Freud and his Friends - 5 - Curiosity killed the cat
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It was a bad night. Bad in the sort of dramatic 'my-heart-is-breaking-and-I-can-feel-it' sort of way. His emotions were on overdrive, and he didn't know what to do about it. The world felt restless. He could hear the sound of life from outside their house, insistent sounds coming from the neighbors, their dogs, sounds of cars driving my.
Every new sound pushed him to do something, to cry out to someone, to go and be a part of this life filling everything around these rooms. But the one he was supposed to feel alive with, to live with, to share with, was gone, mindlessly gone. With no care, and no knowledge of what he did by not being there. Draco wandered for a minute how could it be that they felt so differently right now. One was probably having the time of his life with his friends, being a part of the hum of life, with no need for the other to make it possible. He might even feel a relief from being apart. The other, himself, was sitting alone, caged, unable to push himself out of the flat and to be around others right now. Unable to believe that he would feel a part of them even if he moved among them. And he needed his half to be there if he wanted to feel.
Except, was he still his half? And would his presence really help? It hasn't been helping for a while now. He felt caged inside himself, and the one who used to make him feel free couldn't get through, and only made the feeling worse sometimes. Did he cage himself or was it his better half that did? And maybe his better half didn't mean Harry, maybe it meant something inside himself; something that knew better, has caged him. Maybe it knew something he didn't.
He wanted to call Dr. Carring and demand a meeting. Right now - while things were at the surface, threatening to burst out. He couldn't, though. It wouldn't be polite. He didn't want to alienate his own shrink - who knows what that might do to him in the long run? Moreover it was unnecessary. He had a meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning. In just a few hours. He should just go to bed and sleep through those hours. Yes, that's the right thing to do. 'No need to over-dramatize, just remember Draco, you live in a world of reason, things are scheduled, your problems aren't that big, it's not a war starting over, it's just you angsting a little over your boyfriend not being home. Stay in this world; it's not such a big deal, you won't actually explode from the confusion of it all. There really isn't much to be confused about. You should just go to sleep, and get back to normal.'
He would if he could. Except his thoughts were swirling around I circles in his head, and he was so energized he could have climbed the walls and reached the ceiling. He considered breaking some china, he heard that helps sometimes, but when he imagined doing that it didn't feel like it would make things better. And he kept thinking about putting something on the floor so that the cleaning would be easier, and he couldn't chose which china to use - it's not like any of the plated did something against him, right? And he couldn't understand what was wrong with him - to keep thinking about such trivialities; and why in the world would he care about cleaning?
But, still, breaking china was not an option, and he just sat there, on their couch, in their living room, in their house, caged in his own body, 'or was it mind' staring at the book he tried reading earlier in the evening - just as he was sitting and staring for the last two hours. No matter that he had enough nervous energy to run a marathon right now. In the end in search of something to do he broke down and decided to at least push all the thought on paper, if he couldn't talk to his shrink right now. He was surprised how fast the words came out - as if they were waiting for a while now.
~~~
I, Draco Malfoy,
Don't know if he loves me still. When things are alright, he looks at me, and all I see is habit, comfort. I only see fire when we fight. But less and less now. I begin to see habit there as well, habit and annoyance. And I fear it, but what I fear more is the fact that some perverse part of me wants to see it, wants to see how far will it hold till love breaks and nothing is left. And that part is what really rules me.
I'm my own experiment. I'm my own experiment.
I wander what it will do to me to break us up. I wonder how it will feel to lose him. I wander how his eyes will look when things finally break. How they will look then, and a week from then, and then a month from then. He'd better still feel something for a long time when we break apart.
But I won't let it go that far. I'll fight to keep him, I'll fight myself, and if I can't fight myself I will fight him when he decides to leave. I will do all I can to keep him. I love him, isn't that what you're supposed to do when you love someone? Hold on to them?
~~~
And once he threw it all on the paper he felt relieved and blissfully empty. Finally, he felt just - normal.
When he re-read them, he couldn't quite recognize them as his own.
He had really over-reacted. How silly of him. He should just go to sleep.
And he did.
TBC.