our love and hate cannot coexist, we must focus on love instead.
...
Harry never understood why flowers withered.
He never understood why something so beautiful, so richly pure had to die. And when he voiced this opinion to others, they simply told him that, "that's just the way it is, darling," and would go on drinking their tea. But why? Why did it have to be that way?
Why, when he finally found something to give him hope, did it have to leave? Why did it have to crumple and die, making him further lose hope? It wasn't fair, and of course, most things weren't, but still, could one thing go right? Just one, really was all he asked for. The only thing he needed was for that one little piece to click into place and all would be right again.
A single drop fell down the carriage window, the dreary landscape behind it making everything even dimmer. This world deserved to be full of color, not hatred, not gossip, not bad people whose only goal was to make you dread your existence. Harry knew too many people like that, he thought to himself as he watched the rain drip down the windows in the disgustingly lavish carriage.
"Darling?"
Harry turned his head to the sound of the voice, looking at the direction it came from.
Louis sat poised and eager on the opposite side of the carriage, watching him. "Do you think we'll ever go back?" he asked him softly, and his heart ached for him. The two of them were being robbed of all they ever loved, just to make the others happy. It was truly an atrocity, but they did not complain for fear of contradictory rulings. He loved him, but not nearly enough to do this.
"I don't know," he responded, his voice sounding vaguely dismembered from his body, almost as if it were not his own. He wanted to cry, but he knew that his tears wouldn't fall even if he tried.
...
