December 15th
I hate you, Harry, I want to tear your soul apart like you're doing mine, I'm in pain, so much pain, and I want you to tell me to stop because I'm literally tearing myself apart. I don't think you know how exhausted I am, how sick I feel, I'm fainting more and more. I just want your touch, for you to be mine. But I can't blame you all the way, I was the one who said I should work on myself, but you aren't noticing me, maybe that's petty, but I want to scream out into the world, I'm starting to lose faith in me... reassure me, tell me it'll be ok.
December 17th
I have scars, on my arm, my dark mark, seek and you'll find them easily, I scratch and scratch until I bleed and then I scratch some more. I cry, and I'd rather die than have this constant reminder of who I am, the reason I scratch is hope I'll scratch it away. It doesn't work but alas, I do it over and over again. I guess this is a form of self harm, scratching so deep it scars, that's something I wouldn't care to admit, I feel like giving up soon, not like that, I'm just going to lay on my bed all day, doing nothing, thinking about how if I'd just kept my mouth shut, I wouldn't have been such a mental mess, I want you to read these but I want to keep these to myself, I think about afterlife a lot, I think I'd go to hell, it makes the most sense.
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"Draco," the word made his ears ring, he'd been staring at his breakfast, he hadn't even realized that everyone, well what was left, had been gone.
It was weird hearing Harry use his name, it didn't fit, he said it odd when it wasn't lovingly or in spite. Draco looked up, he was exhausted, all this healing, there was a lot.
Harry could see it now, the bags under his eyes, how he carries himself so differently, he'd lost his glow too.
He shouldn't have had him gone through it alone, he should have helped him along the way, like he had, with the Weasley's and others too.
"You don't look like you," Harry said accidentally, it slipped, like dropping a plate, watching it shatter. Nothing shattered, Draco simply rolled his eyes and picked up his fork, he wasn't going to eat, it was breakfast.
"I shouldn't have let you go through this alone and I'm sorry," Harry continued, watching Draco play with his food.
He never understood him, why he skipped breakfast, why he insisted on everything being perfect, how he disappeared so exquisitely as though he didn't exist, he was arcane in that way, Harry loved that about him.
"I'm sure you are, Potter, but listen I'm terribly busy for you," Draco spat, that explained all the bullying, he'd been in pain most of the time.
It would take time to get to Draco then, this would probably take awhile.
December 18th
Goodbyes are morbid. Like, the letters that say you love them, and it was a life to remember, because now that loved one can go back to that letter and have a panic attack because now, well now you're gone and this is the only thing I have left of you. Suppose that's only me. I hate being in such a horrid mood, but I'm stuck right now. I'm so tired....
Christmas was near, and Draco wasn't looking forward to it for once. Pansy had sent a letter, saying she was sorry and that she wanted to talk when she got back.
That wasn't something to look forward to, she was going to be very motherly, he already had a mom, he'd remind her.
Side note: I wish our love was the type in the books, where one of us never actually existed, and we watch the main character crumble and fall. I suppose if you're reading this you'll think that's terribly morbid and you think I want to watch you suffer, but in pain, I think people look the prettiest, except me of course.
It was cheesy, how easily he'd fallen off the cliff into the black abyss of love. "Damn it Harry, I don't know what to do with you anymore," Draco whispered, falling onto his bed backwards, staring at the ceiling again.
Slipping into mindless thoughts on what to do, even this action reminded him of Harry, how incongruous, that's a word he'd learned.
December 20th
I'm thinking of ending things, with Harry. Once this thought arrives, it stays. It sticks, lingers, dominates. There's not much I can do about it, trust me. It doesn't go away. It's there whether I like it or not. It's there when I eat, when I go to bed. It's there when I sleep. It's there when I wake up. It's always there. Always. It's cruel, if you're reading this Harry, I'm sorry. It's just always there. We're not exactly together, what I mean by this is, I want to end whatever this is and maybe runaway, to a place of my own. I'm thinking of ending things. What's the point in carrying on like this? I know what it is, where it's going. Harry's a nice guy, but it's not going anywhere. These feel like intrusive thoughts. But I'm not sure, I'm stuck like glue. Im sorry if you ever read these, I don't mean it. I just write it. Like somethings taking over. I'm thinking it's the pain and fatigue. I know you won't take that as an excuse.
|I took some quotes from the movie "I'm thinking of ending things," for 2 reasons, the way she narrates reminded me of how Draco thinks and, I love the style of the quotes I'm hoping to find more things similar :)|
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Black Ink | Drarry
Fanfiction" I miss your touch...Then come hold me" Draco's newly found faints make him feeling sick with fevers, nausea and vulnerability. his least favorite things. Harry, finds out and is worried sick, he doesn't understand why but it changes his attitude...
