Harry sat at his window sill, and stared out at the night sky. He just couldn't face his cold, empty bed.
Oh, he knew it was for the best. But that didn't make it any less painful.
In the early days, there was passion. Their relationship had always been intense; first in hate, and then in love. That first drunken, frenzied one night stand had turned into a week, and then two, and before they knew it they were living together.
It hurt now, to think about the good times during that first year.
"I can't believe I spent so much time hating you…" Harry trailed off as he ran his fingers over Draco's bicep. They were lying down in the grass, watching the fluffy white clouds drift by. They came here often, to just talk and be together. Draco smiled that wicked smile of his, silver eyes gleaming in the sunlight. They had spent so much time in the sun in the last few months that a light dusting of freckles had appeared across his nose and cheeks. Draco had been distraught when he had noticed. Harry adored them.
"I'm surprised you resisted my witty repertoire and rugged good looks for so long…" Harry just rolled his eyes, and climbed on top of Draco,
"Prat," he muttered before leaning down and trailing his lips down the blond's slender neck.
Everything had seemed so perfect. When things were good with Draco, they were so good. But when things got bad, they were awful. They would fight, scream, break things, storm out, and break up. Only to come back, have passionate makeup sex, and start the cycle all over again. They had always brought out the worst in each other.
It was a poisonous love. It was a fast, passionate, and oh so addictive love. One that they both knew couldn't last. They had grown up, and grown apart. And in the end, he felt so empty inside. He didn't want to let go. At the same time, he felt like he could finally breathe again.
Their whirlwind of a romance had taught him a lot about himself.
And he would always love Draco for that.