Elliot nodded and glanced down. David and Rae hadn’t been able to hold back much of their emotion, and while he was glad that Evan was making an attempt to hold himself together, Elliot meant it when he said it was okay if the other man wasn’t able to. If Elliot himself hadn’t been so physically drained, he likely would’ve been bawling. “I understand. I’m trying to make this as easy as possible for you, but… I also want to give you a proper goodbye, like the others.” That meant doing some bittersweet reminiscing.
“Thank you.” It felt like a silly thing to thank somebody for, but he meant it. Elliot didn’t want to be forgotten. He managed a smile when his friend assured him that no one else could ever come close to the bond they had. “Guess I set the bar pretty high, huh? As far as future broships go.”
He nodded his agreement. “And the third that helped me most of all. At least as far as doing shit myself went.” It was a strange, out-of-body moment, watching Evan cry. In a way, it felt like the other man was doing Elliot’s crying for him, since his own tear ducts seemed to have dried up. “You can’t make a person an amazing fighter unless you are one yourself. He’ll be learning from the best.” He shrugged a shoulder at Evan’s next question. “If he wants to learn. If he’s comfortable with it.”
It was a weighty thing for Evan to promise, but Elliot took it. He had no other choice. Rae would have to find some way to deal with his death. “I know you will.”
Elliot watched as Evan went through the motions of making sure the pistol was in working order, and it was a surreal moment. He wasn’t afraid of the gun, wasn’t afraid of what was coming, because he knew, deep down, that a bullet to the brain, a quick death, was a far better fate than what awaited him if he turned into an undead flesh-eater.
One last look at Evan, one last nod. “Thank you. For everything.” His last words.
Elliot closed his eyes, his final thoughts of Rae and their son.