When you are asked what is the purpose of gloves, what would you usually answer?

The most common answer is that gloves are often used to protect hands from various things, such as cold or heat, damage by friction, abrasion or chemicals, or provide guard for something that the bare hand would not be able to touch without receiving damage.

In Xibalba's case, it was a much more complicated answer. He didn't really answer it, however, he always either changed the topic or excused himself and left. Not even La Muerte knew why he was always wearing those black gloves, and always wondered how his touch-his actual touch-felt like. One of those days, she even wondered if something was wrong with Xibalba's hands and he didn't want anyone to know, not even her.

From what she'd heard, he started wearing it since he was very young, but as he grew up, he started to wear them more and more, until he stopped removing them altogether, but no one knew why.

On Xibalba's perspective, why did he wear gloves?

No one would understand. He hadn't the heart to even tell his wife about it. He himself didn't understand it at all. He was simply told not to remove them when he was young, and he obeyed. As he leaned against the proposal tree, on the usual place he and La Muerte often came to spend some time 'alone' together, he let out a sorrowful sigh. He wanted to be alone for the moment.

Reluctantly placing his snake staff aside and taking one of the fingers of his glove, Xibalba pulled out his skeletal, claw-like ebony-colored hand. He examined his own hand carefully as if trying to find something odd, but it was still the same.

"Cariño?"

Xibalba was startled by his wife's voice, and quickly slid his hand back into the glove before turning around. There she was, his beautiful and beloved wife, her skin gleaming under the night sky, her eyes full of love and kindness.

"Mi amor, I wasn't expecting you so soon…"

"I wanted to surprise you, Balby…" La Muerte smiled as she approached her husband, and traced her fingers up to his shoulders. "Besides, I know you don't like waiting…"

Xibalba smiled at his wife and took his hands to her cheeks. "I don't really mind waiting for you, mi corazón…"

Their lips came together in a kiss, and Xibalba ran his hands down La Muerte's waist. She, on the other hand, clasped his shoulders upon feeling the cold leather of his gloves on her back. She wanted to know the touch of his hands. When she was certain he was too immersed into their kiss, one of her hands slowly reached down to intertwine with his hand; however, as she started to pull the glove off, Xibalba quickly caught on and broke up the kiss as he stepped back, his hand clasping her arm gently, releasing his hand from hers.

"Don't do that." He warned her with a serious look.

"What's wrong, Xibalba?" La Muerte inquired, a bit incensed. "Why do you act like this everytime I try to take off your gloves?"

Xibalba simply turned his head around and crossed his arms regretfully. "You wouldn't understand…"

"Understand what? Is something wrong with your hands?"

He stiffened. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But Balby…" La Muerte chimed. "I want to feel the warmth of your hands…" Once more she approached her husband from behind and carefully tried to grab his hand, but suddenly he turned around and swatted her hand away.

"Don't you dare!" he snapped with sharp teeth.

She was both hurt and surprised by this; he had never spoken to her like that. Xibalba realized what he had done when La Muerte crossed her arms and turned her back on him with a frown.

"M-Mi amor, I'm sorry, I…"he tried to touch her shoulders, but she stepped away from him.

"No me toques." She told him coldly.

"I was an idiot, but please, don't be mad at me…" he tried to touch her once more only to get the same results.

"How can I not be mad at you when you don't trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, La Muerte!"

"If you did, you would tell me what's wrong with you."

"I can't do that!"

"Or you just don't want to!"

"It's not that!"

La Muerte finally turned around to face him with a glare. "Then what is it?!"

Desperate and angry, Xibalba finally took his wife abruptly by the shoulders. "I DON'T WANT TO KILL YOU!"

Silence. La Muerte just stared at her husband's anguished eyes, confused. "What do you mean you don't want to kill me?"

Xibalba closed his eyes and sighed; reluctantly, he moved away from his wife and walked towards a small, nearby bush. He removed one of his gloves once more, and tapped the bush. La Muerte gasped in shock when the bush withered away and turned to ash in a fraction of second. She approached the dark lord warily.

"Balby?" she whispered.

"It started when I turned four." Xibalba explained grimly. "Everytime I touched any living thing without the gloves, they died and turn into ash, no matter what I did. At first it was nothing, but when it started to get out of control my mother gave me these gloves…"

It happened again. He unintentionally ruined one of his mother's favorite flower bushes when he tried to pluck a flower for her, and as soon as the bush and the flowers lost their beautiful colors and withered away, he ran to the safety of his hiding place inside the tree and started to sob, frightened.

"Balby?"

At the sound of his mother's voice calling for him made him go stiff, he thought she'd be upset that he ruined her favorite flowers, but when he felt her hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her, she had no signs of being angry. Lady Selena was looking down at her son with great concern and worry in her emerald eyes.

