"I'm sorry…" Those were the last words Alan ever said, laying on the bed, clutching his heart. His hands fell limp, his brow relaxed, and he stopped shaking with pain. Everything stopped. Eric didn't know what to do with himself. The attack had come out of nowhere, taking hold of Alan in the midmorning when they'd been laying in bed, talking lazily. And now...the light had left Alan's eyes. Left Eric's life.
Eric's eyes widened and his grip on Alan's limp hand tightened as he froze, feeling the man slowly growing cold. "Not yet," he whispered. "D-don't go yet, Alan… We've got things t'do, you and me. You've got t'look after that little garden o'yours, and make sure I get m'work in on time, and…" But that was over now. There would be no more lazy kisses in the morning, no more bright smiles in the hallways at the office, no more sweet words or touches.
It took a long time before he could move, reluctantly releasing Alan's cooling body and standing on legs that felt like they no longer belonged to him. Crossing to the phone, he dialed the office and left a short message. "Alan's dead. I'm not comin' in for a while," he said curtly, knowing that William would understand, strict as he was. There was just the one thing left to do.
His scythe was standing in one corner of the room - he couldn't even look at the one next to it. Eric bent to pick it up, feeling no comfort from the familiar weight, and paused, staring at it. Maybe…But no. With a sigh, he returned to the bed, sitting on it next to Alan. The tear tracks had dried on his face, and he looked more peaceful than he had in months; no more pain, no more worry. At least there was that. Gently, Eric took his hand again, carefully drawing his scythe across Alan's palm.
Only when the cinematic record played, showing their memories together and all the bright moments of Eric's life, did he allow the tears to fall.