“A notebook?”
“I started keeping it during my internship. I write down phrases humans say. Things I didn't understand but wanted to remember.” Greg's voice had gone quiet. “No one told me to do that. It wasn't part of training. I just... wanted to.”
“What kind of phrases?”
“The things they say at the end. To each other, mostly. 'I'll never forget you.' 'Tell them I'm sorry.'“ Greg swallowed. “'It's not the pain—I'm just not ready.'“
Something cold unfurled in Dustin's chest. “Why would you write that down?”
“I don't know.” Greg looked genuinely lost. “It felt important.” He paused. “The other reapers thought it was strange. They call me the Hallmark Harvester.”
“That's a terrible nickname.”
“I know.”
The food arrived. Samantha slid the plates onto the table in front of them—bacon cheeseburger for Dustin, grilled cheese for Greg. The interruption felt almost jarring, like walking out of a dark theater into daylight.
“Anythingelse I can get you?”
“We're good,” Dustin said. “Thanks.”
She left. Greg picked up his grilled cheese and examined it carefully, clearly grateful for something to do with his hands.
“I was right,” he said after a moment.
“About what?”
“The grilled cheese.” Greg took a bite and chewed. Nothing fell apart or dripped down his chin. He looked quietly triumphant. “I told you I was a fast learner.”
Dustin shook his head and bit into his burger.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. Just... full. Like there was too much sitting between them to fit any more words.
Then Greg said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Earlier. You said you might tell me how you started jumping off cliffs for money.” Greg set down his sandwich. “I'd like to know. If you're willing.”
Dustin's appetite flickered.
He could deflect, change the subject or make a joke about how his tragic backstory cost extra. Greg would probably accept it. He didn't seem like the type to push.
But Greg had just told him about his weird little notebook.
Dustin felt like he should give something back. “I had a brother,” he said. “A twin, actually. Tyler.”
Greg nodded. “I know.”
Dustin stopped with a fry halfway to his mouth. “You know? Fuck, of course you know. You’ve beenstalkingme. How could I forget? You're obsessed with me.”
“I'm not obsessed with you.”
“No?” Dustin ate his fry. He didn't feel like talking about his backstory anymore, about Tyler, about any of it.
Not when Greg had already snooped on him and admitted to it so openly, like it was no big deal that?—
He didn't let himself finish that thought.
