A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. While I had hoped it was Matt, back from the store with his cigarettes, I was disappointed to find my subordinate standing on the other side of the doorway in his place.

I sighed and let him into my office, one of the rooms I spent most of my time in—other than my bedroom, which I shared with Matt under the premise of protecting him from the thugs living here as well. I was too distracted to place his name at the moment; I didn't even care. He wasn't Matt—that was all I needed to know.

All I remembered, once the ferocity of my anger dulled to minor irritation—the kind I had, and was used to, day in, day out, from my "job"—was that he had the Shinigami eyes. And I had told him to alert me to any impending deaths, especially those of the ones closest to me.

"This had better be important. I was clearly busy," I said, knowing I wasn't.

"Of course you were, Sir," he said, obviously not believing my lie. Not because I was a bad liar—I'd lied since I could talk—but because the state of the room contradicted my words.

Still, I shot him a cold glare. How dare he challenge the validity of my words!

"What was your name?" I asked, though the tone of my voice indicated I don't give a fuck, get out!

"Jack, Sir. Jack Neylon."

I smirked. "Of course it was."

He had knew reply. I knew it was a fake name, but I didn't want to bother asking for his real one. I had no use for it at the moment—and if I wanted to know it, I had access to all the records.

He hated me, I could tell. And it made me all the more amused that he kept calling me "Sir." Especially since I was a good ten or twenty years younger than him.

"Why are you in here?" I demanded, in the most bored, uninterested voice I could muster at the moment. Maybe if I at least acted like I had things to do, he would leave me alone.

"It's about him, Sir. The one you forced—er, asked us to protect."

It amused me to no end that he obviously loathed me, yet tried to remain respectful, likely out of fear of punishment. I would have threatened him with my fun, or even shoot him in the leg, but his mention of Matt sobered me. I was completely serious—Matt could not be in danger.

"What about him? You did make sure to protect him when he left?" I asked, not faking the harsh tone of my voice. If anything happened to him…

"N-no, Sir! But while I was tailing him, I noticed…"

I was relieved, but didn't allow myself to show it. They knew I was attached to him, but if they knew how attached, they might kill him to hurt me. They still might, but while they were afraid of me retaliating, and my harsh command, they wouldn't disobey me. As long as I kept showing my fierce side, rather than the soft feelings Matt brought out.

"Yes?" I asked, pretending to be too interested for a proper interrogation while inside, I was worried, while my heart pounded.

What? What happened?

Obviously, Matt wasn't dead, since I didn't assign Jack to him today, but still, I was concerned.

I wondered why he would only tell me now if it was so important; I had assigned Jack to him last week, not today. But Matt was gone—it was likely he didn't want to risk him hearing what he had to say, or interrupt my time with him.

Smart man.

"His… Life span, sir. It… Terminates in January."

Though I had struggled throughout this conversation to remain calm and composed—by which I mean angry and threatening—I looked at him, terrified.

"This January?"

I was wide—eyed, fearful, shocked. I couldn't believe it. January was only two months away! Matt couldn't die so soon!

Much to my bewilderment and fury, and simultaneous heartache, he nodded.

No. No! No!

My heart shattered. Matt couldn't die. No, it wasn't real! I didn't want to believe it! I wasn't ready to lose him!

"Yes, Sir. I'm… Sorry?"

He was trying to placate me. To soothe me, like a child.

"No, you aren't," I growled, glaring, barely resisting the urge to put a bullet through his skull. It would take ten seconds to take his life away…

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"What… day, what time?"

I was hopeless. It broke my heart to say those words, but it devastated me even more to hear the answer. He was my best friend, since I was six or seven. Maybe even longer; it had been so long it was hard to tell, sometimes. But I would always remember meeting him.

And I'd loved him all that time.

But now it was useless! My feelings were completely unrequited; I'd determined that when he brought home the one girlfriend he managed to get through the course of his life. He would never love me back, and now it was too late to even know if he ever thought about being with me, with his impending death.

"The 26th, at 10:36 PM. I saw it myself, above his head. I… Hate to be the one to tell you this."

Only because you know I'm armed, I added bitterly, but only in my mind. I bit my tongue to keep that from slipping out. I still had the urge to draw out my gun and shoot him in the center of the forehead.

"Ger out," I said harshly, watching his expression change to one of confusion. Stupid. He was so stupid, and I hated him.

Why wasn't he gone already?

"Get out and never tell anybody about this. Don't tell Matt about his…"

My voice wavered. I was about to break down, and he was still here.

I couldn't bear to think, let alone say, the word "death." It was just too painful.

He finally understood and left, shutting the door behind him. I locked the door behind him, pissed off because he didn't do it himself. I didn't care that my door only locked from the inside. He should have locked it.

And when the door was locked again, I buried my head in my hands and slumped down to the floor, allowing the tears to fall.

Sorry, you have to wait for an update! :] It shouldn't be more than a week, though. :]

Reviews would be greatly appreciated. :]