"I was born alone in this world and alone I will die. If this is my fate, why are tears coming out of my eyes?" Those words had been the last words had that Alan Humphries had thought as his neck had been sliced by Eric's death scythe. He had collapsed right in front of his partner's eyes, taking his last, unneeded as his supposedly immortal soul had faded from his weak and illness-stricken body.
Eric choked out a stunned sob, his emerald eyes glistening with his tears. "Alan…. Alan!" he cried. His knees buckled and gave out underneath him. He desperately held his partner to his muscular chest, begging pitifully for his partner to come back. "You can't be dead, Alan… I…I…" he whispered, but couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence as he rested his head on Alan's still chest.
"Eric Slingby, I have been ordered to kill you," Sebastian Michaelis told him. Eric looked up, raw and salty tears falling from his eyes.
"Kill me… Kill me," he pleaded, letting go of the smaller reaper to crawl over to the demon, only to grasp at his black slacks and weep. "I don't deserve to live anymore, I killed him."
The demon sighed in disgust at the man's actions and simply stepped away from him, going to grab Alan's death scythe.
Eric cringed at the sight of it… "Alan's scythe?" he breathed quietly, almost in a whimper.
"Yes. Is there a problem with him? Would you rather not dirty your friend's scythe with your own stained, sinned blood?" Sebastian questioned.
The reaper lowered his head as he rose to his feet. "I…don't know anymore," he said quietly. "I don't know anything anymore."
Sebastian snorted and swung the weapon, striking Eric in the small of his back. His green eyes widened and he fell to the ground, landing directing beside his already fallen partner, the man he had sinned almost a thousand times for. He had only needed one more soul to save Alan…
As the butler and master abandoned the scene, even Sebastian failed to notice the continuation of Eric's cinematic record. It began when he met Alan, which he considered to be the start of his life.
Alan had been the new employee when Eric was in his second year of graduating the academy. The older man was quite bored with the drab life of a grim reaper, his eyes plagued with the boring blacks, whites, and grays of the academy. There was no color, except for the spontaneous sparks of red from a certain reaper named Grell. Eric would watch him endlessly hound the Department's manager, the most boring reaper of all, William T. Spears. Eric honestly couldn't see what Grell wanted in William when he was the same as practically any other of the men at the office. They were all the same: workaholics, sticklers for the rules, and no fun at all.
But when Alan walked into the café that one day, Eric couldn't help but stare from over his coffee. The brunette was neatly dressed as the rest of the workers, but something was different about him and Eric could tell. Alan was holding a book in one hand, paying close attention to it, though he easily avoided the chairs that stuck out and the tables. He kept walking until he reached a back table, far away from the rest of the workers that were breaking in the café, in the corner. He sat himself down with his latté and didn't even tear his eyes from the pages of the book as he sipped on his drink.
Eric continued to stare subtly—and by that I mean glancing over at him through the corner of his glasses every few seconds—until it came time for him to return to work. He groaned inwardly and reluctantly rose from his chair, running a few fingers through the blond portion of his hair.
Grabbing his saw, he headed back to his office, the strange brunette easily slipping from his thoughts. He had other things to worry about other than strangers, like work. William had informed him earlier that he would be on a certain mission that day. God, he hoped it would be easy so he could go home and relax.