"M'goin' for a walk." The man was standing with his hand on the doorknob. His tone was relaxed, but his muscles were as tense as if he was prepared to draw his scythe at any second. Behind him, Alan was shaking, arms wrapped tightly around himself, jaw set.
"You know I don't believe that for a second." Alan's words were colder than the wintry night outside. Still turned away, Eric shut his eyes, gritting his teeth so hard it hurt; anything to to keep himself from saying what he couldn't.
It's for you, Alan. All for you. I need to collect the souls. I know you'll hate me for it, but I can't let you die. I can't lose you. I need you. I love you.
Instead, he scoffed, still not meeting Alan's eyes. "S'just a walk, Al. I need some fresh air after bein' cooped up in th'office all day," Eric murmured, feeling the book full of tallymarks - each one a dark spot on his existence - like an anvil in his pocket, crushing him under the weight. The burden of it may kill him yet, but he'd fill that book one hundred times over if it meant keeping his partner alive.
Whether Alan hated him for it or not.
"...Well, I'm not about to stop you. Go see her." An eerily correct statement, though not in the way Alan meant. His lips trembled on his next words. "Not much I can bloody do about it, clearly."
Eric shut the door behind him just as he heard Alan let out the first sob.
Sorry it's been ages, I'm terribly sick at the moment...