Why do stars fall down from the sky
Every time you walk by?
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you
-The Carpenters

Time had stopped and so did his breathing. His fingers glided against the rough parchment, scanning the written words in utter disbelief. It was a cycle and he couldn't stop himself, he refused to allow himself to absorb the words. He wanted it to be a dream, a nightmare he could easily escape from back into reality. But it wasn't, and so he finally took his breath; releasing the sheet from his grasp. His knees buckled beneath him and he allowed himself to collapse in vulnerability. He sucked in a harsh breath as his lips quivered, feeling the rapid beating speed in his chest. His eyes prickled and his vision blurred, just like his reality. It wasn't clear anymore, it was foggy. There was an emptiness in his chest that he never had the chance to notice. It was painful, and he felt torn apart. He clenched his eyes closed. His body trembled and he cried out with fingers clasping his mouth.

He couldn't live anymore, he couldn't see a future where he could ever possibly revert back to his usual self again. He couldn't fake it anymore, not without the one thing that managed to fill the empty gap within him. Not without the only thing that stopped him from doing the things he knew would hurt him. And now that it was gone- that they were gone, he was incomplete again. He was missing the last piece to his puzzle.

Life didn't had the same importance as it use to, he couldn't see it anymore. It was simply a blank space. Everything that he had worked for crumbled in a swift blow. He wanted to explode, throw a crucio at the next living thing in sight. But it wasn't that simple, and he was heavily conflicted.

And it happened again.

Just when he got over a bump in his life, when he finally had the courage to let go and revert to himself again; life would be an asshole. Harry would lose the next thing he cherished. It was a curse he had to live with and he hated every moment of it. Every bump would discourage him and he would slowly lose motivation to continue. And just when the love of his life was taken away. Harry had lost his only motivation to wake up.

He felt the heat of his tears clinging against his cheeks. His breaths became ragged as his cries died down to silence. He couldn't move. The boy who lived was mentally and physically tired to do anything anymore. His eyes were bloodshot from crying while his cheeks were streaked with tears that had crusted. Harry carefully removed his glasses with shaky fingers. He knew this would happen, that he would lose the next thing he loved. But he had fallen for it again, he had found love again and he lost it. This was the last time though. He wouldn't love again, he couldn't risk it. Harry had lost too much to go through the same cycle of loss, it was too painful and he didn't think he could handle it for another time. The damage would be too much. He was afraid that he wouldn't be able to pull out from the darkness of his thoughts. He tried to stop himself from caring anymore, from becoming too emotional. Harry thought if he distanced himself from everyone, from everything, he would finally become detached.

That was until he helped him, Tom Riddle. The boy that had changed him entirely within seconds. He was everything he wasn't. He was extraordinary in a way, simply... beautiful. And he had lost him too.

His belongings were scattered across the floor among with his wand.

It was all because of the tournament that he was miserable. Ever since his name was announced from the goblet, his reality became more of a nightmare than it already was. Even his friends turned on him, his own house! Everyone either avoided or hurt him in a way, whether physically or verbally. There was no in between.

Harry protested, kicked and punched but he was overpowered. They had pushed him easily like a rag doll, as if he wasn't even a living being and threw him beneath the floor boards. He heard the dragging of desks that ended up weighing on the boards. He slammed desperately at the wood above his head, pleading to let him go as he watched the wood curve from their mocking jumps with laughter.

He knew they wouldn't bother, but he wanted to believe at least. It was futile, and so he stopped trying as he grew breathless from the lack of air. He felt his chest begin to constrict. The laughing died down and everything stilled as they no longer heard the struggled cries from the boy who lived. "Come one Potter! Don't be such a wanker!" They grew nervous as they heard no response.

"Whatever, let him rot," they abandoned him entirely, leaving him trapped in the darkness. The scurrying of footsteps faded into the hallways. Harry felt helpless without his wand. He couldn't do anything for himself. It was always the same, he expected changes but life wasn't going to feel sorry for him. No, he received the same treatment from the muggle and wizarding world. They all treated him badly. The only difference was that there was magic.

The weight of his lids became heavy and heavier. He closed his eyes tiredly and rolled his head to the side, pressing his cheek against the cold ground ridden of dirt. His chest had risen slowly as his thoughts became steady to even notice the creaking of the boards above him. A stream of light attacked his vision, but he was too tired to do anything. He opened his eyes briefly, only to see the image of a familiar Slytherin. He felt his weight being lifted carefully and the heat he longed for spread across his body.

Harry vaguely remembered waking up in his bed that night.

Harry was entranced, compelled after their first informal meeting. They soon found themselves oddly enjoying each other's presence. The continued interaction between the duo surprised many. Though, they all took it as pity the Slytherin felt towards the outcasted Gryffindor; and so it escalated into something different. Their conversations were something Harry always looked forward to. With every encounter, his longing for the other only grew.

