Nothing
A/N: Not all things turn out the way we want it to be. Despite all our hopes and dreams, cold reality often hits us right in the face.
Hear the rhythm,
Slowly beating,
Slowly breathing.
With each beat my heartaches,
With each breathe I realize the mistakes.
To love is a great feeling,
But to be loved is an even greater feeling.
Love can be healing,
Love can be revealing.
I will always love you,
As long as the moon continues to shine,
Don't wipe away your tears.
As the planets begin to align,
Not everybody cheers.
To love and be loved is a feeling one can't begin to describe.
Love has lasted through the ages,
Into history it was transcribe in the world's many pages.
Love brings definition to the feelings and actions we don't understand,
But we would fight for it,
Live for it,
Die for it,
And do as it commands.
There are many things in which I miss,
In the darkness in which I lie,
Waiting for that first kiss,
As I begin to cry.
A heart that is not broken,
But wishes to break.
A word that wasn't spoken,
My head begins to ache.
Won't someone save me?
… From this loneliness and sorrow.
Is there a guarantee?
… That I will live tomorrow.
Take my hand and hold it tight,
Close your eyes and don't let go.
Everything will be alright,
But what will happen you mustn't know.
Is it fate or is it chance?
Here's my heart and here's the key.
One-sided romance will follow you and it will follow me.
- Peter Williams
Beautiful.
That was the first word that popped up in his mind when he saw her.
She looked like an angel, sitting before the tall windows, staring both at the serene scenery and at nothing. She was dressed in an elegant white dress that fell right below her knee; the color of pure innocence. Her hair was tied up in an elegant twist, with wisps of hair framing her face. Her hands rested on her lap, never leaving the position.
He heaved a soft sigh as he watched her from the doorway. She looked so small in the vast room; no furniture surrounded the area where she sat. Ever since the beginning, she had placed a chair before the windows, ignoring the couch and the sofas that littered about the room. She would sit there, as she does now, for the whole day – never leaving unless forced. The house elves had gotten used to this after the first few days and now… the chair would always be in the same spot… quietly reserved for her.
She wasn't like this in the beginning. He never knew her silence could torture him this much. It was slowly killing him. Day after day, he would watch her as he did now, his heart aching to hear her voice. Yet day after day, he would be met with silence. Not a word would slip from of her lips despite his best efforts.
She was slowly killing him without even trying.
Fondly, he remembered how it all was… before the silence. The yelling, the screaming, the tears of frustration and the handprints that would always glow red on his pale cheeks; he would rather go back to those times rather than deal with this silence.
It had all started right before the war. Voldemort had kept his end of the deal when he killed Severus Snape for being a traitor. His award for Snape's death was her.
When she was first brought to him, she was bounded and unconscious. Her hair was plastered to her face from her sweat and her clothes were filthy. He had her clothes changed and her brought to a room adjacent to his. Night after night, he sat by her bed, watching her in her coma and dreading the moment she would wake. He would talk to her sometimes, may it be about the weather or of his feelings toward her.
It was only three days after she was brought to him, when she finally awoke.
He would never forget the hatred and loathing that had settled in her eyes when she saw him.
The next few weeks had been full of her screaming and tears. He hid her wand in a place where she would never be able to find it, and he often locked her in her room, especially when he had to attend Voldemort's meetings. It was all his desperate attempts to keep her from escaping. He wasn't going to let her go when he was finally able to have her close.
When she wasn't locked in her room, she would be eating with him. At first, she had refused to eat, but hunger soon overrode her stubbornness. Over every meal, she would glare daggers at him and eventually, he began sporting red handprints whenever they went into a row. Yet despite all the anger and arguments, he still loved her. But she didn't acknowledge it at all.
She didn't know that he would pause by her door every night debating whether he should go in or not. He knew that she cried herself to sleep and every time he heard her sobs, he wanted to barge into the room, comfort her, and take away all her sorrow and pain. Yet, she didn't know that. To her… he was her tormentor and his mansion was her prison.
Three months had passed ever since she was brought to him, when the screaming and crying stopped altogether. There were no words filled with hatred and spite, no red handprints on his cheek, and no more tears to cry. When he finally let her roam free in the mansion, she settled herself in one of the rooms that faced the gardens.
Ever since her silence, she tried to commit suicide several times. And with every single attempt she made, he felt his heart break even more. He remembered finding her stumped on the bathroom floor with shards of broken glass around her. Blood stained the white tiles from her slashed wrists. Instantly, he tended to her wounds, forcing a restorative potion and a blood replenishing potion down her throat and wrapping her wrists in bandages. He watched over her the entire night, begging whatever gods were there that she would be alright.
That night, he cried.
He began to neglect his duties as he directed all his attention on her. He tried everything to please her; buying her books, jewelry, flowers, clothes, anything that might make her smile. Yet… every time, he would find them in the same spot where he placed them. The only gift that she accepted was a gold locket with a heart-shaped ruby embedded in the center. But… that was only because he himself had placed it on her.
He had tried to do everything he could, but nothing worked. Despite his attempts, she was unreachable.
With another sigh, he stepped into the room. She didn't seem to acknowledge his presence. Her eyes were fixed on the windows, her hands still fixed on her lap. He stopped behind her, his eyes watching for any movement that told him that she knew that he was there.
Nothing.
He felt a weight pressing into his heart as she continued to sit there, staring at nothing. Slowly, he bent forward, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
Still no movement – not even a flinch.
"Hermione…"
She continued to stare out the windows, her hands in the same position it was in when he stepped into the room.
"Hermione… please…"
He didn't even know what he was begging for anymore. A sign of acknowledgement? Her voice? Or maybe her love?
The pressure in his heart increased as she continued to stare out the window. Slowly, he stood up, releasing her as he did. Without another word, he took her arm as he did every day and led her to the dining room for dinner.
He knew what she wanted. Yet, he could not – would not grant her wish. He was being selfish, he knew that, but he needed her.
As they settled down at the table, he watched her, waiting for her eyes to meet his as they once did full of hatred. But still nothing. Her eyes remain downcast, staring at her food. He felt like his heart was going to burst from all the pressure that was pressing against it. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand the pain that jabbed his heart every time she sat there in silence. He wanted her to yell at him again. He wanted things to be like it was back then, when her eyes were filled with life and fury. He just wanted her to be herself again.
But most of all, he wanted her to love him.
Before he knew what he was doing, he had rushed to her side and pulled her up from the chair. For a split moment, he stared into her dull eyes, searching for any emotion, before he crushed his lips against hers. It was his first time kissing her. In that kiss, he poured out all his frustration, his passion, and most of all, his love for her.
As he pulled away from the kiss, he saw that her lips were bruised. Quickly, he glanced up to her eyes once again to search for any emotion.
Nothing.
At that moment, his heart shattered into a million pieces as he felt his whole world fall apart.
She had felt nothing.
There is a person
That is beautiful, gorgeous and everything you had hoped for.
Everything you see and go
Until you see nothing
The only thing that makes me happy
The only thing that makes me feel so good
The only person is you.
See the thing is that I love you and respect you as a queen
But now I see I am not the king
I'm just me
I try my best to cheer you up
I try my best to make you happy
I spend my time with you
I use my money on you
I gave you my soul
I gave you my heart
I gave you my everything
But nothings seems to work
So do I have to say goodbye?
Do I have to tell you how I feel?
Sometimes when I'm lonely, cold, and sad and empty i have to ask myself
Am I nothing to you?
-Sandy Yu (edited)