#if i were in that crowd id be yelling. id faint. only but a dream to attend one of these | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

willddheartt · 4 years

Text

Cherry Red Souls | Randall Carpio

Introduction

Word Count: 1.3k

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

She couldn’t remember what happened. One moment she was walking into her morning lecture and the next she was waking up in her dorm room with no explanation for how she got there.

Delilah was one for having weird dreams, ones that felt real most times, and she brushed it off and got up to get ready for the day. She shook her head when she realized she was still fully dressed in the clothes she wore in her dream, it wasn’t like her to fall asleep in her clothes from the day, but maybe she was really tired.

Delilah Swallow was a very talented young woman, she scored a full scholarship to Belgrave University and graduated at the top of her class. Even with her fair pick of colleges and universities at her disposal, something drew her to Belgrave. But she couldn’t place what it was, maybe it was the constant unusual events that happened or the constant deaths around campus that entertained her true crime interests, or it could have been the fact that it was as far away from her home town as she could physically get without moving out of the country.

“Good morning,” The brunette greeted her professor as she walked in the lecture hall and took her seat. Pulling out her notebook and grabbing a pen while everyone around her typed away on their laptops or iPads. She preferred to handwrite her notes ver typing them, the feeling of her pen gliding on the paper made her feel more connected to what she was writing. As the lecture started Delilah couldn’t pay any attention to what the professor was saying over the nagging in the back of her mind that she was missing something. In her seat, she patted herself down. Keys accounted for in her front pocket, phone sitting on the desk in front of her, wallet in her bag. She had everything she could possibly need with her, but that didn’t silence the nagging.

“Watch out!” A voice yelled out across the field as she was walking by. Quickly turning around to see who was yelling and what she should watch out for, Delilah caught a football that was hurdling towards her head. her lightning-fast reflexes were even something that caught her off guard. “Nice catch!” The same voice chuckled, jogging over and stopping a few feet away from her. “Thanks,” She smiled, “Go long,” The boy smiled and nodded, taking a few steps back, underestimating how far she could throw the ball. The two watched the brown ball fly halfway across the field to the boy’s friend. “That was impressive,” The first boy smiled as his friend came closer, watching you from a distance. “Thanks,” You nodded, surprised with yourself “Where’d you get so good?” He asked, his dark brown, almost black, eyes searching Delilah longingly as if they were searching for a lost soul in the dark. “I think I’m just a natural,” She smirked at the boy, as his friend called him back over. He waved and jogged away.

“Who was that?” Delilah’s friend asked as she came up to walk by her side “No idea.” Delilah shrugged, “But you know, this may sound crazy but I feel like I know him, or at the very least have seen him somewhere,” She shook her head looking down at her friend. “Where do you get that impression?” The shorter girl asked, nervously. Delilah waved a hand as if dismissing the thought from the air, “It’s probably just nothing, don’t worry about it, Hayden,” “Yeah, probably nothing,” Hayden repeated. “Okay, you’re probably going to think I’m crazy but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this all day,” Delilah said, looking over at her friend, Hayden. “I keep having these weird dreams that are like, really vivid. And this is probably nothing as well but, I can’t help thinking its something more, you know?” The brunette asked, looking to her blonde friend who was nodding nervously. “Go on,” She begged her to continue “It’s been small things like I’ll wake up and not remember where I put something, or like It feels like I’m forgetting something every time I leave my dorm, but the other day I woke up in my dorm, fully clothed in the clothes I wore in my dream,” “Oh, wow, that’s weird,” Hayden said through her teeth as she dug into the pocket of her jeans.

Again, everything went black.

~ Delilah’s POV ~

I sat up, my mind was foggy and I was laying in the grass of the field. There was a small crowd gathered around, looking at me.

“Hey, are you okay?” Hayden asked holding my shoulder, to help support me as I sat up I nodded slightly, “Yeah, I think so, but what happened?” “You passed out.” She said helping me up to my feet, “You hit your head pretty hard, are you alright?” “Yeah,” I nodded, straightening myself out as the small crowd of people dispersed. “Are you sure you’re okay? Have you ever fainted like that before?” Hayden kept asking, her long blonde hair bounced as they continued down the path to the dorm building. “Yeah, I feel okay.” I shrugged.

Weird things, such as blackouts or just randomly passing out started happening without any explanation. Even my doctor couldn’t even guess what was causing it, just telling me to brush them off and they might go away. The first time it happened, I thought I was on my way to my morning mythology lecture, but then it seemed to be a dream and I woke up in my dorm room hours later. But the weird part being, I was dressed in the same clothes I wore in my ‘dream’. I would never sleep in clothes from the day or the night before, it just wasn’t comfortable.