It frightened him. He wasn't scared because he was attracted to an individual that wasn't of the opposite sex. In fact, the wizarding world were less prejudice against the thought of actively seeking those of the same sex, compared to the muggles. No, it was very different. Harry was afraid that he would lose Tom somehow no matter how platonic their relationship seemed. He was afraid his emotions would get the best of him and he would be hurt again. That the next time he would be hurt, he would do something rash that he would instantly regret the moment it was done.

They were an odd dynamic of sort. Harry wasn't sure when he started to feel affectionate towards the slytherin himself. He was genuinely surprised when the realization had hit him, that the only thing he could think about was Tom Riddle everything. Harry was confused when he had a moment to sort his thoughts. He never had a preference towards men. He simply had a preference towards Tom under that category.

Harry didn't know how to act when he found out that he held feelings that went beyond those that were simply platonic. He began to notice things that were never there before, and it drove him mad to the very core.

The boy watched the older slytherin's mouth move on their own as his voice died in the background. His ample lips pressed together like two ripe cherries. Harry found himself mesmerized by the simplicity of it. He could stare at the other boy for weeks and still be intrigued. Even the mere thought managed to surprise himself. Eventually, it didn't last as long as he had liked it to, "-are you listening?"

Harry flicked his attention back into reality, "I- sorry, what was that again?" Their eyes locked together, and suddenly it was for the longest time. He stared into a set of deep and lustrous darkness, like a forest pool under the shade of ancient oaks. Tom raised an elegant brow laced with amusement in his expression. He had been caught staring, but he couldn't help himself. Harry was astounded by how he managed to pull off being so perfect easily. It was almost like he didn't even had to try, breaking into no sweat really. And now he was gazing over the symmetrical structure of his face, tracing over to his sharp cheekbones and questioning the realness of Tom silently. He was tall and Harry could forgive that, but being handsome and overwhelmingly intelligent somehow irritated him. Tom Riddle was a genetic freak.

He was getting distracted, again.

"I-I uh..." Harry hastily risen from his seat, almost knocking his chair over. He was going to go mad if he stayed near the older boy any longer. The Gryfindor suddenly began to collect his things, ignoring tidiness all together. "I should um, get going-" as he turned his back from Riddle, he carelessly knocked into the fucking bookshelf. He flinched at this and snapped his eyes closed, expecting a load of books to come crashing down. Except It didn't happened. Siriously? (Sorry not sorry) Harry cracked his eyes open, only to meet dark rims curtained with thick lashes in return. Oh. This was something he didn't expect.

The Gryfindor took notice of the close proximity between him and Tom. He noticed the painful pounding against his ribs too. Harry raised his gaze to find large hands clasped against the books that had once threatened to fall. This was what he got for being short. Harry felt like a damsel in distress, and he hated it. "T-thanks..." the untamed quivering of his voice wasn't helping either. It came out barely above a whisper. Why was he acting like this? He was conflicted and he didn't know what to feel. He was confused, and beyond embarrassed. He shouldn't be acting this way, it was nothing to get flustered about. He had faced dementors and even Voldemort for Merlin's sake! It wasn't as if this was the first time they were this close. So why was it any different?

His breathing escalated when the other made no move to step away. Instead, Tom had surprised again. The basterd always found a way to surprise him. Tom stepped forward, closing the little distance between them. There was a spark that ignited within him and he felt time had slowed down. Their chests pressed dangerously against each other, "I don"t understand you."

Harry felt all the blood rise to his cheeks, "I... what's t-there to not understand?" He stuttered, avoiding the other's gaze like a flustered school girl. It was only a few seconds ago was he staring thoughtfully at the boy, now he didn't know where to look. He cursed inwardly. What the hell was Tom doing? His thoughts were interrupted by the soft chuckling he felt against him. Harry sucked in a breath. Tom was thoroughly enjoying seeing him like this. He tried not to roll his eyes at this.

When he saw the Slytherin stretch his arm to him, he instantly felt his shoulder's stiffen. Tom brushed his knuckles against his cheek, trailing to the tip of his chin tenderly. No... it was almost possessive. His breathing hitched and he closed his eyes briefly. He should move away, but he found himself glued to the ground. The Gryfindor felt his chin lift, "look at me." Harry was incapable of forming coherent words. He was confused, yet it didn't feel wrong. It felt so right the way Tom's body easily melted into his. The way they exchanged heat was too compelling for him to move away.

Tom's sweet breath hovered teasingly above his lips as they stared into each other. The small gap drove him mad and he wanted to seize it. Harry wanted to grab him from the collar and just devour him already. The Gryfindor watched Tom flicked his gaze to his dry lips, and he lubricated them with his warm tongue instinctively. Tom groaned at the simple gesture and Harry felt a shiver rack up beyond his spine. He wasn't the only one that itched for the other. Harry craved only for Tom, and Tom wanted Harry. The hunger was mutual. Something flickered in the Slytherin's eyes and Harry didn't remember leaning in on the tips of his toes. Their lips came crashing down into each other desperately. It wasn't sweet, it was toxic and it was spilling everywhere. Though, it was slightly awkward. Tom was too tall for Harry and so he tugged on the Slytherin's tie, pulling him down to compensate for their height differences. Harry felt his legs loosened and Tom shifted his thigh between his. He wanted more of the older boy, he wanted to truly touch him. Harry groaned against his lips and held a handful of the Slytherin's robes, pulling him closer if it were physically possible.

