Watching Arthur seem so calm after so much had happened that week amazed me. He had been arrested on the night that Lovino escaped from him, who had told the police that there was 'some creep with dead people in his bathroom and he tried to kill me too'. Of course, he hadn't explained to them that they were only pictures, but they were very concerned and barged into Arthur's home, only knowing the location because Lovino pointed it out to them. They found Arthur's house nice and clean, but in his bathroom, they indeed saw the photographs. Pictures of heads halfway loped off, body parts sitting in a barrel of acid made from Soilex and other products, fearful expressions on the faces of the victims, and Arthur himself posing with some of the bodies. They checked for where this barrel was, and judging by the pictures, it was in Arthur's closet. And they were right. In the barrel were a couple of bones and other appendages.

They decided that this wasn't normal, so they arrested Arthur, who had been acting like a gentlemen until then. He tried to wrestle away from the handcuffs, but he was unsuccessful. I hopped into the police car, where the men had pretty much shoved Arthur into the back seat. I don't even think they read him his rights. Wait no, they did, it's just that Arthur was screaming through the whole thing. The whole time on the way to the station, Arthur ranted to me about everything that wasn't relevant to the situation, like how he had gone out with some girl who couldn't think for herself, and how he ran over a cat on the street and had felt bad about it ever since. I simply listened to him, not knowing exactly what to think of the moment. My murderer was finally caught, but I was wondering what was going to happen to me. Also, I really was worried about what was going to happen to Arthur. I hadn't been reading up on laws then, never did really, but I wasn't exactly sure of the consequences for killing so many people...for killing anyone really.

By the time it was time for the station to question Arthur, he had calmed down by a lot. The officer who sat across from us, well Arthur, asked for Arthur's cooperation and began to list the charges against him and who was assumed to be involved. From our perspective, he was simply listing the many men that came over and never left alive. He did not list my name, and a couple of others. To my surprise, Arthur sighed and shrugged at the man. "I'm caught any way, aren't I? I don't have much to hide anymore. I will cooperate with you, officer."

Arthur kept his word, answered all of the officer's questions, and listed the people that he missed. When asked, he explained how he created the acid, and so on. He told the man, who seemed very unnerved, that he did it to not be so lonely at first, then he told him that his objective changed to keeping me with him.

"So you're telling me that you have a ghost following you around that only stays if you kill unsuspecting young men...?" The officer was staring dubiously at Arthur as I waved. "Are you pleading not guilty due to insanity?"

"Not at all. He's right here, but if that's the best route then sure." Arthur quickly pointed to me, not even giving me as much as a glance.

And so then it was Arthur and I, alone in a little prison cell, the trial long passed, the relatives of the victims already half-heartedly apologized to, and we were pretty much just waiting. Arthur was not crying, and did not seem nervous at all. He seemed a bit pleased, yet thoughtful. I couldn't help but ask him what he was thinking of.

He looked up at me from his cot, seemingly surprised that I had spoken. "I...I'm not thinking about anything anymore really." He fiddled with his fingers and chuckled, "Everything is out of my mind now. I told you everything in the car that day, and I told them everything that was on my mind, and what they wanted and needed to know."

"So you're not thinking now. That sounds false." I sat down next to him on his dusty, poor excuse for a bed therefore it was renamed a cot years ago. "You're not thinking about death? Nothing?"

He blinked wildly as he noticed my presence next to him, then he directed his attention towards the floor. "You're right, I'm thinking. I'm not thinking about death though." He turned to me, a serious expression covering him, "I don't think you would have been so close to me, Francis. I think you would have went off to marry your Veronique and I would have been, not even your best man, but some lowly spectator. I probably wouldn't have been invited."

I decided that he had an odd imagination. "You know, I've picked up a very interesting thought while living with you, and that's 'whatever happens, happens'. Except, to make anything interesting, you have to make interventions. That seems to be how I went on about a lot of things." I scratched my head, and prepared myself to say something horribly sappy, "I think that maybe it was to be that you killed me and I had to stay with you this long. Maybe it was to be that little Raivis was killed by you. I no longer care that I'm dead really, especially since I am living the dead life at the moment, and I feel just fine." That was a joke, but Arthur thought it was poetic or something. He began to smile widely and leaned closer to me, stopping only because he remembered that he couldn't touch me.

