Love is fragile. Rarely, it's fleeting. Albus knew the feeling very well. He held his adoration for his best friend - Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy - in his hand like a small, glass structure. If he were to slip or fall, it would shatter like a firework. He held on carefully; protecting it like it were a small, injured bird. Albus' heart often felt like that - a small, unprotected entity. He'd been foolish to believe that love was safe. It bloomed in his chest; a stupid, frilly flower that hardly hesitated to kill him from the inside out. One single action could fix his issue - he needed to tell Scorpius how he felt. Honestly, when paralleled with those two haunting decisions, he preferred to let the flowers bloom.