Since that day, though, no matter where I go, who I’m with or where I’m at. There had been thing little nagging in the back of my mind that I’m forgetting something, the kind that happens when you forget your keys or when you enter a room for something and suddenly forget what you went in for. Only with this, it was a constant thought in my mind. There were chunks missing from my memory in recent days. One moment I could be at lunch, then the next thing I know, I’ll be at the library or some other place.

Hayden insisted on walking me place to place, even being in some of my classes with me since she found out about my blackouts. I couldn’t stop her, she was just trying to be a good friend but sometimes she seemed a little smothering. She dropped me off at my dorm, as my classes were all out for the afternoon. Since telling the University about my blackouts my workload lightened slightly, and I was able to cut down from five lectures a day to only three. I was done before lunch on most days.

After shutting the door I looked through all my journals, binders, anything, desperately looking for a hint towards what things I could be forgetting. I thought that maybe if I find something that could trigger a memory, it would help but nothing ever worked. Without Hayden to hover over me for the next four hours, I felt free to roam the campus grounds, continuing my search into the lost memory. I wandered around the grounds mindlessly, hoping to find or see something that would trigger my mind into remembering what seemed long forgotten. The trail ran cold, and a drink was well needed. Walking into the local bar, the Blade and Chalice. The bell above the door jingled when I walked in. The bartender smiled and I held up one finger as I pulled out my ID, I was just 21 but looked about 17.

The cold drink helped put my worries that I would never remember what it was that I had been forgetting to rest. This seemed like the only way I could truly relax anymore. I hated feeling like this all the time but I was coming to terms with living with it.

#the order #the order imagine #randall carpio #randall carpio x reader #randall carpio imagine #jack morton #jack morton imagine #jack morton x reader #alyssa drake #alyssa drake imagine #alyssa drake x reader #hamish duke #hamish duke imagine #hamish duke x reader #lilith bathory #lilith bathory imagine #lilith bathory x reader

27 notes · View notes

foreheadtouch · 5 years

Text

i don’t want your memory. (i want you here with me).

Why do you want to learn Russian? With that question I was suddenly transported to a cold, metal police interrogation room to confess for a crime I was most definitely guilty of committing. I was handcuffed and trapped. Exposed.

*3k words of pure angst*

———

It was an eerily frigid January night—black and silent—like drifting out in the middle of space. People doing everything in their power to escape it. The wind chill burned against my cheeks and the freezing air seemed to shrink my lungs to the size of lemons. Each breath I drew was sharp and labored.

Inside Hobie’s apartment wasn’t much better. My blood felt hot and thick underneath my skin—the heat was turned up slightly too high, so as to make me sweat underneath the itchy sweater that I couldn’t take off, because then of course, I'd be cold again.

The sky was deep and dark and not a single star was visible. I felt that if I stared too long, its vastness would swallow me whole. Only the bright white headlights of whirring cars seeped through the window and bounced across the walls of my bedroom in a series of dizzying flashes.

I sat on my bed with a half empty bottle of vodka, feeling claustrophobic in an empty room.

The heat made me hyperaware of any nagging discomfort that would have otherwise gone unnoticed. Every itch and ache was pulled out of me, like a magnet with scraps of metal.

I tried readjusting the neckline of my wool sweater, but it would not stop scratching and clawing against my skin, almost choking me. Had it somehow gotten tighter during the day? Why couldn’t I breathe?

I was just drunk enough that my movements were sloppy and my fingertips felt slightly numb.

I looked over at my desk, where a brand new copy of Dostoevsky’s The Idiot was resting, the lamp shining directly on it, like an ironic spotlight, and I felt the walls close in on me.

I didn’t want to, but I thought back to the conversation I had that afternoon.

It happened in the campus bookstore. Dozens of hasty university students were furiously barreling through the narrow passageways between shelves filled with books like Guide to Financial Markets, Plato’s The Symposium, Multivariable Calculus Volume 1, Shakespeare’s King Lear.

How was your break? Did you get the classes you wanted? Oh, I’m actually working at this bank. Doing research in this laboratory.

Their obnoxiously eager attitudes and bright eyes bore a sharp contrast to my own. I couldn’t remember the last night I had gone to bed sober. My eyes were sunken and glassy. Plum-colored patches formed under them and had not gone away. My skin had developed a grayish, sickly looking tinge that caused Hobie to insist I take a multivitamin in the morning. And how many days in a row had I worn this sweater?

