My Tragic End

By CloudKat

I feel… odd, when I'm in the same room as him. It isn't a bad feeling, per say… just unnerving.

It flutters and jumps in my stomach, tingles in my fingertips, and leaves me thoroughly breathless. It's almost as if I am next to him, and he is reaching inside me, nearly expressionless, wrenching every fiber that is my being and sending me reeling into some unknown high I would rather have never experienced.

I know he would never fall for me, as I have so foolishly fallen for him. I am infatuated with his—his everything. The way he speaks, the way he laughs, even the way he constantly adjusts his polished Head Boy badge. We are, of course, in the same dormitory, and the tension I harbor—ready to burst out of my lips in a long, heartfelt confession—is damn near unbearable. I feel I can float without a broomstick when I'm around him, feel as if I could catch every Quaffle that comes my way. I long to touch him, comfort him as he laments over the snide remarks made by those who do not admire his need to be respected—as I do—and even his thirst to be recognized.

I guess I'm in love.

Love, such a strange word. The simple, four-lettered word holds many meanings, and it in itself is as confusing as the emotions that shamelessly accompany it.

Love.

This is not the first time I have turned this idea over and about in my mind, but for the first time, it seems right to just think it.

I'm in love with him.

I'm in love with a boy who will never return my affections, with a boy who is too dignified to start up a whirlwind romance with none other than—well… an average student with an average life and a not-so-average interest in him. I can imagine him with other people, and, in complete honest truth, I hate to think it. His indifference towards me has shredded me apart so often I have lost count, and yet I still continue to pine for him after every seeming rejection that lay in his eyes. I can feel him, coldly observing my procrastinating, slacker friends and me. He wants to reprimand us, and I so dearly wish he would, just to hear his voice once more.

Yes, I'm in love with him.

He will never acknowledge me.

And, yet, I still wave at him as if something will change. I smile.

Is this truly my tragic end? Am I to end my school years this way, torn and weighed down by the constant burden of my unrequited adoration?

What have I done to myself?

This—this catastrophe that is now my life, is all my own doing. I can despise my self, drown in self-loathing, but it will never go away. It cannot disappear as I now hope it to; it cannot vanish on the brink of a wonderful winter dawn as I have dreamt it to.

What have I done to myself?

My misfortune and my tragedy— captured unreservedly in a single boy.

And I gather every doubt, every woe and misguided feeling, slowly force them downwards into that familiar corner, and laugh, clearly and for all to listen.

Finite Incantatem!
Hello, hello, hello, all! This is filled with teenage angst and plotless... I think it is rather blatantly OOC for who I am writing about. Oh, well...Amiboshi has been poking at me to write, so I spit this out.

Amiboshi: Ewww… -shudders and begins to play his flute merely to console himself-

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or it's characters, whose fandom images and infatuations I have projected into this ficlet. They are the property of J.K. Rowling. Amiboshi is the property of Yuu Watase, and I don't own him either, sadly.

Usual disclaimers apply.

Can anyone guess the who the mystery characters in this are? I think I kinda made it obvious, but if you cannot grasp it, go ahead and check my bio and my favorite pairings to see if any match.

Happy hunting, please review if you figure it out. Any feedback is welcome.