Dear Diary... Do you ever just look at someone and think "how are you real"? Do you ever think of someone and then catch yourself smiling like an idiot? Meet with them and feel your heart quicken it's pace to ten times? Accidentally make contact with them and getting flustered? Do you ever smile at someone and then try to hide your joy when they smile back? Laugh with someone and just think "your laugh could bring joy to war"? Look deep into their eyes and fall even deeper for them? Have you ever felt so completely helpless because you know they have someone and that someone would never be you? Felt so abandoned when you realise they moved on and never gave a thought to you over time? Have you ever curled up and sobbed into your pillow, screaming in pure, unadulterated agony because they have a complicated? She is his complicated and he will be mine; yet he will never know. He will never know the pain I feel knowing that she He would hate me.
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Harry sat up and sighed, setting his diary back in his desk drawer as he watched Peter and Gwen laughing over wine. Why had he offered for them to come around for dinner? Why had he not asked Peter on his own? Why did he put himself through this torture?
Watching them together hurt. They seemed so happy. He looked down. Peter could never be that happy with Harry. He never would be, never could be. Harry forced his tears down and a smile on his face.
"To love. And to you two. May you be happy for many years to come."
Gwen and Peter clinked glasses and Harry stared daggers at the sparkle on Gwen's left hand.