneath him and his phone slid out of his hands, the soft thud echoing through the house. As he was about to pass his parents’ bedroom, ready to ask his mum if she was feeling any better or if he needed to get her anything from the chemist’s, a man exited the room, coming to a standstill when his eyes met the teenager’s hazel ones. The same man who had been haunting Ken’s dreams ever since he had learnt the meaning of the word death. The sight twisted Kennedy’s insides and he found himself leaning against the wall, eyes wide and breath coming out in gasps.

Kennedy whimpered, gaping at the man and hoping to God that he was just imagining things. ‘You can’t be real.’

‘You can still see me?’ the man asked, quirking an eyebrow. ‘That’s new,’ he stated, crossing his arms in front of him.

‘What did you do?’ Kennedy found himself asking, a knot in his stomach and a rock in his lungs. He already knew the answer but he didn’t want to accept it, didn't want to believe it would happen to him yet again.

‘She’s gone, I’m sorry. It was her time,’ the man explained but his tone held barely any compassion, only fuelling Kennedy’s anger more. Was it anger? Ken wasn’t sure. He felt sick, staring back at the man with wide, horrified eyes.

‘It wasn’t her time! It wasn’t her time to leave us!’ Kennedy cried out as tears threatened to spill. He didn’t want to cry in front of this monster.

‘I apologize, Kennedy, but it was. She went peacefully, she wasn’t in pain. She was ready to move on,’ he explained and Kennedy finally allowed the hot, angry tears to run down his cheeks as he stepped closer to the man who was now only a little taller than him, pulling his hands into fists and attempting to throw a punch. Unfortunately for him, the man saw it coming and easily overpowered him. Kennedy shut his eyes, expecting to be thrown against the wall behind him but it never came. When he opened his eyes, the man was looking down at him, unfazed by the attempted attack yet studying Ken's face with curiousity.

‘You killed her…You took her away from me,’ Kennedy whimpered, trying to free himself from the man’s grasp unsuccessfully. It dawned on him then that he was standing right by the door. He slowly turned his head, looking inside his parent's bedroom. He could see his mum’s body lying on the bed, her face pale but a blush still visible on her cheeks. ‘Can I say goodbye? Can you bring her back?’ he pleaded, his voice breaking as he stared at the lifeless form.

‘It’s too late. She’s already left,’ the man explained, loosening his grip on the boy’s wrists. Kennedy looked up at him one more time before quietly making his way into the bedroom, rubbing away the salty tears and snot with the sleeve of his jumper.

He knelt by the side of the bed, taking his mum’s hand in his own, brushing his warm fingers against her cold palm. ‘Mum…Mummy, why?’ he choked on a sob, his whole body trembling. A hand touched his shoulder but he ignored it, resting his head against his mum’s palm in the hope of feeling the slightest movement that could prove to him it was all a nightmare.

‘Why can I see you?’ he asked the man behind him. After his grandfather’s death, his mum had sat him down and explained the situation. She had pointed out that Death wasn’t a man; it was a thing that happened to people who were tired of being on Earth and wanted to go to Heaven. Kennedy had shaken his head, saying that the man with the red patch in his hair was definitely there. His mum had ruffled his hair and given him a kiss on his forehead, assuring him that it was just his imagination playing tricks on him.

It took Kennedy a couple more years to learn what death really meant, and when he did, he couldn’t help the nightmares that came accompanied with the face he had seen as a child. The more he read about death, the more it dawned on him that there was no way he could’ve seen it. At the same time, it disturbed him because he was sure there had been a person in his grandfather's hospital room right before he passed away.

And seeing as the man he had just come across hadn’t aged even a little bit, Kennedy knew that everything he had seen was real.

‘I’m not certain. Children can notice me but it’s very uncommon. You shouldn’t be able to see me,’ he admitted, taking his hand away from the boy’s shoulder.

‘So are you really? Death?’ Kennedy found himself asking, staring at his mum’s peaceful face.

The man shifted behind him. ‘I am,’ he affirmed.

Ken leaned over to give his mum a kiss on her cold cheek before getting up from beside the bed, expressionless as he made his way past the man without acknowledging him. He closed the doors behind him, picking up his slightly cracked phone and sitting down in the hallway, back pressed against the wall as he dialled his grandmother’s number.

Notes

i hoped very much i wasn't the only person who liked the idea of jack/ken but then i couldn't find any fics at all so... i wrote my own. as well as a couple of one shots [coming soon].

here's a playlist of songs i binge-listen to while writing this: x

lemme know what you think xo