A/N: This is a little drabble that I wrote for the Sinfully Romione fest on Tumblr (hosted by the AMAZING coyotelaughingsoftly). It won the Envy category. Special shoutout to callieskye for the beta and all my group chat lovelies for just being awesome!
Can't bloody take it. Gonna lose my mind. It was bad enough before, at Hogwarts, being so close, but now? In this tent? There's nowhere to fucking run, nowhere to fucking hide.
She's everywhere. Her scent, I can almost taste it. It's on the towels in the loo, in the sofa cushions where she spends hours reading that damned book.
She brushes against me when we pass each other in the kitchen. She sits a little too close to me at the table. I love it...I hate how much I love it.
I can hear her breathing as she sleeps. She's right fucking there, so close, too close, but painfully far away. I feel like a kid looking at the stars, thinking they must be just inches apart...but really, they're not even in the same ruddy galaxy.
She brings me a mug of tea, our knees touch as she sits down on the ground beside me. She's making small talk and smiling at me, Merlin that smile. Does she know? Does she have a clue what it does to me? I almost spill it all, right then and there, my guts, not the tea.
Then she's pressing her perfect lips to the edge of the mug and I get a tiny glimpse of her tongue on the edge of the rim, and I know I have to look like a giant drooling troll, but I can't stop myself. I've been jealous of right many people in my life, but now I've gone 'round the bend, completely crackers, 'cause the thing I wanna be more than anything in the whole blinking universe right now is that mug. Then she would be holding me against her chest, using me to keep her warm.
Merlin, could I keep her warm! All she'd have to do is crawl into my bunk. Plenty warm there. Trust me. I wake up damn near every time in sweaty tangled mess.
Now she's finished so I offer to help her clean up. Mistake. Warm soapy water. She's wash, I'm dry. Her fingers skim across the cup while she cleans it. Wish she'd rub me like that. Her hands are so slick with the soap that she almost drops it when she tries to rinse it; we fumble to catch it, my hands wrap around hers. We laugh. Relieved. Close call. So close. Too close. Drying that bloody mug, all I can think about is my hands are right where her mouth was. Yep, I've lost it. Scariest part? I don't even wanna find it.