Hidden Relations
Name: Hidden Relations
Rated: Pg
Author: flawless_beauti {Me}
Word count: 210
Disclaimer: Harry and Draco belong to J.K Rowling, and as that is not my name, I can assume I don't own them.
Warnings: Character death, H/D, possibly angst
A/N: My first story and the plot-bunnies torture me with this angst and serious thing. >_< Comments are welcomed.
I’m losing my mind. I must be. It’s the only logical explanation for what is going through my head. These thoughts are rushing about and colliding with each other in a never ending torrent, driving me insane. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I’m losing him. I see it every time I visit. He’s gone a little more each day, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Nothing except watch, and wish it was me. His skin is so pale now it’s unnerving. He almost fades into the white sheets. His resemblance is so strikingly close to that of a ghost it makes me want to scream. This was never supposed to happen.
No progress is being made. Nobody even looks at me anymore as I make my way to his side. I’m here so often even the other patients know me by name. I clasp his pale hand in mine as he slips further out of my reach, and pray for death in a way I never knew existed.
He spoke to me today. He awoke briefly while the bustle had calmed down, and I was alone with him. The pain in his eyes is so similair to my own I feel my heart break. And with him is the only place I can truly show it. We cry together as reality becomes too much to bear.
The funeral was today. I thought I was going to die with him, yet I’m still here. In a way I suppose I did die along beside him, but my body refuses to acknowledge it. There are no sneers or smirks today; no snide comments to be heard to anybody. Only tears and grief and sorrow; so much sorrow it makes the air heavy. He’s lowered into the ground and I go on auto-pilot. I can’t show how much it hurts. Nobody ever knew of our hidden relations after all.
I go to him everyday. I stare down at the stone, fresh, clean, and decorated with flowers that will never wilt. I talk to him, and I know he hears me. He’s always heard me, even before I heard myself. I go to him everyday, even though I die even more than I thought possible each time. I go to him, even though I break down into tears before leaving. I go to him, because I loved him. I loved the green-eyed golden boy who never knew which side he belonged on. Maybe that’s why we were so close.
We were so much alike, after all.