Hi y'all! So, this is my first Grindelwald/Albus fic, aaaaaaaaaaaaand I quite like it. Bud I'm not sure whether or not I should extend it into more than a oneshot? So I'll leave it up to YOU, THE READERS, AKA THE REVIEWERS, TO DECIDE! Buahahaha. It is in your power.

So please let me know. Also, general reviews are EVEN MORE appreciated!

And by the way, the inspiration for this fic came from the 3 Doors Down song 'Here Without You', which I fell in love with the first time I heard it. So the first four lines are displayed below, and are what the fic is based on.

Enjoy!

A hundred days have made me older, since the last time that I saw your pretty face,

A thousand lies have made me colder, and I don't think I can look at this the same,

But all the miles that separate, disappear now and I'm dreaming of your face.

I'm here without you baby.

Gellert Grindelwald shivered violently, crouched in a back alleyway of London. It had been roughly four months since he had fled the Dumbledore household, and the complete and utter guilt was beginning to eat him up from the inside. It was all he was able to think about. It haunted his dreams at night, the look of horror and betrayal on Albus' face. The blank, glassy eyes of Ariana, as she lay face-up on the floor. The unbelievable fury in the look in Aberforth's eyes.

Gellert sighed; his shoulders rose, and then slumped. Much like his life in the past year. First loose and dejected, his life picked up when he went to live with Aunt Bathilda. Meeting Albus was the highlight of his life. An equal, someone he could relate to. A friend. Something more.

But then... the fight. Gellert could barely remember the events as they took place, all he could focus on were vague flashes of memory.

Ariana, crouched in a corner, fear shrouding her face, one hand up to protect herself.

Albus, eyes shut, working his magic purely with touch, and his ability to sense where people were in the room. A look of complete concentration on his strained face.

Flashes of golden, red, green light, ricocheting around the room like fireworks, sparks spitting off as they hit random objects.

Then an explosion of said sparks, ironically beautiful, as the curse hit Ariana square in the chest.

Albus on his knees, a look of destruction on his face.

Aberforth advancing towards me, arm outstretched, wand pointed like a dagger.

Then I was running.

And it wasn't so much the guilt that Gellert was experiencing, it was the perfect, painful ache deep inside his heart; Albus. He missed his best friend. They would talk together, and laugh together, and plan together. For the greater good... Gellert scoffed. It could never work. Never. It would only have worked with the two of them aiming for it, hoping for it. But now they were no longer a team. Now they were split, two individuals going their separate way. For one it was their choice, the other forced to.

Gellert thought for a moment, and wondered who was who. Who was the one who made the choice, and who was the one forced to leave?

Albus' face wafted in front of his eyes, and Gellert sighed. His crooked smile, his ice blue eyes, full of serenity and silver reflection. He wanted so much to go back, but knew he could not. All that would greet him back at the Dumbledore household was hatred and fury.

As well as sadness.

Gellert held out his weak hands, his head bowed against the sleet drifting down.

"Please, somebody. I have nowhere to live."

He was beyond looking up in hope as he saw feet pass him. Sensible, women's business shoes. Wellington boots. Sandals. Men's lace-ups. Children's school shoes.

Nobody would so much as look at him, let alone give him money, or god forbid, a place to stay.

A sudden jarring pain jammed itself into his ribs, send him sprawling to the ground, his hands scraping along the rough pavement and leaving bloody trails. He hissed in pain, brushing the loose debris out of the cuts in his hand, and holding his throbbing side.

He looked up, to see a teenage boy, a muggle, sneering down at him. "Get a job, you stupid homeless idiot." He then went on to release a string of insulting swear words, the majority of which Gellert had never heard of, and was sure he would never repeat. Gellert blinked up at the youth, trying to make the world righten itself, straighten out so it would stop tipping. The man laughed cruelly and spat on the ground at Gellert's feet, before walking on his way.

Gellert gazed after him, hating himself for being reminded of Albus in everything. The young man, despicable though he was, walked in a similar way to Albus, and that made Gellert want to call him back, and have him kick him again, and again. Just so he could look at some reminder of Albus.

He stared at the hundreds of shoes going past, all with a purpose. All with somewhere to go home to. And, most likely, someone to go home to. A friend, a partner. Somebody to love. And somebody who loved them. He hunched down against the brick wall, knees folded up against his chest. He had never felt so low.

And the worst part? He was, again, lying to other people, and lying to himself. He had a place to stay. He knew he always had a place to stay. Bathilda's. He knew that she would always welcome him back, no matter what he had done. But he simply couldn't be in the same town, city, country, as Albus Dumbledore. The pain would rip him to shreds. The guilt. Missing him. And seeing his face, drawn and haggard from the four months of loss, the four months without his sister, would most likely send him running again, and never coming back.

He let his mind drift back to his last conversation with his friend, and the pain clenched at his stomach with an iron fist as he realised the damage he had done to their relationship.

A silver film coated his eyes, as he looked through the eyes of his stag beetle patronus. He scuttled forwards, to see Albus sitting in an armchair beside the fire, his head in his hands. Gellert made his way towards his old friend cautiously, pincers clicking slowly. It had been two days since the accident, and he had to speak to his friend, so find out who he was blaming for Ariana's death.

"Albus?"

Albus' head shot up, so fast that he cricked his neck. Swearing, one hand clapped to the back of his neck, he spun around, searching for the source of his old friend's voice.

"Gellert?"

"Albus."

"Gellert! You- But I can't- Where are you?"

As an answer, Gellert climbed up onto the armrest of the chair, and gently nipped Albus' arm.

"OW! Oh, it's your patronus." Albus seemed to come to his senses then, and glared at the silvery insect.

"Dude, what the hell!" Gellert almost laughed. He was expecting to be squashed into oblivion. He had no idea what happened to you if your patronus was damaged or destroyed. But Albus seemed merely irritated.

"Albus, it was an accident!"

"What, you mean YOU were the one who killed her?"

"No!" A lie. It was on purpose. She was distracting Albus from his goals and dreams.

"So what do you mean, it was an accident!"

"No, I mean, it may have been me, but it wasn't on purpose!" Yes it was.

"So it WAS you!"

"No! It could have been any one of us!" But it wasn't. It was Gellert, and he knew it.

"You think Aberforth or I would have killed our youngest sister?"

Silence. Gellert clicked his pincers together gently, not saying anything.

Albus raised his fist and it loomed down on the tiny insect.

Gellert panicked. Nipped Albus' finger, drawing blood, then disappeared.

Their entire relationship had been based on Gellert's lies to him, about the greater good, about muggles and squibs and muggle-borns. All lies. Gellert's head drooped slowly, and his arms grew limp and fell to his sides.

Unbeknownst to him, his lips began to fade to a pale purple-blue, and his face grew white as the snow that began to fall around him. If Gellert had been able to look into a mirror, he would have been shocked at his imaged. Long, matter hair past his shoulders. Shiny red cheeks from windburn. A multitude of scratches and bruises coating his body. And his once-bright, shining eyes, so full of intelligence and humour, now dead and lifeless.

He was almost dead himself.

In his sleep, Gellert was happy. He was back with Albus, and they were laughing together. They were both happy.

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Disclaimer: HP is not mine, OBVIOUSLY. Anyone who thinks it is shouldn't be here. (Though I'm flattered.)