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It was Jon who died first in the end.
Jon who Tim got four decades with, Jon who Tim held as he died, not in a hospital as the doctors had wanted, but at home where Martin was there with tea and Tim with stories.
One moment Jon was laying in his arms and the next his ghost stood in front of him, besides Sasha and the body in his arms was just a corpse. The corpse of his lover.
Tim stopped speaking, the story he was telling dying on his lips as he looked not at Jon's corpse, but at the ghost stood beside him. The ghost next to Sasha. The ghost of his lover now dead.
Martin noticed his silence, the tears in his eyes. His hand moved to touch Tim's arm, gentle, grounding, kind.
"Love?"
"He's dead."
Dead.
Not gone.
Not gone because he was stood right there, right next to Tim with Sasha.
He wasn't gone.
But he was dead.
Tim knew that Jon would die, knew long before the doctors said so, knew the moment that he woke up from his coma that he'd lose Jon and Martin to death, as all people do. He'd outlive them both.
The next week they buried Jon in Oakhurst beside Sasha.
The funeral held their friends. Melanie and Georgie stood beside Martin and Tim, Daisy and Basira nearby. Cleo and Pearl stood off to the side, watching. Shelby, Drift, Avid, Elle, Scott and Owen stood nearby, mourning. Gem was there as well as Katherine who supplied the flowers for the grave.
Jon watched as he was buried.
Tim looked around at everyone around him, the unageing and the old. How many of them would they be burying?
More than he'd like.
Tim visited the graves every year.
Martin came with him, they'd sit and speak to Sasha and Jon, even if they knew they'd listen wherever they were. Even if Jon and Sasha were always beside them. Even if they didn't need to visit. They still did.
As Martin grew older he stopped joining.
The trips went from a week long to a day of visiting.
Owen was the next to die, buried on the hill with Louis where he'd been buried all those years ago. The Goldsmith Coven stood by as he was buried. Abolish was the one to bury him, something that he laughed at slightly, a reminder of Oakhurst all those years ago. A mirror to the last time Owen had been buried.
Tim watched as Owen and Louis looked over the crowd, as they got ready to move on.
"Tim?"
"Yes, Owen?"
"Take care of our sister for me, will you?"
"I will."
"Good. I'm sorry you had to watch another brother die."
Tim was silent as he looked at Owen.
Silent as he took a deep breath.
Silent until he spoke.
"I'm glad I got to know you. That I got to say goodbye."
"Goodbye, Tim."
"Goodbye, Owen."
And like that he and Louis were gone.
Jon followed him still, stayed with him and Martin, spoke with Sasha.
When Martin died he did so in his sleep.
Tim fell asleep with his lover in his arms and woke to a corpse, three ghosts stood where there once were two.
This time there was no one by his side to hold him as he cried, to bring him tea and help him get the body ready. This time it was his job. This time it was him and him alone who was tasked with calling their friends, with getting the funeral set up, with making sure everything was done right.
His job alone because he was the last one left, because Jon had already died and now Martin had joined him.
Martin's funeral was smaller than Jon's. Owen had died and Georgie and Melanie weren't able to make it to Oakhurst.
Tim stood looking at the graveyard where the graves of his brother, best friend and lovers stood.
He stared at the graves and he wondered how many years it'd take before he joined them.
His lovers had grown old beside him as he stood by them, ageing a year for every ten.
Shelby's arm wrapped around him as he stood at Martin's grave long after everyone left.
"Why don't you come home, Tim?"
Home.
Home to the Goldsmith Manor.
Home far away from the house he'd spent decades with his lovers in.
Home in a house that wasn't tainted with death.
Him and his lovers had lived together in his house in London for decades, there were so many memories. Memories of the good times and memories of corpses in his arms.
"I don't want to leave them."
It was Martin who spoke, his arms out like he wanted to embrace Tim but knew he couldn't.
"You won't be leaving us Tim. We're right here. Your family is in New York. Go join them, be happy."
Tim looked at Martin, at Jon by his side, at Sasha nodding behind them.
Then he looked at Shelby.
"Okay. Yeah. Home."
He kept the house in his name, returned to it to keep it clean and tidy, to make sure it didn't fall into disrepair.
The ghosts followed him as always.
It wasn't long before he was burying Georgie and Melanie side by side in Oakhurst, their ghosts joining the many in the town.
Their ghosts stayed only for a few decades, wanting to haunt for some time, to become the ghost stories they'd told for many years before they decided they were ready to move on.
Still Jon and Martin were by Tim's side.
Still Sasha stayed with him.
Where there once were homes to visits and dinners to share there were graves. graves to sit by, some empty yet holding a ghost, others full with no one to visit for they'd moved on.
Tim visited anyways.
He buried the people he loved, set them in the ground and covered their bodies with dirt. Placed their headstones and sat by their graves.
He outlived those he loved.
One day those he had left would outlive him and his body would join the graveyard he'd dug.