"You're really accepting what I've done to you and everyone else? If so, Francis, I think I love you too much." He frowned at his inability to touch me, but smiled at my snicker.

"Not entirely, I'm just saying that maybe it was all supposed to happen." I paused and thought about my words, "I accept somewhat."

Arthur smiled wider and was about to say something until a guard stopped in front of his cell. He observed him settled so close to nothing, since he wasn't able to see me. He rolled his eyes, and mumbled something about Arthur being a crazy schizophrenic. "Before your execution, we would like to treat you to something. Request what you wish, but if we can't offer it to you then you will have to request something else." The guard held out his hand and counted his fingers as he listed things that Arthur couldn't request, "You can not request for freedom, well you can it's just we can't give it to you, sorry. You can't request immortality, you can't request sexual deeds, you can't request something that interferes with your execution, you can't request anything that costs too much money, you can't request anything too stupid- that's just my rule by the way. You can't request to be taken out of the city either. If there's anything I'm missing then Ill tell you."

Though it was somewhat depressing to hear the guard run through his list, I guffawed and began to ignore him. "So in other words, you can't request shit." Arthur snickered and stopped the guard from listing what he could actually request.

"I'll just have a cup of tea, if that's quite alright." Upon the Arthur's request, the guard raised a brow and began to walk away, until the Englishman stopped him, "And make sure it's not bagged. I expect the tea to be a lovely loose leaf, black preferred, and I expect it to be made properly and at a decent degree. Please don't add too much sugar either."

The guard walked backwards and crouched down to Arthur's sitting level. "Anything else your majesty? Do you want it in a special cup that only the cool kids drink out of? Do you want the tea to be from India? Crumpets? Biscuits? Scones?"

Arthur huffed at the guard's attitude and stared at me as I leaned back on the cot, probably seeming irritated to him. He turned back to the guard with a smile. "No, that's all. You've made it quite clear that if I did request such things then I wouldn't receive them. I'll stick to my very simple request, thank you." With that, the guard rolled his eyes again and walked off to either do the request himself or send someone else off to do it. "My stars, he had acted like I had asked for a million dollars."

"That's prison life for you. I'm sure he doesn't care how he treats you since you're not going to be here to have any say on that in a little while." I rolled over and stared at the walls, "Also, I wasn't planning on marrying Veronique."

"Oh whatever, but I actually never asked you...what exactly were you planning to do with your life before...well, before?" Arthur really seemed interested to know, but I didn't have a good answer really. The only things I had expected were the scandalous funeral and certain other silly things that weren't notable. My life was already on the role when Arthur ended it. I was simply a man working at a cafe, cooking the little meals on the menu, hanging out with my friends, gardening, dating Veronique and other people on the side that were so unimportant that I never bothered to even mention them and they probably didn't even care that I was gone. That was pretty much it, and I think that's how it was going to be for a long while.

Maybe I would have married Veronique, who knows, or maybe I would have married one of my best friends. I wouldn't have doubted it, we had all done some things together that I'd rather not mention. I would have never thought that I was going to be a murder victim, the first victim of a murderer at that, and I never thought that I would have to stick with him. And I never thought that I would be with him hoping that the electric chair didn't hurt him so much. I was sure that victims weren't supposed to care for their murderer's well-being, but I was, and I was thinking that maybe I was supposed to. "I wasn't planning anything," I finally answered, sitting up and smiling at the Brit, "so I guess I really do forgive you."

In my mind I was thinking that it wouldn't be right to nag him about it until he died. He was getting his "just desserts", he didn't need to be constantly reminded, and apparently he appreciated that I was no longer going to do so. His smile nearly stretched off of his face as he looked out for the guard to see if he was coming with his tea. "I'll share my tea with you. Want me to ask for a straw?"

Just as he was about to yell out for a straw, I stopped him. "Non, c'est bon. I'd rather you have it all." He frowned a bit and sat next to me again as I sat up.

"Do you think that if I die, I'll be a ghost too, and then we can still be close to each other?" He asked such a silly question in my opinion that it took everything in me not to laugh at him. "Is that a no?"

