Hot moist air stung all humans nearby, causing children to cry in pain. Their wails of pure agony ignored by their parents, who insisted it was fine.

It was not fine.

Geno wanted to hide away from the screaming and crying, from the heat, from the bugs, from the pain. But how could he? Reaper stood over him like a hawk, watching him carefully, every single strained breath he made.

Geno pushed forward, his shoes painstaking making their way past the playground, and to the path. Wet mulch smushing beneath him with his steps, fading into grass. Ugly, tough, annoying grass.

He prayed to whatever god there may be that he would return home soon, where he could just wrap himself in a blanket and forget the world. Forget everything.

Geno couldn't bring himself to look forward, such a terrible walk of shame he was on. He just watched his feet as they went in and out of view with every step.

His weak aching feet stung up his thin legs, every move tortured him, he wanted to scream for help, but even if he did, nobody could help him.

The ground beneath him was grassy and muddy and rocky he felt like he could tumble at any second now. Not that it would be any more than a trip.

There should be a ledge up ahead though, a steep one, into roots and rocks. That would be a good fall, he could trip and never be seen again down there.

At least not alive.

The thought entertained him, something to distract him from the tiring walk. The thought of never coming back from this alive.

Nobody would care.

Nobody would notice.

Nobody even loves you.

Such trivial thinking, even Geno knew that. Reaper would care, Reaper would notice, Reaper loves Geno.

And that's why Geno hates him.