The first thing Allen sees is blackness. It swirls around him, moving across his skin and pushing him along. He is not afraid of it. It's comforting, caressing, like it knows parts of him that he doesn't. He blinks hard into the vast mass, catching sight of a faint glow in the distance. He tilts his head to the side, feeling a pull towards it. Something about this is calling to him, like it needs him for some reason or another. He takes a step forward and the blackness shifts around him, surging him forward and making him dizzy. He takes a deep breath in only to have it catch inside as he looks down.
At his feet is a person, dark skinned with red splattered across their chest. There are open holes littering their body with more blood slowly oozing from it. Allen covers his mouth and kneels down next to them, eyes wide in panic. He can feel them inside, he can feel their life, and he can feel it leaving. The person grimaces, shaking slightly. Allen can feel tears peeking from the corners of his eyes. The person is in pain.
He reaches out a hand tentatively, stopping just short of their face. With a sniff, he touches their cheek gently. Simultaneously, they both release a sigh. Allen places his other hand on their other cheek, something inside of him stealing this person's pain, removing it from them and making them lighter. The person sighs once more, and goes limp against him.
Allen jerks back scared. Even though he can feel it, that he has done something right, it scares him. His teeth chatter together as a bright mist swirls in front of the body. The mist collects and shifts, and takes shape into the exact form it just left. The spirit body looks down at him skeptically and Allen stares right back frightened. Suddenly the person goes wide eyed and bows low. They say something in a language that resonates within Allen. He stands quickly and bows his head back, his tears now drying. The person stands.
As if in a trance, they walk away from him. Allen follows not knowing what else to do. Then he feels it. The pain, the suffering, the feeling that something is ending. He follows the mist person to a new body on the ground. Allen watches as they place a hand to their head, and a pained look on their face. Allen jerks when they send him a pleading look, begging in that same language. Once more, Allen can feel something that he needs to do.
He kneels down, and places both of his hands on the new body, less hesitant than before. The new person, relaxes into his hold ceasing their whimpers from before. He sniffs with fresh tears wanting to spill out of him. When the new one becomes limp, he releases them, watching more clearly for the mist that collects above their body, making a new form. The two spirit bodies smile at each other, then embrace quickly. Allen blinks up at them when they starts to lose shape. They twist together, taking the shape of a new thing. The new forms are small and delicate, they flutter around Allen's head, carelessly and without need.
Allen stands up, watching as the two new creatures fly this way and that, he nearly smiles at them. He doesn't get the chance to. He turns around and stumbles back in shock. The land around him is tarnished with blood. He can see it too, what it used to look like, open and green. Being able to tell what the land used to be makes seeing the pained people scattered about so much worse. Allen doesn't know what calls him to do it, but he runs. His first step sends him shifting to the first person even though they were far away from him before. He doesn't care.
He doesn't know how many people he touches, he doesn't know how many he holds until they smile peacefully and go limp in his arms. He can feel it though, somewhere deep inside of him that it's the right thing to do. He can feel that it's not wrong, removing these people of their pain.
The last person he holds is a smaller one than the others, a long haired one, covered in furs. He winces when he sees their eyes are open and white. Allen holds them closer than the others, petting their hair until they relax and close their eyes. Their spirit floats up out of their body already in the winged form to join the others. Allen looks up into the sky, his eyes blurry as he spies all the small creatures flying in the air above them. He swallows. He knows something is supposed to happened but he doesn't know what.
He hears the snap of a branch and jerks around to see a new figure above him. He scrambles away from them instantly afraid. They are taller than him, covered in black furs over their dark skin. On their face is a large skull of a beast not entirely human. Allen shakes in his spot. He can feel their energy, something ancient and powerful. He can feel that power fading. He flinches when the being raises their arms to take off the skull.
A woman looks down at him, somewhat confused. Allen looks down at her stare. He feels like he's been caught doing something that he shouldn't have been doing. She speaks to him, in the same language of the people around him. He snaps his head up to stare back at her. Then she smiles warmly and Allen cries.
He runs straight into her arms when she kneels down. He buries his head into her chest, crying loudly and painfully. All the small creatures around him flutter down, dancing around him and he can hear them whispering kind and calming words. He knows deep down what he did for them is good, but it still hurts so much.
The woman runs a hand through his hair and pulls back. He rubs at his face, trying to remove the evidence. She ruffles with her fur robes and pulls out an object, a wooden stick with a sharp flat metal blade at the end. She holds it out to him and Allen shakes his head. He doesn't know what it is but he can sense the power that goes with it and he doesn't want it. The woman coos to him, gently and forcefully at the same time. She spins him around and pulls him close, holding the object out in front.
Carefully, Allen puts his hands over hers where they hold the object and together she moves it against the open air. A ripple happens like pebbles thrown into water and then it rips open. Allen inhales sharply, seeing the mass of purple shine on the other side. The small spirit creatures flutter happily, slipping into the rip and disappearing. One of the creatures flies in front of Allen's face, landing on his nose, then slipping into the tear. It closes up seamlessly, with no sound and no change.
Allen nearly lets go of the wooden object but the woman lets go first, letting him hold the full weight of it in his hands. He wants to drop it, but he can't, he can't let go of it. He faces her with tears in his eyes. She smiles and wipes them away. He watches wordlessly as she stands, speaking to him in words that will remain inside of him forever. She removes her black fur cloak in one swoop and drops it on his tiny shoulders. With a small laugh, she turns into a swirl of mist, and into one of the fluttering creatures. Allen calls to her, asking her to wait, but somewhere in his voice the words are lost.
The soul doesn't wait, and he can't follow. It flies off and Allen is left to hide his face in the furs. Many other people come around, but none of them can see him. He tries to get their attention once or twice but it feels wrong to interact with them. He can sense their life and he knows it's not for him. So he leaves that area, walking in a random direction. He takes a step and the world shifts around him. He stands in a tent now, lined with brown furs and a person on the ground, surrounded by others. Some of them are crying, but the one on the ground laughs.
Allen blinks down at him and senses his energy leaving. He slips past the others, and places a hand on their head gently. It takes just a second for them to let go and stop moving. The others cry out but Allen leaves the tent to not hear them. He walks away when another small floating creature stops him in his tracks, floating around his head happily. Allen gulps, gripping the object the woman gave him tightly. He raises it up, and drags it across the air in front of him. Again it rips open and the spirit slips through.
Allen looks down at his hands. The tool the woman gave him isn't heavy, and the blade more square than anything. He holds it tight to his chest. He senses the purpose of the tool, and knows it's his job to follow through. He pulls the furs around him closer, shifting them underneath his hands to fit him better. He pulls a fur over his head and walks on, waiting for his steps to take him somewhere else.
