Death Comes at the End (Larry Stylinson)

Summary: Louis had succeeded in killing himself once, all be it for three minutes, the best three minutes of his life. But after that, he can’t seem to die, most people call him lucky, he doesn’t think he is. He joined the police to put his some what immortality you use, all the while trying to find his heaven, but then he thinks he may have just found it in the boy with hard, cold eyes that’s hair curls and he just so happens to be sat on Louis bench.

Louis had succeeded in killing himself once, He was only dead for three minutes, but it was the closest he’d ever gotten. That was the first time he’d tried. He failed the second and third and all the following times, too.

He swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills – that was the third time- but it didn’t work, he’d not slept for three days after that. There were a hundred pills in the case and he couldn’t see how he’d survived. He didn’t want to have survived.

He gave up after his sixth attempt, because he still wasn’t dead and the nurses were getting unpleasant to him in the hospital.

He just wanted to end life, but life didn’t want to end him. So there he was, living in the heart of London, wishing he could be somewhere, anywhere else.

It was like he couldn’t feel, he was numb and it was like life had just been sucked from him, but here he was still around, an empty shell that wouldn’t crack.

So he’d become a police man, taking all the worst offences, because he was up for risking his life, it wasn’t like it would be a shame if he were to die in action.

That didn’t even seem to happen, because against all odds, he survived a stabbing and a shooting and he was beginning to wonder when he’d been cursed to a life of immortality.

He took rounds around the park at lunch time to call out the drug users, it wasn’t dangerous and it was only for an hour, but it was his favourite time of day, because he was able to walk past the bushes, uniform on, and watch the world go by, and sometimes, sometimes even forget the pain inside.

There was a boy sat on the bench Louis usually ate his lunch on the day the first frost of winter covers the grass, He walks past the bench and takes in the smart suit and the name tag that’s yet to have a name etched into it. He’s obviously a new worker at the bank across the street.

 Louis continues around for another circle of the park walking behind the public toilets and taking the drugs from the teenage boys, taking down their names and addresses. He returns to his amblings and sighs as the bench is still taken by the curly haired boy who’s staring at the bank ahead. His eyes look blank and cold, and Louis wonders if his look like that, too.

He makes his way to a different bench and sits down before his walky-talky is buzzing, there is a bust up at the deport, and there are guns. So he jumps up after just sitting down and runs to his car, jumping in and setting his siren on. Another day on the job, And sadly he was walking through his doors to his shabby one roomed flat, throwing his keys onto his kitchen counter and falling into his bed that was also his sofa.

The boy was there the next day too, and Louis breathed out deeply and walked along to the next bench as he ate his lunch, watching out for people around him. He’s not called out that day, so he drives back to the station to deposit his car and takes the nearest tube to get home.