A/N: Okay, warning, this is just sad and depressing.
Husk breathed heavily as he carried the limp form of Alastor around the corner and out of the combat zone. His chest hurt from his broken ribs being strained by the pressure of a body being held tight against them, but he didn’t care. He just didn’t fucking care.
“Hold on just a little longer”, he pleaded, and almost collapsed onto the ground when he finally reached the relative safety of the empty alley. He sunk down to his knees and gingerly laid the bloodied, broken form of Alastor onto the dirty ground to inspect his injuries so he could try to fix him up…
…Only to discover that Alastor was no longer breathing.
Husk frantically searched for a pulse, and found none. Alastor’s smile had dropped and the skin on his cheeks was starting to cool. His eyes were closed from the earlier pain, but Husk didn’t need them open to know that they were empty of life.
Alastor’s life had slipped out at some point between the moment Husk had picked him up and started running and the two of them making it to the alley.
Husk hadn’t even noticed when it happened.
Alastor was the most important person in his afterlife and he hadn’t even noticed when he died, despite holding him in his arms.
He stared at the lifeless form of his dear friend, heart feeling like it had been replaced by an icy void. Numbness was taking over and he could no longer feel his fingers or toes, nor the tip of his tail or ears. At least his wings were already gone so he couldn’t feel them anyway.
He watched as a puddle of blood slowly formed around Alastor, the blood sluggishly dribbling out of his multiple open wounds, despite there no longer being a heartbeat to keep the flow steady. There was no longer anything living left in his body to close the wounds either.
He watched a puddle of his own blood forming underneath his knees as he continued to ignore his own wounds. His fur was matted with blood, sweat and dirt, but he was beyond caring.
What was even the point when Alastor was gone? Why should he fight to preserve his own pathetic afterlife when the only light in it had flickered out?
The numbness spread and his head felt foggy. His ears rang with a high-pitched tinnitus, but for once it wasn’t coming from the Radio Demon being in a tizzy. It couldn’t, because the Radio Demon was no more.
He would never hear his radio noises, his humming, his singing, his laughter, or his voice ever again.
Husk saw tears drop on Alastor’s face, and could only assume they were his own. He couldn’t feel them in his eyes, but they couldn’t be anyone else’s.
Alastor would never smile to him again. The last smile he gave Husk had been a pained grimace when he picked his mangled body off the ground.
Husk’s vision was blurry. He didn’t know if it was the tears or the fog in his brain or the weakness that was slowly taking him over.
Alastor wouldn’t hug him ever again. He wouldn’t pat his shoulder or grab his hand. He wouldn’t scratch him behind his ear or on his cheek. He wouldn’t help himself to his now non-existent wings.
Husk could no longer keep himself on a seated position, so he collapsed forward and on top of Alastor.
Alastor didn’t feel as cold as he would have thought. Maybe he was too cold himself to notice the difference.
Husk slowly, very slowly moved his uncooperative arms so he could wrap them loosely around Alastor. Then he closed his eyes and waited.
It didn’t take long for everything to turn black and fuzzy. For everything to fade into nothingness.
For the pain to finally let go of him.
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