Love is War (L.S.)

27

Louis doesn't fancy thinking about death a lot. It's never been something that has necessarily occupied his brain. Like the rest of the world, he planned to ignore his inevitable departure from the earth until the very day it came around. 

He figured that day would be at the ripe age of 96. He always imagined he'd be doing something completely barbarian for a man his age, then he'd get a bit tired, opt for a nap and never wake up. It's the easiest way to go; it's what everyone aims for in the end - a nice, painless, eternal sleep.

It's funny though how you can force yourself not to think about something so much, that when you're faced with that exact thing, your mind goes completely blank. 

That's how Louis feels right now - frozen. His mind, body, spirit, and soul, are all frozen. 

He wonders if this is how he's supposed to feel. 

The thing is, Louis has definitely had weapons pointed at him before. A person doesn't do this kind of job without ending up in a situation where weapons have to be drawn more than a few times. 

However, there's something different about this time.

 Maybe it's the fact that standing before Louis is an entire team of guards in uniforms with their guns aimed at his head. 

Maybe it's because he doesn't know how to talk himself out of this one, since he doesn't think he can remember how to talk at all.

Perhaps it has something to do with the irony of it all - him being on the other side of the guns. 

There's a muscular man that's standing the closest to him, about three feet away. His blue fitted uniform holds no hesitation of what he's been trained to do. His blonde hair is falling out of his cap and his legs look a little wobbly where he stands, but his eyes show unmistakable determination. He wants to shoot. Louis knows it. Whether anyone makes a run for it, or not, he wants to shoot. 

"Hands where I can see them boys," he says at last. His firm hands tighten around the revolver and Louis swallows the whimper that threatens to escape his lips. 

He doesn't dare sneak a glance Harry's way - partly out of fear of what he may see and partly because he doesn't think he can bring himself to make even that small of a movement.

"HANDS!" the man repeats loudly since Louis figures neither one of them had obeyed the command. 

He drops his gaze to his lower half and yep, sure enough his hands are dangling limply at his sides. He should probably fix that. 

With more effort than it should take, and definitely less speed, Louis gradually raises his hands above his head and hopes for the best. 

He exhales in relief  when he sees another pair of hands go up in his periphery. Without meaning to, he thinks about how much Harry has to despise doing that one action. 

"We don't mean any harm," he hears Harry say just then. 

And what the fuck? They're literally holding the jewels they just robbed and everything. 

Louis chances a glance at the other boy and finds him smirking a little. His hands are barely lifted, couldn't even be categorized as 'above the head,' and he looks fucking pleased with himself which Louis really does not appreciate. 

"How about you just let us leave, peacefully?" Harry continues. 

"How about you shut the fuck up!" the man closest to them responds. 

Louis can't help the snort that escapes him. He quickly covers his mouth with his right palm as Harry shoots him a look. 

"HANDS UP!" the man screams again, gun gesturing wildly to Louis in particular.