She doesn't know where she is, she doesn't know what is happening. Is she still a she? She can't tell, but she can remember. She remembers the sound of her mother singing, and she remembers her brother teasing her, and she remembers someone holding her tight before she felt calm. She could see. She could see her parents, what they looked like, and she could see the mass of purple stars surrounding her as her parents held her hands and guided her along the path her soul must now take towards being a new.
Allen could feel it in his bones. He hates these people. In the years since he first donned the black furs, Allen has grown. He felt taller and he felt stronger. He also felt anger. He watches from the top of a building with his legs dangling off the edge as the people hurt each other. They haven't done anything, and yet they are being treated like property and Allen hates it. He twitches when he feels the possibility arise. He can sense the chance of death coming and he narrows his eyes at the person targeted. He grips his tomahawk tight, feeling the darkness in him from which he was conceived.
The man with the whip stumbles back after his throw, falling down and on his back the exact moment the cart stops with the horse just recently startled. The beast kicks up and Allen has to look away from what he did. He jumps down from the building after most of the people have been ushered away, he places a hand on the person's arm. Not wasting anytime when the small butterfly spirit springs forth to rip a hole and usher it through. He flips his fur hood over his head and walks on.
He spent time testing the change of chance. Sometimes, if he tries really hard, he can allow someone to live for a few minutes longer than normal. He did that for a small boy years ago, who fell out of a tree and wanted to apologize to his mother before passing. He allowed him to say his goodbye before letting go.
He takes a step and finds himself in the uppermost room in a big house. He follows the fleeting life to the bedside of a woman, her hand held tight in man who looks worse for wear. Allen sighs and watches them for a moment, leaning casually up against the doorway. They whisper softly to each other in a language Allen has since learned. He gives her a few more minutes, as many as his strength can allow, before stepping forward to help her move on.
When her soul appears, and Allen tries to rip the air, it doesn't work no matter how many times he tries. He sighs and watches as the butterfly rests on the man's shoulder unmoving. He smiles gently before walking away and finding himself someplace new.
It takes a year, but he finally feels the man's soul fading. He finds him laying in bed alone, with the butterfly fluttering about hazardously.
"Shhh it's going to be okay," He says softly. The butterfly stops momentarily, shifting form back into the woman of before. He smiles gently at her.
"Just hold his hand, he'll be along shortly," He says and she nods her head doing as she's told. She holds his hand as best she can, saying sweet things to the man as he slowly loses his life. Allen places a hand on his head and the spirit comes out a man. The two hug and talk gently with happy tears. Allen smiles at them when they turn to him.
"Thank you," The man says, and Allen isn't sure why but he nods anyway. He rips the hole and the two souls flutter through.
Allen finds himself in a forest in winter time. It's cold and he pulls his furs closer. They have changed over the years to his liking, hugging his body more and providing more warmth. He has gained a pair of furs for his feet to keep them warm in the slight amount of temperatures he can feel. He climbs a tree to see up higher, searching for the person whose life he can feel shortening to the end. He spies the man far off, making the finishing touches to his cabin.
He waits, grimacing when he realizes what is to happen. When the bear shows up he looks away, not wanting to see the agony that the man has. Only when the bear is gone does he drop from the tree to go closer. He grips his tomahawk tighter, now longer and sharper because he wished it to be. He places a hand to the man gently, and when nothing happens he backs away.
"Oh," A voice says. Allen snaps his head up to a new being, someone who is looking at him just as strangely. Allen stands as tall as he can, compared to the size of the other in front of him. They rub the back of their head awkwardly, holding a similar tool in their hands, though longer than Allen's.
"Where they, one of yours?" They asks gruffly. Allen stares for a moment longer before sighing and dropping to sit down next to the human, running his hand through their hair. He cannot take their soul, but he can feel them being soothed by his action.
"Yeah, Viktor," Allen recites the name. The other reaper nods his head and takes a seat by Allen in the snow, dark furs covering his body too.
"My territory though," They murmur. Allen sighs. He knew something about this. He could sit and sense out the boundaries of the lands that he had life and death jurisdiction over. He knew that when one of his people crossed into other lands, they became that reapers. This is the first time it's happened though.
"I'm Allen," He says, trying to give them a smile, but it doesn't work as well as he wants it to. They try to smile back even though it comes as more of a grimace. The reach out their hand to pet the human, letting their soul flitter up in the shape of a small bird. Allen watches them cut the air the same way he does and the soul fly through.
"Your tool looks familiar," Allen says suddenly before they can disappear. The other blinks down at him and shifts uncomfortably. They hold out their tool, for Allen to see, and it shifts to a smaller version.
"She gave it to me," He says quietly. Allen stiffens. Is this where she went? He holds out his own tool, it shifting to the small form he had when first given to him.
"Me too," He says, now being able to smile a little easier. The other compares their tools, noting the similar build when Allen feels the tug. He needs to go, someone else is dying.
"I'm Matt," The tall person says. Allen waves bye to him before stepping away, letting the darkness once more shift him to a new place.
Amelia puts her hands on her hips, scowling down at the boy who called her ugly. Her eyes well up in little tears and she stomps off making the hem of her dress muddy. Her mother will be cross but she wants to be away from that boy and his unkind words. She goes against rules and climbs a tree, trying to hide even more so from everyone.
"Hey!" She squeaks and holds tight to branch in front of her, trying her best to glare down at the new person. A new boy, taller than the others is looking up at her, holding a small flower in his hand.
"I don't think you're ugly." He says loudly for her to hear. She pouts and wipes at her face.
"I don't think I'm ugly either," She shouts back making the boy laugh. He holds the flower up higher.
"I think you're strong," He says. She blinks, taking in the bright violet of his eyes. Carefully she climbs down, nearly falling when she gets close to the bottom, but the boy helps her steady herself. He hands out the flower and she takes it.
"My name is Van," He does a small bow for politeness and she giggles, grabbing the edge of her dress for a curtsey.
"I'm Amelia," She smiles up at him and he holds out his arm. She links hers with him and lets him guide her back towards their town.
Allen chews on an apple for no reason. He doesn't particularly need to eat, but it's something to do when he has nowhere else to be right away. He swings his leg back and forth from his perch in a tree, waiting for a new tug to take him to a new soul ready to be taken into the space. He has seen the world progress, has seen the buildings and the new inventions sprouting up. It's all very interesting for him to see.
