Author Comments: This was for the jily secret santa that happened on tumblr - and of course that I forgot to post here. I wrote this and I am so sorry for the girl who received my gift - I had to apologize a hundred times over and over because ugh. I think I am possibly gonna re write this thing someday, but while I don't, have the crappy version =)
"You know, they say that there is a part
of the human chest that if you strike it hard enough
the person's heart explodes. This sounds like such a lie
that I have to believe it's the truth. If I were sci ence,
I'd never tell any one where this place is. If I were sci ence,
I'd have named this place after you.
Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz"
Spinning
She is spinning – spinning around your life, splashing colors on the corners and smiles over your skin. She is jumping in and out of the pages – making little step marks over your days, the vibrant happy paint dripping fresh from her hands. There is something so gold and bright about her - like the last flower at the spring, blooming and finally reaching it's beauty.
You squint around her for so long – a mess of a wild, confused boy with the energy of a supernova, just trying to figure the hell out of you why her. You could have gotten any girl – you certainly got a lot of them, anyway – but she was the one who crawled over your skin, infecting your bones and shaking up your mind.
You can't figure it out.
You two are fighting again – you can't even remember how it started, but suddenly it exploded in a mess of fuming words, poisonous glances and acid language. He is wild and you are wrathful, his eyes resting on your stormy hands that are going over and over and over of all the space you got. You are screaming and it seems like the world is over; but every fight of you two is like that. It's fire and explosions and even though you are tired of this constant energy drainer, it wakes you up. This boy, this mess of a Gryffindor – he wakes you up like no one ever got to.
You accompany her steps – lurking around the edges of hallways, sitting behind her in Potions, following the books she reads at the Library. It's a dance, a one-sided, tiring dance, but you go throw it because there is no choice. It's like that story from a muggle book you've never heard about – the one where this kid puts these shoes that are doomed to dance for an eternity.
You have always believed on his pride and arrogance as dominant traits; and indeed proud and arrogant he is, but there is something – something underneath the reckless smirk he gives you - something that is vulnerable and just right. You don't want to admit it – but you know he is good, just as you know that you are Lily and he is James, the sky is blue and the sun is a star.
That thing behind his walls he calls eyes, that thing that keeps you awake at night - flashing right before you sleep and emerging when you wake up - it is that thing that pushes you to the edge with him, not because of his idiot pranks, but just because you cannot afford to care about someone that much.
But you do.
You care.
Suddenly, it's the sixth year and you feel that you are on the top of the world. You are forgetting her – she is not a full, colored movie in motion anymore, but just a few frames going over and repeating themselves with a little less saturation. She is going away from your life, and you are going away from her too, a sad lost love story, something that could have been.
Your what if's starts to fade.
(Your soul starts to fade a little, too.)
You run away.
You run away from him because this isn't right; you were supposed to hate the boy, but everytime you see Potter it's the opposite – your bones want to jump over him, your skin wants to claim him, your eyes wants to observe every single moment of his existence. It's a sickness called love – you finally notice it, and start to run away.
You start to run away because you are scared.
You are in the train again, a repetition of the past 6 years flashing before your eyes –but this time you are not with your friends laughing or doing anything mischievous, but alone in the prefects compartment waiting for the Head Girl to show up.
Sirius knocks on the door an unbelievable number of times to make your nervous and piss you off, and when you are about to charm the glass to just go over his face – oh, what a priceless scene that would be – you hear footsteps coming over. Wand ready, you low yourself down…
… And than a storm of red hair enters the compartment.
She spots you in the second her feet touches the ground. Her faces is a mask of surprise and beauty – what would you be doing there? – Than disbelief – she notices the way you are positioned, the arc on your back and wand on your hand – to utter shock – there is a badge on your robes, a shiny, golden badge, a badge where she can reads Head Boy.
You can feel her expression fight against something. she smirks in her own way (one side of her lip curved, eyes grinning, cheekbones high). You are smiling too.
- It seems like the rumors are true. Dumbledore has gone mad.
- I knew you would oppose to these curtains. They are too feisty.
And like that, with a loud laugh, she returns to your life again.
You stop pretending the second minute you see him in that compartment.
It was worthless – how could you fight against that boy, anyway? He was pure charms and smiles and laughs and life. He was life – yes, that was the perfect description for him, a gold, bright life, a life that dragged everyone else around the boy into a circle of happiness.
It starts slow – she laughed at your joke on the first day, did not complain about the prank you pulled on the second – and than, you don't know how or why, but you two are friends.
There is this different side of her that you start to know, a sweet carefree child– she is funny and smart, has a true sense of humor and cares deeply about everyone. Soon you two are hanging out together. It started out innocently – just a night to study, she said – but now you both are almost crying of laughter on the kitchens, her smile brighter and eyes greener and hand curled on one of your arms - and she is touching you. She is touching you she is touching you she is touching you and you are freaking out, but you are also smiling brighter because the moment is perfect.
She returns to your life. You don't even know how she got out.
He is spinning – spinning around your life, splashing colors on the corners and smiles over your skin. He is jumping in and out of the pages – making little step marks over your days, the vibrant happy paint dripping fresh from his hands. There is something so gold and bright about him - like a sun day in the summer, just beaming everything with light.
You squint around him for so long – a mess of a careless, confused girl with the energy of a supernova, just trying to figure the hell out why him. You could have loved any boy – you certainly liked a lot of them, anyway – but he was the one who crawled over your skin, infecting your bones and shaking up your mind.
Now you figure it out.