/fragile.
by drusilla2
fandom: Harry Potter
pairing: Harry/Draco in mind, but essentially whoever you want.
rating: PG-13 for death and slash.
feedback: Adored @ x44_caliberloveletterx@hotmail.com
site: don't own any characters but technically I didn't use anybody's name so I DIDN'T STEAL ANYTHING. GOT THAT J.K.? OK, GO.
/somewhere,
in your imagination
there are white swans and weeping flowers, but you can't remember where that
all came from. Vaguely you can recall them blooming there, creeping quietly,
blankness in a world of silence. Roses you imagined best, all blood-red, the
smell of them too real, and you sit dazed wondering where the time went.
Underneath your fingers you were spreading the petals, unsure of yourself, yet
your world sparkled so clear for those few moments, a handful of silver strands
frozen in you. It swallowed you completely and you found yourself lost between
reality and its ghostly imitation.
You're holding so tightly that it's hard to let go, as though your hands can't
remember where to put themselves anymore, as though your palms have become
addicted to his skin. They fit too snugly on his chest, around his waist; how
could they ever have made homes elsewhere? You can't imagine those days.
The sunlight is hurting you in so many ways. It's
finding pathways to you, as if it meant to do that, it meant to burn
you, kill you. You're screaming inside and everything is unfair and your
imagination wills you somewhere else but the sunlight makes this real. There's
terror pounding inside you, crumbling through those white walls you built in
your head, tearing apart the creases, and you're scared of shattering because
you're fragile. You're breakable. You never thought so until today, until you
found out how precious life really was, until you actually held one in your
hands and felt it break. You hated it but you loved it, and you imagined roses
and blood and somehow it made more sense than not.
They're going to think you've lost it, that your sanity found itself twisted with your shy smile and too many years
unheard. You frown, but then remember that what they say doesn't matter,
because you wanted this, needed this. You wanted to hate
something just once when all you could do was love. You wanted to feel
something. You wanted to transfer your pain into someone else, and relieve them
of their own.
It bled so warm, all of it, pooling valentine-red. You stained your hands, your
arms, and you've liberated Rome in your own way. There wasn't enough
to bathe yourself in it, and you cursed him and
laughed because it was silly. Silly that you blamed him for everything, even
though you're sure he deserved it. You loved him. Did he love you?
Later you might think it sad because you'll never know, but you think you like
it that way. He was going to tell you, he was going to kill you in a single
syllable. But love is pain, didn't they teach you that
in school? You remembered that lesson. It was the most important one and you
liked it, you liked the words together like that, so perfectly beautiful and
tragic. You were thankful for it, as now you are thankful for the warmth.
You kiss his lips now but he's cold and he doesn't taste the way he used to.
You're angry at him. You wanted to stay with him forever, but you suppose
you'll settle for this, whatever this is, as your fingers stroke his face and
the sunlight burns away the day, the roses, and you.
/end.