His old fur garb has changed to fit him. He wears shorts now, a thin shirt, and a black coat with the inside made of the furs of the reaper before him. He feels comfortable in the outfit, changing it with the times he feels natural. His scythe has grown from it's tomahawk state. The wooden handle is longer, and the blade more curved and sharper. He swings the tool from his foot as he waits.
He drops his apple when he feels a tug. He shifts from his spot in the tree, falling over to drop to a new area. He steadies himself quickly and walks on through the hallways of the medical building.
Amelia screams. She can feel her body being ripped apart. She grips the edge of the bed tight as she can yelling out for the nurses to hear. She knew from the moment the nurses told her she might be pregnant that should wouldn't survive the birth. He body began to become frail over the course of being pregnant and she knew it. It didn't stop her from pretending everything was okay for Van. She cheered him on and encouraged him when he had to go place nice with the other workers. She cooked and cleaned and played off her dropping dishes on her clumsiness with a smile.
Her body wouldn't last and she could feel it. But it hurts. She doesn't want to die yet. The baby hasn't come out. She can't hear it crying. She wants to live. She needs to give Van a reason to stay strong. She frantically tries to find air to keep going.
Allen hears the screaming first. He raises an eyebrow to the man sitting outside the room with his head in his hands as a doctor explains that his wife's body can't handle the pressure. He rounds into the room to see a young woman in the bed, crying and barely breathing. The nurses seem to have given up and Allen can now feel more than one life fading. He gulps. The baby will not survive. He grips his scythe tight.
It takes effort, some he has never used before, but the woman is now breathing easily and screaming out loudly. He stumbles back and watches as the nurses are now working overtime, telling her to breathe and to move this way and that. It takes a few more minutes, but a new cry, full of life that Allen can feel to enter the room. He smiles as best as he can. The man from outside bursts in to hold the woman's hand as she holds the baby tight. She smiles brightly and her blue eyes start to die. Allen takes a deep breath and touches her arm gently once she lays her head down against the pillow.
He walks away when the sad sounds of the husband begin to echo out. He did what he could. He'll wait for the soul outside. He walks through the hall when a bright shape appears in front of his eyes. The butterfly soul caught up to him. It lands on his nose and then takes the form of the young woman on the bed. Allen finds himself caught off guard by the brightness her eyes still hold in spirit form.
"Thank you," She manages to say, though there are tears in her eyes. Allen smiles at the ground.
"I couldn't just let that happen," He admits. She smiles brightly at laughs just a little. Allen grips his scythe and tries to cut the air but it snags. He tries again but nothing happens.
"You still have attachments here," He says plainly. She nods her head, her hair bouncing around her shoulders. She turns to face the hospital room.
"I can't just leave them," She says. Allen nods his head. He understand. It's not unusual for soul to want to wait for another.
"I'll see you later then," Allen bows a little and begins to walk away when she grabs his arm gently.
"Wait, please." Allen glances over his shoulder at her. She lets go of him suddenly and plays with the edge of her blouse.
"Do I know you?" She asks causing Allen to raise an eyebrow at her. He knew some could have lasting memories, but he doubts it's him, so he shakes his head and she pouts.
"Aren't you going to stay?" She asks instead. Allen again shakes his head.
"I have other places to be," He tells her. It's quiet for a moment between them as she fiddles with her fingers. Allen grips his scythe tight, feeling a small tug to a new place.
"Will you come and visit at least?" Allen isn't sure what he's more caught off guard by, the question or the way she looks at him. He feels another tug, stronger, and he nods his head in haste before slipping away to a new place.
Allen arrives just in time to stop the young boy from stepping right on a crack of thin ice that would have made him fall right to a frozen death. He hangs from the tree with a smile on his face.
"Michael you idiot!" Another boy yells out at him for carelessly walking on the ice in the first place. Allen snorts at the action. The conversation reminds him vaguely of Matt, his regional partner. The last time he saw him was over another death, this time of a couple traveling. Matt seemed a little happy to see him.
"It's you!" A voice yells right in Allen's ear making him let go of his branch and fall to the ground. It doesn't hurt but he groans in pain anyway. He glares up right into a pair of bright blue eyes. He blinks up at her, Amelia, he thinks her name to be. She giggles and holds out a hand for him to take.
"You said you'd come visit me, did you forget?" She teases and he rolls his eyes. He doesn't care to admit he had no idea where to find her even if he wanted to. He didn't particularly care to visit, he didn't need this kind of interaction.
"Come on," She grabs his hand and pulls. "It's time for dinner," She winks at him and he follows along dumbly. A man appears from atop the hill and shouts to the boys to come get food, earning him a chorus of happy yells. It takes Allen a moment to recognize him.
"He's doing so well," Amelia tells him once all the boys are inside the small hut. They lean against a counter as they living eat and make jokes to each other. Allen watches as she smiles fondly at the small family in front of her. He jerks when she smiles up at him suddenly.
"Do you have family?" Allen grits his teeth at the question. He shakes his head.
"The closest I have to family is another reaper up north." He shrugs his shoulders. With a bit of teasing and pestering, Allen tells her about Matt and how they first met, which then leads to a small story about how Allen first knew what he was meant to do.
"I'm sorry," Amelia says sadly. Allen waves off her comment but she grabs his hand and holds it close to her. Allen blinks down at her, feeling his cheeks heat up in a new way.
"You shouldn't have had to be left alone like that," She tells him forcefully. Allen laughs as naturally as he can, letting her hold his hand for the night until he feels a new tug pulling him away from her. He says his goodbyes and she makes him promise once more to come see her.
"Oh," Allen turns to the voice, trying to ignore the jolt of happiness he feels at seeing Amelia there. She smiles gently at him coming closer. He tries to remain calm as she looks over the edge of a cliff a young girl has just been thrown over.
"You okay?" She asks. He shakes his head honestly. This isn't the first time a death has happened. The people thought them witches, Allen knows better. He glares at the ground.
"Some people don't deserve to die," He says bitterly. He kicks a rock over the edge in anger. Suddenly arms are around him. He sputters a little as Amelia clings to him.
"It's okay," She reassures him. He releases a huff and wraps a hand around her to half hug back.
"Isn't there anything you can do?" She asks.
"No," he answers immediately. Instead of speaking, Amelia just keeps holding him, giving him some sort of warmth he hasn't felt in years. He lets her hold him, wondering just how long it will last.
"Eavesdropping?" Allen smirks down at Amelia. She squeaks and then glares up at him. She stomps her foot in a dignified manner as he drops down next to her with his scythe over his shoulder.
"Just.. Checking." She tries to reason but Allen rolls his eyes and nudges her playfully, causing her burst out into a fit of giggles. She grabs his hand and pulls him away from the spot where her son is trying his best to flirt with a girl from town.
