It started as a pinch. Hitched breathing in the middle of the night. Pangs on he intake of breath. A faint pattering of heartbeat as he trained, his brother's sword slipping dangerously close to finding a home between his ribcage. William pulled away, a concerned look on his face, and Louis whirled towards him, heedless of his condition. He won, and Jack warned William about showing mercy to an opponent. William looked like he wanted to say something. Louis didn't let him. That evening he coughed up the first flower petal.
That evening he coughed up his first flower petal. Long, thin, and pure white, stained by his flawed, frail, failing body, just as his handkerchief had been as a child. Louis had no illusions that he had kept the coughing fit from his brother, who shared a wall with him still, if not the room they had as children. He stared at the petal in his palm, and faced with the inevitability of admitting what had just happened, he shoved it back in his mouth and swallowed it down. It tasted bitter, even underneath the copper of his blood, and his teeth made little headway tearing it up, so that it clogged his throat. It hurt nearly as badly as it had when he'd first regurgitated it.
July 19, 2023 from Twitter
Angst week fic wip that I might never finish at this rate
#MTPAngstWeek2023 #willou