"Wow Arthur, I hate to say this but you're probably going to hell." That was me; Francis Bonnefoy, the dream crusher. I wasn't nagging him about it again! I was just stating what I thought! "It's interesting how none of your other victims became ghosts though. I myself am a ghost, oui, but I still have a suite in heaven- actually, that makes me a fallen angel doesn't it? Yes, I am a fallen angel, bonjour Arthur, I've come to say have fun in hell." I really hated myself sometimes.

He certainly looked appalled at my statements. I wanted to say that I was kidding, but I thought that I was probably right. I was probably going to hell for telling him that really, but I was really half way joking. "It's great to know that someone from Heaven doesn't want me there." He himself was probably unsure if I was kidding or not.

"What I meant was, since I already have a spot in Heaven, I will go there. You however, I highly doubt that you'll be allowed in there, no offense. It's either you'll be a ghost, which I also doubt, or you're going to hell. Maybe purgatory? I don't know. But let me tell you; Heaven is boring, so be glad that you're not going." I really was horrible.

Arthur seemed quite unimpressed, that and extremely saddened. "Um...thanks, Francis," he scratched his head and avoided eye contact with me, "I suppose I wouldn't really make it past the pearly gates, hm?"

"W-Well maybe not, but wherever you go I'll invite you over a lot, Arthur. I do believe I saw my neighbor invite someone from hell to live with them, and purgatory too, so I think it'll be fine." That wasn't a lie really, but I had never thought of inviting anyone to my suite. It was far too boring for company. This cheered Arthur up, and so did the arrival of his tea.

A new guard came, a cup of tea on a saucer in his hands. Behind him were two other guards, one who unlocked the cell and cautioned the tea guard before coming into the cell. Arthur chuckled at me when he saw how careful they were being, mostly because the guard with the tea wouldn't be able to do much if Arthur suddenly attacked him. "Hopefully this is to your liking." If the massive eyebrows didn't give it away, the strong accent the guard had made it clear that he was British as well.

Arthur took the tea from the guard and thanked him, taking a sip. "It's a very superb...cacao mint? Is that it?" He swirled the tea around in his cup and took another sip. "Yes, it is indeed cacao mint."

The guard waited for Arthur to down more of his tea. "I'm glad you recognize it. I'm also glad that I'm not the only one that goes to that place for tea." I had no idea what they were talking about. "I knew it had to be someone from the motherland if they were requesting such a complicated cup." He nodded and stepped out of the cell, watching as one of the other guards locked it again.

"Ah, make no mistake, it was a gift I received from someone who married in and didn't know any better. My brothers helped me collect teas from other places other than there, but I mostly go...went out of town for tea." The British guard smiled and left Arthur to enjoy his tea, the other guards followed. Arthur turned to me, holding the cup and saucer in his hands tightly, "I was actually going out to buy tea when I picked you up really. You simply distracted me."

"Pfft, nice to know." I supposed he wanted me freak out and be amazed, but actually as I look back, I think maybe he just wanted to tell me just for the sake of telling me. As with many things, he wanted to share with me, whether I wanted him to or not.

At nine at night, the cell opened again, another guard holding it open for Arthur to walk out as three other guards stood poised for anything that could have happened. Arthur was a bit tired really, he had been talking to me about nothing the whole time, nonstop until now. He didn't protest as he was escorted down the hall, me following behind, somewhat disliking the silence.

"Dead man walking," one of the guards sputtered, breaking the silence.

One of the other guards groaned and looked at him. "Oh my god, shut the hell up Dave, you say that every time."

I had no idea that guards could be so comical in such a serious situation. It wasn't even funny, more like unnerving, especially with the silence that followed after, and the noisy room that Arthur was placed into that didn't fit with our quiet arrival.

The room was plain and simple; a white room, a glass section where some regular old spectators watched as Arthur was guided around the room, a bulb that would light when Arthur was declared dead, some men in the back who seemed emotionless, a door so they could leave as fast as they came in, and last but not least, the electric chair in the middle of the room. It was an ugly little device, ugly indeed, and I frowned when they strapped Arthur into it. He was used to the tightness since he had gone through the rehearsal, which I thought was sick, but he seemed very uncomfortable. I would too if there were people watching me as I was about to be put down.