"Where have you been?" She hisses at him. Allen snorts at her anger. He visited her just a little while ago.
"It's been a full year mister," She growls. That gets Allen to stop laughing. His sense of time is warped. Being conscious and having been to so many places changed his perspective of time.
"I didn't realize you missed me that much," He winks at her and she scoffs, swatting at him lightly. They take a seat on the grass and she cuddles up next to him. He does his best not to fidget. He knows he's got a stupid little crush on her, and he does his best to not let it affect him. She's married in a way.
"How does one take souls?" She asks. He sighs and leans back a little, settling into his spot as she watches him talk about the simple process.
"I'd like to see it." Allen stops cold at that.
"No, it's difficult to see," He tells her. She pouts and crosses her arms.
"I can handle it," She insists. Allen stares at her. Her face scrunches up looking serious for once. He sighs and stands, holding out a hand to her. She takes it smugly but he pulls her close.
"Do not try to convince me to do otherwise. Understand?" He tries to sound threatening but it's hard when he's that close to her bright eyes. She nods her head and he sighs again. It doesn't take long for a tug to come to him. He steps out with her hand in his and lets the darkness move them both.
He's almost relieved when it's not an unfair death. The man Allen can feel about to pass is, for lack of better wording, disgusting. Allen can feel him, about to be mobbed by an angry group of people.
"What is going on?" Amelia breathes out to him once the mob comes in view. Allen has them sitting on the steps of the house, waiting. Amelia is looking around, gripping tight to his arm. When the man comes outside, he tries to joke it off but the people are unwavering, they chase him down easily enough and Allen stands to follow them lazily.
"Are they killing him?" She squeaks out and Allen nods wordlessly. She gasps and rushes forward, trying to push through the people, yelling for them to stop. Allen can feel his heart in his throat. It takes some finagling, but he manages to pull her away from the crowd as they string up a rope. He holds her close as she screams for them to stop, hiding her face in his chest as the mob does it's job.
Once most of them are gone, Allen leaves Amelia to run a hand across the man's leg, letting the soul come out. He rips a hole and the soul goes quietly. Once the rip is sealed he turns back to her.
"Why didn't you stop them?" She stares up at him. He looks down.
"I can't stop death." He says. She stalks up to him, with tears in her eyes.
"But you could have changed something couldn't you? Why did you let that happen?" She demands. He can feel the bubble of anger in him. He glares half heartedly at her.
"He deserved it," He tells her and she gasps, now glaring back.
"No one deserves that!" She gestures to the body still hanging from the tree. Allen growls and grabs her hand, marching over to the body and placing her hand on it, letting the body's last memories flood into her, all the pain he caused others and the last death of his son Allen had taken just a few months before. She jerks back and cries.
"That's no reason," She says softly and Allen walks away.
"This is my job," He spits out and disappears before she can say another word.
Allen runs through the tarnished land, trying to skew as many chances of life as he can. He can feel another reaper on the field, maybe two he's not sure, but he can feel the death and he can feel life. He can feel it all twisting around him. He jumps a lump on the burnt grass to another area of the battleground. He brushes his hand against a few people laying down, letting their souls lift up to the sky, and even touching a few others, to give them a moments peace before their own reapers come by to finish the job.
Allen pauses and spins wildly in a circle. He can feel him, he can feel her son on the field. He closes his eyes and searches, finding him pressed up against a tree and under fire. He jumps to that area, skewing his chances of living as he dodges to a safer hiding spot. He deflects a bullet entirely with the edge of his scythe so it doesn't hit him.
When the battle ends, and the forces retreat, he keeps close to the young man. He doesn't know why he does it. He hasn't talked to Amelia in years. Years that feel a lot longer than all the others for some reason. He walks behind the boy, now man. He only stops when he spots someone far off in the field, crying loudly.
He walks that way, coming closer to them. They are cradling a body to them, none of the body's blood getting on their outfit even though it is partially white.
"Hey," Allen says quietly. The person sniffs and looks up at him with wide eyes. They cringe and start crying again, looking down to the body in their arms. Allen kneels down next to the other reaper.
"They are so young," They say. They try to wipe away their tears with their white sleeve. Allen grits his teeth and places a hand on the boys head, letting their soul float up in a butterfly. He quickly cuts the air to let the soul pass on. The reaper smiles at him as gratefully as he can with tears in his eyes.
"I'm Oliver," He says. Allen shakes his hand when presented to him.
"Allen," He tells them. Oliver smiles again and goes back to craddling the body tightly, the overwhelming feel of death everywhere. It's taking it's toll. Allen can feel the loss inside him. Not many survived. He spies Matt farther off and goes to him. They walk quietly for a moment before talking in hushed tones of how they are. It doesn't take long after that for Matt to take a step and disappear without his own doing. Allen hangs his head, feeling lonelier than he has in a long time.
"Allen?" His chest lurches at the call of his name. He spins to see Amelia standing there with her hands to her chest and the beginnings of tears in her eyes. Before he can say anything she rushes forward and buries her head in his chest. He drops his scythe to the ground and holds her back. She presses tight to him and he feels the force of how much he's missed her.
"Thank you," she whimpers against him. He doesn't know why she says that but he doesn't say anything back, just clings to her more. It takes a moment, but they finally pull apart with their arms still loosely wrapped around each other.
"I don't know what you did, but I know you did something," She says to him. He looks away a little sheepishly. He freezes entirely when she kisses his cheek.
"Thank you for letting him live," She whispers in his ear. She lets go and walks away from him, leaving him to watch after her. He runs a hand through his hair, bending down to pick up his scythe. He keeps his distance for the rest of the war, only tempting when he can to keep her son alive for as long as he can.
"Come on," Allen is heaved up. He wiggles against the hold on his arm until he realizes who it is.
"What are you doing?" He can't help the excitement in his voice. She flashes him a quick smile and he smirks back to her. She pulls him onto the middle of the floor, the war being over and everyone rejoicing means parties. She pulls him close and Allen can feel his heart beating. With a snicker he leads her around the floor, smiling more than he has in years of being.
At the end of the dance Allen feels at ease with the world. Amelia smiles up at him sweetly, giggling into her hand at every silly little thing he says to her. He grimaces when he feels the tug to go do his job. He moves to leave but his hand is caught. He turns around to see Amelia close to him. She places a kiss on his lips, small and chaste before pushing him away from her, making him jump to a new place.
