The clock was chiming again. 

With its powerful ring came the next empty hour. Darkness, a cloudless night sky spread outside. But Eric wasn’t in any mood to embrace its beauty. He was huddled over his desk, paperwork a disheveled mess over its surface. Not once did he glance down. Not once did he move from his seat. He was still and silent, only shifting from time to time to stain his lips with bitter, amber whiskey. If only it could ease the pain…

But there was nothing that could soothe the constant ache in his faltering heart. He could envision Alan’s face so clearly; the softness of his pale skin, or the gentle gleam that rest behind his spectacles, deep in those jade eyes. The sweetness of his subtle smile. How could it be that something that had been so constant now, so vital to his own happiness, could suddenly be swept from the living world? Could someone as strong as Alan really be taken so easily? And more importantly, why couldn’t Eric do anything to prevent it? Was he really so weak that he couldn’t possibly save him? 

Both hands folded over his face and he leaned forward over his desk. His fingertips pressed against his forehead, rubbing it sorely. The building was far too quiet. There was far too much time for him to think about this. He couldn’t get any work finished at this rate.