"I-I'm sorry, m-mami…!" he sobbed, lunging into his mother's arms and sobbing into her breast, trying to wrap his small wings around her.

"Shhh, it's okay, Balby…" Selena returned the embrace, and kissed her son's head.

Xibalba looked up at her with tears gathered in his eyes. "I d-didn't mean t-to… I j-just wanted…" he couldn't continue as his mother shushed him by placing a gentle finger on his lips.

"Don't worry about it, mi niño. I know you it's not your fault. I actually brought something that could help you." Lady Selena searched something in the pocket of her dress, and took out a small pair of black gloves, adorned with green flames, just the size of her son's hands. "These will help."

Xibalba allowed his mother to slid the gloves unto his hands, and he managed to calm down a bit when she stroked it tenderly. "I promise you, everything will be alright. As long as you wear them, you can touch anything as if nothing happened, I promise."

Although he felt a bit calmer, he still embraced his mother and continued to sob into her chest.

The immortal couple was now sitting down under the tree, while Xibalba kept staring at his exposed hand, still holding the other glove in the other. "After that, I more or less managed to control this ability I wished I didn't have."

La Muerte had hung unto her husband's every word. "Balby…" she whispered sympathetically.

"As I grew, it became more difficult for me to control it. I grew afraid, to the point I didn't want to touch anything, not even with the gloves on."

"Mamá, I'm scared!" the godling wanted to scream, but all that came out was a frustrated whisper. The decorative plant of his room was nothing more but a memory, now nothing but a pile of ash and dead leaves, after he took off the gloves to show his mother how the control over his powers was doing now that he was 7. "It's getting stronger!"

"Calm down, Balby. You know it only gets worse when you get upset." Lady Selena said gently, spreading out her arms to pull Xibalba into a hug.

"No! Stop. Don't- don't touch me," Xibalba jerked back, hiding his hands behind his back, wrapping his wings around his body. His mother gave him an alarmed look. "I… I don't want to kill you," he said in a tiny voice.

With a compassionate look, Lady Selena approached her son and placed her hand on his shoulder in comfort, before pulling him closer into a hug. Xibalba tried to pull back, truly terrified of harming his mother, but eventually he returned the hug and buried his face into his mother's chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

"After she died, I didn't know what to do. Then Zipacna left, and I was left alone with my father. Eventually, I never removed them in fear of killing everything I touched. I never told anyone about it, my mother was the only one who knew." Xibalba couldn't bear to look at his wife right now. "I was afraid to harm you. I wouldn't bear if something happened to you because of me…" he stared at his exposed naked hand.

La Muerte leaned in closer to her husband and stroked his cheek. "Ay, Balby… You don't need to be afraid, I know you would never hurt me." She puled him into a hug, resting her head on his chest. Xibalba wrapped his arms around her, but as he was about to put his glove back on, she stopped him gently.

"Don't…" she whispered, reaching out to take his hand.

"La Muerte…" Xibalba groaned in worry, but she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It'll be fine, mi vida. Trust me."

Xibalba closed his eyes shut, as he felt his wife's hand intertwine with his own. He feared she would turn to ashes instantly, but instead he felt a warmth and soft skin. Confused, he opened his eyes and looked down at his hand to find his wife's much smaller hand holding it tenderly. He heart skipped a beat, and he gently grabbed it to make sure this wasn't a dream. Nothing happened to her; instead he felt the warmth and softness of her skin.

"See?" La Muerte smiled at her husband, stroking his cheek. "Everything's fine, nothing bad will happen if you touch me…"

Xibalba didn't say anything. Could it be possible? His naked hand found its way to his wife's face as he touched her cheek longingly after centuries of concealing his deadly touch from her warmth. His thumb gently rubbed her lips, smearing La Muerte's lipstick a bit, while his fingers brushed silky strands of her hair from her face. Finally, he couldn't contain himself.

La Muerte was taken by surprise when Xibalba pulled her into a kiss, but soon she returned the gesture and wrapped her arms around his neck and the two exchanged saliva. Finally overcoming his fear of killing his beloved wife with his touch, Xibalba removed the other glove and threw them aside for the time being, enjoying his Muertita's sugar and warmth, her silky hair. La Muerte shivered in delight when she felt Xibalba's hands-finally his real hands, not his gloves-touching her and exploring her face and hair. They were surprisingly warm and tender, like she always imagined them to be. She felt a shadow surrounding her, and opened an eyelid slightly; Xibalba had wrapped his wings around her to hold her close.

The two expressed their love beneath the tree. Xibalba's gloves lay aside, forgotten.