I moved, begrudgingly, against the grain of the crowd, and slumped through the shelves while people forcefully shoved against my shoulder and scoffed at me under their breath for going the wrong way. But who cared what these crappy trust-fund kids and pompous brainiacs thought of me. I drowned out their complaints and dragged my fingers across the spines of the books, until I had successfully collected all the necessary novels for the upcoming term.

“Wow! That’s a lot of Dostoevsky! Let me guess… Based on your reading list I’d say… Intro to Russian Lit and… maybe Conversational Russian with Professor Khachanov?” the bubbly girl at the checkout asked as she scanned my stack of books. I wasn’t expecting her to actually pay attention to them.

I wondered how many espresso shots went into her morning coffee or if she was this energetic naturally. She seemed like the kind of girl who kept her customer service smile on 24/7. I could not bring myself to muster up enough energy to match her excitement.

“You guessed it.” I replied with a stiff, lifeless smile and apparently, less enthusiasm than she had hoped for, judging by the little twist her mouth did. She began transferring the books into an ugly canvas tote bag with the university logo on it that I knew cost extra money. I didn’t ask for it, but I also didn’t care enough to tell her to stop, so i just watched her silently and adjusted my glasses.

I thought my curt reply would signal that I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but she started up again: “You now, that’s not very common. I see a lot of Slavic Studies and International Relations students take Conversational Russian, but not English majors. You guys usually just take Intro to Russian Lit. Why do you want to learn Russian? Is your family Russian or something?” She stuck her hand out for my student ID card.

Immediately after she stopped speaking, my palms grew sweaty and my pulse thumped throughout my body and I felt its rhythm pound in my ears. My mouth went dry and I felt a lump form in my throat. I was suddenly transported to a cold, metal police interrogation room to confess for a crime I was most definitely guilty of committing. I was handcuffed and trapped. Exposed. The harsh fluorescent lights of the store glared and pierced my brain.

I cleared my throat, which felt like sandpaper, unable to force any words out, so I stood there, like a dumbstruck idiot, blank-faced and silent, for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

Finally I managed to stammer, “I uh, I want to be able to read the original translations. At some point, I guess.”

With my head down, avoiding eye contact, I quickly snatched the receipt from the girl, shoved it into the canvas bag, and hurried out the door. God, she probably thinks I’m a psycho. But it didn’t matter. I desperately needed to get away from there. Away from that question.

Now, hours later, in my stuffy bedroom, I sat confronted with my crime, suffocated by the truth. Why had I really signed up for conversational Russian?

———

It was the same reason I found myself buying the cheap brand of vodka that we used to drink together, even though I could afford better stuff now. It tasted like jet fuel and burned my throat, but it was familiar and reminded me of the countless, blurry days we spent in a state of drunken stupor.

It was the same reason that on my way home, I would hesitate and then walk to the gas station around the corner for a pack of Marlboros, even though Hobie had taught me how to hand roll my own cigarettes. “They’re much better this way, Theo. It’s all about the craft. About paying attention.” And it was true, they were better, way better actually, but that didn’t stop me. I didn’t want better, I wanted him.

It was the same reason I took the subway down to Brighton Beach and the Lower East Side on weekends and wandered through the Russian neighborhoods, pretending like I was meant to be there. Because maybe, just maybe I was.

It was the same reason I would lie down with Popchik on my chest and close my eyes, feeling the weight against my lungs as I inhaled and imagined the warmth of him pressed up next to me, boney arm draped over me, holding me.

It was the same reason I curled up in bed at night with my earphones in—the Velvet Underground’s entire discography lulling me to sleep. Except for “I Found a Reason.” I recognized it by the first note and would immediately skip it. I couldn’t listen to it.

The habit we had of maintaining a constant level of drunkenness and snorting whatever we could find up our noses had unfortunately stuck with me. When I removed myself from my own depressing turmoil and looked at my life like a stranger would, I knew it was a problem. Without me realizing, it had spiraled from being a vice to a legitimate addiction.

But I didn’t have a reason to stop.

I tried so hard to forget him. I really did. Every time that feeling started to creep up, to gnaw at me, I would try to press it as far down as it could go. I would crumple it up into a tiny ball and throw it far far away. I would hold it underwater until it hung limp and lifeless.

I had no choice, because if I let it linger, just for one moment, it would consume me entirely.

