for the seven challenges competition, round two. the challenge was to write a oneshot about two best friends falling in love. i hope this is okay :3

this is lucy/louis and therefore contains cousincest. please don't read if that makes you uncomfortable. it also contains a brief reference to suicide and use of the 'f' word.

i don't own harry potter.

i was a flight risk with a fear of falling

wondering why we bother with love if it never lasts

—Mine, Taylor Swift

When I look back on those days I see only us. Your face in the moonlight and your lips pressing onto mine; slowly at first, but then turning into something that felt like a war against everyone and everything that told us no.

I remember seeing everything we were, laid out before us. Now I only see everything we could never be.

When I see you in the hallways, or at family reunions, all I see is the back of your head, Louis, did you know that? All I see is you hunched over, pretending like you don't even know me—don't even know anyone there. Like you're from a different world, or something.

And sometimes I just sit there and wonder if you know how much it hurts me.

.

Do you remember the first time we really became friends? Everyone else had left for Hogwarts and it was just the two of us. We were only ten.

And I remember thinking that it was stupid that I wasn't allowed to go to Hogwarts with Molly, because I used to do everything with her, remember? And then it was just you and I didn't even know you, not really. And I missed Molly because she was my best friend back then and you were just Louis.

And you know how our family is. They pushed us into being friends and right now I don't even know if I'm happy or sad about it. Happy, I think. No matter how badly we ended, I can't regret what we did. I can't regret who we were when each time the sun came out it felt like a gift for us, when the cold long nights didn't seem so cold or long anymore, and when I felt the brush of your fingers against your hand and your lips against mine.

I can't regret any of that. And no matter how much I want to, I can't let go.

Have you forgotten? We were at Grandma Molly's and I remember seeing you glare at me. You missed Fred, I think. Or maybe it was Dominique. The years have flown by so fast that I can hardly remember who you were closest to, and who it was who cried the most when Fred—

I hate thinking back. Because I never go to the happy things. I always think of Fred and how he looked on the floor of the bathroom with the bottle of pills clutched tightly in his hand and his face looking so pale that I didn't even have to check for a pulse to know he was dead. I think of the moment where you stared at me and I stared right back and we didn't even have to say anything to know it was over.

I hate thinking about how fucking much I miss you because I don't even know if you know how much I'm hurting. Do you know how I replay every single second we spent together? Do you know how much time I spend on figuring out ways we could have stayed together?

And my brain leads me down pathways I don't want to go along. Why is it that when happy days are long over, they turn into sad memories that you remember with a small smile that turns into a tear that turns into sobbing that doesn't stop until you can remember that you shouldn't be crying because that day was happy and you were laughing throughout the whole day and you should be looking back on it as the best day of your life?

Somehow the memories aren't so happy when you know that the person you share those memories is doesn't even acknowledge you anymore.

Do you see what you've done to me, Louis? Do you?

And the more I think of you and the more I see you hunched over in the corridors, the more I think that I don't even know who you are anymore. I don't know you. And that, Louis, is what hurts the most.

Because you're not the boy who I became friends with when he swallowed a chocolate frog whole to try and make me smile. You're not the boy who dragged me out to jump waves on the beach by Shell Cottage and pulled me up when the waves knocked me off my feet and laughed because we were wearing all our clothes and we were soaked to our skin.

You're not the boy who kissed me for the first time in Sixth Year on top of the Astronomy Tower and made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I was worth something and told me that it didn't matter what anyone thought. As long as we loved each other. As long as we did.

You're not that boy anymore and—

And sometimes I just wonder; if you're not that boy, then who are you?

.

Do you remember the train journey to Hogwarts for our first year? We sat in the same carriage and ate chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. And I swear I've never laughed harder than when you got the vomit flavoured bean and you nearly threw up.

I loved how comfortable we were around each other and how much closer I was to you than anyone else in my life—except maybe Molly—and I loved how nice you were to me and how protective you felt of me.

Brotherly love, you'd said. Do you remember? I hope you remember. If you remember that then you'll remember the look on my face when you first told me that it wasn't brotherly love anymore

I hope you remember how we tried to hide how we felt because it was so fucking wrong and I hope you remember how I told you that we couldn't be together and you chased after me. When you first kissed me it was the first time I really felt alive.

I hope you remember all that because if you don't then what proof do I have that it even happened? I just couldn't bear for what we had to just be left behind and forgotten. I couldn't.

Do you remember when the carriage door opened and Lysander and Lorcan asked if they could sit with us? I think you do. I remember seeing a hint of annoyance cross your face before you re-arranged it into a welcoming expression and telling them they could join us.

You used to do that a lot, actually. Re-arranging the expression on your face to make it seem as though you don't care. Maybe you're still doing it but you've just gotten so good at it that I can't tell.

I used to be able to read you like a book, Louis. What happened? What happened to you?

Whatever it is, I know that somehow it's my fault.

.

Do you remember?

Do you remember it all?

Do you even remember how much it meant to me when I had your lips touching mine; when you put your arm around me for the first time?

Do you remember our first fight when we yelled so much and we both hurt each other so much that it shook us apart until you pulled me back inside and kissed me until I couldn't feel the tears anymore.

And do you know how much I hate what you've done to me? I used to be—

I used to be wonderful. I remember you saying that to me.

Because I remember.

I remember it all.

I remember how much it meant to me when I had your lips touching mine and when you put your arm around me for the first time.

And I remember our first fight. I remember how we both yelled so much and the tears were streaming down my face and I could see you fight to keep them back and I remember how helpless I felt when I ran out. And I remember you kissing me until the tears just vanished and we went inside. It wasn't like it never happened. It was like it was the most insignificant thing in the world.

I miss you. I miss how we were friends. And I hate how the media and everyone who disapproved of us tore us apart. I miss it all and—

I miss us. The only thing I do is ask myself one question, over and over again: do you miss it, too?

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