Once, he had thought they had all the time in the world. He had the time to sit and wait, ponder and wonder about their future. There was no hurry to confess his feelings, he could take it slow. With time, he could gauge Alan's own emotions, and wait until it was right.

But then he saw it. Those scars, those fucking thorns curling and climbing around every inch of that porcelain body, eating away at the only life he held dear. Suddenly there was no more time. Centuries vanished in a heartbeat, he no longer had the time to simply wonder.

He dealt with human death every day of his life, he didn't care about his targets, and he didn't care about the loved ones they would leave behind. Death was a natural part of life. But when faced with Alan's mortality, it became his worst enemy, his living nightmare, leaving him to beg please God, anyone but him.

But they were the closest thing there were to gods.

Once, he had thought they had all the time in the world. But he was wrong.