It was a dull ache that never went away. The sting of tears welling up in my eyes. A lump in my throat. A knot in my stomach. Weak knees, like right before you’re about to faint. Heartache.

Sometimes he would come to me in a dream or in a nauseating, intoxicated hallucination. It was like looking at a reflection of him on water or through a mirror. It was almost real and I could have pretended he was there until, looking at him wasn’t enough and I greedily reached out to touch him. Suddenly, the water around my hand would ripple in expanding orbits and he would vanish.

We existed on two different planes now. I was here, doomed to live in this reality, where at one point, we had faced the disorder of life together, but now he was reduced to a figment of my imagination, a cursed dream, a memory of what once was.

And so that night, I gave in. I surrendered.

While I stared at that book, I let the memories wash over me with a force like a wave, crashing violently against a cliff. The rock I was grabbing onto crumbled beneath my finers and I was ripped away from my pretense of safety and pulled back into the sea—back to Las Vegas. Back to Boris.

———

“Potter. You can’t ask me to read to you and then just… fall asleep.” Boris said, through laughter, as he flicked my head.

My dad and Xandra had gotten into a big fight. It wasn’t their usual bickering about him watching too much football and not paying enough attention to her. Or about her staying out too late after work with friends and forgetting to make him dinner.

I couldn’t quite make sense of the full argument, or even remember why they started yelling. From the broken shouts, I figured out that my dad had lost a lot of money. And he had used some of Xandra’s? Or was about to? I wasn’t sure.

All I knew was that when Boris and I came home that night, there was a dent in the drywall of our living room and they were shouting. Judging by the accumulation of beer bottles on the coffee table, my dad had been drinking. A lot. They hadn’t even noticed us walk in.

We grabbed Popchik, who was a shaking mess in the corner of the kitchen, and we went back to Boris’. His dad was away on “special business.” I knew enough by then not to question it.

“Is great, actually,” Boris said, “when he is gone, he leaves money. 30 bucks this time.” He looked at me with his wide, dark eyes, sparkling with childlike excitement, as if we had just won the lottery.

We got started on our usual routine when we had extra money. Getting fucking blasted and buying cigarettes and a family sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

We were passing a cigarette back and forth in his bedroom, sitting shoulder to shoulder, faces inches apart. Boris was slouched next to me, in silence, but a comfortable silence.

The air was charged with something electric that I couldn’t find a word for. I turned my head and traced his profile with my eyes. I didn’t realize how long I had been staring, but when he slowly turned and looked up at me, softly, my stomach jolted.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” He asked, sitting upright, still maintaining his gaze. I liked how he could read me so well. It was a mark of how close we had gotten, how we moved in and out of each other’s minds with little effort.

“Yeah. I think I’m too wasted” I said, looking away abruptly and taking another drag of the cigarette before passing it to him, our fingers brushing, as he took it from me and brought it up to his lips.

“Stay here, Potter. I have great idea. You’ll love this, promise. Will cheer you up right away.” He got up quickly and handed the cigarette back to me.

“Where the fuck would I go?” I laughed and watched him slip into a room down the hallway.

He came back smiling and holding something behind his back.

“Please don’t tell me that’s more vodka.”

“Is not vodka. Guess again.”

“Boris, I have no fucking clue.”

He rolled his eyes and held out a thick book. The title was in Russian but fortunately, it was one of the words Boris had taught me. Идиот.

I was a little confused. What did this mean. Where was he going with this. I scrunched up my nose and said, “I don’t know enough Russian to read a whole novel.”

He sat down next to me and shoved me a little.

“No, идиот. I read. You listen.”

So I did. I slid down the wall and rested my head in his lap. Boris put one arm over mine, held the book in his other hand, and began to read the opening chapter.

I always appreciated how he was so forthright and unapologetic with his movements. He didn’t hesitate when resting his hand on mine. Or playing with my hair. Or stroking my arm.

He didn’t leave room for me to resist, not that I wanted to, although my first instinct was usually to pull away.

“This book. My favorite.” He started reading: “В конце ноября, в оттепель, часов в девять утра, поезд Петербургско-Варшавской железной дороги на всех парах подходил к Петербургу…”

I couldn’t understand a single word, but I didn’t care. I liked the sound of his voice when he spoke Russian. The way his mouth shaped the letters was firmer and smoother in Russian than in English—it was sultry, almost hypnotic. I closed my eyes and felt the soft vibrations of his voice wash over me.

I also liked the way I felt in his arms. Safe, cared for, loved, even.

