AN: Just a random one-shot that I felt like writing. Based off a song by Bright Eyes called "It's Cool, We Can Still Be Friends." Just because Conor Oberst is the most underrated poet/lyricist ever.
Yeah, you still kiss me sometimes, but it's just on the cheek
You pull away so easily
And I still call you, but I get your machine
And if I'm lucky I guess, I get your roommate answering
But you're at the bar, or at Gene's
So long ago it had been so different. Well, it seemed like so long ago, a whole other lifetime. A lifetime now that was kept under a strict lock and key, only talked about in hushed voices, like a fatal secret. But they didn't even do that anymore.
Never talk about the way things were.
This had at least got slightly better now. Just after…just after it all happened, she wouldn't even look at him, let alone touch. It was like he burned her on contact. Every time his hand accidentally brushed against hers, or their arms touched upon passing each other, she recoiled and near ran away.
That was painful to him.
But if he though about it more. Things hadn't got better at all. In fact maybe they were worse. No contact is better than a little contact. At east then you can't get tastes of what your missing out. At least then you don't get that feeling of electric running through you.
And we go to dinner, but you won't hold my hand And we still rent movies, but we don't share the couch
We sit at the same table, but we don't play with our feet
Yeah, we still go to dinner sometimes, but we don't sneak a kiss
When the waitress turns around
Yeah, we still watch movies sometimes, but you don't lay in my lap
The plot is slow, take a nap
She used to snuggle up to him, her head resting on his shoulder. Now she sat on the opposite side of them room, as far away as she could get. And when she fell tired, she didn't lay her head in his lap anymore. So that he could play with her hair, lulling her into a dreamless sleep. Instead she lay awkwardly against the arm off her chair and closed her eyes, dozing restlessly.
And it broke his heart. But he never asked.
When they went to dinner now, things weren't how they used to be. She sat against the wall from him, her feet tucked in behind the leg of her chair. Not letting them fall freely to bump against his.
One time, he reached out to touch her hand, out of habit and longing. She just sent him a painful look and dropped her hand into her lap. Sending waves of heartbreak through his being.
Yeah, you even sleep over sometimes, but we stay in our clothes She came to him once. Knocking on the door at 4 in the morning, in the heavy rainfall. He opened the door and stared at her as she collapsed in front of him, crying her heart out. He didn't ask why, doubting he would get answer if he did.
I'm only there so that you're not alone
But he took her hand and led her upstairs, taking her into his room. She looked at him questioningly through her thick layer of tears and he just nodded, closing the door behind him, leaving her on her own.
She didn't want him anyway. She just didn't want to be on her own anymore. He was just another body to fill in the void for one more night. Just like the nameless faceless many he had used for that. But none of them had managed to sooth the reging pain inside his heart.
Yeah, you say that I've hurt you, and your voice is like a prayer
Yeah, well maybe I hurt you sometimes, but let's contrast and compare
Lift up your shirt, the wound isn't there
"You hurt me Harry!" She screamed at him once, her face red and eyes flashing gold.
"I hurt you?" He screamed back in disbelief, angry at her for the dismissal of his pain. She just nodded and turned to walk away. But he wasn't finished yet, "Well it doesn't feel like it. You can just move on so easily! I'm stuck!"
She opened her mouth, as if she was going to answer but it fell back closed, her jaw clenching tight.
"I can't move on. But you can! I've tried. How do you do it Hermione? Tell me how…" His voice was choked and cracked, almost hollow as he spoke. And it scared him.
He lifted his heavy head to look at her. She just stared back down at him, her perfect brown eyes stained around the edges. She whispered that she was sorry and walked out, and away from him yet again.
I guess that your truth, is just the ghost of your lies
I guess your kind of truth, is just the ghost of your lies
Yeah, your kind of truth, darling, is just the ghost of your lies
I see through them all the time
He was the only one who could read her perfectly, and she knew it. She knew that she would never be able to find anyone as perfect for him as her. And god knoes she loved him, but what happened what love wasn't enough?
Her and Harry, a perfect example of that story.
So I'm pouring some whiskey, I'm gonna get drunk
Yeah, I'm pouring myself some whiskey, I'm going to get really fucking drunk
I'm pouring some whiskey right now, I'm going to get so, so drunk
That I pass out, forget your face, by the time I wake up.
He stared down at the amber coloured liquid in his hands with a broken smile. Praying that this would be the one to kill the pain. This would be the one to make him forget all about her, about her and the hurricane of heartache she brings with her.
The burning at the pit of his stomach spread through his body. As his head grew dizzy.
Pour yourself another.
He reached for the bottle again.
One more and the pain might die.
AN: I know that wasn't my best but I just felt like writing it. Reviews please.