shattered | f.w, d.m

seventeen

Draco.

February, 1998.

—

Furious was an understatement.

It was more like rage and anger. They burned in his chest while he stood in the shower under the cold water. A stupid attempt at trying to cool his wrath.

Keziah was talking to Fuckhead Fred again? Why? Since when? Why? When? Why? How?

And most of all; why?!

Draco wanted Keziah to himself, but obviously that went south. Perhaps he could also spend time with her while she was talking to fuckhead Fred.

Draco and Keziah were in love, and Fred was in the way. But it was okay because soon, he would have Keziah all to himself.

All to himself.

He could easily remove Fred out of the equation, but the kind part of him—which was admittedly a small part—didn't want Keziah to be hurt from Fred's death. That was if she felt any sort of hurt like that. Probably not. So killing Fred and hoping for her to fall into Draco's arm for comfort would not work.

Draco had never killed anyone before, so the risks of him getting caught or not were dangerously equal. He couldn't risk going away to Azkaban and not seeing Keziah ever again. His heart wouldn't be able to handle it and Keziah would miss him.

Even though she didn't exactly say she liked him or even cared about him, he knew she loved him. They were in love and their love was infinite. She was a psychopath who knew love.

For now, he was just going to go with the flow. He and Keziah still needed to get closer and more comfortable than they already were. He still needed to unravel everything about her and get to know every inch of her cosmic soul.

He loved her cosmic soul. Her twisted brain. Her mysterious heart.

Keziah was just damaged. So damaged. So much that when Draco stood right there with the world and more to offer, she didn't know how to respond. Well, she rejected him, but because of how impaired and flawed she was.

Her hypnotic gaze severed his beating heart and now, he remained in the fate of her mystifying and darkened soul.

At last, he turned the shower off and got out. He wrapped a towel around his waist, hung low. He grabbed his toothbrush and brushed his teeth.

He really needed to think about something else, but Keziah was in his mind every second of the day. Twenty four hours a day. Seven days a week. Every little thing reminded him of her.

Keziah. Keziah. Keziah.

He loved her so much and she didn't even understand.

Keziah. Keziah. Keziah.

She didn't see what he could give her.

Keziah. Keziah. Keziah.

She didn't know that he was all she would ever need.

Keziah. Keziah. Keziah.

She didn't understand he would run through heaven and hell and back just for her.

Keziah. Keziah. Keziah.

He would catch a shooting star for her.

Keziah. Keziah. Keziah.

He'd break the world into two if she asked him to.

Keziah. Keziah. Keziah.

He'd set the world aflame to protect her.