A/N: No one feels worse than I about the gap between the last update and this one. And I guess I've been hoarding this chapter for a long time, because I didn't feel like it was finished.

I wanted to write more, but after a while I gave up, and let this chunk just sit around to gather binary dust. And while I will continue this story, will continue to be the writer I wanted to be when I started this, I'm going to just upload the chunk that I have, that I haven't touched in a good six months, even if it's shorter than my usual posts.

I mean there's no asking for you all to understand, it's been a year and a half. Surely I could've done something in that time. But I didn't do more than this, and explaining myself isn't going to change anything.

The only thing I can ask of you, my faithful readers, whether you hate me or not, is not to hate the story I've literally matured writing.

Chapter 25: Short Drop and a Sudden Stop Part 1

Part of me feels like I should fake it. Fake the happiness, and the confidence, and the good demeanor I appear to have. Fake being Alex. But the other part of me, the part of me that's too tired to put up the façade, wins... I just can't.

The falsehood would be too obvious, and probably make it worse. Perhaps I can fake this as fatigue, play it off as staying up late, unable to sleep, which in part is true, but it's evident my mind is occupied with thoughts other than my bed in the tower.

I've been turning over every little thing in my mind, every little moment, every weird action, every... every movement... I'm driving myself to a place called insanity, and it's a one way street. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, but unlike the light to heaven and eternal happiness, this is the light of truth and horrors, one that is inevitable, and one that I'm either approaching at rapid speed, or crawling to like a zombie.

I don't finish most of my sentences anymore, unless I truly think hard about it. I have to concentrate on what I'm saying, if I plan on finishing the thought.

"No, I'm fine, I've just..."

"It wasn't so bad, the homework..."

"I'll meet you guys at... the table around..."

Remus is the only one that knows why I've started to slip, but everyone is worried, and Rachel has started to pick up. I've got the feeling Remus may have shared more than I wanted him to, but really, I can't be bothered to care.

I don't know about Sirius. I see the concern flicker in his eyes, but it doesn't seem to linger. It doesn't seem lasting. It doesn't seem like he can be bothered to care... And I'm not really sure how I feel about that.

On one hand, I'm trying not to hide it. We're falling apart. We are. Why should he care? Did he ever care? Probably not. What do I care if we fall? What do I care... He probably liked The Blue Dress, sure, but when it came to Alex, she didn't step up to par.

But, on the other, I want him to. Desperately. I'd do anything to keep us together, anything in the cosmos. We can't be going down this road, there's no way, we were supposed to work, it was all going perfectly... What went wrong?

It tears at me, eats at me throughout my days, making me miss lectures and forget homework. Surprisingly enough, it's Lily who teamed up with Rachel to force me to do my work. Lily, who knows nothing about what's wrong with me and has truthfully never been Rachel's biggest fan, and Rachel, who knows little and has always found James to be quite a prat, in turn not thinking fondly of Lily. But Rachel's smart enough to know she can't monitor me the whole time, being in a different house, and Lily is brave enough to approach me at my worst, sitting alone in a corner of the common room, when Rachel can't. 'They make quite a team,' I think to myself when I see them talking quietly to one another this morning at breakfast, just before Rachel joins me and Lily walks with James to the library.

"So, how's your charms essay? Want me to take a look, proofread it?" She does her best to sound upbeat, even if she a) couldn't care less, or b) knows it won't rub off on me.

"It probably sucks, and I don't have a conclusion, I've been..." As soon as I say it, I know I shouldn't have. Charms is my best subject, charms has always made sense to me. Yet I simply can't be bothered to find the time to commit to anything, let alone some essay.

"...You can't go on like this—"

"I'm not trying. I just can't help it. I can't stop thinking..."

"You have to. I know what you're like when you overthink things, it was obvious when... when you were getting your dress for the ball." That's not what she was going to say. I could hear her switch gears. "But this is worse, Alex, and I'm so worried... You don't get worked up over boys, and I just don't know what to do. How often does that happen? Me, not knowing what to do, for you. You've got to give me something here."

"...You think I'm getting worked up over a boy? Rachel, that's not the point of all this. It's... It's the lies the deceit the... the way he played me..."

"Stop it. You don't know that. Nothing has come out on that. Mary MacDonald could be nothing. You're filling your own head with lies, Alex!"

