The New Reaper

Funeral Precession

Author's Note: Ahoy-hoy is the original way people were supposed to greet each other on the telephone, as Alexander Graham Bell intended. It happened for a while but everybody lost touch with it. I personally think it is a great way to greet people on the telephone, so I use it here.

3 months later.

You, William and Grell lie on your bed, the laptop in-between you, watching a film on the screen but you aren't really paying attention to which one, perfectly happy in each other's presence. You sit in the centre, a grin on your face as William hangs off of one arm and Grell sits behind you with his arm around your shoulder, interlocking fingers with William. Their bodies make you warm, fulfilled as you feel Grell's head rest on your shoulder like he's perfectly content and about to fall asleep. You still can't be touched, but you can be touched by William and Grell. You just feel so comfortable. You don't like soft touches, ones which ghost over your skin. But you can handle the harsher touches, a hand on your shoulder or hand-holding. You smile as you observe your lovers, both completely engrossed in the film.

Grell did want to be in a threesome, as it turned out, not just date William but him as well as you. It has taken some time for your friends to adjust – but they were all pretty accepting people to begin with, so they eventually came around, and now you regularly have double-dates with Eric and Alan. Suddenly you hear a shrill ringing and see the telephone vibrating on its stand. Groaning in reluctance, you squeeze past your lovers and walk – well, stumble really - over to the telephone, answering it and unable to hide the annoyance in your tone.

"Ahoy-hoy," you drawl, not really listening, That is until you hear the panicked shrieks on the other end of the line, a string of curses and unintelligible Scottish. "Eric? What the hell?!"

"Are William an' Grell wi' ye?" Asks Eric. By now the movie is paused and the others look at you with frightfully worried expressions.

"Uh, yes," you answer, shrugging.

"Come quick! The 'ospital! It's Alan!"

"It's Alan," you nod determinedly at the other, and the three of you run out the house in only your pyjamas, dashing out into the street to hail a carriage. You give the driver the address of the hospital and to hurry it up. You are there within minutes, flying through the door and bypassing reception entirely, rushing along the corridors and peeking into rooms. Then you realise, and so do your lovers it seems, that the only place you haven't checked is the ICU. The trepidation in your stomach is stronger than ever before, and if you had anything to throw up then you would have. You walk, like a funeral precession, down to the ICU, where indeed, Alan lies in a bed, a million tubes and machines hooked up to him. Ronald is already sitting there, his arms around Eric's shoulders as Alan coughs weakly. He looks even more ill than usual, his lips white and fingers blue. You know that he doesn't have long.

You shift uncomfortably, watching your lovers console Eric and mumble sweet words that you wouldn't have come up with in a million years. Dealing with your own grief is difficult enough, but someone else's is just too much social awkwardness. Thankfully William seems to be just as uncomfortable as you, and you indicate that both of you should leave.

"I'm going to speak to a nurse," William excused. "(Y/n), come and join me,"

You both take your leave, leaning against the wall when you are out of sight.

"This is..." you begin.

"Yes," William finishes. "I suppose we better actually go speak to a nurse,"

You nod in agreement, sauntering down the corridors. You ate both worried, but neither one of you knows how to or wants to console the other, and neither one of you wants consoled.

"I don't get this whole...sympathy thing," William shrugs as you wait for the nurse tyo see if she can give you any extra info that would justify your trip.

"They know what to say when this kind of thing happens," you refer to Grell ad Ronald. "We'd just get in the way or look stupid, you know that,"

"Eric knew this would happen when he got together with the guy. Don't see what the big surprise is,"

You laugh dryly. "We better go back. They'll be wondering if we got lost,"

William nods in agreement, and you head back, showing Eric the papers the nurse gave you, ensuring him that you didn't read any of them. Eric keeps crying, his elbows propped o the bed as Alan struggles through bypass, unconscious and never to wake up again. You and William occupy yourselves with whatever you can, William with adjusting his glasses every few seconds, a habit which you have noticed over the past week or so. You do sums in your head and read the safety warnings on the machines, trying to come up with some form of distraction from the tragedy. You all hear a loud beeping form the machine, and freak out as the heart beat stops fluctuating, becoming a sill red line.

"Nurse!" you yell, but someone catches you arm and stops you. It's Eric, his eyes looking into yours, full of loneliness and friendship.

"No," he shakes his head sadly. "He's gone,"

You pull Eric into a tight hug, holding him close as he weeps and his hands reach your back. You stay like that for a long time, you and him. You hand rests on his back, and the room falls into an oppressive silence. Eventually once Eric withdraws, you gaze upon his tear-streaked face and cannot help but feel empathy. You liked Alan, and you like Eric, and you wanted him to be happy no matter what. But you can't help but feel like you aren't welcome. Ike you have nothing to contribute. And you know William feels the same. You both stand there for a long time, watching the crowd of three friends comfort each other with your lover, his hand resting on yours, your hand in his shoulder. And you both fall asleep.

Eric stays off classes for a week, doing that typically Scottish thing when one sits inside in the darkness and drinks cheap liquor (Eric had taken a liking to Buckfast and something called 20/20) while not talking to anybody. Eventually he emerges from the room, after much coercion form Ronald and Grell. When he does you smell the alcohol strongly and sweetly, your senses kicking into hyper drive as you cough and splutter it up, purposefully breathing and and out of your mouth. William notices your discomfort and says nothing. He continues to watch as Grell and Ronald work their magic. Their touchy-feely human magic that everyone else but you seems to be able to master. You watch in a strange fascination as they convince Eric to come back to class and re-join the world of the sober, and you can't help but feel very happy when he agrees.

"What just happened? Like do you remember anything from this entire week?" William asks once you both are back in your room, on your laptops like always.

"I remember the start and I remember the finish but...nothing in the middle,"

"Same," he agrees, and you grin.