Post Mortem

We brought my boyfriend Moritz back to life three days ago, and he's still complaining. I guess necromancy doesn't humble anyone, and certainly not him. He's an idiot that way.

"I wanna go outside," he complains for the eighth time in ten minutes, and my friends have finally had enough.

"That's it," Winthrop fumes, throwing down his heavy medical textbook and shaking out his wrists, "I'm going to glue his mouth shut."

"I second that," Paige says mildly, appearing around the shelves of grimoires and spellbooks to glare disdainfully at my boyfriend, laying spread eagle on the wooden floor of her store. I look up from behind the cash register.

"I know you're technically my boss, but you're not hexing my boyfriend. I think that counts as workplace harassment"

"I can harass you all I want. I have finals in two days and if he doesn't shut his mouth I'm gonna commit actual murder." Winthrop looks on the edge of tearing his own hair out, his glasses askew. Paige pats him sagely on the back.

"I think that's against the Hippocratic Oath, doc," Mortiz scowls, and the textbook narrowly misses his face.

"Chris, get your boyfriend out of my shop before I kill him myself." She tells me, and I blink at her in concern. She never bluffs, workplace harrasment be damned.

"Everyone is so touchy today," Moritz grumbles, scratching his stomach absentmindedly as he yawns. I blush at the sight of his pale skin as the hem of his shirt rides up and miss Winthrop's next words.

"Hey! Stop staring at your boy toy and listen to me!"

"Sorry," I snap to attention, "What were you saying?"

"I was saying," Winthrop says impatiently, "I am giving you the keys to my family's cabin. Three days for you to smack him around until he stops being annoying and I'm done my test taking. Don't trash the place."

"W...what?" I ask, and Winthrop drops keys into my palm.

"Three days," he repeats ominously. "Either he comes back not annoying or he doesn't come back."

The drive up to the coastal cabin is fine, because I play my music and Moritz complains himself into napping the five hours it takes to get there. I poke him awake as we pull in.

"We're here."

The cabin is beautiful, a one story house made of clay and shaped like a little sandcastle. The inside is warm and wood paneled, with two bedrooms, a pretty bathroom, and a tiny living room/kitchen with a view of the sea.

"It's pretty," I sigh with a smile. It's also quiet, something that hasn't been a thing for the last three days. I adore Moritz, but I think he's addicted to the sound of his (admittedly very nice) voice.

"There's no cell service." Moritz grunts, and I poke him. He's been grumpy since I picked him up.

"Why are you being such a baby? It was really nice of Winthrop to let us have this for a few days"

"Winthrop just wanted me out of his hair," Moritz mutters, "Stop pretending he did it because he...likes me, or something."

"My friends like you," I protest, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "You just...rub them the wrong way sometimes. That's all."

"That makes me feel so much better," he snarls, shoving me away and stalking into one of the bedroom. I try to follow, but he slams the door in my face. I try to open it, but the doorknob makes my hand itch so bad I have to let go.

"I know you did not just hex this doorknob, Moritz Galen Schreiber!"

"Verpiss dich!"

I bang on the door again, worry flowing through me as his voice breaks over the words. "Let me in, you big baby! Stop throwing your little tantrum and we can talk about this!!"

"Vielleicht möchte ich, dass du mich in Ruhe lässt!"

"I don't speak German! Let me in!"

The door swings open and a scowling Moritz towers over me. I gasp at his appearance, free of his ever present leather jacket and gloves, dressed only in a white t-shirt and jeans. The most jarring part, through, is that his eyes are wet and starting to puff up red. I tentatively reach up to brush a tear off his cheek and he closes his eyes, leaning into the touch with a soft sound.

"Oh," I breathe, "What's wrong?"

"Do you ever regret bringing me back?" He asks bluntly.

"No," I answer firmly and immediately. "Never"

He pushes the door open wider, and I follow him into the room. He paces, and I sit on the bed watching him and worrying my lip with my teeth. I've never seen him like this. It's a little scary, to be honest.

"Why do you ask?" I hedge, and he snorts.

"Why do I ask? Your friends hate me, and you just seem...bored, and I don't know how to fix it, and you're verdammt perfekt, and I never Fühle dich genug für dich und du bist wahrscheinlich besser dran ohne mich-"

"Hey!" I jump up and grab his face, forcing him to look at me. "I don't know what you said, but I know that voice. And I love you, you idiot. I will never regret bringing you back, got it? No matter what you do, no matter how you're feeling, I will never regret bringing you back."

"I just want to feel real again." he mutters, "I spent two days as a ghost, not touching anything or being able talk to people and I...I was half convinced you wouldn't even see me or hear me, let alone help me. I just wanted someone to finally hear me"

"Was it that bad?"

He swallows roughly. "Drowning was worse."

I feel like a piece of shit, to be honest. All the death jokes and the telling him to shut up, and all this time, I didn't even ask how he was. He died. He was dead. That would leave a mark on anyone.

"God, Moritz, I'm sorry, I should have-"

"No, I'm not sorry I did what I did to end up there, but I...I just can't disappear like that again. If you don't want to deal with that kind of thing, I get it, it's not-"

"Hey," I brush another tear off his face, "It's okay. I'm staying. I'm always gonna stay, okay?"

"It's that easy?" he whispers, and I nod.

"It's that easy."

He blinks at me, and then his lips are against mine and I feel everything he is in this kiss. Brazen and stubborn and yes, a little annoying, but also sweet and kind and a little sad. I kiss him back.

"You know you said I love you, right?" he murmurs as we separate, brushing my hair back from my face, "For the first time. We've only been dating for three days."

"Don't make a big deal out of it. We technically dated for eight months before we broke up the first time. It's not that soon." I grumble, blushing. He smiles and kisses me again.

"Ich liebe dich auch, liebchen," he whispers, and I grin.

"I recognize the liebchen part," I tease, "you used to call me that after we-oh, okay, we're doing this, I guess."

Later that night, we're tucked close together in the bed, and he whispers against my back.

"I'm sorry I was being annoying. I took all this out on you and your friends, and I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry I ignored you,," I murmur back, "I'll listen. You don't have to apologize. I'm always here, okay? I'll always hear you."

"Okay," He smiles against my shoulder. The waves lap against the shore outside, and our breaths sync to it's motions. I feel his heartbeat against my back and it's perfect.

"I think I like this cabin," he says, and I hum in agreement.

"Me too."

....

"Is Moritz going to be annoying anymore?" Winthrop asks as I drop the keys in his palm. I shake my head.

"I don't think so, but lay off him, okay? He's had a rough go of it. How would you like drowning and then wandering around as a ghost for two days?"

"I wouldn't," he admits. I smile genially at him, and he squints at me.

"Oh god. Did you defile my cabin?"

"Yeah. Treat my boyfriend like that again and we'll do it all over-"

"I'm never letting you stay there again." Winthrop swears, clapping his hands over his ears as I cackle, "Never."