"Maybe they're not..."

She sighs, exasperated, but also concerned. "You two are together, and you're beating yourself up over nothing, literally. Maybe talk to Mary, maybe try talking to him again-"

"Look how well that turned out the first time..." I grumble.

"-Regardless, it could be worth it. I tell him the same thing, when he asks what's wrong with you—"

"He talks to you? ...Before me?"

I guess I sounded more broken than I thought, because she wraps her arms around me in a hug. "I tell him to try asking you... but he's just a worried something will go wrong... Don't hate me."

I scoff. "Why would I hate you? What've you done? Him going to you isn't your fault."

"But nor is it his, Alex..."

She gives me an earnest look, but also one that seems to be prodding me for information, making me try and 'get the picture', whatever it is.

"...You're not saying it's... it's my fault, he's gone to you, are you?"

She hesitates, and even though she continues to open her mouth and say of course not, I don't bother. Of course she thinks that. She thinks it's all my fault, everything's my fault, all the blame goes to Alex, Alex does everything wrong, Alex can't hold down a boyfriend, Alex can't help herself, Alex needs to change, isn't that right?

"...Need to find what's gone wrong... It's fixable, Alex... Talk to him—"

"Stop telling me that!" My fist comes down hard on the breakfast table, goblets half-full swaying slightly. "I don't need to talk to him he doesn't listen it's all pointless anyways! He doesn't answer or he doesn't think it's wrong or he doesn't tell me something it's clearly my fault so stop. Telling me. That."

Rachel looks like I slapped her across the face, that look of surprise with her lips pursed in an 'o' formation and big, doe-in-the-headlights eyes. But also a flicker of... fear? Fear. As if I'll turn on her and continue to lash out until she crumples into a pile of quiet, studious Ravenclaw dust.

And what if I do?

All I want to do nowadays is lash out, scream, punch things and hex everyone and cry into my pillow at night and figure out what the fuck I did wrong. When I decided to screw up my life.

I trace it back to the ball, most times, deciding that the one time I went for it, put myself out there, I ended up falling on my arse as the boy I loved-liked¬¬-proved to be my best-worst¬-friend and then played deaf and mute.

"Alex please don't be angry with me. I just... want to help you, please. Just, um..." she bites her lip, and scans the table looking for an answer. Her eyebrows furrow and she turns frustrated.

The problem with Ravenclaws, I've come to learn is that they hate not knowing. If they can't solve a problem, if they don't know the answer, they just collapse. They throw themselves into finding one. They'll spend days in the library, or writing essays, or watching someone. It's not even that they want to know everything, to impress everyone, but that, to them, wisdom is freedom, and if they can't know, they aren't free.

This is what I see in Rachel now, as I sit straight and stone-faced, trying to think about not thinking.

"Rachel you don't have to solve my problems for me, I'm not a child." I snap at her, finding her fear somehow insulting. "I know you want to, I know you feel like you have to, but you don't. I do. This is my problem. I just... I'm just not capable of doing it right now, okay?"

Now that's a problem specific to Rachel's Ravenclaw-esque. She wants to solve my problems. And for a while, it was fine. She knew how, she figured it out. But... this time she can't really step into my shoes, nor would I ask her, nor do I want her to. I can't bring her into this torture.

"...Then let me help, alright?" I refuse to look up from the polished rim of my untouched plate, but I can feel her eyes studying me, her voice laced heavily with trepidation, but still bearing what can only be described as care grown from years spent together. "I... I can't do anything, and it's just, um, infuriating, so you at least have to let me try. Let me... let me think it over, or something, alright? Please?" Rachel pleads. That fear is still there, and I wince. She hasn't said 'please' to me since we met...

There's a loud silence between the two of us, murmurs from other tables encroaching on the bubble we've created as I try to get over my anger at someone who has done nothing wrong. "...I don't think I could stop you anyways." I even manage to feign a smile, though I'm sure it looks like the smile you give your parents when you hide something from them.