He felt his breath hitch as Tom's knee rubbed against his groin and he threw his head back with a shudder. His grip on Tom tightened as he pushed his hips forward. The older boy brushed his lips from Harry's jaw to his flushed ears, "You're practically begging for it." He felt his arousal growing and Tom whispering pervertedly in his ear wasn't helping. But he was compelled to crane his neck to the side to make room for the other. He was fucking enjoying it.

Harry pressed his eyes close, too occupied with the painful bulge in his pants to really listen, "shut the fuck up." He could feel Tom smirking against his neck as he sucked at the sensitive skin skillfully. His breath grew heavier with every passing second as the Slytherin kissed and brushed his tongue along his untainted skin. Soft lips that he had watched for so long, waited so long to taste finally moved against his own. It was electrifying the way they clicked so naturally against his. He wanted more of it, more of Tom. Harry loosened his grip and pressed his palms against Riddle's broad chest, sliding up to wrap his arms possessively around his neck to deepen the kiss. Tom interfered and pushed his wrists against the bookshelf. His long fingers caressed his skin and moved delicately to intertwine with Harry's. He unintentionally let out a moan as Tom began to nip at his plum lips. The older Slytherin took advantage of this and slipped his tongue past his parted lips.

Harry's magic flared and whipped passionately, only to be tamed by the alluring touch of Tom's. It was intoxicating and he wanted time to stop forever. Eventually, Tom pulled away and breathed harshly, resting his forehead against Harry's as he watched him through half lidded eyes. Harry's lips were swollen and he wanted to continue savoring the sweet taste of Tom, if it weren't for catching his breath. They gazed into each other, panting in silence. It was intimate, yet it felt so surreal. "I don't understand how you do it," Tom muttered under his breath. The younger Gryfindor stared at the odd Slytherin quizzically, finally taking control of his breath. It felt so odd, almost foreign seeing Riddle take an expression outside of his usual mask. Tom Riddle was conflicted, and it bothered Harry that he was the one responsible for it.

No one easily made the boy feel so distressed.

Tom loosened his grip on Harry and he gulped at this as his gaze followed Tom's next actions. The Slytherin gingerly guided Harry's hand to press against his own chest. He felt the rapid beating of Tom's heart. It pumped softly against his palms to the tips of his fingers. The simplicity of it was... beyond words. The older teen didn't need to say anything else for Harry to understand. The boy who lived raised his gaze to meet Tom's with parted lips.

He felt the spark in his chest flutter for the first time.

Tom Riddle was gone and he could do nothing about it. All he could do was reminisce of how time stopped whenever he was with him, how his world was different when he had entered his life. Harry tried remembering how his life was before him, but he couldn't imagine it. Harry couldn't remember it and it had frustrated him. It frustrated him how Tom didn't mention anything to him about what he was dealing with. And it frustrated him on how he never got the chance to say goodbye.

The break had ended and Harry felt childish. He felt the sweat building up as his fingers curled around the letter. He had been thoughtful of the letter, carefully writing each word without blotting or spilling the ink. He would tell Tom how he really felt, how much he meant to him.

Hordes of students began to pass him, conversing about what they did over the holidays. Harry grew nervous as the crowd of students entering the hall increased. His fingers became sweaty and he grew jittery. He couldn't stop pacing or fiddling with his fingers. He didn't know how to express his feelings without stuttering or completely embarrassing himself. Harry thought a letter would be the best way of doing it, even though it made him uncomfortable writing it.

Harry never was one for talking about his feelings. He never had to deal with such things before and because of that, it had made him awkward when he came face to face with it. Especially after being introduced into the wizarding world and meeting all these new people, he didn't knew how to react. No one had ever payed attention to him, he was always ignored. The people that cared for him, which he never did understand, always found a way to surprise him.

It was funny how fast his life had changed for the better, and just as easily it could be all taken away. He was the center of attention, but people ignored him. It was contradictory, but who was he to question any of it? The wizarding world never did made much sense. Now that he thought about it, nothing really did make sense to Harry, especially Tom. He was the obedient kid that everyone loved, but there was always something that bothered him. He would smile, but not his eyes. They were empty and Harry saw himself in them. The Gryfindor never suspected himself falling head over heals for the older kid, and it made him laugh. They were both so very different, yet the same in so many ways.

The crowd of students became less and he felt his anticipation thinning. The letter, his confession crumpled between his fingers. Where was Tom?

AN/ This was a pain in the ass to write and I have no motivation to properly finish this one shot yet. Maybe I'll complete a part two in the future, who knows? This was roughly inspired by Alan Turings life, only bits of pieces though.