Author's Note: Alrighty then. *cracks knuckles* So this will be 5 chapters (short ones) and I hope you like it. I may be editing it over the next few days because no. Does not have an official title yet. I was thinking of keeping "There Will Come Soft Rains" but, you know, Ray Bradbury. And this has nothing to do with nuclear weapons. Unless you go into a bunch of literary analysis and technical thinking. Symbolism and whatnot. Who knows, though. It could work...? I'm going to stop rambling now but let me know what you think in the comments. Hope you enjoy it! 20 and 4 x
I visited him once. I told him about everything that was happening. About how I got a job I was fired from within a week and that girl I thought was more than just a one-night stand. I thought about how different my life would be if he were still here. How much better.
Then I started thinking about everything we ever did together. I thought about the things I never got to tell him and the things I said but didn't mean.
And I hid my face in my hands and I could almost feel him hugging me, trying to comfort me. It might have worked any other day. I reached out for him but he wasn't there.
Obviously he's not there. Don't be ridiculous.
It started to rain softly so I opened up my umbrella. I stood a moment longer but couldn't think of what to say. So, like always, I told him what I never got the chance to say when he was alive. I told him every time I went, just in case he was listening.
I held my hand out, feeling the rain. I like the rain. Love it, even. When you're in London, it's just something you have to get used to. Why not enjoy it?
I sighed and closed my umbrella, holding it at my side.
Screw it.
As I started walking away, it rained harder and the wind picked up. I didn't care. It didn't matter.
None of it matters.
I got back to the flat completely soaked. My shoes made squishing noises as I dragged my feet up the stairs. I went to the kitchen and made tea.
I stopped just before I walked out of the kitchen and looked down at my hands. Two full cups.
Wishful thinking.
I forget sometimes. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.
I felt a tear on my cheek as I turned and poured out both cups into the sink. I was rinsing them out when something caught my eye.
A little green bottle with those smooth, white pills that would make all this stop. It would make all the pain go away. All I would have to do is take a few extra and sleep. Just take some and… lie down for a bit.
No. I can't. I can't give up. That is weakness.
It is bravery to face death.
But not like this.
"Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think?"
Maybe I am a coward. Maybe I'm stupid. But I can't take this much longer. I can't.
It would be so nice. So easy. It wouldn't even hurt.
My thoughts were interrupted when my phone rang. Lestrade. I shoved it back into my pocket. I looked back at the bottle. After a moment I opened the cabinet, took out a glass and filled it with water from the sink.
Lestrade called again and I ignored it. I laid my phone on the counter and opened the bottle. I took what was left and swallowed the six pills one at a time. I looked down at the floor.
It looks comfortable enough.
I slowly laid down and curled up on the tile.
Cold.
My eyes closed and my body fell limp.