Death: End Part 1

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29,092 years after first meeting.

Waking up is awful. Truly awful.

With Swift trying to teach me "the finer things in life" over the past some years I've had to begin doing mundane things like shit and piss and sleep. No idea why sleep is necessary but I don't particularly hate it.

It's just waking up.

I wonder if that's what it will be like to die.

Your soul just floating through darkness until it's forced into another body. Although I have no single soul so I can only imagine what my afterlife will consist of.

Stretching, wiping a bit of crusted saliva off of my chest that Swift has so kindly gifted me, I force my eyes open.

I'm greeted with the agitated expression of Anderson, his brows are knit and his white hair messy.

It takes me a few seconds to notice the shine to his puffy eyes and the wet trails down his cheeks.

I reach a hand up and wipe some of the trails away, something films had taught me to do in these situations. His eyes close and his face relaxes a little, the beginning of fine wrinkles smoothening.

"What's wrong?" I question.

There was no longer anything on this earth to upset him other than me. But what did I do?

Anderson and his bloody emotions. I will never truly understand them.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He sits up, his voice cracking as he wipes his hands down his face and over his hair. "It's been over a year Death."

Oh shit he used Death. He'll call me anything but death nowadays, he's deemed it too morbid of a name.

Is he angry? Or just upset?

Over a year.

Our anniversary.

Did I forget our anniversary? He does tend to get worked up over the simplest things.

Before I can speak up Anderson does. He knows by now that I don't understand this crap so he usually explains it more simply.

"Why didn't you tell me that you've been waiting to kill me for over a year."

"Because you still don't want to die."

"Babe," He sighs in disbelief. I think.

"If I wait until you want to die, or you grow old, then you'll be happy."

"No. That's not how it works," he sighs and looks up.

I follow his gaze and find nothing but leaves and blue skies.

But I linger and watch a little longer, trying to see what he sees.

Beauty I assume. And by now my opinion on beauty is quite clear.

"What're you thinking?"

"That I might not be capable of feeling the things that you do but that doesn't mean that I don't want you to have the fulfilment in life that they bring."

I sit up and look at him properly.

His hair was white but thick unlike what you'd see in the elderly. His joints sometimes creaked. His eyes sometimes grew unfocused and his hearing was a little worse for ware.

He's grown calmer I've noticed, more laid back with his age. More confident in himself. He would often take control now.

He looked the same as the day I saved him from those teenagers.

His pain makes me angry. At myself not him. That's something I haven't been in control of for a long time.

"You deserve someone who cares for you like that, with emotions and stuff, so that you don't get sad."

I get angrier at myself the longer his broken stare lingers on me, more annoyed that I can't do anything about it. That Nick created me in a way that means I'll never understand these things.

"Come here."

His voice is hoarse as if my hand were wrapped around his throat.

He motions to his lap, which I obediently straddle. His muscular arms wrap around me in an embrace he'd so often insisted upon. I return the hug, placing my arms in the positions he liked the most and burying my face into his neck so he could feel my heat on his pulse.

"I love you so much," he whispers, knowing he'd never get the answer that he'd always begged to hear. "And thank you for waiting but I'm never going to wish to die, not with you by my side and the happiness and love you create within me. Not with the beauty surrounding us."

He pauses, reigning in the tears I can hear at the ache of his voice.

"Today," he manages to choke out but says nothing further.

I pull back and look into his watery eyes.

There wasn't any way I'd argue. I'd waited a lifetime for this and while a few centuries wouldn't matter to me I certainly won't argue if he's saying that today is the day.

And I can see it in his eyes.

And I couldn't hide the glint of excitement in mine.

"But you're not having the satisfaction of killing me, love. I won't die by your hands."

I thought it over.

Getting up and striding towards our small weapons bag I heave it over my shoulder and sit before him cross legged.

"I think I'd prefer it that way too."

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