Losing Faith

𝟑𝟑

Draco smiled sadly, mournfully, as he gently ran his finger along the line where she wrote that she loved him, feeling even more pain grow in his chest than before.

That winter, almost a year ago, they were so carefree and happy, not yet knowing what a broken heart was, what regret and remorse were. They were dazzled by each other, by the sparkling snow under the lanterns, by the feelings of euphoria and delight, and even though Faith woke up sick the next day, that evening still brought a pleasant nostalgia.

There was no trace of the old Faith and Draco, as if everything that was before that August was unreal, because it was difficult to believe that what they were a year ago, and what they became with the onset of the new school year, was the same — it was like heaven and earth.

Draco unconsciously fell asleep again, having only managed to put the diary on his nightstand. He did not notice how Theodore returned to the room, he did not worry about what was going to happen the next day, he just fell into the darkness, which took him into a warm, dreamless embrace and did not let him go until the morning, giving him a headache as a parting gift.

The room was dark when his eyelids opened, but it seemed to him that it was even darker than usual. His whole body ached, his throat was sore, his head was like cast iron when he barely lifted it from the pillow and realized that he was alone there.

Draco couldn't remember what day of the week it was, maybe Tuesday, or maybe Thursday, it didn't matter at all to him, since that Friday night, when he could think rationally for the last time and there were no holes in his heart, smoothly flowed into a cold Saturday morning, when the first blow was unexpected and knocked the whole breath out of him.

Life went on, people were still walking around, going to classes, communicating with each other; day followed night, the sun rose, replacing the moon, everything was as usual, except for Draco. It was as if he was stuck in one place, and did not know how to move further.

After a few minutes spent in the silence of a dim room, Draco decided to clean himself up after all, otherwise, he felt that his muscles could have atrophied.

He took a shower, letting the cool water cool his body, relaxing it, then he changed his hospital clothes into more familiar ones, no longer feeling like a recluse of his painful condition.

Then he returned to the room, and... he wasn't able to do anything else.

Given that this was the room where Draco and Theodore lived, there were things that belonged to or reminded of Faith — that rose that bloomed as if it wasn't on the verge of death a couple of days ago, her diary, as the most important reminder of her and the biggest cause of pain.
His bed unmade, and memories of how Faith loved to bask in his soft sheets when she spent the nights there flashed through his mind.

He also knew that if he opened the top drawer of the nightstand, he would find there her hair band, with which she usually tied her mop of hair into a high bun before going to bed. He knew that if he opened the closet door, the first thing he would see would be one of his shirts, which had long belonged to Faith.

And he knew that if he opened his old herbology textbook on page sixty-six, he would find a small piece of paper with her lips imprinted on it.

They really loved each other, he really loved her madly. How could he do what he did that August? How could he destroy everything, destroy her?

How could his life go on now if hers had stopped?

"What should I do now?" He asked himself, sinking down on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh, and there was silence in response to him.