You hate how pretty mortals make death sound. How they glorified it, how they praised people ready to die for the cause. You'd seen death. You knew there was nothing glorious about it. The heart stopped, the muscles relaxed, the bowels emptied. Their lungs stopped filling with air, and the pupils dilate. And your friend, your foe, your lover, your acquaintance is dead and gone. They were no more.

You'd seen more death than anyone could ever have handled. But you handled it. You kept going, kept laughing it off, kept running away. You were sure you could handle his death. From the moment you met him you knew he would die and leave you. His soul would move on, whether to heaven or to a new life. You had heard all the speculations of the afterlife. You didn't know which one you believed, if any, but you knew that your Alexander would not end up in hell.

Your Alec. The only magic you never knew existed. He was the most pure, the most moral, the most human human being you'd ever encountered. And he wasn't even 100% human. You remember every moment you two spent together, but that's all they were to you. Moments. To him, they probably felt like a lifetime. You would try to forget him, you knew you would. You always tried to forget. And, with a little assistance from Jack Daniel's and a new country, you usually could manage to wipe the memories away, if only for a moment. But Alec was different. You had always known that. Yet you still let yourself get close to him. You stupid little man, you naive little boy.

And now you're both lying on the cobblestone street. You look into his eyes because they are the only safe place for you now. The blue swallows you, and for a moment you go numb from the pain. A tear slides from the side of his eye, and tears it's way down his cheek. To you, that tear feels like a flood, destroying everything in it's path. You grip his hand tightly. He's like your little buoy, the only thing keeping your head above the water. He's gasping for breath, and you know it's almost over.

He's so scared, so worried. You know he's wondering what's on the other side. You should be too, but you can't find the will to care. It doesn't matter. What matters is the little boy(because at the end of the day he was nothing but a boy) at your side. You lock eyes with him one last time, and you know that your buoy has sunk. You were both drowning now. Oh yes, you had always known he would die first. But never in a million years, had you considered you might be wrong.

Your heart stops. And you've experienced your last death.