✘ skeleton sailor | h.styles -discontinued-

[i]

Death is limping as he attempts to get his final job done before it's too late. His heart is beating too fast in his chest and his eyes burn like they've been set on fire. It's been decades since his heart was beating at all but not feeling euphoric is something new to him. There's rain falling on his skin like a song that his veins sing along to. The blood rushing through his body feels nothing like the feeling of taking a life. He feels disgusting, and in a way, he deserves this. Doesn't he?

He closes his eyes and leans up against one of the fences of the quiet neighborhood. His green eyes lock on the little boy sitting in a puddle of mud with his hands collecting a pile of worms. A surge of pain shifts inside of him and he bites on his lip because this feeling is so, so new but oddly familiar. This must be what it feels like to be human. To carry a live body and hurt so much while you do it.

The little boy on the front yard looks up at Death (who is no longer Death and doesn't know what to become).

Dead. That's the word for what he is now. He knows this; knows what'll happen to him now, but he refuses to really think about it. Not with a new, beating heart and veins that aren't empty anymore. So many things are rushing back to him. He remembers this feeling and he remembers being in love, but that was ages ago and maybe that's why this all hurts so much.

"Mister?" The little boy is standing in front of him now.

He looks down at him and remembers that he's going to die soon. The kid shifts his attention down at what he's cradling and Death's gaze follows him, eyebrows lifting as his eyes run over the wounded squirrel sitting in the mud pooling in the boy's palms. There's some blood spilling from the wounded leg.

"He's hurt," the boy whispers. The rain makes him look desperate. Or maybe that's just what he is, green eyes dark and lips swollen and close to splitting under his two front teeth that are a little bucked. Maybe he's just naturally desperate. Perfect.

"What do you do? End its torture or keep it alive for now until it dies a more painful death?" He runs his fingers over the ring on his right hand's middle finger. The initials in it feel new but the ring is centuries old. They read H.S.

"Which one is better?"

Death smiles because he knows the kid already has his mind made up. "I'm dying, kid, and it hurts more than anything. I would choose to end my torture. I don't want..." He trails off silently, watching in genuine awe as the boy gently takes two fingers and snaps the animal's neck. For a moment he thinks he's a sadistic freak, but when he meets his eyes he sees that there are tears pooling in them, and not rain drops.

The blood on his lips isn't from the squirrel; it's from biting down so hard on his bottom one. And there's something so desperate in this seven year old that makes him feel like dying. Like he deserves to die even though it's happening with or without his permission.

He slips the ring from his hand and holds it out to the boy.

"Tell me your name. Your full one."

The boy looks over his shoulder at the house behind him. He sets the squirrel's body on the ground and suddenly looks worried. "I'm not allowed to talk to strangers."

He blinks and swallows a scream. He shouldn't be using his last bit of energy to persuade a little boy into telling him his name. That's just trivial. "Trust me," he urges with heavy intimidation. "Tell me your name."

Something passes over the boy's eyes and he knows exactly how he feels. It wasn't that long ago that he was feeling that euphoric after taking a life and storing it in his body like a temporary home for souls. That has to be the only good thing about being Death. "Harry Edward Styles," the seven year old mumbles with a shocked expression.

Death who is no longer Death, but dying instead, drops the ring into Harry Styles' bloody and muddy hand. "You'll get used to this, I promise. But you will never enjoy it."

"What do you mean?"

The rain feels like acid now and it burns like fire on his skin. This has to be how all dead people feel after they die. He wants to write a book about it; about this unprecedented pain that he never even really thought about before. God, how selfish could he have been to never think about the pain? To just do his job and go on to the next?

Harry gives him one last look and then he bursts into the air like dust. Mixing with the rain and disappearing for good.

The ring in Harry's hand finds its way around his left hand's middle finger. A perfect fit. He frowns at the ground and that's when he sees it. The small letter tucked under the fence.

To Death:

He rips it open and carries it inside the house, determined to work on his reading skills.

🎲🎲

Life takes gentle sweeps as footsteps. His hair is snow white from the age catching up to him. Part of him knew this day would happen and he has no one to blame but himself. It only takes one of them to mess up everything. And since Death has made his decision, he must make his.

He rolls the golden ring on his finger and then slips it right off, wide eyes landing on the little girl sitting under a tree. The rain is heavy and she has her head down like she's hiding from the drops.

Only she really isn't, because there's a squirrel sitting in her lap with a broken leg.

Life frowns and treads closer quietly, using some of the rest of his power he has left to bring life to the grass and flowers under his feet. When he reaches her, she picks up her head and he can see the fresh, raw tears in her eyes. Some of them are spilling onto her cheeks and mixing with the rain on her face.

"Help me." Her bottom lip bobs up and down in a quiver. She's never been so close to something that's so close to dying.

Life turns his head to look over his shoulder just in time to see Death standing in front of one of the little houses on the boulevard. There's a little boy sitting by a bush with tears in his eyes and the moment is so right. It feels so much like fate. "You want to save it."

She nods eagerly. "Please."

He slips the ring off his finger after running his pointer over the initials V.P. "I wish I had more time to tell you more."

"He's bleeding a lot."

"What's your name?"

"What?"

Life feels his heart giving out. It's painful but it'll be over soon. It was only seconds ago that he felt Death disappear. "Your name, princess. I need your name."

"Val," she says under her breath. Rain water slips into her open mouth. "Val Palmer."

He drops the small object on the shaking squirrel. "You will save him. That's your job now, Val Palmer."

"What's my job?" She runs her fingers over the squirrel's leg subconsciously and Life who is no longer Life smiles down at her in admiration. She brings the squirrel back to health with such ease, and that's when he drops the letter from his pocket at her feet.

"Read it and you will understand everything."

With that, the pain in his chest makes him feel heavy. He descends to the grass like soil, the rain making him part of the earth before he disappears altogether, leaving Val under the tree alone as the squirrel scurries up the bark and hides in the leaves on the top.

She sits down and plays with the grass for a while longer, her six year old fingers slipping the ring on as the letter gets buried under the growing mud.

(A/n: I'm still working on how to write a nice first chapter so sorry if this isn't really attention-grabbing. I hope you all have a nice day/night! Please excuse the errors!)