Waiting
by prexus
disclaimer: anythinq you reconqnize, ii do not own. Lyrics belong to someone, can`t quite remember. x] someone copy and pasted it into our convoe online and I just kinda..inserted it into the story.
summary: ginny waits for tom. (she is slightly insane in this fic. er -sweatdrops- sorry. its angsty and she`s a bit off the top but i guess its okay.) ginny is hoping he comes back to her and she keeps calling and waiting for him. x] carry on!
I have been patient for such a long time. Still waiting. It's like I'm frozen quick in the ice. I'm freezing. I think I'm closer than ever. One step away again.
A gust of cold December wind blows through the window, biting at my skin. The invisible fingers of ice close in around the small flame of the candle at my desk.
The light ceases to exist. Just like how he, your light, ceased to exist .. in just that one fleeting moment.
And so I sit there in the dark, quill clutched in one hand and a diary balanced on my lap. It was a plain black diary, nothing worth a second glance. I was and still am foolishly in love with the memory of him. He had been everything to me. No one could take him away from me. No one.
After all the things he "forced" me to do, you'd think I would hate him. Despise him with all my being. But I don't. I can't and I won't. Why? Because he cared for me. He spent his time listening to me. He noticed me. He noticed! And that's all that ever counted. He never forced me to do anything. I did it for him, for me.
I want him back. I need him to listen to me and to care for me like he had done so unselfishly so many years ago. I search for my wand, wanting to light the candle once more. I can't find it and I sigh. I will just have to use the faint light from the moon guide my quill tonight.
Now I close my eyes. And look up .. up inside. Sent to you, please get through. Think of me, will you please?
I flip open the cover of my book to the very first page and I delight in the crisp crackle as the bindings break and bend to the will of my fingers. Bringing the quill to the page, I neatly scribble a greeting. To whom, the memory of a boy.
Hello.
I wait for an answer. Nothing happens. I stare at the page with my font on it. I scan the entire parchment for an answer back to me.
Nothing.
I'm disappointed. My heart guides my hand and I scrawl another set of words.
Hello? Tom?
I stare at the page and then at my hand. I'm stunned. After all these years, the words still come naturally to me. And I sit there, waiting for an answer. Perhaps even a drop of ink.
Tom, please answer. I have so much to tell you.
Maybe he can't see my writing anymore. So I whisper to the darkness. "Tom?"
No answer. I become frantic. He's mad at me. I haven't written for five years. Of course he would be mad.
I'm going crazy outa my mind. With waiting. You haven't been there for sucha long time. Please hear me. Feel it just around the corner. Did you forget about me? Well if you're needing reminding. I am the one.
"Tom?" My voice is a pitch louder. I wait in silence, straining to hear even a faint whispered response to mine. There's still no answer. He hates me. Oh Tom, please answer.
"I'm sorry, Tom. Tom?" There's pleading in my voice now as it becomes more frantic. "Tom, Tom!" I call his name into the darkness.
There's still nothing. The stillness is suffocating me. I climb out of bed, throwing aside the diary, and stumble to the door. I grasp the doorknob and fling it open, hurling myself into the living room.
I crawl out the back door into the cold, crisp, winter air. The coldness seeps through me and I hear, I see the breaths of air around me again.
But it's still so silent. So I try again.
"Tom! Tom!" The sound is lost in the night.
I close my eyes. Close them tight. Up inside, I see white. The sky the clouds. Close my eyes. Hear me now, hear my out.
Realization hits me and I blink back tears. He won't come back. He can't come back. I find myself in my room, laying on my bed moments later. My face is dry but I stay still. Just in case.
One last try. "Tom..?" I choke his name out weakly and I wait. There's still no answer, just like there had been no answer every night for the past five years.
A strong gust of wind blows through the open windows. The wind flips through the pages of the plain diary. Then the cold air travels around my room, touching each corner and then flying quietly back out the window again.
But I heard it. Yes, I'm almost certain. As the wind had passed by me, I had heard it so faintly.
I'm waiting here, love…
The hope in my heart flickers again and I fall asleep to the memories of Tom. I wait for the next night. And for the rest of my life, I will be waiting. Waiting, for him and only him, because he noticed.
What is this all about? Hurry up. Don't be late. I close my eyes. And I wait .. hurry up. Just remember. No matter how long you keep me waiting, I'll stay right here waiting.
-FiN-
A/N: ii guess the "I'm waiting here, love" thing could be anything. It could be her insanity … a figment of her imagination … or maybe, just maybe, he was there? –shruqs- I leave it to you to ponder about. =]] this is my second fic, and ii was hoping it would be as successful as my first one (I Believe). Review? xD; thnx!