A/N: Originally written for the Drabble Tag on the Next Gen Fanatics Forum with the prompt "bare trees". Dedicated to Lizy because AlScor is her slash OTP and because she was the one who put the idea of publishing my Drabble Tag drabbles in my head.
Hope you like it, lovely! (Even if it is a little weird.)
I find you with your knees tucked under your chin, naked, bleeding from the cracked bark of your thighs. I keep trying to pull you up, up, up but your branches scrape my skin, your twigs leave splinters under my fingernails, and I wonder if your roots are too far down here for me to try and save you.
There are days when I tumble head first into the forest of your chest, live for years among the life blooming in your heart, spend hours picking flowers in a field that does not exist, and then there days where you hold my hands loose in your dead-leaf fingers, nails crumbling and turning a dirty, rusted red, and you say things like I need you and I thought I could love you and maybe they'll change, and I want to scream.
But there is no one around to hear me, so I bite my lip, wrap my soft fingers around your rough wrists, and swing.
There is something so heartbreaking about seeing your bones curved and cut like branches on a dying tree. There is something so harrowing about seeing you alone, bare and empty, curled up where you once stood tall.
I keep trying to dig your roots from the ground, but you won't let me.
I love you, you idiot. I do. So let me have this; let me pluck you from that Black family tree, let me nip the Malfoy in you in the bud, let me weed the garden of your life. I just want to see you happy, Scor.
I just want to know that I can sleep curled up in the knots of your trunk and you will let me, without wondering why or how or who.
There is no one else but us here.
No one else but us two, dying leaves, and those damn bare trees.
(And, even now, I still love you.)