Summary: Four stories of Death for the 31st.
Genre: AU. Deadly.
Dedication: xmegalomaniac for being absolutely freaking kickass and being my Matt/Brian inspiration. talia_mole for being my gigglesnort buddy. Everyone who comments for making my ego explode.
Disclaimer: I don't even own the damn title OR lyrics. Death Is In Love With Us by HIM and Disenchanted by MCR.
I know that you're scared,
I know you're running out of trust,
Wishing you were dead.
Death. Throughout life and history it is considered a negative. The end. Ripping a soul from a lively form and damning this thing known as life. Associated with evil, black, dark, misery, sadness, grief.
These are all things wrongly associated with death.
Death is release and relief. It is the thing that ends the pain and the misery. It is the ultimate force, the most noble of ancient rights.
Everyone dies. Whether rich or poor, brave or cowardly, evil or innocent. In the end it is the thing than links us all and makes us human.
It is the thing which makes us live this life to the full. If we had no knowledge of the end would we have the ability to live the way we do? To attempt to do all we do?
In a world of such knowledge and technology it is our only great mystery. When thought of deeper it is the strangest thing. An instant end. The destruction of cells and the sudden ending of every organ that has been working continually for months to years. It is the darkest journey, for no one has lived to tell the tale.
People don't react well to what they don't know. They fear it. Which is why we so irrationally fear the end of this Hell.
The Krishna monks believe Earth is our prison for sins we have committed and that death is our relief.
The Latter-Day Saints believe this is merely a trial where we are pained and tested to the tether of our strengths, and that death is our reward.
Death is our only constant. Our only positive. Bringing life is all well and good, but life can only bring pain, and death can bare the cure.
For those it leaves behind it hurts. For those it takes with it, it blesses.
But it started with an alright scene.
The sun is out, and Jimmy smiles. The glow reflects from everything, the glass panes of shop windows and the small, metallic tables lining the sidewalk. It didn't burn his flesh and soak his shirt as it should. It warmed him from the inside out, causing the shades of steely blue and grey throughout his gaze to sparkle. That beautiful autumn light that glowed like a summer day but held all the warm comfort of a winter before a fire.
The street was pristine, a sweeper brushing leaves to the side, the crisp sound of bristles to tarmac dragging dried and burnished plantation into a pile to be disposed of.
Everything was coloured a soft grey, an off-white as he walked. The road was busy and noisy, but that didn't distract from the bustle of people shopping and eating.
This whole side of the road was packed with tiny coffee shops, bistros and cafes, delis and fast-food joints. Tiny little Italian restaurants settled alongside French cappuccino houses. The scent of fresh coffee and hot pastries flooded his senses in the best possible way, tingling at his nose and making his mouth water. But he didn't have long to wait. A small brown paper bag was held in one hand, the top folded down, containing the most exquisite delicacy to have touched human lips.
Jimmy near drooled at the mere thought of tucking into his sweet treat. Icing and sponge and cream sticking to his lips, flooding his mouth...
And then he thought of something else flooding his mouth.
He froze in his steps for the briefest moment, one leg in front of the other as his gaze fell to the solitary male. Unlike the rest of the buildings, the one up ahead only had one soul sitting out front, staring pensively at the coffee before him.
Jimmy could only catch his side profile from the way his head was bowed, but that was quite enough to figure out that the creature was gorgeous. Beyond that. Astronomically more than gorgeous.
Strong brow, strong nose, strong jaw contrasting with the boyish cuteness of a dimpled chin and pink lips. And that was just from this distance. The only thing tearing him from his position rooted firmly to the spot was his desire to get closer, to see more of the hunk of a man stirring his beverage with a languid sensuality.
Sensual. That was the right word. Sexuality flowed from his every pore, intoxicating the food-scented air with a heady gentility.
How unfortuitous was it that at this exact moment Jimmy's legs forgot how to move. The whole process of placing one limb in front of the other became an alien act that he had no knowledge of whatsoever. Why the fuck did walking have to be so damn complicated? Didn't the inventor know that certain people couldn't figure the dynamics of the whole dastardly ordeal?
Slightly shakily, he managed to lift his foot from the pavement, and voila, something in his head clicked into place and movement once again became a possibility. Wobbly, stiff, and feeling far too much like a blushing teen for a twenty-four year old man, Jimmy walked closer to the beast that had so easily caught his attention.
His large form was clad entirely in black, and Jimmy thought it suited him. Dark hair slicked back, flesh only slightly tanned, and he could have sworn he saw a trace of ink peeking out from the cuff of his shirt.
The nervous man's stomach fluttered uncontrollably as butterflies began some form of complex gymnastics. His mouth dry, his eyes unblinking as he analysed the male. There was something about him... something aside from the beauty that was so obvious. Something in the very air around him, in the way he sat alone, gaze never moving from his drink. There was a.. sadness. Regret? Jimmy wanted to know why so desperately, but by the time flecks of courage began to form he was at the road he had to cross.
The zebra crossing was directly across from the object of his affections, and Jimmy cursed every God and beast he could think of. But, of course, cross he did, hating having to turn his back on the Adonis.
He could hardly bare it. His mouth was watering for something different, his skin tingling, and he couldn't help but crane his neck and look over his shoulder.
And fuck. Fuckity fuck McFuckton... He was looking back. Smiling. Dimples framing those curved lips.
Metal thumped into muscle and bone, nasty cracks ringing out, a slump and a flood of scarlet as the sack of flesh hit the floor.
His penultimate thought was that his Twinkies were crushed.
His very last were that his love's eyes were hazel.
And as screams rung out and shoes slapped to flooring in a rush to get to him, the vehicle that had brought his inevitable end screeched to a halt, a door opened, a man near falling out, brow already laced with sweat as his hands shook.
But none of the gathering crowd felt for that man. That man whose life had come to an end in a very different way to the bleeding shell sprawled awkwardly on the stained road.
The perfection of the day was tarnished. A chill replacing the warmth. Steel blue paling, glassy and fixed on the now clouded sky.
Panic ensued, women screamed and dragged their children away as gasps floated on the faint breeze carrying last breaths. Shoppers were trembling, all except for one. A coffee was discarded, left to cool, payment placed on the table without a word as with perfect grace the man stood. Slowly, in no hurry, as though he had all the time this world had to offer, the black jacket resting neatly over the back of his chair was plucked off and slipped on to his body.
Cutting easily through the shocked crowd with long, strong strides of long, strong legs, he zipped the black leather garment as he came to a halt at the spread feed of the horizontal male.
Jimmy was still breathing. He could feel it. See the jerky, wheezing rise and fall. No one noticed as the last thing the bleeding man saw knelt down beside him, one knee raised and the other to the road, blood creeping to the knee of his jeans. Maybe they were too shocked, maybe they just failed to see.
A frown tugged at his lips, brow furrowed, that bright smile he had so briefly flashed now long gone in the sadness that flooded him from his head to his toes. That intense gaze that had once been devoted to his coffee now had its full attention on the broken form to his side. All he could do was reach out, a strong hand surprisingly gentle as serene fingers traveled down a grazed cheek.
The rise-fall pattern stopped.
The blood turned cold.
And Death stood and moved away as the blare and flash of an ambulance crawled through the startled crowd, knowing it was too late, and simply hanging his head.