Hey guys! So requests might be a little slow because I'm currently working on a Hetalia lemon request. These are 100 one-shots!
Here's little reason: I've actually been incredibly sick since December, 2014. Since I found this shipping pair (as of three days ago when I watched the musical and read a billion fanfictions) I've felt as if somebody understands my illness. Sure, I don't have Thorns of Death, nor am I fatally ill, although the illness is serious. It feels like somebody understands my frustration, what if feels like to be told that you're faking it and to feel so weak and useless. Here's to Alan and for the makers of Black Butler: The Most Beautiful Death In The World. Enjoy!
-xAbnormalxAlphax
Eric sat in Alan's living room, reading a book while Alan was in the kitchen. It seemed like Eric practically lived in Alan's house. They cuddled sometimes, too, while watching movies. They were just friends, though. Just friends.
Eric heard a cry of pain from the kitchen, and it was obvious it was from Alan. A million things raced through his mind.
No. Don't let it be today. No! Let me have at least one more day with him, please! Please, don't do this to me. Don't do this to him!
Eric ran to the kitchen, seeing Alan clutching his chest and on his knees on the floor, crying out in pain. He was pale and had dark circles and had tears streaming down his face. He had been growing thinner and thinner each day due to his lack of appetite and his hair was thinning. He had never looked sicker as he did then. His breathing came out in shaky sobs.
"Alan!" Eric sat down next to Alan, holding him tightly. "Shh… Alan." That's all he could say. He couldn't tell him that it was alright, because it wasn't. He couldn't tell him that he'd be okay, because he wasn't going to be okay. He was slowly dying a very painful death.
"I-Isn't it… ironic?" Alan tried his best to speak. "A lord of death, an immortal being… dying."
"Don't speak, Alan. Don't speak right now," he spoke softly as he gently stroked Alan's hair.
Alan nodded, then was hit with another wave of pain, his body practically convulsing. He buried his face in Eric's shoulder, screaming and crying out and weeping.
Soon, the pain began to die down to a dull stabbing. Alan still held tightly to Eric, and Eric to Alan. Alan heard Eric sniffle, and he looked up to see Eric, silent and with tears all down his face.
"I was so scared, Alan," Eric finally spoke. "I thought… I thought that…"
"I know, Eric. I thought that, too. Don't cry for me, Eric. I want you to be happy." Alan's green eyes were huge and tear-filled.
"And I want you to be healthy." Eric's voice was not loud, but filled with intensity.
The room fell almost silent, except for the sound of sniffling. Eric stroked Alan's thinning hair, looking into his eyes. "Alan… Can I say something crazy?" Alan nodded. "Well… I don't know how to say this. I suppose I'll say this in the language of flowers. Red tulips."
"Red tulips?" Alan cocked his head. "You mean… declaration of love?"
"Yes," Eric flinched like he was about to be slapped. He looked like he had suggested something radical, insane, controversial or perhaps awful.
"Oh, Eric." Alan smiled in his typical way; his eyes widened and his thin lips curled into an excited grin. It was innocent and child-like. "I love you, too."
"You do?" Eric eyes went wide.
"Of course."
Eric kissed Alan passionately, yet gently and chastely, cupping his cheek in his large hand. Alan reached up, petting Eric's soft hair, running his fingers along the braids he had always been so fascinated with. Alan set his head on Eric's shoulder, and Eric put his head on Alan's head.
Soon, Alan had fallen asleep. He normally got so tired after the attacks of Thorns of Death. Eric lifted his skinny no-longer-just-friend and stood, holding him close to him. Eric carried Alan upstairs, setting him on his bed. Eric then pulled up a chair by the bed and began to read.