———

That was, after all, why I signed up for Conversational Russian. Because of Boris. Because I might not ever see him again, and the thought of that was too unbearable, so I did everything in my power to feel close to him. To stay connected to him in some way. Any way.

Because I was in love with Boris but somehow I had lost him, caught up in the tangled tragedy that was my life.

I didn’t know if it was for good, but how would I ever find him in this great big world? It had been years since I last saw him and months since I last heard from him.

One day, I realized his face was becoming fragmented. I tried to construct and image of what he might look like now, like I was collecting scraps of torn up newspapers and piecing them together with glue.

Dark wavey hair against translucent ivory skin, a sharp contrast like an old film photograph taken in black and white. I could see the blue and purple veins underneath his skin. I could see his ribs poking out. I remembered his striking but soft eyes, always filled with a glimmer of curiosity—an inextinguishable thirst for life and all its excitement. The way they could communicate thousand of phrases in just one glance. His full lips that were often chapped and bleeding. But I miss them. The way the felt against my own that night. And the many nights before.

The image of the fourteen year old Boris I knew would forever be seared into my memory, in the way cattle were branded with molten hot metal. But what was he like now?

Sometimes I would pull out my old phone and read back through our conversations, then close my phone, and hold it over my chest while tried to hold in tears and catch my breath.

Other times I would look up at the moon and wonder where in the world he was. And if he ever looked up at the moon and thought of me.

Did Boris think of me? Did Boris miss me? Was Boris breaking apart and tearing up inside too?

Oh, the countless nights I would type out long messages with no intention of ever sending them. Are you okay? Where are you? I miss you.

I knew what loss felt like. That’s wasn’t unknown to me. I had lost my mother. For good. But the thing about Boris is that I didn’t know if it was for good. And that small chance is what was killing me and eating me away, but it was also the only thing keeping me alive. Because there was still a chance and I wanted to believe in it. I needed to. Things fall apart. But things come together too. But how many times? Had our time come and gone?

Maybe I would go the rest of his life wondering what could have been. That would be a death sentence I was sure of it. Because it was torture not knowing.

How would I ever be able to know peace when there was that small chance—that infinitely small chance we could meet again.

I wanted so badly to get a text one day from an unknown number. Potter. Is me.

I wanted to shout across the world. Here I am. Here I am. I won’t ever stop looking for you. I love you.

So I would continue hoping. I would keep going to Brighton Beach. I would keep searching the ends of the earth, forever.

But as for now, I had to learn how be content with the memory of him.

#the goldfinch #boreo #theo x boris #my writing

101 notes · View notes

smartbutuncertified · 5 years

Text

Resonance

There’s a scientific concept known as resonance. In a few words, every object has a natural frequency. If two objects have the same one, and one of them is struck, they will both react. Think of tuning forks.

The frequency of tuning forks is heavily standardized. If they weren’t, then it would be much harder to know that you were playing the same notes that the composer wrote down. Because of this, if you get two tuning forks of the same frequency, hang one from a string, then ring the other, you will hear a faint, clear tone from the other fork. Like it was an extension of the rung fork, not a separate entity.

Resonance of objects is quantifiable, explainable, understandable. But humans- humans are different. Humans resonate with ideas. Religious people pray, and feel like someone is listening. Creative people build “rapports” with their tools, and name the most beloved ones. Idealistic people find their vision of the future, and chase it.

But, most consistently, humans resonate with music. Everyone I’ve met has at least one Song that they speak of with a capital letter attached. That Song you only share with people you love, that hits something inside your id and drags you under for the duration of itself. Soul, spirit, heart, mind, whatever you choose to call it, it knows its song when it hears it. The Song that matches the frequency of you.

The most striking example of human resonance that I’ve ever seen was in October of 2010.

Dad was so excited. Van Halen, a band he’d listened to when he was younger, was doing a reunion tour. One of the places they were going to perform was Washington’s very own Tacoma Dome. He got tickets for it as fast as he could.

By “us”, I mean Dad and me. I was the favorite child, being the only one who loved baking, carpentry, and stories like he did. Being the only one that wanted to make things. The only one that read his stories, that sat there as he worked on carpentry projects, that jumped in his lap while he coded and demanded to know what was he making this time? I always wanted to participate in whatever he was doing.

I’d never even heard of Van Halen, but Dad was so excited. It actually made me a little nervous. What if I didn’t like one of Dad’s favorite bands? Would he be sad? I would do my best to enjoy myself, but if I didn’t, Dad was never going to find out. I refused to make him sad.

