He'd watched for years, and time and time again, he came to you. Too many times, he'd come to offer the eternal rest. Whether it was moments of despair, illness, or an accident- he always came and offered his hand.

Yet, despite you whispering for him every night, begging for his finalizing touch, wishing for him...you'd turned him away every time.

He found himself coming to you in those moments, whispering about the peace he can offer, letting it soothe you...but not taking your hand.

"Not yet." You always said, and so he waited, but he always came.