I Swear (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter One "Reminisce"

I can recollect the years prior before our, "fallout?" Louis and I never really made promises, everything was based on, "I swear." Because you can break a promise but, you can't really "break" a swear. A swear is stronger. Stronger than any oath, pledge, vow, or promise. At least it was to us; to me. To me, those swears kept everything bound in thick, tight rope to us. Every "I swear," after every secret we swore not to tell, everytime we swore to tell the truth or confess a lie. After every, "Don't let me go." That was followed by a swear not to. After every, "I love you." After every situation we got stuck in, where we found our most common conversation being held. Memorized by heart. Repeated like a prayer.

"Jump."

"How high?"

"Till we touch the sky."

"Don't let me go."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"I swear."

I think I mainly miss that conversation because it seems to be engraved on the tight rope that has me bound to him. I thought it would have broken by now; the rope, being that everything he swore to me was a lie. I tried to break out of its grip because, who wants to be bound to someone they can only love from a distance, that you once had the pleasure, the privilege, to love up close? Not really freely, but, pretty damn close.

Everytime I loosen the ropes grip his swear to never let me go comes back into play. Replay. And the ropes seem to get tighter. So tight that I become immobile; paralyzed. In times like those, it's nothing but, him. Him and me. And his love and once soothing swears suffocating me. The ropes get so tight I wonder sometimes if he's on the other end: Pulling. They cut me. Suffocate me. I sometimes wonder if they'll kill me. If my love for him will kill me. They put weight on my chest, the weight of all the things said and unsaid. Things we left lingering in the air.

It hurts, but, I manage. I manage the thudding in my ears that sounds like his heartbeat. I manage the un-open box of Yorkishire tea in our-my kitchen. I manage my unruly, long curls that I haven't cut since the last time he he ran his fingers through them, because I swear I can still trace his fingers in my hair. I manage going to the studio-seperate-from the other lads, to give Louis space and myself. I manage listening to his voice sing the lyrics I wrote. I listen and watch and manage from the far end of the stage at concerts. I manage metting fans and smiling; and I never thought that that could hurt so bad! I manage sleeping on a seperate floor in hotels and sleeping and riding in seperate cars, tour busses, and different sections on a plane. I manage. Because, honestly, that's all I can do. And it hurts because, who wants to manage hearing every swear made to you on repeat that has been broken? Though, every swear still holds that little sliver of hope that keeps this rope bound in tight knots. Me&Him. He; the one who broke me. And I; the broken one, who clings to everything he said to me for dear life in hopes I will one day hear him say it again. I guess that's the innocent part of me for you. Clinging to broken promises like a child would to their favorite toy. Though, the toy must be broken, because though I cling, just like a child, it hurts so fucking bad. I know of nothing that's more broken than me, the whithering flower, Harry Styles.

\(~_~,)/

A.N.
Hello bebes! Yayy chapter one. Ikk its sad... i cry! Lol, dnt worry...this isnt even half of a heart break loves. Hazzas gonna go through Hell ;-; The story will remain in Harrys POV just a heads up.