When he had me practice putting in ear plugs, my nerves got even worse. I Did Not Like the sensation of them. It felt like I’d placed myself underwater, sans all the nice parts. Dad insisted. He didn’t want my hearing to be damaged by the concert. That made sense. It was the same reason he was always telling us to turn down our headphones. ...I still didn’t like them.

The drive down was something I embraced, thinking it was likely to be the best part. Dad’s storytelling was as fine as ever, spinning a yarn about his theft of a radio and his mother making him return it. Another memorable one was of him illegally modifying a station wagon with a jet engine to soup it up, and using it to race a police car down an empty highway. They weren’t lessons or warnings, just fun stories to entertain a lively youngling that was almost bouncing out of the car. I never knew how much of the escapades he told me were true, but I loved them.

When we got there, I stuck very close to him. It wasn’t out of shyness. I was never a retiring, delicate flower of a child. It was just that there were more people than I could remember seeing in one place in my life, so I had a semi-rational worry that if we got seperated, Dad would be hard to find again. I probably wasn’t far off. The crowds were moving like, well, like an event they’d been waiting for years for was right ahead of them, and they would be damned if they were going to miss it.

The dome was kind of weird smelling, not having the cat-smell I associated with home. It was warm, packed with excited people, and way bigger than my entire school. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. The feeling I had about it was too big to put a name to. I still can’t. Even if I could, I’m not sure if I would want to. It’s the kind of memory that you tuck very tightly against your core so that you’ll never forget. I harbor an irrational fear that if I bring it out too often to study, it will fray, an old photograph handled too often.

Faster than I thought could be correct, we had to get to our seats. They were good ones, in a balcony to the side of the stage. The seats were much like movie theater seats, but, thankfully, cleaner. Dad insisted that I put in my ear plugs before the lights even went out for the first band, doing the same in solidarity.

I don’t remember the band that opened very well. Only that I was glad my earplugs were in, and there was a lot of yelling. Not sure if there was more from the band or the crowd, more cheering or heckling. I couldn’t understand the lyrics through the music. I was, weirdly enough, bored.

Then, the opening band left the stage.

I swear on my honor, the air changed. It was full of hope, charging the atmosphere for a storm.

Van Halen walked on, and the storm broke.

People were screaming with joy, love, excitement and all the positive emotions humans are capable of. Half the stadium leapt to their feet on the spot, the rest following by the end of what I think was the first song. That included me, Dad tugging on my hand for me to stand up. People were dancing in place, in the pit, up and down the aisles between seats. Whether they knew the songs word for word or could only remember the chorus, they were singing at the top of their lungs to beat the speakers. Hundreds, maybe thousands for all I knew, of humans were all resonating to the same beat.

I was not one of them. As a perpetual outsider, straining to understand others, I decided to look around. Could I figure it out, how to be caught up and carried away?

I saw mostly men Dad’s age. Many women of the same age, and a few people older. Many of them had also brought their children. I even saw a baby with fluffy green ear protectors. The truth blindsided me.

For the older adults, this was a dream.

Those of them that hadn’t had the means to go to a concert when young had gotten older and could now come. Those of them that had just missed their era now had a chance. It was very, very clear that the ones who had brought their children were hoping that their children would resonate like they did, feel the joy they did. It was their chance in a lifetime, and they’d seized it.

For all that I didn’t love the music, I eventually let myself get caught up in the joy. It was a little scary, being part of something with so many people, but also exhilarating. There were points where I worried I’d get lost in the everything and never come back, but Dad was right there. He’d keep me there. I didn’t come down until the concert was over.

There was a gift shop, after. I was tired. But Dad asked me if I wanted a shirt. I knew that what had happened wasn’t… usual. I wanted to remember it. I said yes, and picked the one with a beautiful tattooed woman on it, because it was pretty. It swam on me then, the sizing clearly not meant to accommodate a child. It fits now.

I never really got into Van Halen’s music, so it’s always a bit awkward when I wear the shirt Thankfully, people seem to understand when I say that my dad brought me to a concert. They tend to assume that I tagged along unwillingly, and don’t ask further. But for all I don’t like the music, that shirt turned out to be an unnecessary reminder.

The power and thunder of thousands of humans, all resonating on the same frequency… it is impossible to forget.