He blinks wildly at nothing in particular, his heart soaring in happiness. He has to try and dull the feeling as he takes care of the soul, but his smile comes right back. His feelings for Amelia have grown entirely. To know she feels somewhat the same makes him happier than anything. And also, more frightened than he's ever been.
The funeral is awkward. Allens stands far away from the people as they bury Amelia's husband in the ground. When Allen first felt him dying he panicked. When he passed, would Amelia? She told him to do it though, and he passed on with one quick hug to her.
"I'll be here until my son is gone," She reassured him. It worked, until Allen remembered she would leave. She can't stay with him. He watches her now, petting her son's hair even though he can't feel it. Allen doesn't like the feeling, knowing she'll be gone one day. It makes him want to push her away, but he can't. He doesn't want to be without her now. She's been constant, an addition to his life he would never want to lose.
The people start to walk away and she goes back to him. Allen pushes off the tree and accepts her hug easily, wrapping his arms around her.
"I thought it would hurt more," She mutters into his chest. Allen wipes away one of her tears.
"I think losing you will hurt more," She admits lifting her head to face him. Allen stops, swallowng down his fear. He places his forehead to hers.
"I'll always be here," He says. She sniffles, and he can tell she doesn't believe him. He wouldn't either.
"I think I may have fallen in love with you," She whispers and Allen begins to cry. Easy tears slip past his defenses and she brushes them away with gentle kisses.
"I don't want to lose you," he grits his teeth tightly. He can already feel the pain of her going. She holds his face tight and makes him face her. She smiles at him before pulling him closer to kiss him quickly.
"I'll be yours," She says against his lips. Allen pulls her closer, kissing her again, wanting to feel the odd warmth she gives off forever.
Allen is shaking. He grips his scythe tight in his hands, staring down at the man dying on the bed in front of him. He snaps his head to face Amelia when she covers his hands with hers. She smiles at him, then faces the man on the bed. There's another soul around him, his wife in his later age. Allen wants to change it. He wants to make it stop. He doesn't want this to happen. The tug of death pulls him forward.
"It's okay," Amelia says to him though her voice cracks. Allen takes a glance back her. He places his hand on the man's head, letting the soul out. It forms the man, growing younger in age along with the other woman. They hug and laugh. Allen steps back when the man notices Amelia. It takes some explaining but he hugs her tight, and thanks her for looking over him for his life even when he never knew her.
Allen almost drops his scythe as he cuts open the air. Tears are coming down his face. The couple flutter through in butterfly form. Amelia smiles at him and he can feel her soul being pulled away. She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him.
"I'll find you," She says.
"I swear I'll find you." Allen nods his head, kissing her once more. He can feel her slipping, crying out for her when she's forcefully pulled through the rift and it seals. Allen drops to his knees and screams. Being alone now makes him ache. He misses her already. He barely manages to move when the tug of death happens. He doesn't want to but he has to. Death can't wait, no matter how dead he feels inside.
Allen smiles to the little girl who looks up at him frightfully. He kneels down to her and holds out his hand, showing her a small yellow flower. She blinks her bright purple eyes up at him, taking the flower. He points towards a tree in the clearing where a spirit man is waiting, her father. She gasps and runs to him, giggling loudly when he twirls her in the air. They shift into butterflies and Allen splits the air for them.
He walks on, trying to keep himself together. It's been years since Amelia truly left him but the wound feels fresh no matter what he does. He tries to remember her in happy light, he knows that's what she would have wanted. He stops by her grave where they buried her years ago. With the edge of his scythe, he makes a tally mark on the gravestone. He doesn't want to dwell on the past, but he needs to keep himself sane.
"ALPHONSE!" He grimaces at the voice yelling his name. He glances up at his father glaring down at him before casting his blue eyes down.
"Oui papa?" He mutters out. He cringes as his father goes off on how he's not supposed to go around randomly going into people's houses. He decides not to interrupt that he only broke into the house when heard a cry for help. He scuffs his shoes, listening to his father scold him about the trying times and how anything could have happened to him. Where they live is not in the best place, and getting worse. His father chides him, saying how he could be dead.
His father grabs his arm and he winces just a little. He takes a glance back at the house, smiling and waving as best he can at the old woman in the house who waves back. He smiles brightly then. He knows he did good even if he won't get supper tonight.
"All I'm saying, is maybe it's not supposed to be eaten," Allen lays on his back on the grassy fields between his and Matt's territory. The other reaper groans in annoyance, tapping at the sap collectors with the back end of his axe shaped scythe. His old furs have long since been replaced with a long black cloak, the hood resting on his head. Allen sighs and reaches a hand up to the sky.
"How are you holding up?" Matt asks suddenly. Allen gulps, the wound almost splitting open again.
"I could be worse," he says. He tilts his head to see Matt leaning up against a tree and nodding his head. Allen smirks suddenly.
"I could be dead," He rolls when Matt throws his scythe at him, embedding the blade in the dirt.
"You little shit," Matt says to him, yanking the axe up with ease. Allen laughs quickly until the sadness settles in him again.
"I'm okay," he says softly. Matt looks down at him and sighs. He pats Allen on the shoulder once before disappearing in a small puff of grey ash. Their little talks don't last long, and are never very frequent, but Allen likes having them. It's a simple reminder that he's not entirely alone in world sometimes. He knows there are other reapers, but Matt has to be the closest one to him. He feels a tug and lets the darkness take him there.
He stands up straight, with his hands behind his back like instructed. The general walks in front of him, scrutinizing the soldiers for the battles ahead of them. Alphonse keeps his blue eyes staring straight ahead, not daring to look away to see the person next to him get a verbal beat down for not having his outfit properly put together. When given the 'at ease' signal, he's the last to let his body drop. He walks back to his housing, not bothering to be with the other men as they try to make light of the situation.
After his father passed away, Alphonse joined the ranks of Napoleon. The generals seemed to like him, saying he had a tough personality. He didn't ask for that. Growing up in the streets and running to not get caught made him a little more jaded than he would have liked. Sometimes he wish he could smile happily and get away with joking. Sometimes he wishes he could be held and cooed to sleep.
Instead he helps the others get their uniforms in check and shows them how to clean properly so they don't get yelled at anymore. It's the least he can do.
"I miss you sometimes," Allen tells the rock marking Amelia's name. He sits on top of it, knowing she probably wouldn't mind. Rarely will he allow himself to indulge in visiting her grave. It's a physical reminder that she's gone and it makes him hurt sometimes. It's gotten a little easier over the years.
"I wonder where you are right now," He laughs bitterly, playing with the same scythe in his hands. He hasn't changed his outfit in a while. Maybe he should do that soon.
