Warning: Implied slash. Minor gore and references to suicide.
Author's Note: Kind of ends suddenly. Kind of pointless. And kind of sad.
Summary: "I hate you." A story about three simple words and the marks they leave.
Disclaimer: Fanfiction, anyone?
Your Words
It hurt to breath. His heart was pounding, his hands failing about in front of him helplessly as he wandered up the stairs in the dark. He stopped in front of a window, clutching the guide rail of the stairs and stared forward, the heat from the sun lashing against his face. He looked to the sky helplessly, seeing nothing but blackness and finding that in the sunlight was the loneliness place of all.
A dry heave shook his shoulders and he turned away bitterly, continuing on his way. He quickened his pace, his toes ramming helplessly against the cement of the next step until his skin broke and he began leaving bloody footprints with each step.
"You don't get it, do you?" He sneered.
The memory's words seemed to echo in the small stairwell as did his footsteps as he ran away. When his feet hit the last step he gave into the pulling at his knees and collapsed, dropping onto the cement floor, his body spinning within his mind.
More words came from his memory, taunting him with their reality.
"I don't love you." He paused, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes and dropping his hand to straighten his robes, "I never have. Never will."
With a strength he didn't know he had, he pressed his palms against the stone and lifted himself up, the darkness of the room rocking slightly with the sudden movement. He dragged himself to his bloodied feet and, in vain, tried to straighten his robes.
"I never have. Never will."
He let out a small gurgling noise, as if he was trying to say something but had never had the words to begin with.He took in a deep breath, his legs shaking with the forced action and he reached out and steadied himself against the wall.
He froze.
He could feel it. It was gentle, guiding, loving-- the hands of an invisible lover playing with his ebony tresses. He smiled foolishly, closing his eyes. It was all so familiar..
It kissed him, suddenly, brushing it's lips against his own, and his eyes darted open.
"I don't love you."
His mind screamed. He pushed from the wall, stumbling forward and barely catching himself, glaring accusingly at the invisible form with darkened eyes.
"No," he croaked to the silence.
The touch of the invisible hands retreated and he stumbled forward again, chasing it, in a way.
"It was just a ploy--" He smirked, his eyes moving from above his right shoulder to his eyes, "A game, of a sort. Who knew you would be that dense to willingly participate. I don't love you. I can't even tolerate you.."
"No," he repeated, taking another step. He could feel the touch craving to return, it's fingers grazing his skin with a passion he could barely remember. He gritted his teeth, liquid lining his cheeks.
He licked his lips, digging at his flesh until he bled and mumbling, "I won't cry for you. Not for you."
He stopped suddenly, his body swaying as his hands dropped to his sides. He stared into the nothingness that was welcoming him with open arms and he gave into the anger that pulsed inside of him.
He dashed forward, until his feet failed in the air and his body began to drop, a last memory trying to comfort him.
"I hate you, Potter. Always have. Always will."
The words repeated violently in his mind, growing in strength each time said until the darkness from his mind retreated.
"I hate you."
The sight of cobblestone greeted him and he squeezed his eyes shut, begging the darkness to return as the impact of the ground neared.
"I hate you."
And finally, the words of his lover left their mark upon the bloodied stone.
Fini