I loved Draco before I even knew what love was, before I could even describe what it was that I was feeling. I loved him in every shape and every form imaginable.
I loved him innocently as a child, even while I swore to myself that I detested the little blonde boy. Before I knew the name for the beginnings of a peculiar emotion swirling in my chest. Innocently, the only way a child knows how to love; like dried baby's breath, pure and delicate. Even before I knew it was love, I knew that I wished for more time together with him, being able to hear his voice and stare into his stormy gray eyes. Even when those eyes looked at me with nothing more than disdain in them, I soaked up the attention like a dry sponge.
I loved him desperately as an adolescent. While I was growing and discovering thoughts I never knew I would have. I burned hot and bright with with my love for him, like a fever. But fire is hard to control; it has a mind of its own. Teenagers love dangerously, without an ounce of self-preservation. And I was no different. I would have burned myself to ash, burned down the entire world for him, in the hopes that he would notice my light.
I loved him selflessly as an adult, putting his happiness before my own. Even when I needed to be taken care of, even when it hurt. Even when he hurt me. I would have done anything for him, ignoring the way that I still burned for him. I wanted him in any way I could have him. And the only way I could keep him was to shove away everything I knew about right and wrong, completely neglecting my own needs and wants, and I did it. Willingly, happily.
Because ultimately, anything was better than nothing when it came to him.
And I suppose me being happy with nothing was a good thing for a while, because I received it in abundance. I sacrificed everything to keep Draco by my side, and yet he left anyway - threw me aside without a second glance, as if I meant nothing to him.
And when he left, he told me that one day he would come back and ask if I still loved him. He told me that my reply would be short, and that I would tell him I had found someone new. I told him that it wasn't true, that I would always choose him, and he didn't understand what I meant. But isn't it painfully obvious? I chose him. I chose inevitable heartbreak over inevitable security. I chose him, I chose to love him and only him, although there may have been days where I didn't think I had any choice in the matter. In the end, I did. And my choice was obvious to even my own eyes. It would always be him. I could have walked away that first time he said that he loved me, but I didn't. I stayed. And I let myself fall in love with him.
That's just the thing, though. Our heart gives itself to whoever the hell it feels like. Sometimes to people who don't even deserve it. And we're the ones who have to get it back. And you want to know a secret? We're not going to get it back for a very, very long time. Draco still has mine in a very firm iron grip, and I don't know how to make him loosen it. Or even, if I'm being honest with myself, if I want him to.
The biggest problem is that I can't let him keep hurting me but I also can't walk away because it's been so long, I don't know how to live without him anymore.
And you want to know what this really is, me writing about him? This is me being self-destructive. This is me laughing louder, to cover up the emotional void he left in his wake. This is my poor grades because while in class, I am always distracted by the back of his head or watching him practice, staring out of the window. This is me missing him. This is me living life without him, but not really feeling alive at all, especially not compared to when I had him. This is me languishing in the regret of losing him, while he's all but celebrating being rid of me.
These are my private thoughts.
This is my private pain.
But how I wish more than anything to have him to share it with.