"Do you ever think of me?" He asks aloud to know one. He tries to smile but some tears fight their way out. He knows well enough that wherever Amelia is, wherever that soul is, they don't know him. They won't know him until they die again. Then what? He rubs at his face, trying to not let the negative thoughts fully drag him down. She promised, and he's going to hold onto that. He takes his scythe and hops off the stone. He drags the blade across the top, making another tally for the records.
It's been fifty years since she left him.
Alphonse is shaken by the others around him. They are cheering and screaming and yelling happily at the announcement. The wars are finally over. He wants to smile and cheer right along with them but something is stopping him deep inside.
He knows it's not over. The wars may be over but the pain of it will last. There is so much to be rebuilt. He can feel it deep within him that there is more he can be doing. He leaves the place of celebration, looking for.. Something. He wanders the streets, stopping quickly when he hears a yell for help. He rushes to the area, pulling off a scuzy looking man off a woman. He punches their lights out and helps her up.
He helps her back home, part of him blatantly ignoring the sweet smiles she gives him. When he knows she's safe, he walks back to his temporary home. Tomorrow he will do more.
Allen glares down at the people beneath him. His hood casting a dark shadow across his face. He doesn't agree with this kind of public humiliation and he would see it stop if he could. The person being hurt is not worth the trouble and they will sooner die anyway. There is nothing he can do. He jumps from his perch and walks through the crowd, them unaware he is there. He steps up to the man and places a hand on his head, letting his misery end quicker than they would have allowed otherwise.
"Thank you," the man says once he is a soul and free from the angry crowd. Allen smiles at him and goes to make a rip in the air.
"Wait," he says. Allen glances at him and his sheepish smile.
"Can I see my daughter once more?" He pleads. Allen nods his head, ripping to the other side wouldn't have worked anyway. Allen guides the man to his daughter, feeling their soul inside. The man places a kiss to her forehead, and apologizes quietly.
"Thank you again," The man says, giving him a bright smile. Allen nods his head again and make the rip with ease. The butterfly slips through and once more, he's alone.
Alphonse looks out the window of the city, seeing it rebuilt to an extent and looking less like a war ground than he's ever seen it makes him happy. A small smile tugs at his lips. It's been too long since his home has known peace and he's happy he got to see it one last time. He takes a deep breath, wondering which one of the nights will be his last. He leans his head against the back of the chair, relaxing into the soft rock it gives him.
He's not sure when he dies, but he can feel the rush of his soul leaving his body. He blinks up at the person in front of him. They look unimpressed and shaggy though their uniform is tailored and black. Alphonse stares at them, feeling the disappointment inside of him swirling up, and not quite remembering why.
"You're not who I was expecting," He admits, his voice sounding stronger than it has. The person raises an eyebrow at him then rolls their eyes, taking out his sword.
"Wait!" Alphonse shouts as a rush of memories come flooding into him. He remembers climbing a tree, and meeting van, the night he proposed, their son.
"Can you help me?" He scrambles to find words as this person, this reaper, glares at him. He remembers, his soul remembers.
"I'm looking for someone? Allen? Do you know him?" Alphonse steps closer, his hands to his chest and pleading. The reaper flinches at his words. They stare at him like he's grown another head but Alphonse keeps hope.
"He's a reaper," They say as more of a statement, but he nods his head anyway. He can feel Allen somewhere, he wants to get back to him. He promised he would go back. The reaper looks down sadly.
"He's in an English speaking region, try there," They say bitterly. Alphonse smiles and sputters out as many thank you's as he can until the rip in the air the reaper made with his sword takes him away.
Allen does his best to not let his feelings get in the way but his heart hurts. He doesn't know what makes these people so entitled to think they can do this to the people who have been living in these lands for years. Allen cries just as much as they do, trying to make their deaths as peaceful as he can. He can feel parts of him dying along with them.
It doesn't help that he can feel the oncoming battle either. He can sense death to his core, and he knows when a war is brewing. This one is going to be bloody and tear families apart. He's not ready for it and yet he knows he is.
He's spent the last 20 years jumping from place to place, feeling the tug as a constant that people were dying and they needed his help. He hasn't stopped for more than a day. He can feel his strength growing and he's not sure he wants it too. He doesn't want to see the pain, but only he can bring the peace.
"Why can't I wear trousers like everyone else?" Emily stomps her foot, narrowing her blue eyes at her mother who narrows her eyes right back.
"Because ladies do not wear trousers," She hisses and Emily pouts openly, crossing her arms and huffing. In her defiance her mother slaps her to behave. Emily walks with tears in her eyes back to her room. She rubs at her cheek and looks out the window. She wants to go somewhere else and be free to wear what she wants.
She sniffs and fluffs at her dress, wanting to burn it in a small desire. She doesn't like that her brother can do things just because he's a boy. That's dumb to her. She'll fight to see that other girls can do just as much.
Allen doesn't like it, but he leans up against the wall to the balcony overlooking the theatrical play. He's not entirely interested in the play, just trying to figure out how this man is going to get away with what he's planning to do. Allen has tested some of the chances of life and death, but in the end, this man is destined to die.
He pretends to ignore the gunshot, following after the others when they finally realize what happened. He watches over as they try to get him to live, but Allen knows it won't happen. He's seen it all already. He places a hand on his head. Trying to make the last moments peaceful. The soul appears as a butterfly and immediately flies off. Allen chases after it. It guides him to the assassin. Allen watches as the man runs and tries to hide, he raises an eyebrow at him, feeling a tug elsewhere. He can feel he'll be back soon enough.
Emily raises her hands in the air, shouting and screaming like her mother never wanted her to do. She doesn't care. The other women around her are doing the same, demanding they have the same rights as the men do. She's been hearing the news about radical women, asking for and demanding that they be treated equally.
She had to be a part of it. She snuck out of her house and joined. She wanted this to happen. And she wants to be a part of it. Those in charge are giving in too. She can feel it. They will win this right and move on to another fight another day.
She throws her arms around another woman in the crowd when they are given their rights. She laughs loudly and smiles at the one in her arms. They stare wide eyed at her and she blushes softly before letting go. She and the other women celebrate their victory in the streets.
Allen is frankly amazed by the advancements the world is making. Connections are growing and people are happy. He's not sure how long it will last, but he knows it won't. There is always something bad happening. Right now though, he's going to enjoy the quiet that surrounds the cemetery. He lounges against Amelia's gravestone with his scythe in his lap. There are birds chirping in the hidden part of the world.
He's been so exhausted. He feels like there have been one to many wars in his period of work. This is one of the longest periods of time by himself that he's had in a long time. He's going to spend it in the nicest way possible. He maneuvers his scythe to make a new tally on her grave.