#short story #blog #nonfiction #humans are awesome #humans are amazing #writing #my writing

36 notes · View notes

bruhnushka · 7 years

Text

the bus. part 3

summary: its a surprise

warnings: slight cussing, nothing much else i think

a/n. its here. finally. this part WILL BE FINAL. there are no more bus fics after this. writing chaptered fics make me anxious. thank you guys for the continued support. im going to make a tallest for any one who wants to be tagged every time i want a fic. reblog your @ here or send it in my ask box.

pronouns : they/them

1,, 2,, 3

tags: @youtubeandsatan @favriotefightingfrenchmeme @katkitters @ur-pal-kal @thefallenbibliophilequote @justabravelittleblogger @lovinglyragesatyou

lin got off the bus. it was slightly cold, a wind blowing through the air. he helped you step off, watching you stumble as you tried to stretch out your legs the same time you walked down the steps. your friend, tanushka, followed behind dyou closely, taking a photo of the moment you almost fell over.

“i hate you” you muttered, making her laugh. you guys all stretched, yawned, and shook out the tiredness in your body. then you started to walk towards the large swarm of people that was your new zealand group. “hey guys!’ you called, making them walk towards you.

“and who may this little guy be?” Lin laughed, leaning down to say hi to Tanushka’s little brother, Avi.

“im not little!” he pouted, crossing his arms and glaring at Lin. Another snapshot later, lin was introduced to everyone in your family, and they felt comfortable with him. your mom asked if you were sure you didn't faint when you met him, making Lin tilt his head back in laughter. soon you guys were supposed to go on the cruise. you walked to the line, Lin following you closely. then, another one of you family friends arrived.

“hey babe!” he winked, making you gag. you through a soggy french fry at him, and he dramatically fell over. you threw your hands in the air and leaned beside him, holding his hand close to your heart.

“i-im sorry! i didn't know” you pretend to cry.

“its too late- i see my son on the other side. carrie fisher? is that you?” he looks at you, then goes limp in your arms. in a matter of seconds you two were laughing again, hurled on the floor. the parents glared at you two for making such a big scene but you two didn't care. Lin was glaring at you for a different reason.

“what?” you asked Lin, dusting yourself off.

“nothing.” he says through gritted teeth, turning the other way so you couldn't notice the redness in his face. tanushka does, though, and winks at him, nudging his arm with her elbow. lin growls at her, only making her laugh.

“anyways, richie, don't ever do that again. ill tell your girlfriend you were cheating on her!” you scold him. girlfriend? lin thought, eyebrow arching in surprise.

“ishita-my love- no! don't tell her! ILL PAY YOU ANYTHING!” he gets on his knees. you roll your eyes, pull out your phone and ring her up.

“hey, ishita? yeah this is y/n, your boy giggles was cheating on you by trying to flirt with me. yeah he's right here. you want me to give the phone to him? ok!” you laugh and hand gang the phone, and he glares at you.

“hey babe...” he starts nervously, making you cackle. Lin grins at you, and you return the favor by planting a kiss on his cheek. you hand the ferryman your ticket and hop onto the cruise.

you ask lin for a picture at the upcoming waterfalls. he eagerly nodded. you laughed and led him to the front of the deck, where tanushka grabbed your phone.

“say indians are cheap!” she laughed.

“indians are cheap!” lin laughed out loud, grinning.

“indians are- oh my god is that a dolphin?” you cut off your sentence, and while you tried to point to the dolphins, your hand forcefully hit lin’s chest, making him fall over the rails and into the freezing water below.

“lin!” you yell frantically, quickly going over your training as a lifeguard in your head and then throwing over the closes lifeline into the water. you saw lin was struggling to stay up, so you stood on the railing and jumped into the water. it was schocklingly cold, but you worked through it and pulled lin onto the life boat. soon, authorities arrived, helping you back onto the boat. dozens of blankets and towels were draped over the two of you, but in the end you two snuggled closer together to cope with the cold. your family group came rushing in to check on the two of you.

“are you guys ok?” they kept asking, and you kept nodding. there were a few more miles to go before they reached the turning point and at which the boat would turn around and head home. the captains brought you some fresh clothes to change into and you accepted them gratefully. of course, they were all oversized merchandise, but they were warm. after you changed into them, you and lin snuggled into each other inside the rooms, three blankets meticulously placed to cover each and ever part of you two. you sighed contentedly into lin’s chest as you drank the hot soup the on-board chef and supplied.

“Y/N!! LIT MANNY!! you guys still haven't gotten that waterfall picture!” tanushka said, pulling off the blanket form the two of you. you rolled your eyes, groaning as you got up. you called to lin.