The crowd ranged from toddlers to senior citizens, which to me seemed really horrible. Why would you want your children to see someone get electrocuted? Why would anyone really want to watch someone die? I didn't understand, and I simply stood by Arthur's side, looking out at the crowd of about thirty people. There was a little boy who was staring at me, then he got his mother's attention and pointed to me. It was interesting that he could see me when apparently no one else could. She looked right past me, looking to see what her little boy was talking about, then she waved a finger in his face ferociously, probably telling him not to say crazy things or something. I shrugged at the boy and smiled, placing a finger in front of my mouth as if to tell him to stay silent about my presence. He looked confused, but he did so.

"The boy can see you can he?" Arthur asked, trying to smile as someone placed a blindfold looking thing over his eyes. "That's good, because now he's the only one who can."

I sighed and made sure that he could hear my dissatisfaction. "Your joke is pretty lame, you silly pitre." There was something in me that made me want to unstrap Arthur and hide him somewhere, but I knew that I couldn't. If the guard with the gun wasn't threatening enough, thinking that he would shoot Arthur if he so much as got out of the chair, there was also the fact that this prison was huge. I didn't know my way out the regular way, though if I passed through a couple of walls then I would be out in about less than a half an hour, but Arthur could not pass through walls, so that plan wouldn't work. I felt as if Arthur was trapped, and I couldn't help but sympathize with him. I put my hand over his, which was clutching the arm of the chair very tightly. "I'm holding your hand," I told him, knowing that he probably didn't know.

"I figured that you would do something like that." I stopped watching him to observe the man who was checking to make sure that Arthur was properly strapped in. "Are they about to put me down?"

He had asked me, but the man didn't know that of course. "Do you want the real answer or the fake answer?" He stepped back, looking over Arthur in the chair and adjusted the device on his head. Arthur asked for the fake answer, to my surprise. "Do you want the realistic answer or the unrealistic answer?" The man nodded at all his adjustments and listened as Arthur asked for both. "Unrealistic answer; you're not going to die. Another one is you're not going to die today. Realistic answer; you're not going to die in the next five minutes. I'll tell you the real answer since you can't do much about it."

"Please don't." Arthur protested, wiggling a bit. The man pulled his straps tighter and sighed at Arthur, who just seemed so innocent there, seeming like he was about to cry. "I don't want to know, please."

"The real answer is that you're going to die in the next three minutes or so. We're waiting for that physician. Slow bastard. He said he's coming though." Then the man walked away, flashing a thumbs up. I waited for that to be a realistic fake answer as well, but apparently he was telling the truth. There really was no physician to be seen.

Arthur gulped then took a deep, shaky breath. "Francis, I'm really glad that you stayed with me all this time even though you could have stayed at the apartment or disappeared again, I don't know. I truly apologize for dragging you into any mess that you didn't want to be involved in, but for the parts that you weren't mad, upset, or screaming for me to stop, we had fun right?"

I raised a brow at him, then chuckled. "Oui, we did." I didn't know what to say really. My teachers had never given me advice on what to say to someone who was about to die at the wrath of an electric chair.

"I really do love you, Francis." He really did seem like he would break out into tears at any second, or maybe he already was crying. With that blindfold thing, I couldn't tell anymore. "And I really am sorry."

"I would say I love you as well, but I never liked it when people said that to someone before they died but never before such circumstances." I didn't know if I was telling the truth then, but it sounded appropriate. "So um...I'll just say I already accepted your apology."

Before Arthur could say anything, the man from before cheered as another man who was probably the physician waltzed on in as if he wasn't late at all. "Physician's here! Let him have it!" I could tell that they didn't get much entertainment here, and maybe that was why they were complete assholes when it came to putting people to sleep at this prison.

Arthur whimpered and I muttered reassuring words to him. He spoke over me repeating in both English and French, "I love you, je t'aime Francis, Je t'aime I'm sorry I love you love you love you." I heard a loud cranking sound and then the bizarre sound of electricity running through the chords leading to Arthur. I watched as Arthur writhed in his seat, watched as his body went limp when they turned the electricity off. The physician came over, checking his pulse, his heart beat, his breathing. He nodded to the men in the back, and they turned on the bulb. Arthur was dead.

The crowd began to clap, some not knowing why, and just like that, I disappeared.

XxxX

A/N: So yeah, that's it. I'll write some of the chapters for the blanks in between if anyone asks, but overall it's done. Hope you liked it! D: