Lover of the Light

The Fall

Lover of the Light

Chapter Fifteen: The Fall

He was fucked.

Not only had he been a continuous destructive force, not only was he losing his mind, but he had gone and let her in. Her, out of all bloody people.

And that just wasn't the problem—Merlin, if only that'd been it. No. The problem was also that she willingly let herself be dragged into his life. It was like she was waiting for it. It was like she saw him withering; losing himself, losing his sanity, losing his time and anything else that mattered and was vital for him. It was like she was waiting for the perfect moment until he hit and spiraled completely down into rock bottom in order to be his only source of light in the obscure hole. He didn't understand why that was, why she wanted to be a part of his messed up life, he just knew that she was.

'Why are you here?'

'I...I don't know.'

How was it that he even started looking for her willingly? He'd spent weeks trying to avoid her and that piercing gaze. He couldn't escape it. He hadn't wanted it, but yet it always found him and he found that he couldn't look away. Why the hell was that?

He should've put a stop to it early in its roots. He had the power to do so, she hadn't yet bewitched him then, but that was also a part of the problem, wasn't it? He didn't stop her. He let her become a part of his day little by little, centimeter by centimeter, minute by minute. And no one knew. No one knew that she snuck in; making it harder to fight her off.

'I...erm...I'll just go—'

'No!'

Maybe a part of him didn't mind.

There was something about her. There was something about the feel of her that made him feel like he was being understood. It was like his crazy sensed her crazy. He hadn't been scouting for anyone with the same problems, he stuck to himself and his shades of grief and sorrow, but there she was, appearing out of nowhere, always uninvited, and she was just as filled with as much sorrow as he was. She matched him in scars, pain, and fallen tears.

She'd just been better at hiding it.

'Just...Just stay. Don't go.'

'...Why?'

'I'm scared.'

He didn't know how someone with her kind of pain could keep up a perfect facade in front of the world. She was sneers, indifference, and teasing laughter on a daily basis that one just assumed that even through a war she didn't lose the bitchy-side of her personality. She managed to keep her head held up high, fighting away any rumours that anything was wrong with her life. She was the master of disguise, of faked expressions and false statements.

Let it be known that he admired that. And that was more of a surprise than her actually succeeding in hiding all those fears she carried over her shoulders like an invisible weight. After all, no one does lying and scheming better than a Slytherin.

'What can you possibly be scared of?'

'This house.'

'This house?'

'And its silence.'

She was fucked.

She was fucked but she wasn't as bothered by that fact like he was. Like he established to himself already, it was like she was waiting for him. It was like she thrived on how insane he'd gotten, how much he yelled, how much he kicked, and how much he lost control. Her eyes would just glitter when she saw him; he always saw it and she never tried to hide it when she thought he needed to see it.