AN: Dead love. I don't know why but I like this, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I. One-shot. Doesn't really pertain to any specific fandom but I've assigned it one.

She stared and could only watch- watch as he took her prone form's pulse, watch as his gripped her wrists as if he could physically tie her soul to this world. She didn't bother to see what would happen to her body after that- but then again, why should she? She knew what happened to dead people.

Death wasn't what she expected, but then again, it wasn't unexpected either. There were no tunnels, granted, no lights at the end of them, but rather nothing- life slowly faded away: she was sightless, tasteless, voiceless- oh but the parody! She could hear.

She could hear his screams, hear as he breathed into her hair, comforting himself with the scent that hung about her corpse. She waited a while, days she found later, but what does time mean to the dead? for him to call the doctor, the cemetery, or anyone- just to tell someone of her death. It didn't bother her now, but she could tell by his frenzied working of her arms and legs that the stiffness of death bothered him- she could hear him above her and his clothes rustling somewhere in nothing.

The scent that he had so loved- dandelions? bluebells? roses? She couldn't remember for she couldn't smell- was fading and being replaced with the slight odor of decay. Days later his body rejected coming to the same room as her and she could hear him heaving in the world out there.

In time she almost forgot who he was.

She wanted to move on.