A soft smile spread across Annie's lips, the corners of her mouth pulled upwards. 

"M-my dickhead," she seemed to be in a daze. "And I love y-you."

Richard didn't know why she was telling him this now unless she knew...? He'd heard that before death, some people say weird things before they pass, which scared him. Was she admitting her feelings because her mind was in a daze? Or were there actually true meanings behind those words? 

Death.

It comes to everyone. 

It cannot be stopped, no matter how hard you try.

Eventually, everyone and everything ends up six-foot underground.

He just wished his life had ended up differently. Richard spent most of it alone, trying to drink his sorrows away. Of course, alcohol doesn't solve the problem; it only temporarily cures the symptoms. Then Annie's continuing rejections added fuel to his grief. Maybe he tried too hard.

His grip upon her hand tightened a little. "Annie?"

She didn't answer.

"Oh, Annie, I'm so sorry. I should've treated you better. You deserve the world. I failed you; I failed us."

Once more, she didn't answer. 

Instead, a rapid beeping sound from the heart monitor echoed throughout the room, tearing Richard's attention from Annie. 

And then...

Annie's heart did one last pulse.

The rapid beeping turned into a single, none-ending beep.

He felt her hand slip from his. After admitting her feelings for him, just like that, she was gone. 

♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

A week later, Richard Head, aged 87, joined Annie Vixx, aged 84. They were laid to rest at the Rusty Hills cemetery in a double grave so that they were together again.

May they rest in piece.

The end.