shi-no-toge:

hanakotobawakodoku:

Entirely unaware that he had an audience, Eric kept it up. His movements were fluid, hips inspired to sway with the music and feet bouncing against the bed in time. Yes, he was the sort to go about dancing on his bed. And while he wasn’t bad at it, it seemed his balance needed a little work — for one wrong step and he was sent (in a fit of loud shouts and cursing) tumbling to the ground with a crash. Sheets tangled around his legs and hair disheveled.

Alan had tears welling in his eyes as he tossed open the door. “Bastard.” he said softly, voice choked. He left the flat immediately afterward, shutting the door behind him with a satisfying slam. He wiped at his eyes frantically as he walked back to his flat. It felt like a walk of shame. He felt emotionally drained and manipulated, and cried nearly the entire way back. He let himself into his flat and collapsed into his bed. He didn’t want to leave the confines of his room.

He picked up the phone and dialed the dispatch, clearing his voice as best he could. “Yes, this is Alan Humphries, reporting in for Eric Slingby and myself… Yes, I know we’re past due. I had… yes it was the thorns.” he said bitterly. “I am unable to return to work at this time. I will return tomorrow morning when I have had sufficient time to recover, and am prepared to stay late. Goodbye.”

Hanging up the phone he stood and removed what was left of his clothing, setting his bolo carefully on the nightstand and changing into a nightshirt. He crawled into bed and found himself in tears once more.

Eric winced as Alan slammed the door. He dragged his heavy feet toward the kitchen and helped himself to a full glass of scotch. The burn of it down his throat was comforting and familiar. His heart felt dull and empty. Without Alan around, he felt lonely. But it seemed he couldn’t really control himself around him anymore. 

Now he’d not only gotten himself at trouble at work, he still had so many souls to collect. If he kept letting himself get caught up in these emotions, these feelings he had for him, he might never be able to save him. To Eric, that was a much worse outcome than breaking his heart. 

After a few more glasses of scotch, Eric helped himself to a shower. That hadn’t been a smart idea, however. He soon felt dizzy and needed to lay down. But when he climbed into his bed to rest, his sheets still had Alan’s scent. Sweet like nectar. Eric groaned and buried his face into his pillow. 

Despite himself, he was missing him. 

As hard as this was, it had to be done.

But if that was true, why were tears rolling down his cheeks?