when we fall
"Are you okay?" he says, his voice wavering every step of the way. She smiles at him, her insides breaking. - dominique/fred, when he really cares this time 'round.


disclaimer: (c) jk rowling


And my love is yours but your love's not mine
So I'll go, but we know I'll see you down the line
And we'll hate what we've lost but we'll love what we find
And oh, I'm feeling fine, we've made it to the coastline

- the paper kites, featherstone


Sometimes, she blinds him. With hair as pale as the clouds, body graceful and swift, eyes that were once as grey as the storms of the sea. Her mind works differently from his as she struggles to figure out who spoke and match the voices to the names and where everything is. She's perfect and fragile and strong at the same time, unknown to her own beauty and body. He watches her from afar, thinking of how ironic that she's the one who's actually blind.

He brings her flowers one day, roses of red, and she smiles at him, her lips matching the colour of red and teeth as white as the moon. Her hand comes to his face, her skin as smooth as silk, quite a contrast to his own leathery hands and face.

"Thank you," she says as he looks into her eyes and realises that she can't see him. "That was really nice of you, James."

He leaves her lingering, wondering whatever she did wrong. His name was Fred and he's as far from James as possible, a Slytherin, a twin of one of the most self-destructive people that he ever knew. He was imperfect from all the ways named, unlike James. If only she knew that he was the one who gave her flowers, he would've been okay.

And he's not.


From the balcony, he stands parallel, back to the ground, eyes to the wall. He left her flowers again, today, a note attached, a will for everything to his sister and Molly. He loved her since they were kids, if only she knew about him. For a person who've been lingering in his past all his life, for once, he looks to the future.

He falls down, the image to his mind still of a picture on the wall, and that was her. He waits for the impact, the wind rushing towards him, the darkness to fall around him.

It never came. If he died, he would've died happy, with a smile on his face. He would've liked to be dead.

But he's not.


a/n: that turned out to be more one-sided that I thought it would have been. oh, well. review?