I wrote this at 3 in the morning on my Facebook while listening to The Civil Wars song "Poison and Wine". Just so many feels were there and resistance was futile TT^TT. It still needs editing (I literally only fixed like one line... ) so I am open to critiquing :3 Just not flames-flames are not okay :
The road was damp with the residue of an afternoon shower, water causing tires of the old car to screech. Alan glanced out the window briefly, cursing quietly as a tiny drop fell from the greying sky onto the window. Another call for a shower-at this rate, the road would be blocked off for the next mile or so, the motorway clogged worse than a rusted drain pipe. It would be at least another hour before they reached home. Alan glanced to his right, worried eyes casting over his companion's form. But Eric, his simple shirt and pants clashing with Alan's suit, said nothing.
Switching into the left lane, Alan sighed and leaned back against the leather seat. The faint hum of the radio droned an old country song, melancholic yet endearing to his ears. He scowled and contemplated turning it down. but stopped. Perhaps Eric liked this song. Eric might like to listen, he reasoned.
"Eric-" he started, but stopped himself. Eric never acknowledged his companion, turning his head to the window. Away from Alan and the face he couldn't bare to look at nowadays. Alan swallowed and turned his eyes back to the road. The damn song kept playing out, growing steadily louder as the seconds passed. The strumming of the guitar was nails on a chalkboard to his nerves and the voices were nothing but the endless screeching of banshees. Alan grit his teeth, knuckles ghostly white against the black of the wheel, and his attention forced on the traffic.
Awkwardly, he tried to start conversation.
"Dreary weather this is..." he commented, nodding towards the window. "Right ghastly and mucky." Eric remained silent beside him, still mindlessly watching the cars race past in the opposite lane. The country folk would have no trouble getting home through the rain, Alan thought bitterly.
"I here it is supposed to be bad all week... Insane, isn't it?" No, not insane for England to be blessed with rain, Alan Humphries. What a stupid, thoughtless question. Eric did not want to hear about the rain, nor the weather for the rest of the week. Especially not how sad and hopeless the days would be. So he tried again, his voice stuttering slightly.
"I-I heard from Grell that William found another love letter in his inbox... Burned it to pieces. Guess he isn't found of the stuff?" Alan let out a small laugh, the gesture forced and unpleasant. Eric fidgeted, Alan closing his mouth. What was he playing at? Eric hated hearing about this topic, especially the letters. Alan braked a little too harder than he'd meant to, bitterly reminiscing.
Eric used to love the rain, sitting out on the porch with him for houses. Letting the cold water hit their skin and send little shivers of pleasure down their spines. Hear the thunder roar amidst Eric's own booming laughter. Laughter, Alan mourned, he had not heard from the man in ages. His once bright smiles were now gloomy and grey like the sky outside, and his voice had gone with the thunder that now refused to echo across the moors of England. His eyes, once pools of sunshine, now held only tears matching the solemn rain hitting the Earth around them.
Alan remembered Eric's arms being strong and warm. Now his touch was cold, and his arms had lost their muscle, becoming limb things resembling dead branches. He remember what they both had, and how bright the world seemed to be. Now they had little left at all, and the light once encapsulating their world had faded away. These days they only pretended, living in a shell of their former selves.
Alan shook the thought away, distracting himself with thoughts of home. The music continued to drone on ingraining its painful lyrics into his head. Alan took a sharp breath, barely remembering to signal. He thought back to his garden, and mourned the memory of finding another dead rose in the flowerbed. He'd been finding more of them recently.
The music by now was excruciatingly loud, ringing in his eyes and making his blood boil. The lyrics, speaking of love, lost, and clinging to a life that could never be, screamed at him from all angles of the car, and Alan felt himself going insane from the noise. The guitar, the vocals, the rain outside and the silence of his companion became all too much.
Alan snarled, attacking the volume button on the radio with force, and came too close to an oncoming car. Alan shrieked, swerving right, barely avoided collision by an inch. But the road was wet, the tires slippery, and Alan soon found his close save cut short when the vehicle spun out. Alan gripped the wheel, watching in slow motion as the world twirled around him. The colours of cars, headlights and the black of the road blurred into a kaleidoscope of dizzy shapes and twisted images. They seemed to dance, mocking him with a waltz, gracefully floating and dipping down in a lazy manner. He felt, for a moment, that he was watching a memory-a ballroom of dancers, and Eric's smiling face as he lead him out to the floor. The last smile he had seen from the man before life went to Hell and back.
The world came back into focus when the car came to a sudden stop, Alan painfully banging his head on the steering wheel. He gasped, body shaking and reality coming crashing down upon him full force. He felt his lips quiver, his heart hammering painfully against his chest. The radio, which he had meant to turn off, had been reduced to static, completely busted. The same song, close to the finish, echoed out the final chords. Alan could only loose his composure completely, sobbing in defeat.
"I'm sorry!" he gasped, though it was unclear if he was addressing the accident or their current situation. "I'm so sorry!"
Eric... what would he think of him now? What a fool he was, thinking only about himself. His own heart and pain, to the point where he kept forcing himself into the life of a man who needed him not. Too afraid to face the world without him, but even more to face Eric's pain. Alan choked, resting his head on top of the wheel. He half expected Eric to yell, to get out the car and leave.
But Eric was silent, remaining in his seat. His eyes were turned to the road ahead, watching the cars go past without a care. His lips were moving, but Alan could not make out what was being said. A soft tune floated up into the air, hoarse and uneven but meaningful.
Alan lifted his head to listen. A voice, quietly whispering words with a Scottish accent, almost begging for him to listen. Almost like a message was being written out before him with a shaky hand, something he should have realized all along. It was then he realized that Eric was not speaking at all. Singing, softly to the same tune of the song with some minor alterations. Alan said nothing, unable to move or speak or do anything at all except sit and watch Eric sing.
Eric was singing, speaking, and looking at Alan. Keeping his eyes, the tears lingering about the corners, matched with Alan's own gaze. Edging closer inch by inch, until the two were barely apart. Alan kept still, immobilized even as Eric's lips were barely inches from his own. As the song ended, he only faintly heard Eric continuing to whisper.
"I do love you... I always will."