It hit him one day as he watched Alan judging their victim's soul, deciding where it would end up after death. Eric stopped in his tracks, the question occuring to him seemingly out of nowhere. If Alan watched my record, where would my afterlife be? Assuming that reapers experienced anything at all after their existence, where would he go?
It was an easy answer. That little book of tallies - each one marking an innocent soul that he had collected - lay heavy in his jacket pocket, enough to doom him beyond any hope of redemption.
Hang on a tick, though, Eric found himself arguing within his own head, I have pure motives. Wouldn't that count for a thing?
Certainly not, he knew. His soul was tarnished beyond repair. He couldn't stop what he had become, even if he'd wanted to.
"Eric?" Alan's curious voice pulled him from his musings, and he looked up, brows furrowed. The brunette smiled at him, teasing, "Is my senior not focused on the reap? What a bad influence." The corners of Eric's lips twitched upwards, and he pulled Alan in to ruffle his hair.
No matter how I'm judged, it'll be worth it if he lives.