Collision; Larry

13.

Fuck, is the only thing Louis can bring himself to think. Fuck.

This can't be happening. This can't be real. He must've been thrown into the deepest, darkest pits of Wonderland, because there is no way this could be anything but a vicious nightmare.

It feels so wrong, not being able to feel the small dents in his back where his wings are usually grown out and strong, bizarre to crawl up drenched from the ocean and not feel wet drops running down soaked, spun silver material, keeping him sane and balanced. He looks over to Niall and-unwillingly-to Harry, and he confirms that none of them have suffered this horrifying loss of magical traits, of course, because their bodies are designed for Earth, and Louis envies them so much it hurts.

We only function, Louis, in places that hold magic. Without it we are useless.

His mother's words ring in his ears, and his head spins faster and faster with each passing microsecond.

He's human.

"I'm human," he breathes out in terror.

"You are," Niall pats his back once again. "If it makes you feel better, there are no major changes in your appearance except the, uh, wings. And also, I think you've grown a good five inches at the least."

Louis fills his lungs to the brink with air and lets it out slowly, trying to calm himself down and force himself into getting accustomed to the absurd situation. He's grown, Niall claims, and when Louis looks at the cupid he realizes that he's right. Niall, who's usually around the same height as Louis, is now several inches shorter. That's a nice thing. Let's focus on the positive.

Louis pushes his ice cold legs to start moving forward as he carefully looks around for a sign of human life. He doesn't find any-but then again he wouldn't really call this suitable weather for a swim anyway, he figures as he looks up towards the thickly grey sky. Either the clouds are on their way off, or they're incoming. So there's a fifty percent chance rain could start falling at any second.

Niall is right by Louis the entire time, unquenchably cheery and lively as always. Louis can't help but admire it a little bit. They have after all just been close to an icy, cold death. Not even Louis' mood can be on top after that.

Not that Louis' rarely moody. He can be a nightmare when he wants to, and he takes full pride in it. He sees it as a good quality-it brings a bit of character. Besides, he has to be ready to whip out harsh words at any minute, because he's absolutely positive that if he didn't have the ability, people would walk all over him all the time. He's lost track of how many times people have tried. Breakable little fairy, sweet, happy, gullible creature. Louis can't be just that if he ever wants respect.

Not that he'd want to be just that. He's proud of the surprised looks he's managed to press upon condescending creatures' faces through the years.

He doesn't get any further before his thoughts are roughly cut off.

"Are those-wings?"

Both boys jump several feet up in the air at the sudden unfamiliar voice, swiftly turning around to see who's caught them. Niall folds his small wings in behind his back with bolt-like speed.

(A tiny part of Louis' mind is a little jealous of that ability- it must be very useful to be able to just tuck them away at times.)