"Wish you were here doll," He mutters with a soft smile on his face. There's a slight nagging, asking him to get moving. He stands and stretches, smiling down fondly at the marker one last time before walking away. He knows if she was there, he'd be able to do it all easier. He'll just have to keep waiting.
It's been 200 years since he's seen her.
Emily smiles to herself in her garden, her trousers stained with the dirt. She reaches for a new plant when a sharp pain etches up her side. She gasps loudly, gripping at her body when the pain begins again. She groans and lurches back down. There's a yell from behind her but it sounds faint. She focuses on breathing but it hurts. She struggles for a moment longer until her body feels like it's floating.
She gasps and looks at the man in front of her. He's wearing a white shirt, with black suspenders and bow tie made of bones. She blinks hard and remembers, seeing the barracks and the peace of a city long before, of being a young girl dying of childbirth.
"Oh," She says. The man, or reaper, in front of her pouts a little.
"That's not very nice now is it dearie?" He giggles and holds out a hand to her, she takes it, letting him hoist her up. She holds her arms to her, spinning in circles, looking for.. Someone.
"Something wrong dear?" The reaper says to her. She faces him wide eyed, fully feeling the effect of disappointment.
"Can you help me? I'm looking for Allen," She says quickly, getting closer to him. He blinks at her confused. She bites her lip.
"Please?" She tries again. The Reaper's face suddenly brightens.
"I know him! He's a young reaper from across the world." He grabs her hands excitedly and she releases a breath of air. She's getting closer then.
"Try the North American continent dearie," he tells her, flipping out a small butter knife. He cuts the air and she goes quickly, wanting to get to Allen as quick as she can.
Even after seeing it for years, death did still not appeal to Allen. He still hated seeing it, at least unfairly. The wars and battles and the horrible things that people can do he never liked. It's his job, but he doesn't like taking the souls of the young or the unfairly injured. He does his best to give those he can a longer life. Seeing the explosions from his safe spot on the island didn't help his feelings.
He can get over this feeling but it's one of the few things that keep him sane. He has to do it, but he doesn't want to lose his compassion in the process. He doesn't want to lose the small amount of surviving emotions he has left. He doesn't want the people to lose theirs as well. He kicks his feet across the sand, wondering just what the world will come up with next.
The creature of technology is taking the world by storm. There are connections now made across the world with the flick of a wrist and he's impressed by it all. He just wishes those people used their genius for good.
He steps to a new area, taking the soul that is passing as easy as breathing. He helps it pass on soon enough. He spies himself in the glass of a shop. He looks himself back and forth and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, his old time garb is replaced with a pair of black jeans and a black t shirt with small skulls all over. His coat is now an old fighter pilot jacket, the inside fur being of the same material he received long ago from a reaper before him.
He walks along the street in new shoes, carelessly tossing his scythe back and forth, thinking about it's feel and style. He tosses it up higher than normal and when it lands back in his hand it's smaller, leaner. He twists it back and forth, admiring the switch style it now has, still with some of the old marking on the blade like the tomahawk he received. He slips it into his jeans and slides his hands into his jacket pockets.
The people around do not notice him but he feels more at ease now looking similar to them. The times have changed and so has he.
He brushes his hand across the back of a passerby, letting their soul leave right before a truck hits them. He follows the soul to the grave of a person they once knew, apologies spilling from their lips as a different soul flutters on by and changes shape. He sends both of them on with a smile.
"Hey babe," He greets to the gravestone he's come to know. The cemetery hasn't been preserved well, but he'd recognize her stone by the markings on top. He places a small rose at the base of it and walks away.
"Mom it's okay," Alex sniffles, patting his mother on the head. She tries to smile at him but there are tears in her eyes that make him want to cry too. His father stands in the doorway, holding himself together as best he can. Alex has never been healthy. He started living at the hospital when he turned eight. He's nine now and nothing has changed. Even now he can feel his insides twisting in a way he knows they're not supposed to. It's starting to hurt.
He whimpers, his small body not being able to take the pain. The doctors are around him in seconds. It hurts. It hurts more than he can describe. He cries gently, wishing for someone, but he doesn't know who. Someone to take away the pain.
He's surprised when it stops hurting. He sits up suddenly, falling to his feet and scrambling up to run straight into a solid force. He blinks up at a tall man in the doorway wearing a large black hoodie. He nearly crawls away when his soul tells him to relax. He can see the women rejoicing for their rights, he can see the barracks of old, and he can see a child just recently born.
"Hi," He says, masking his disappointment. The person, the reaper, tilts his head to the side and holds out his hand. Alex takes it and lets the man guides him outside and away from the cries of his mother.
"Do you know Allen?" He turns his blue eyes up to the reaper, hoping with every bit of him and the lives he had before that he's getting closer. The reaper stops and looks down at him. Alex watches as he kneels down, now being able to see his face and messy blonde hair clearly under the black hood. He looks tired.
"I'm kind of glad you're not him, I'm a kid, and this'd be awkward," Alex says without a filter. The reaper cracks a small smile.
"You're looking for the United States." The reaper tells him and Alex smiles brightly. He's getting closer with every life. He thanks the reaper plenty, flying through the rip with new hope.
Allen walks the carnage of the flood. His feet step over the water like it's not even there. Every so often he knocks a pile of garbage out of the way to make noise and alert the rescue team near him there is movement when he finds a body that has a chance. He can sense the ones who will not make it no matter what.
It takes some time for him to find the ability to collect all the souls. There is a lot of innocent life that could have lived so much longer and it makes him sad to see them go. There is a cloud of butterflies above him by the time he finishes collecting them all. He digs his knife into the air and rips a large hole, allowing them all to pass through peacefully.
One of the butterflies flutter around his face for a moment longer and Allen can feel his chest heighten in hope only to have it killed when the soul passes on. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of his sad thoughts. He will not deny that he begun to lose faith. He wants her back of course, but if she never does, he's trying to prepare himself for that. He looks up at the sky, sending out thoughts to her, to her soul, hoping she can hear him. Hoping that wherever her soul is, she can find a way to come back and save him.
"Mommy look!" Alfred presses his face to the glass of the toy store in front of him. He can see his own blue eyes blinking back at him as his little nose makes a small smudge on the glass until his mother pulls him back gently and kneels down next to him.
"You like Captain America huh?" She giggles and he nods his head quickly. Superheroes are his favorite thing. They are always on the good side, and they are always helping people.
"I'm going to save people mommy, just like them!" Alfred points at the glass excitedly as his mother takes his hand and pulls him along. He casts one last glance back at the toys, feeling a part of him know that one day he can really save someone.
