TASM : Harry Osborn : Story #02
TITLE: A Life of Tomorrows.
AUTHOR: pony_express
FANDOM: The Amazing Spiderman
PAIRING: Harry Osborn
GENRE: Gen
PROMPT: Story 2
RATING: G.
WORD COUNT: 500
SUMMARY: Harry feels the pressure of an assignment.
WARNINGS: None
DISCLAIMER Characters disclaimed.
You stretch your neck and allow your head to move a little freely. You look anywhere but at the pile of books in front of you, and blink a few times. There’s hardly anyone here; you can only count two people and you’re pretty sure they both work here. It’s getting dark outside, and your eyelids start to feel the weight of the sun going down all too suddenly. You yawn and stretch your legs out as you learn back, and do another little furry of blinks. The pile of books, although static, seems to be reproducing.
As you laid back you begin to hear your father’s disappointed tone; you imagined the compliment card you’d receive. You heard your classmates giggle. The great Harry Osborn, too clever to pass, but rich enough. There were only a few in your cohort that honestly believed you hadn’t brought into the course. At least that’s what they told you publically; privately they probably all felt the same. They wouldn’t believe that you’ve spent the last 5 hours here in the library and that you were honestly going to pass without your father’s intervention.
You hadn’t the heart to tell them your father hardly ever intervened, and you were truly as alone as you felt out here; in the library at what’s starting to feel like midnight on a Saturday night. Your assignment was simply enough, but needing to pass, needing to make your father proud was pushing on - he’d might notice you if you had one of those degrees. If you could converse on the same level of intelligence, perhaps you would converse, and more. Perhaps he’d smile your way, or even, if heaven existed, he’d actually mutter the words “I’m proud.” He might actually mutter any words. Now that would be something!
Your ruffle your hair, massaging the back of your head as you do. It’s late, you should probably make a move. You just wished the “read” pile was a little higher, and the “to read” a little lower. You decide to double your efforts tomorrow. You could galdy go all night, but sleep has taken over all thoughts in a deathly grip and refuses to let go. Lines of text start to blur, and your eyelids feel the weight of the untouched books you can hardly see in front of you.
Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll vanish those books in the pile, and along with them all thoughts of failing and failing your father. You will do what you always do and ace the assignment. You’ll prove yourself right, and them wrong, and make your father proud.
Well, there’s seven days in a week, Harry, old boy, and none of them are called tomorrow. . . It’ll sure take a while. But everyday’s the tomorrow to the day before. You have a whole life of tomorrows. You’d probably need them all, and more, but for now you just needed to feel, see, and breathe different air. And sleep. Sleep was important too.
AUTHOR: pony_express
FANDOM: The Amazing Spiderman
PAIRING: Harry Osborn
GENRE: Gen
PROMPT: Story 2
RATING: G.
WORD COUNT: 500
SUMMARY: Harry feels the pressure of an assignment.
WARNINGS: None
DISCLAIMER Characters disclaimed.
You stretch your neck and allow your head to move a little freely. You look anywhere but at the pile of books in front of you, and blink a few times. There’s hardly anyone here; you can only count two people and you’re pretty sure they both work here. It’s getting dark outside, and your eyelids start to feel the weight of the sun going down all too suddenly. You yawn and stretch your legs out as you learn back, and do another little furry of blinks. The pile of books, although static, seems to be reproducing.
As you laid back you begin to hear your father’s disappointed tone; you imagined the compliment card you’d receive. You heard your classmates giggle. The great Harry Osborn, too clever to pass, but rich enough. There were only a few in your cohort that honestly believed you hadn’t brought into the course. At least that’s what they told you publically; privately they probably all felt the same. They wouldn’t believe that you’ve spent the last 5 hours here in the library and that you were honestly going to pass without your father’s intervention.
You hadn’t the heart to tell them your father hardly ever intervened, and you were truly as alone as you felt out here; in the library at what’s starting to feel like midnight on a Saturday night. Your assignment was simply enough, but needing to pass, needing to make your father proud was pushing on - he’d might notice you if you had one of those degrees. If you could converse on the same level of intelligence, perhaps you would converse, and more. Perhaps he’d smile your way, or even, if heaven existed, he’d actually mutter the words “I’m proud.” He might actually mutter any words. Now that would be something!
Your ruffle your hair, massaging the back of your head as you do. It’s late, you should probably make a move. You just wished the “read” pile was a little higher, and the “to read” a little lower. You decide to double your efforts tomorrow. You could galdy go all night, but sleep has taken over all thoughts in a deathly grip and refuses to let go. Lines of text start to blur, and your eyelids feel the weight of the untouched books you can hardly see in front of you.
Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll vanish those books in the pile, and along with them all thoughts of failing and failing your father. You will do what you always do and ace the assignment. You’ll prove yourself right, and them wrong, and make your father proud.
Well, there’s seven days in a week, Harry, old boy, and none of them are called tomorrow. . . It’ll sure take a while. But everyday’s the tomorrow to the day before. You have a whole life of tomorrows. You’d probably need them all, and more, but for now you just needed to feel, see, and breathe different air. And sleep. Sleep was important too.