WHEN YOU SEE THIS POST A SNIPPET OF YOUR WIP - If I Could FlyThank you to the lovely @kingsofeveryth

WHEN YOU SEE THIS POST A SNIPPET OF YOUR WIP - If I Could FlyThank you to the lovely @kingsofeverything for her post! I saw it, so here I am posting my own. This fic was originally part of BHFF but sadly life got in the way. I’m not sure if I’ll revisit and complete it, but it’s lurking in my docs for sure. Enjoy! This wasn’t a tagging sort of post but I figured I would tag all the library peeps because once you see it you can’t unseen it and I want to know what you’re working on! @hershelsue @onlyforbravest @bluecolouredlou @momrryrights @skipperxao3 @beckydoesthings @allwaswell16 @thestylinsons @thelouistiti @larrysballetslippers @sadaveniren @local-troubled-writer @alwayshazandlou @juliusschmidt @haztobegood @mizzhydes @jacaranda-bloom @beelou @larry-hiatus @paranormalbabydoll @justmybeautifulthings @princelyharry @larryyouknow @daffodilwine @louisandtheaquarian @loulovehome @parmahamlarrie @neondiamond @almondtreeflower @dontworrylouis @cyantific @stylesthebrave “You promised me,” Harry says, wearing nothing but his pants and a lovebite on his neck. Louis shrinks into himself as Harry stands so quickly the stool clatters behind him. “Louis, you promised me.” Harry says again, insistent like maybe he’s trying to comprehend or control his own disbelief, but all it feels like is a knife driving into Louis’s gut. Louis finds great interest in his hands. Short thin fingers, veins webbed across the back of his knuckles, the blue tint of them a bruising purple the closer to his wrist they weave, hidden under the jumper he’d thrown on before Harry dragged himself out of bed. Louis pulls the sleeves tight over his knuckles, twisting the cuffs in a habit he’s formed since it all became a little too visible. He’s been careful. Keeps to the shadows, doesn’t taunt the criminals the way he used to.“I-” Louis starts, but the words shrivel and die before they can form. He’s been careful, just not careful enough. There’s no excuse, no way to make up for it when he vividly remembers making that promise. Louis lied to himself as much as he’d lied to Harry, and now he’s strung up in a web of his own making. He told himself it didn’t count the first few times, that Harry would understand, that he wouldn’t find out. He can’t even apologise, because maybe if he meant it he wouldn’t have done it. Wouldn’t have kept doing it. Harry stops at the edge of the counter, keeping the corner between them like he’s not sure of getting closer. After a morning of cuddling, that above all fucking hurts. Harry’s lip wavers as he aborts saying something, licks his lips as tension grows, and pierces Louis with an aching gaze. “Were you planning on breaking up with me?”The air knocks from Louis’s chest like a sucker punch, his knees giving out as a rush of nausea warps his vision. He clenches the edge of the counter to keep himself from falling. “Why the fuck would you say that?” And he doesn’t mean to yell, but damnit he’s grasping on little self-control he has not to hyperventilate at the suggestion of them- of Harry- “I’m trying to understand why you’ve been lying to me about something like this. How can-“ Harry’s voice breaks as he gestures at first angrily and then weaker as he loses strength. His eyes are wet as they struggle to stay on Louis. "How can I know there’s nothing else?”“There is nothing else.” Louis insists, not caring if it sounds cliche or over-used because it’s true. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry, I don’t want to be the reason you feel like shit.” Harry opens his mouth to protest but Louis pins him with a glare. "I know you! I know you’d loose sleep and struggle to focus on your thesis even though your whole fucking future depends on it. I couldn’t do that to you, not when it means so much.”  The quiet that follows feels delicate. They’re both not breathing right, and Louis’s scared as his words echo in his head that for the very first time he’s not sure. He knows how he feels, and what he wants, but somewhere in the last five minutes he’s lost a certainty he’s had for years that by the end of this day Harry’s still going to go to bed and wake up in the same bed as him tomorrow and every day after. “You think a thesis means more than…” Harry shakes his head and wipes his eyes with a weak chuckle filled with pain that Louis never, ever wants to hear again. Harry sniffs and blinks when he looks up again. “After everything-” A vacuum swallows the air in the room at Harry’s cut off noise of distress in the back of his throat. Everything. The discovery of powers and the criminals who tried to take advantage and all the blood stains and cut lips and every single tight hug that could have been the last. The near misses and the sure wins. Young and figuring out the world and each other, Spiderman a constant presence in their life that dictated every decision. But they aren’t those people anymore. Now Harry belongs in this world, with the Louis Tomlinson who has a bachelor’s degree in the ancient and useless art of journalism. They shut the door on Spiderman years ago, they mourned the loss of all he meant and moved on. Or they were supposed to. Maybe Harry did, but Louis… for Louis, Spiderman still exists in the darkest part of the night, in a muted black suit Harry’s never even seen that was made to disappear in the shadows. Spiderman isn’t a hero anymore. He’s just a ghost Louis can’t shake. -- source link

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