A Thousand Paper Cranes
By: sky75rk
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In the midst of mourning, I recall the things he said to me that one time. He told me, if you let the wind take you away, where will you be now? I never did understand why he asked me that, or why he always insisted on wanting to hear me speak, but I did, and for that, I knew he was happy.
He always liked to talk in riddles, as if he expected me to comprehend the things he was trying to tell. He was an enigma, a puzzle that remains unsolved, and even to me, the person he considered his closest, can never know where to begin looking for the missing pieces that completed him. When he was left alone, he looked vulnerable, like he was not the hero that everyone looks up to. He will stare into nowhere with eyes that told nothing, yet spoke heavy volumes. He was contradicting the world. He was hiding himself.
One day, he regarded me with blank eyes that scared me, that left me afraid that he has finally given up and succumbed to his depression. And then he asked me once again, a thousand paper cranes fly. And if you happen to catch one of them, what will it be? I tried to find the right answer, but before I could say something, he left, leaving me unsettled.
I knew of his condition, yet I never told anyone. He deserved his privacy, and it was eating him away. But I never interfered. I just watched from a distance, concealing myself from him and making sure he was safe.
Maybe it was my mistake, because now I'm in mourning, even though he did not die. I'm in mourning, because even though he was lying beside me, sleeping, I can feel the hollowness. And because I never tried to save him, the part of him that was slowly drowning, was finally engulfed by the darkness, in the chasm that I can't even reach.
Right now, I still stayed beside him, because it was the only thing that I can do, the only thing that he'd let me, now that his doors are closed off to the world, even to me.
"A thousand paper cranes fly. And if you happen to catch one of them, what will it be, Draco?" his voice held no tone, held no emotion. But underneath, I can hear the plaintive hope.
I still didn't understand that particular question, but right now, even if I don't know what answer he wants to hear, I gave him one. "I won't, Harry. Not even one. If they want to fly, I'll let the wind take them to places they want to be,"
At that moment, maybe I said the correct answer, because he smiled the way he used to, and he looked at me in a way only he can do. Maybe, I, at long last, understood what he had been trying to tell me all those times. That he wanted to release his pent up guilt, anger and hate and just scatter it for the wind to take.
Maybe it isn't too late after all.
-fin-