She returns it, genuinely, but she knows I'm not really happy. I haven't been happy in a while. Even before talking to Remus, really. I don't know if I clearly remember the last time I was truly happy. I remember happy times, like Christmas time, like the ball, but it just reminds me of the progression of my descent into...whatever this hell my brain is in now.

xXx

I'll follow her, that's what I'll do, I follow that bitch-no, I don't know-that girl until I can finally figure it out. We share a class, I think, which one? I'll find out. That's what I'll do. I'll discover every dirty little secret that bi-stop that-tch ever had and expose what's happening with her and with Black, with him.

I can ignore him too. Ignore him like he ignores me. But I'm sure he won't notice. I notice every single time he counts me out, every single time he decides to gallivant off into the Forbidden Forest with his fucking marauder gang, every time they hide away in the castle with too much parchment and a half-assed excuse from Remus, at least someone bothers. But I don't care what they do. I'll ignore him. It's fine. He doesn't care about me-yes he does- anyway.

But she's the important one to care about to pay attention, to have her ignore you, so she can't see me, alright? Alright good. Now. Find her. No not now, you've got to be at Charms now, what are you thinking? Go, Charms, pay attention.

But I can't pay attention, don't you see? Or, think? Think too much, you mean. This is pathetic, you're pathetic, why try to discover something when it doesn't matter. It won't mend it, it won't fix it. Fuck her or hate her it's still going to be-No, stop.

Move on, next subject, next task.

Charms. Andrew, Kim, no, what if they ask? They'll ask. He'll ignore it, he cares, right? She doesn't, or does she? She'll ask. What's personal space and privacy to her anyway, she'll push, she'll ask.

But what do I say? Nothing, not a thing, the less the better, less is more, right? Right. But she always knows. She just... knows. He knows too. It's. Why? Why do they know? I'm obvious, of course that's it, I need to change, Alex needs to change, of course.

Get my story straight; I'm totally fine. Completely. Not overthinking. It's just a bit of a huge mess. It just makes me want to scream, but I can handle it. I know what's going on. I just. Need. To be sure. I don't want help. I can't have help. Don't tell me what I already know. Just let me handle it, okay? I haven't spoken to him, I don't plan to, or maybe I will, I don't. I don't know! Don't ask me to. He won't talk to me. Don't talk to him. Leave it be. I've got it all under control. I'm under control. I'm. Under. Control.

Fists clench, teeth grind, that'll give me away. Stop it, now. Just get over it.

Get over what?

xXx

"Alex? Hey, how've you been?" Andrew looks concerned, but I'm starting to wonder if he's just perpetually worried, as I sit down beside him; poised, ready, and maybe a bit tense.

I've decided not to lie. I won't lie to my friends, at least. 'Fine' won't cut it. But I also don't want to tell the truth. There's not a word for it. "Surviving."

"Oh... uh, well, that's good." I knew that wasn't the answer he wanted to hear, he wants to know that I'm alright, that everything is going swimmingly. But I'm not going to lie. Besides, I think he knows. That's the thing about a Hufflepuff, they just... know. Which scares me. How much does he know?

"So, ahem, uh, busy tonight? Though maybe you'd sit with me, at our table, for dinner. Feel like we don't see much of each other outside class."

He looks nervous, why's that? It's just me. Sure, I may be in a terminal state and losing some sort of proverbial battle, but did he think I'd say no? I am not pleased with many things currently, but he isn't one of them. "Sure, yea, whatever."

Caring. That's where I'm not in sync. Caring. How does one possibly imitate that?

"I mean, I'd... love to. We can, erm, catch up." Smile. There we go.

He grins, perhaps he's elected to ignore my antics. Good idea, I think I want to ignore myself. "Ok, yea, great. It's- yea you know which one it is, I'm sure you'll see me. Hufflepuffs have great jokes too, so maybe you'll get a good laugh."

When was the last time I had one of those?

I nod anyways, and put up a smile. And, really, it's somewhat genuine. Because despite how much of a storm I'm trapped in, I can count on Andrew not to deceive me. To talk to me. To listen. To not expect me to change. Not like someone else I know. He doesn't care about me-yes he does- anyway.

Focus.

Maybe he's right, maybe I'll actually laugh. Have fun. Not stress over... it.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Marqcues?" A great many things, who's asking and what for?

The two of us turn around to find Kim standing there, arms crossed, hip jutted out and a foot tapping the ground, a glare that simultaneously makes me feel like everything is normal, this just like Kim, but also guilty and horrible all over again.

