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I really just wanna be in a stadium with Louies and Louis Tomlinson screaming habit at the top of my lungs rn

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A quote from "My Policeman" by Bethan Roberts "Have you heard of Thomas Burgess?" I ask. "The policeman from Brighton?" "Nah. Why would I?" "His is a very interesting story." "I know enough about the filth already. What about a bit more on Shakespeare? The tragedies. I love tragedies." "Oh, this is a tragedy. One of the best." He looks dubious but says, "Go on, then. Surprise me." I draw a deep breath. "Thomas --Tom to his friends-- was a policeman with a problem." "You don't say." "He wasn't a bad policeman. He turned up on time, did his job to the best of his abilities, tried to be fair." "Don't sound like any copper I know." "That's because he wasn't like any other copper. He was interested in the arts, in books and music. He wasn't an intellectual --his education meant he couldn't be like that-- but he was intelligent." "Like me." I ignore this. "And he was very handsome. He looked like on of the Greek statues in the British Museum. He loved to swim in the sea. His body was strong and lithe. His hair was golden and curled." "Sounds like a qu**r." A few other men have gathered around to listen. "That's what he was," I saw, keeping my voice even. "That was Tom's problem." Bert shakes his head. "F*cking filth. I don't think I want to hear no more, Hazelwood." "It was his problem, but it was also his joy." I continue. "Because he met a man, an older man, whom he liked very much. This older man took Tom to the theater, to art galleries and the opera, and opened up an entirely new world to him." The muscles in Bert's face have stopped moving. His eyes flicker. "Tom liked to listen to this man talk, just as you like to listen to me. He took a wife, but that meant nothing. He continued to see the older man as much as he could." "Because Tom and the older man loved each other very much." Bert comes up close to me. "Why don't we change the f*cking subject, mate." But I don't stop talking, I can't stop. "They loved each other. But the man was sent to prison on a trumped-up charge because he'd been careless. Tom's pride and his fear stopped him from ever seeing the man again. Despite this, the man went on loving him. He will always love him." All the time I talk, more men gather round, summoned by Bert's silent rage. And I know they'll have made sure the screw is looking the other way while Bert punches me quietly in the stomach until I fall to the floor. I'm talking all the time, even as the punches take the air from my body. He'll always love him, I say. Over and over. Then Bert's kicking me in the chest and someone else is kicking me in the back and I cover my face with my fists but it does no good because the blows keep coming. And still I'm getting the words out. He'll always love him. And I remember the time Tom came to the aparment and was so angry with me for lying to him about the portait and I imagine it's him kicking me again and again and again and I keep whispering his name until I no longer feel anything at all. And people wonder why this book made me cry.

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