Love Will Tear Us Apart (Again)
Everything about Emily Fitch is red. All that red shouldn't work, Naomi thinks, as she tells herself how much she hates the colour. As her mind churns away, thoughts spiraling and sweeping through the air. As she works herself up about it, and then wonders why she can't fall asleep. But it does work. It's Emily, so of course it does.
She lies on her four-poster bed, dark blue curtains surrounding her, begging for sleep to take her. But, red. Everything feels red. Bold, brave red. The red of her hair and the red of her robes. The fire in her eyes and the colour of her lips. It doesn't even matter that the whole of the Ravenclaw common room screams blue, because Emily is always there, shouting red back ten times louder.
Everything about Naomi Campbell is blue. A shade of blue that can't be replicated, Emily thinks. A shade of blue that convinces itself that it clashes with everything around it. Convinces itself that it can't fit in because it's afraid and brash and icy. But Emily knows the truth. Really, it's just a shade of blue that is brilliant at lying to itself.
She lies awake, not able to sleep, because she has fallen in love with it, that blue. The way it makes her feel.
The calming azure of her eyes and the blonde of her hair. Naomi reminds Emily of an untouchable summer's day as a child. One that is laced with nostalgia and longing but promises so many more like it in the future.
Naomi thinks Emily is beautiful. She has denied it to herself for countless years, and will continue to deny it to herself for many more to come, but in these strange hours, the ones that aren't quite night or morning, Naomi accepts it for a fleeting moment before the fear grips her and she does the one thing she does better than anyone else: she runs.
There is no one more stubborn than Naomi Campbell, Emily thinks. She remembers their first kiss, the one by the side of the Quidditch pitch in their third year at Hogwarts. It still astounds her, how impossibly soft Naomi's lips felt as they brushed against her own. And then they were gone. "I'm not gay," Naomi said decisively, only a moment after it happened, and all Emily could do was nod, still half stunned that Naomi let her kiss her. Yes, there is certainly no one more stubborn than Naomi Campbell.
There is no one more captivating than Emily Fitch, Naomi thinks, and then hates herself for even entertaining the thought. No. There is nothing captivating about the way Emily's eyes light up when she talks about photography, a muggle concept that Naomi still can't get her head around. And Naomi is never transfixed when she hears Emily answer a question in the Potions class they share, because why would a mere voice send a whole bloody continent's worth of butterflies through her stomach?
Emily waits for a day when things can just be.
Naomi remembers the moment that the problem stopped being that Emily was a girl, and more about the fact that it was Emily.
Emily remembers the same change, but to her it wasn't just a moment. It was a collection of moments, that felt like years, that will always feel like years.
Naomi can't escape the way she feels when Emily smiles at her. She can barely even pretend she doesn't know what the feeling means, which is why she likes to stay away from Emily as a general rule.
Emily can't begin to explain what happens to her insides when she passes Naomi in a corridor, or bumps into her on the school grounds. She certainly can't give a name to the feeling that rushes through her when Naomi refuses to meet her eye. But when Naomi does... she knows exactly what that feeling is. The wonderfully painful one that everyone wants to experience. Emily knows it far too well.
Naomi's mind always unexpectedly drifts off until it reaches the day she momentarily let everything go. Her worries, her fears, her stubborn denial of the truth. The day she kissed Emily in her sixth year at Hogwarts in the room of requirement. The day she almost felt free. The day that sparked a million others just like it.
They can both remember the rush of sixth year, and the countless times they met up in that same room to get lost in each other.
But change is inevitable.
Naomi will never forget the look in Emily's eyes when she told her she loved her. And she'll never forget how Emily looked a week later, when she brought everything to an end with a loud, lasting crash.
It's better this way, Naomi convinces herself. Better that she's contained her feelings. With a sweep of a wand they've been Evanesco-d away.
Emily can still remember the intense crushing feeling in the pit of her stomach when Naomi said to her, "Emily, this is all too much." And when she shuts her eyes she can hear her own quiet response, "Why do you do this to me? Is the idea of being with me really that awful?" Naomi hadn't replied. It's no wonder Emily's still awake.
Naomi lies in bed thinking about the weeks and weeks she spent asking herself the same question, until things stopped making sense, the little day-to-day things, and she was left feeling exhausted. The loneliness that followed and the apathy that came shortly after made her ache.
She's still afraid, but this time it's different. She fears that this feeling won't go away. It's killing her.
Emily will always treasure the night she heard a tap on her window, because for once it wasn't her doing the chasing. She can still picture the nervous look on Naomi's face as she hovered outside on her broomstick, clutching another one in her hands for Emily. This time, it was her who followed behind as Naomi led her to the Great Lake, the sky around them spanning for what felt like miles, dotted in millions of white pins of light.
She remembers how she shivered as Naomi gently brushed her thumb against Emily's wrist and asked, "Can this be enough?" as they sat by the lake, looking out towards the almost-black water. "For now," Emily replied, looking ahead, knowing that, without words, Naomi promised to follow Emily's gaze and wait until the sun turned the misty water a brighter shade of blue.
Tonight, they lie awake in different beds, waiting for a day when things will become a little less complicated. For now though, everything is a raging blur of red and blue, a war that can't be fought and can't be won. Something that just is.
Every single little thing about Emily Fitch is red. Except Naomi, of course. She will always be Emily's exception.
Every single little thing about Naomi Campbell is blue. Except Emily, of course. She will always be Naomi's exception.
Author's note: Thank you for reading :) Reviews make me happy... sorry for not even trying to be subtle. Oh, and I'm a bit late, but happy new year!