Fuckboy {Draco Malfoy 18+}

33. the morning after.

"It's a filthy world we live in," I sob. "It's a filthy goddamn helpless world."

"E. . ." Onyx says, rubbing my shoulder.

I'm laying in bed the morning after, sobbing into my pillow.

"E. . . it's going to be okay. Just tell me-"

"Stop asking," I whimper. "Please, for the love of god, stop asking." I stuff my face into my pillow, crying recklessly into it.

Onyx lets out a choked sound of sadness, then she must give up on getting the information out of me because she tucks her legs under the covers and slides into my bed with me. I turn around, and she wraps her arms around me, holding me while I cry.

"I love you, you know," she says. And I sob harder, because so does Draco. "You're my best fucking friend, and I love you."

"I know, O," I whisper.

---

"E-"

"Go away, Draco."

"Evan, please, just fucking talk to me!"

I'm flying down the corridor and he's hot on my tail, chasing after me. He had been waiting for me outside of my first class of the day, and he's now chased me up two entire floors, showing no signs of stopping.

"I don't have anything to say," I tell him, turning a corner and hoping there will be some other people around, so that he'll lay off. But goddamn it, the corridor is vacant.

"Well I have a fuck ton, so just SLOW DOWN!" Draco yells, gripping my shoulder.

I try to shove him off, but he's got both of my shoulders in a vice grip and is sending me flying through a door. My books topple out of my hands and suddenly I'm in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, pressed against a wall, his hands next to each side of my face to ensure I can't escape.

"WHAT?!" I screech violently. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

Draco's panting in my face, looking downright terrified. I thought that what I said the previous night would be enough, but clearly it wasn't. He still won't let go.

"I want you," Draco says breathlessly, grabbing onto my waist. "I lo-"

I squirm against him, trying not to hear it. But he slams his hand over my mouth, keeping me from interrupting.

"Evan, I love you!"

I freeze, staring at him in horror.

He releases my mouth and releases a hard breath of air, as if a weight has been lifted off of his chest.

"You can't," I whisper.

"Tell me why, E," Draco says in shock, blinking rapidly, seemingly surprised that his proclamation had no effect on me. Maybe he thought if he just said it. . .

I wrack my brain for an answer, unwilling to give him the real one.

"I'm just not interested anymore," I say.

"That's not a reason! You have to tell me why!" he yells desperately.

"I don't love you," I whisper.

"Oh?" he hisses, but his eyes are swimming with tears. He leans up, staring down at me, and speaks through clenched teeth. "I don't fucking believe you!"

"You need to hear me, Draco," I say sternly. "We're over. This isn't just a break, it's not a fight, it's not a rough patch, we're done!"

He shakes his head, and the tears in his eyes are growing. "No we're not," he says, voice cracking.

I stand still for a moment, trying to focus on my fake anger instead of my real pain.

And I reach behind my neck, unclasp my necklace, and slam it down into his hand.

"I'm not your fucking angel!" I spit out.

He holds the necklace tightly in his hand, the chain dangling at his side. And a tear falls.

"Evan, I'm yours. I'm always gonna be yours," he whispers.

"No, you're not mine," I snarl. "You're nothing."

And I leave him again, bursting through the door.

And I have a feeling it will stick, this time.

---

"Evan, how long do you stir counterclockwise in step seven of Amortentia?" Theo asks me.

"Thirty five seconds," I reply.

I don't have Draco to save me from Theo's questions this time, as he isn't here.

I haven't seen him since this morning, when I told him he was nothing to me.

He wasn't at lunch nor dinner, he wasn't at DADA. He apparently missed Quidditch practice. And now he's missing our study session, and it feels strange with only the four of us.

But it's a relief. If he isn't here, that means he's no longer wanting to see me. And if he's no longer wanting to see me. . .

He's accepted it.

Which is exactly what I wanted. But it still stings, and I keep looking up from my book, hoping he'll walk through the library door.

I need to banish these thoughts. If I'm going to keep up the ruse, that I no longer want him, that he means nothing to me at all, that it was just a stupid fling and now I'm over it, I have to play this carefully.

Draco is ambitious, determined, driven, and when he wants something, he gets it. At the first sign that I'm faking, he'll make me break, and he'll convince me to take him back. I take his personality into consideration when I plan what to do next, how I'm going to act around him.

Because he can never know what his mother said to me, the graphic stories and the horrible eloquency. And right now, I feel like breaking.

It'll fade after a while, that feeling. The urge to go off and find him, run into his arms and apologize profusely, it'll go away. Or at least, I hope.

And it's essential that he moves on. I don't expect it right away, but after a few weeks, when he realizes it's truly over. . .

He'll be fine.

And then he can find a pureblood girl, marry her, and live the rest of his life thinking of me as only a rebellious phase.

"Evan, what's the main ingredient in a Draught of Peace?"

"Powdered moonstone, porcupine quills, and unicorn horn."

---

That night, when everyone is asleep, I sneak upstairs.

And I lay the Quidditch sweater outside of his door.