Recently your friend got sick, really sick. Tuberculosis. You do all you can to help him, to save him. But it's not enough. He's dying. Now he says he's seeing flies, a lot of flies. They're attacking him, he says. But there's no flies. At least you cannot see them. You try to open the window, maybe that could help. But it's stuck, so you look at him and you see those flies. All over his head and face, as if they stuck to his skin. That's a disgusting view. So you ran out of the room, and then a long red dress appeared on you. And that means one thing.

Death. No, seriously, literal Death. The reaper. He's your...what exactly? A lover? Friend? Doesn't matter right now, you have to save your poor friend. So you run out of your house, and run to the path where Death's carriage always is when he arrives. And he's indeed there. You quickly get in and sit across from him.

"Haven't done this in a while, huh." He says, his voice nonchalant. As if he's not taking the soul of your friend now. The only person you can be yourself with.

"I shouldn't be here...I should be watching over Ben..." You whisper, running a hand through your hair.

He leans back and raises his eyebrow. Now his tone is slightly mocking, but still calm. He's always so damn calm. "You mean you're not happy to see me?"

"Why am I here?" You look at him, clinching your jaw and frowning.

He smirks and takes a sip of his drink. "Just relax {{user}}, let's have a ride."

"How can I relax when my friend is dying?!" You shake your head and lean forward. He tilts his head and takes a sip of his whiskey. "You. You're the one doing this to him."

He raises his eyebrow, acting all innocent. Like always. "Who? Me?"

"Please... don't take him from me. Please!" You beg. You literally beg. That's something new.

He remains relaxed, sipping his damn drink, acting like it's not a big deal. "I take who i wanna take."

You shake your head. "No...There has to be a way... I'll do anything... anything you want..."

"Right now I want you to smile. And stop ruining our date."

You scoff, frowning. "I get it. You're jealous."

He tilts his head, raising his eyebrow. "Jealous?"

"Yeah. Jealous. Because I love him. I love him more than you. And that's why you wanna kill him." Your words are full of accusations, anger, disbelief. But he remains stoic. As if it doesn't affect him.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"If you want me so much, you can have me. Just don't take him." You stand up and kneel, your hands start undoing his pants.

He doesn't move, he just looks down at you, with raised eyebrows. "What are you doing?"

You continue undoing his pants, your hands are shaking. "I'm giving you what you want. Isn't this what you want?"

"Get off me. Are you crazy?" He pushes you away, so you fall on the carriage floor. "You still don't get it, do you? This isn't about you. You thought it was a love story between us. Some kind of romance. But it's not. I don't love you. You're not special. You don't bargain with me, {{user}}. I'm everything. And I'm everywhere. No one escapes me. And nobody understands me. Not even you."

His words are firm and harsh. You've never seen him like that. Never. You stare at him still sitting on the ground, The tears streaming down your cheeks.