the boy who drank the stars
In the end, it was him who truly shone instead. - — lucy/louis, for when honesty isn't always the best rule to follow.
disclaimer: © jk rowling, pshhh i'm a 13-year-old girl and i have no money whatsoever, so
He never thought he would ever be capable of this.
In his thoughts, he tried to remain almost positively happy. The smiles that almost blinded, laughter that rang across the sea, a nature that seemed so sincere it almost was considered part of the land itself. Happiness was a rare thing to find in those days. Instead of trying to wait of it to come, he created it instead, for the people around him and for himself. It was the perfect facade, hiding those fears and thoughts that were considered unnatural to his nature deep inside of him, to be recovered later. He never thought the happiness would end, as long as he could help it.
She broke through to him.
Her abrupt and passive personality bringing forth a disgruntled side to him, the only person who was incapable of hiding, her emotions no longer fazed her. She was simply a piece of plain canvas, and he was the bright yellow sunshine to everybody's world. Except in hers. She spent her summer days with his family, being forced to interact and become "better" but even he could see that it would be no use. She couldn't be as happy as him even if she tried. Because of her, only did he start questioning his nature.
"Are you truly happy?" Her expression remained unchanged, the question lingering in the air. It was maybe too deep for his psychological understanding, a ten-year-old's mind usually isn't mature enough to answer it correctly and as accurately. They were practicing the piano together, his fingers curling around the keys, biting his lip.
"No." His voice whispered out, for he knew how this worked. He had inherited his sister Dominique's way of coping with things, smiling for everybody else and breaking down in the late hours of the night. He looked at her, a smile plastered on his face. "How about you? Are you happy behind all of that?" She smiled a slight smile, the first one he's ever seen of hers, and he could see the number of years she gained while being with him.
"Actually, I am," she said, laughing slightly. "Just goes to show how great actors we are." She stood up and retreated to her room in the house, slightly skipping in her step.
"Why do you pretend to be sad?" He glances off to the surface of the lake, the bright spring sun sparkling off it. His purple-and-bronze tie slightly askew, silvery-blonde hair stubbornly laying flat on his head. Her head is in his lap, her expression reflects off as the one as a child, seldom smiling.
"Why do you let me lay all over you?" She smirks at his face, his skin blushing a rosy pink. "And shush, I'm trying to capture the lake before the sunlight shifts." In her hands were drawing parchment and a sketching quill. Lucy pursued art into Hogwarts, as Louis as gone after his dream of music. "I often think of you.. you know.." She brings her face closer to his, a grin etched on her face. He remains emotionless, his eyes the palest shade of blue she's ever seen.
"I-I don't think this is a good idea." His eyes flutter shut as her hand travels to touch the sensitive skin on his neck, her teeth softly biting into his flesh. "What are you doing.." It was no secret that he enjoyed being played with like this, nor his affection for his dearest cousin goes unnoticed by everybody else. She smiles slightly into his skin, lips brushing against his neck.
"I wanted to see how many other relatives are actually unhappy, versus the ones that are, or say they are." She's sitting in his lap now, brushing away the stray strands of hair from his face. Lucy takes his hands into hers, gripping them tightly. "I'll always be here for you, I promise." With that, the two ended up tangled in the short grasses by the lake, their love matching the broken pieces in their hearts.
"Are you okay, Lucy?" Louis is sober now, a night of wild dancing and lots of drinks had done it to him again, but all the more, concern was flooding his eyes. She was curled up next to him on the bed, the thin sheets covering their stark naked bodies. She looks up to him, pressing her body against his even more. He brushed her blonde curls out of her face, just to see her icy blue eyes. "You can tell me anything, remember?" She shook her head, then faced the other way.
"No, I'm not." Her voice was muffled on the other side of the bed. "All this time, I was trying to prove something to myself. But then that summer, you broke everything that was valuable to me. You made me lose everything I was fighting for, my goals were gone, just because you chose the day to tell me that you weren't okay. You made me lose sight on what was good for the rest of the world, Louis. I'm sorry, but I don't think I can handle this anymore."
He feels like going over to the other side of the bed, picking her up and telling her that he'll try his best to make her okay again- happy, even. But what he did, sub-consciously almost, buried the knife deeper into her chest.
That winter night, the snowflakes falling lightly outside their flat, a streetlamp illuminating the frost-covered side walks, leading the way of a boy who drank from the stars, taking away the light of the girl whose honesty and bluntness once shone as brightly in the sky.
It doesn't faze him anymore that every time he faces the piano at his parent's house, he remembers the day that she asked him a question that truly led to her downfall. He doesn't clench his fists anymore when he finds a stray sketch of hers on the floor of the flat they once shared, or when he smells the hints of perfume that she almost always wore. He pretends he just doesn't curl up on his bed at night, trying to embrace what was left of her touch and presence, tears matting the pillows that her curly, blonde hair fell to every night. He tries to be okay because that's all she wanted to hear from him all those years ago, but right now he's still far away in his memories of him and her by the lakeside.
He left a girl who was broken beyond repair, one that had lived all those years to try and prove herself right. But in the end, the person she didn't ask was okay was the person who she saw in every mirror, for the answer was already deep within her.
By the time he sees her again, she's already six-feet underground, a plaque by his feet and crushed roses laying all around. Next time he meets somebody like her, he swears, to never let her go.
Well, I really rushed this because I wanted to publish something for quite some time. It was an almost completed story, but tonight I went back and deleted like, five sections of text because I didn't know how to string it to the end. That's why some of the details might seem missing, sorry. But I hoped you guys enjoyed the piece, I'm more prone to sketching now these days rather than write fanfiction. :*
But, if you read it, please leave me a review on how to improve my next stories! I'm a really crappy beginner at these kind of stuff, as you can tell. Constructive criticism is encouraged!