Andrew opens his mouth to say something, maybe defend me, wouldn't that be nice? But Kim continues her question. "I have to hear from some fucking Ravenclaw about you wanting to tip off the Astronomy tower. Really? For fuck's sake, I thought we were some sort of mates, in a twisted way you know I love. Why didn't you come tell me you wanted a smack? I'd be happy to deliver, no need to climb all those damn stairs, mate."

I could feel my body begging to sigh, to have a moment of relief, because Kim was so... so... okay. So Kim. But I couldn't muster any relief, instead a shrug and a "less human interaction".

She rolls her eyes. "Please, I'd rather beat you around a bit and have you here at the end of the day, then not lay a hand and never be able to."

My mind goes blank, swept clean by Kim's words.

"Y-You want me... h-here?"

My strangled question takes them both by surprise; Andrew looking alarmed, worried, and a little panicked, but Kim... I think she understands. I think the tears gathering in the corner of my eyes and the metaphysical clouds in my head are something she understands. And I don't know if that comforts me, or makes it all worse, to think she knows this pain.

"Of course I do... I mean, I don't-"

Sobbing. Quiet sobbing, but sobbing. The tears pour from my eyes, my breath coming out ragged and filled with aching, and I still find myself shaking violently.

'How could she want me here, I'm so useless, I don't deserve her friendship he proved it he proved I am just being used that I have no values, he's fucking fucking her he is he is he is I just want to pretend I'm not a toy in everyone's lives I just want to matter I am matter and nothing more we're all just empty matter with nothing that matters why could she want me here when-'

"-I am so... p-pointless... she's lying-g to me of c-course no o-other way for it-t to be-be he's r-right!"

The drabble in my head spills from my lips, unbeknownst to me, and now several other students have begun to star. Andrew's clenching my arm, and Kim is shaking my shoulders.

I blacked out again, disappeared into the depths of my mind, retracted into myself, simply ceased existing to those around me.

"Alex! Alex for Merlin's sake, get it together!" She was aggressively muttering to me, trying not to draw more attention to me that I'd already sketched.

"Listen, listen, calm down, you're here, we want you here, why d'you think otherwise? I promise, I promise, okay?" Andrew's kind, frantic words reach the crevices I shrunk into, or maybe it's Kim's hard grip, a grip as tight as if I would float back to my emptiness if she didn't hold on tightly enough.

My tears continue to flow, my hands still jerk inconsistently, but my breathing begins to return to normal, still shaky, but regular. They both take this as a good sign, and heave their collective sigh.

"Alright I'm not one for… this emotional crap. I prefer to not give a damn, but I think this is an exceptional case." Kim sighs and crosses her arms, pursing her lips at me before she continues. "If you've got nowhere to go, or no one to talk to, or whatever the fuck you need, you come find me. I'll-"

I raise a shaky hand to wipe the tears in an attempt to return my façade, "It's not as if Slytherins and Gryffindors are really f-friends."

"Well they can fucking deal. I said come find me, not any passing Slytherin." She says quickly. "Now I'm not saying I'm your human diary. But I'm not so sure it's smart to have you… uh…"

"Without someone you trust," Andrew supplies, meeting Kim's eyes as I think I spot gratitude in her expression.

I can tell they're being gentle because they don't want me to erupt once again, and I know they're doing it because they're my mates or whatever, but I can't help feeling like a puppy with a limp. The pity. The sugar-coating. The lack of trust, but only a lack of trust in myself. Of course they'd think I can't handle myself, why should I? I'm a pathetic excuse for a girlfriend, apparently, why not up the ante to pathetic excuse for a human being?

"Sorry I'm late, class. Particularly nasty engorgio charm gone wrong with my third years. Poor fellow had all the wrong wrist movements for reducio…" Professor Flitwick continued to mumble to himself as he walks from the back of the class to his desk in the front.

Kim gives Andrew one last shared look, and me another shoulder squeeze followed by a punch and a smirk, and maneuvers her way back to her side of the class. I try to smile and give it my all, but I find myself lacking the proper emotions required to have a successful smile. I think Andrew notices, because he too gives my arm a squeeze before adjusting his seat, turning to the front for another day's lesson.