Stung. That's how he felt when the other walked away.
The other, he grimaced, that's what it'd come to then. The wind played with his wild hair as he stood there.
Gazing at the retreating back of the black clad figure, his tumultous mind rebelled against the situation.
He didn't want better damn it! He wants only him, only ever him.
Snape... Come back, he whispered. The words lost to the whipping wind.
Staying there was futile, the decision was made. Why did they both have to be so stubborn?
He turned, trudging his own path.
What would come would come and Harry Potter would meet it on his own.