take my hoodie ✓

forty-three | running

everything in my life sucks rn

also my vape is gna die and thats sm worse

~no pov

Fear.

Anxiety.

Nausea.

Regret.

Draco Malfoy was pacing his room feeling all four emotions. He just poured out his heart to be silently rejected. He didn't want to see Potter ever again, in fear his heart would crumble and fall. In front of the entire school, with Potter engaging a chorus of laughter and mockery.

He poured out his heart. He couldn't lie and say it was a dare. He'd dug himself into a hole, and only Harry fucking Potter could pull him out of it. 

Draco chose to sit in that pit and die. He wouldn't mind suffocating to death, because that was better than dying by being hurt by the boy he loved. He was afraid, he was ashamed and he was lonely.

And what did Draco do when he was lonely?

I didn't mean to. He told himself. It's a one time thing. A blip. It won't happen again.

Why was he even bothering to lie to himself? No one could hear what he thought, or find out what he did. Denial left when he confessed. Shouldn't he be honest?

I relapsed and the world is going to hate me. Potter will laugh at me.

He was running. Draco was light-headed, with the world spinning and stars shining, but he was running. He needed the world to stop. He needed everything to stop.

hannah baker to kevin porter

His thoughts were sprinting ahead of him, in the front of his mind. They were distracting, hurtful.

So he just kept running. Running is so peaceful, because when you run, you feel your thoughts chasing you. But when you stop? You won the race.

And the thoughts are gone.

They're in the back of your mind once more. They're too far behind. They couldn't catch up. And the world is silent again, and tranquil. And his mind was clear, empty.

But so was his stomach, and it didn't agree with Draco.

Running can help block out the thoughts, clear your mind. But running away from hunger isn't as easy as running from thoughts.

Draco blacked out in a small path in a forest, his stomach an empty void and heart a shattered frame.

"What were you thinking, boy?"

Harry wasn't very smart, we all know that. But he was especially dumb after the love confession he got. He didn't believe he deserved Draco's love, or that his love was real.

He thought it was all some dragged-out joke, because how could anyone love a freak?

How could anyone love someone unworthy of love?

So, Harry also decided to run. To run on a stomach full of vodka, and mind tainted with alcohol. He wasn't thinking clearly. 

He ran to a liquor shop, and used his fake ID to get more vodka. He bought another bottle of Absolut and sat on the side of the road and got even more wasted. 

He wanted to drown out the thoughts of Draco, because the boy had to have been messing around, right? There was no way he truly loved Harry, right?

Once the bottle was empty, Harry ran, and ran. He wanted to win the race against his mind too. 

He couldn't win, however. His mind was running too, faster than he was. Despite alcohol delaying your reaction time, it didn't delay the pace of his thoughts.

Every bad one was quickly unsurfaced. Mental images of the Silver Trio sitting and laughing about Harry, or Draco deciding to tell everyone everything Harry entrusted him with.

The world was running, his mind was running, Harry was running, and somewhere nearby, so was Draco.

But the two of them were like an imperfect jigsaw, only destined to fit together. And so when one fell, the other fell too.

They fell for each other, hard, but they also fell out of consciousness, for separate reasons, but around the same time. But one woke up at home, and the other somewhere else.

"I wasn't thinking."

"Because you were drunk." Petunia looked at the teenager with disgust. "Just like your parents." 

Harry knew his parents weren't alcoholics. He heard stories from people he trusted, and they told Harry beautiful truths. Not ugly lies.

"They weren't drunks."

"What would you know?" Vernon spat. "They died before you could even remember them. You know nothing of your parents."

"I know stuff about them." 

Harry's head hurt like a bitch, and his stomach was void of everything. He vomited profusely, as you do when you drink too much, but wasn't allowed to eat anything. 

and now you don't have draco, so you'll starve, become weak and anorexic again and louis will hurt you over and over and

"Ow, what the fuck?" Harry screeched after a fist greeted his abdomen.

"Language." Vernon scolded, emphasising his point with a slap. "You're lucky Dudley found you instead of someone else."

does he... care?!

"Although, it wouldn't have been that bad if no one found you." Petunia smirked sadistically. "Get rid of the burden."

Harry hadn't drawn in a while, but his fingers were itching for silver. Unfortunately, everything sharp was taken away from him, and he hadn't even considered stealing anything similar.

"Can I have my blades back?" He asked bluntly. His thoughts were running and he needed to literally cut it out. He needed everything to stop, except his blood. He wanted that to keep running, down his arms and into a bathtub.

"What?" Dudley was slightly shocked. He didn't expect that.

"You wanted the burden gone, I'll make it happen." Harry scowled. "I don't know why you're complaining anyway. You saved me and took everything I could hurt myself with away. You act like you care, all of you do, but you don't. So since you don't care, I want my blades back."

"He took them for a reason."

"So I didn't get authorities called on you guys because I'd end up in hospital." 

"Precisely."

"But if you let me die, then no one would say anything." Harry shrugged. "No one cares about a dead kid if it was a suicide."

"You listen here boy, don't give me attitude."

attitude? tf u mean attitude??

"You don't care about me." Harry snapped. "None of you fucking do. Give me back my fucking blades or I'll go fucking hang myself in a forest and I'll leave a note where everyone will find out what you bastards do to me."

"Go ahead."

fuck you.