Allen bangs his head up and down to the music the kids are playing in the park. It's not bad for a few amateurs, and the song is one he's heard. They are doing pretty well. He sighs from his spot in the tree, wishing his small break would last. Instead he lets his body fall when he feels a tug. He arrives at the scene just in time to see the cars crash together.
Alfred hoists his bag over his shoulder, having just given some of his books to a few kids who needed them for classes he already took. He smiles to himself, having done a good deed. Classes are done and he's on his way home for the summer. He presses the button for the crosswalk, waiting for the lights to signal when it's okay.
The walk sign turns green and he begins to go, stumbling a little when he hears tires screeching. Without thinking he runs forward, pushing the man in front of him out of the way of the car that has lost control. He feels pain first, being pinned between two cars, then nothing at all.
Allen reaches for the man between the cars, his body slightly mangled from its position between them. People are screaming around him as he makes the last few seconds bearable for the human. He can feel them lose their grip on the living and their souls flutters out. He takes a few steps back, waiting for the soul to come to him. The butterfly flutters around it's body for a moment, then a random passerby who is crying and shaking. Allen raises his eyebrows at that. He can feel their soul shaking, knowing it almost died.
He blinks wide eyed at the butterfly that comes up to him. It lands on his nose quickly and then shifts in front of him to the man between the cars. Allen stares at him then their face splits into a sunshine like smile.
"I found you," They say. Allen gives him a deadpan look, his eyes searching their face for something familiar.
"I told you I would," The stranger says getting closer, their smile never faltering. Allen scrunches up his face in confusion. This soul has got to be off it's rocker with its bright smile and big blue eyes and-
Allen drops his knife to the ground and covers his mouth with his hands. There are tears welling up in his eyes before he knows it. The soul laughs and wraps him up in his arms spinning him in circles happily. Allen clings to him, knowing exactly who those eyes belong to.
"You found me," He croaks out, holding the spirit's face in his hands, looking into those eyes that he's loved for years. He doesn't bother to stop the tears from coming down.
"Of course I did!" They cheer, picking him up once more. Allen laughs and holds him tight. He's missed this. He's missed them so much.
"Alfred is the name now," The soul says and Allen nods his head, his smile permanently stuck to his face. He wipes at his face trying to dry his eyes but it doesn't work. He smiles up at Alfred and sighs, feeling the world now off his shoulders. Alfred sputters out a laugh and then kisses him quickly.
"I missed you so much," Allen tells him, pulling him tight to him again. Alfred laughs in his ear and Allen doesn't want to let him go. It takes a while for his body to register a new tug, wanting to take him to a new place. He steps backwards with Alfred still in his arms to get there. He's a little shaky as he takes the soul out of happiness then realization hits. Just before he can make a cut in the air he stares at Alfred. Will this cut take him away? But that doesn't happen. The cut is made and the other soul goes through without a hitch. Alfred comes up behind him to hug him tight.
"Wait," Allen says, his voice cracking once more as he turns to face the soul he's waited so long for. Alfred instantly looks panicked, holding Allen's face in his hands and staring at him intently.
"When are you.." Dread fills Allen and he can't finish the sentence. Alfred makes an 'oh' face and glares at the ground. Allen is shaking. He can't go through the pain of not having Alfred around. He needs to prepare himself for it when he inevitably needs to leave.
"Well there is still someone I need to save," Alfred admits quietly. Allen stares up at him, his fears becoming more and more real as the seconds go by. Time has never passed this slow before.
"Oh well, when do they, go I mean, so I can expect when you-" Allen's rambling is cut off by a quick kiss, silencing him into a daze. Alfred smiles again, something Allen can easily get used to.
"It's you silly," Alfred laughs and nuzzles against him, holding him tight. Allen allows himself to be spoiled, clinging to Alfred with everything he has. There's no way that can work, but right now Allen wants to believe Alfred is there for him.
"I've been here," Alfred says moving about and looking around. Allen smirks at the spirit in it's butterfly form on his shoulder. They are visiting England for a quick trip to take the soul of a young man on his way home to the states. Doesn't quite make it to the airport. Allen pauses on the side of the street, waiting. It doesn't take long for the cars to crash. He moves forward and pets the human, letting their soul flutter up out of their body.
"It's still weird to see," Alfred says from his shoulder. Allen chuckles and digs his knife into the air, letting it tear and setting the soul inside. It closes up and Allen signs.
"Oh Allen is that you?" The reaper turns around to see Oliver standing there in his suspenders. The reaper smiles at him then gasps at the butterfly on his shoulder. Allen prepares to explain when Alfred flutters off and takes his human form.
"You!" Alfred says happily, rushing forward to pick Oliver up in his arms and swing him around. Allen raises an eyebrow to the scene, becoming increasingly more confused as Oliver looks Alfred up and down and then exclaims loudly.
"You found him! Oh I'm so happy!"
"Whoa, whoa," Allen interrupts them, holding his hands up to get their attention. He looks between the two of them.
"You two.. know each other?" He asks cautiously coming closer. Alfred nods his head quickly.
"Yeah! I met him when I was Emily," He says and Allen's jaw drops.
"You were reincarnated before coming back to me?" He asks slowly and Alfred now fidgets. Oliver sighs and nods his head.
"I was a few people actually," Alfred admits. He smiles sheepishly at Allen. The reaper lets out a puff of air and grabs Alfred by the hand. They both say quick goodbyes to Oliver before jumping the darkness to a spot Allen knows all too well. Amelia's gravestone is still there after all the years.
They sit in the grass, Alfred going over the few lives he had before coming back to him. He tells about the few reapers he met on his journey, Allen intercepting names for them when he realizes who they are. Alfred gets a little too excited when he figures out who the reaper is with the black hoodie, wanting to see Matt again now knowing who he is from the time Allen talked about him from when he was still Amelia.
"You were searching for me that whole time?" Allen asks quietly when Alfred finishes talking. Alfred nods his head, giving him a smile. Allen can't help it, he pushes forward and kisses him sweetly.
"Thank you for not giving up on me," He whispers. Alfred sputters into giggles, kissing him back. They spend a few more minutes cuddling in the grass until Allen feels the tug of a new person. Alfred holds his hand tightly through the jump. He shifts back into a butterfly and rests on Allen's shoulder as he works. Allen keeps glancing to Alfred there with him, smiling to himself. Alfred is worth the wait.
AN: This story is based off a comic called "Thirty and a Half Minutes" by Snippy MJ.
The title is based off the song "Something Better" by Audien ft Lady Antebellum.