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The reaper lowered his head, slowly fiddled with his fingers. “Who does the God of Love love?”
A beat passed, two. Minho looked at the grave, then at the reaper. “No one. I am love.”
Sympathy overtook the doleful look in the reaper's eyes. “That sounds lonely.”
“What about you?” Minho asked, gesturing towards the reaper. “What do you—a reaper who only knows death—love?”
“Everyone, everything,” the reaper said, a small smile tugging on his lips. He tilted his head back, sighing as the sun gleamed across his face, highlighting his cheeks, his heart-shaped smile. “I'm full of it.”
or a reaper teaches the god of love how to love
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Bookmark Notes:
this is so full of love, love it
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