early september, 1995
cedric,
why wasn't it me?
on that dark, early summer evening why hadn't it been me who had fallen to their end whispering the names of their loved ones as they take their final breath?
why did you turn seventeen almost a year before me? why did you enter into that goddamn tournament? why the fuck did you have to go?
my father wasn't able to drop me off for my first day of my last year at hogwarts, and i thought it was okay because i thought i would see you there. and then as my eyes landed on all our friends rejoicing at their reunion, it hit me that you won't be here, with us and i threw up molly weasley's breakfast in the train bathroom.
it's been a week now, and my hand bleeds showing the remanants of the latest detention, courtesy of our newest defense against the dark arts professor. apparently, rushing out of the classroom because you need to vomit and stay away from the people who are discussing the death of your dead boyfriend is considered disrespectful.
charlie stepped in an attempt to defend my actions and he landed the same fate. i apologised for landing him in such a situation and he told me to shut up.
everything here reminds me of us.
i sit in my bed, a cigarette in my fingers, the scars of the last few months on my hand, a quill in my shaking hand, your clothes wrapped around my body, my mind lost in daydreams.
you were only seventeen cedric.
you're forever seventeen.
yours,
june
