He lets the two men drag him up the altar, tears streaming down his face, as they have been for the past week. His once bright, kind eyes are darkened by bags, as he hasn't slept for a while. He looks out at the crowd, at this group of people he's done nothing but care for, who have all wanted him dead for so long. He's almost... pleading for them to see him, the real him. The one who loves and gives. All he can see is you, death kissing your cheek as he swung his sythe across your neck.
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