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I hate the way you laugh

I hate how you barely laugh and when you do it is a small breathy chuckle that I can barely hear. I hate how my jokes almost never amuse you but you give plenty of laughter to my dunce of a brother Ron.

I hate the way you say my name

I hate the way you spit my name in outrage as you begin to yell at me for yet another prank. I hate the way that you say Fred's name with less venom but that it would kill you to say my name with a voice that reaches a normal octave. I hate the way that never stops me from whispering your name at night when I sleep.

I hate the way you sleep

It annoys me to no end that you have to sleep in the very middle of the bed with all of the covers tucked perfectly around you. I hate how you sleep in the same position every night and I know that it cannot be comfortable. I hate coming in to the common room after hours and finding you asleep on top of a large stack of books and I hate how I always carry you to your room, even if I have a date, and I hate how you never know that it was me that helped you.

I hate the way you get better grades

I hate the proud look on your face after you have done well on yet another exam. I hate that I allow you to get better grades than me because if I try then you might really notice me and that is more than I can handle.

I hate the way you put me down

I hate the way you scoff at my dreams of owning a joke shop, even though I am more prepared for life than you because I have a life plan and that's more than you can say.

I hate wondering if you cared

I hate the way I stay up at night wondering if that lingering glance meant more than it should and I hate hoping that you only yell at me because you want to interact with me.

I hate your cold eyes

I hate how you glare at me as you try to stand in the way of my breaking another rule. I hate how your eyes become heated and warm when you argue with Ron but cold and indifferent when you yell at me.

And I hate that you're with him

I hate that you are with him all the time; I know that you are best friends but the monster inside my chest doesn't seem to care. I hate that you can be talking to me but when he enters the room you forget your train of thought.

I hate your stupid backpack

I hate that you cram you bag full of books and that the seams are bursting with the weight. I hate that you decline my offer to carry them for you and choose to slump away instead. My company is not that bad.

But most of all I hate that I don't care

I hate that it does not bother me that you treat me like a second rate human at times because I care about you that much. I hate that I love you despite my brother's obvious claim and that it would not bother me to steal you away.

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