Quite a decent amount of time had passed since Eric last saw his specter friend. Though nothing had changed from the perspective of outside, prying eyes, Eric’s heart had grown weary. The burden of killing for the sake of another was taking its toll on him. He considered it a hefty responsibility – the responsibility of keeping Alan alive.
“Been keepin’ busy,” he said almost cheerfully, in stark contrast to his truest feelings. “My work’s ne’er done.” For just a moment, he considered Thomas’ transparent body, the way that it bent in the slightest change of light. There was some bright, ethereal quality to his mere presence that only the purest, most innocent souls could carry. His hand itched for his scythe. “An’ I imagine yer no’ up tae much these days, wha’ wi’ th’ state yer in an’ all.”
“Back from where, exactly?"
nukesakus whispered:
""Eric!" The soul cried, wanting to hug the other. "Oh, I've missed you! We all have!""
The mere presence of Thomas’ soul made Eric uneasy. He didn’t show it, however, and – plagued with unrelenting guilt – looked him over with dull eyes. “ ’ve missed ye, too,” he murmured honestly.
“Oh, aye? Wha’ sense is there, missin’ somethin’ tha’s righ’ in front o’ ye?"
“… ‘course I do.”
“There it is again. Tha’ voice.”
nukesakus whispered:
"The boy appeared again, this time blushing like mad. "I-I was told.. t-to do this," he assured the other before leaning in and planting a kiss on the death god's cheek. What did he have to lose?"
Warm lips brushed over the pronounced hollow of his cheek, and Eric couldn’t help but feel he’d missed something about why exactly the writer boy had taken a sudden interest in him. Whether or not he was told to kiss him, he still had a choice in the matter – didn’t he? "… Err…“ He rested a large hand over his chest thoughtfully and raised his brow. ” … Thanks, I s'pose.“
“ … No’ bad.” Eric couldn’t look at him. 
"… Thomas…?“
“Wit?” Eric tore his gaze about, looking for the source of the voice he didn’t quite recognize. “Who’s thaur?!”