A/N: I'm sorry for the melancholic mood. But I wasn't all that happy while writing. Anyway, this was made for: The Not For The Faint of Heart Competition and the Adam Lambert SongFic Competition.
Summary: Harry's thoughts and feelings about his and Ginny's break-up. First person. Song-fic. By DW.
It was sudden, our break-up. At least, it seemed that way for me. Maybe she views it differently, though. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, even if it seemed that way. But after all, which relationship lasts after school? Who actually carry on through life, who remains a steady lover, a friend, someone to lean on? I have my friends, of course I do. And I view them highly. Maybe it was my mistake to let her be my number one. But then again, I never had any friends when I was younger. I guess it's just a strange concept to me. But God it hurts. It hurts every time when I breathe, when something reminds me of her, when her name is mentioned or when I see one of the Weasleys. She saw how hurt I was, how much hurting I've already been through. I just tell everyone it's better this way. At least, that's what I like to tell them.
Good-byes were never my strong suite. I hurts too much. The feeling to let someone else down, to disappoint them with some meagre words, which cannot truly fathom all of the sadness, misery and dread you feel. The bile in the back of your throat when you can feel it nearing, when every second lasts longer and hours drag by like days, where tension is slowly building day by day. God I want her back so bad. We've spent nearly five years together. The first one was interrupted, of course, because we had to break it off. But at that moment it was for the greater good, to keep her safe and sound. And the last one was just a mountain of tension, of stolen glances and awkward silences. Neither willing to confirm the growing distance, even if it was gaping at us like a hungry mouth, ready to eat everything in its way. I miss her so much and I simply can't let go.
It feels like I'm sleepwalking through my days. Like a robot taking on orders through a chip in its head. People tell me to do things, and I do them, but the passion has left. The fierce determination behind my work, the drive, it has evaporated like mist in the harsh glare of the morning sun. Images of her barrage my mind, like bombs going off in my head, each expression, each word having more impact than the other, until the sound is deafening and I'm ready to scream or tear my head off. There is no reprieve, no quiet moments. Only warfare going around in my head, reminding me constantly of what I lost. I don't think Ron and Hermione want to be around me any longer. It kills me to know it has ended. It was like a cold bucket of ice was poured over me when I was already standing in the most barren of lands, adding salt to injury. I know I have to let her go, to get over it. But I can't. I simply can't delete five years of my life like that, only to ease the pain. I wish it didn't hurt so much, though.
Hermione looks at me with pity and sympathy shining in her eyes, and I wish she didn't. I wish she'd just leave me alone and let me be. I just want to grieve. Grieve for everything she meant to me. Everything she still means to me. I never had to go through good-byes. Not with Sirius, not with Dumbledore and not with Snape. But with her I did. And I never knew quite what an impact such a thing could have. I do now. Merlin knew I did.
One night I dreamed everything was all right with us, that we made amends. We talked it out and weaved our way through our problems, laying them down for discussion and evaluation, bare and naked. It had filled my heart with joy and love, and was fit to burst, to know everything would be all right. That we were all right. When I woke up I was left feeling bitter and bereft. All I could do when I fell down on my pillowcase was sob. Sob for the thing I had but didn't anymore. Shed tears for things long since passed but never forgotten. The memories, the thoughts, they kept haunting and hounding me. They made it feel that if I would just reach out I could have it all back again. But I knew it couldn't be that way. The bitterness rose.
No, good-byes were by far the most evil things in life, designed to get us when we were most vulnerable, when we were at our lowest, hurting, bleeding all over. Some days I wondered why there wasn't any blood. I could see it seeping through my shirt, down my arms and onto the ground, where droplets of crimson were visible on the clean hardwood floor. They gathered until they formed a pool around my feet, and I would drown and drown and drown…
Every night her name was on my lips, like the sweetest kind of candy. Forbidden but oh-so-good. Ginny. And each night I couldn't let go.