“this picture isn't gonna take itself” you laughed, pulling him up.

tanushka instructed you two until you were in a perfect position. you rolled your eyes at her perfectionism, but knew it would turn out great, so you didn't complain.

“3″

lin turned to look at you, eyes wide in adoration and sentiment.

“2″

he glanced at your lips and decided to lean in, just a bit.

“1″

your lips were entangled with his, and the flash of the picture went on. crowds of people around the ship whooped and cheered and clapped, making you and lin blush. he shyly looked towards the floor as you gazed back at him.

“what was that for?” “nothin” he mumbled. you brought your hand to his chin and turned his face towards yours. you planted a kiss on his nose, and then grabbed his hand as you led him towards the couch you two were cuddling on.

it had been about two months since that encounter with lin. lin hadn't stopped thinking about you, not the entire flight home, not the drive back to his house, not the nights he spent trying to sleep. he needed to see you again. in the back of his mind, a plan was devising.

lit manny

hey! its lin! I've been meaning to text you for a while now, i didn't know what to say! i was hoping you could send me some of those pics📸?

you

yeah of course! :)

[picture file] [picture file] [picture file]

lit manny

thanks! these are great 😇

you

no problemo! hey are you anywhere near the bay area by any chance?

lit manny

actually yeah! im on a secret mission (so keep it on the low-low) to check out how the angelica tour is doing!😎 are you going to one of their shows in sf?😬

you

yep. 3/18 will you be there? 🙃

lit manny

i think! see you there, hopefully 😬😬

you sighed in happiness, gripping the phone and collapsing on your bed. you glanced at the calendar. only a week more.

and a week more was the longest ‘and a week more’ you had ever experienced. day after day went by agonizingly slowly, and you shook your head in discontent. but then it was saturday, and anxiety slowly filled your stomach. when you got up, you spent at least an hour looking for clothes to wear. you knew you wanted to impress lin, but you didn't want to seem to desperate. as you put yet another shirt down, you got a call. you checked the caller id, and there, in all his adorkable-ness was lit manny. you stifled a scream and answered it, putting it on speaker and setting it down on the bed as you checked more clothes.

“hey lin! whats up?” you reach into the back of the closet and pull out a thin blue see-through shirt. you rolled your eyes in disgust and threw it into the growing pile of clothes.

“nothing much! just checking up to confirm what time you're gonna be there. i was hoping you could come a little earlier? i want you to meet the cast- they all want to meet you” “oh my gosh! gahhh! of course! what time?” you looked at the clock. it was 3:45 and the showing was at 8.

“maybe around 6:30? if thats good enough-” “of course! ill be there!” you quickly cut him off, regretting your decision immediately.

“oh, thats great! see you then!” he hung up, leaving you to shake your head. you really needed clothes. you limply threw your arm into the very back of your closet and lifted up a box. interested, you opened it up. the tape from the amazon package still hadn't been taken off. instead, in purple sharpie, it read.

“when y/n needs clothes for a date and doesn't have any because theyre a fucking idiot” in tanushkas handwriting. you grinned wildly and opened it up, revealing the perfect outfit. even in tanshkas absence she was still saving your ass in relationships.

you grabbed your backpack by the straps as you walked into the city. just three turns away lay both lin and the musical of your dreams. you shivered at the cold, but you didn't mind the biting wind. as you neared the theatre, you spotted the musical poster and started to grin. and you didn't stop until you reached inside.

you had caught lin off guard in mid conversation. a wide smile donned his face as he walked towards you to meet him. he was talking to some of his fans and apologized as he led you inside.

“so, how have you been?” he asks,, rubbing his hands together to generate warmth.

“great. you?” you reply, setting your things down on a table.

“wonderful. hows that family of yours?” “still nice i guess.” it was awkward silence, before lin suddenly stood up.

“let me introduce you to the cast!” “oh my god of course! you have no idea how nervous i am right now!” you laugh, then walk with him to another room.

“they'll love you! don't sweat it!” he chuckles, and leads you by arm to a group of people intently watching the tv screen, an episode of sponge bob playing.

“hey guys! this is y/n!” they all turned and clamored around you, giving you compliments and laughing at lin and telling you how much he talked about you. you shyly averted your eyes to the floor and was in total starstruckedness.

“wow guys, um, I'm a really big fan of all you!” you laugh, and they laugh with you. they all give you hugs and sit you on the couch.

“you can chill here until the show, we've all got to get ready!” lin says, and the room is suddenly empty. you immediately text tanushka

tannioli ravioli

what the heck do u want u potato.

you

I'm going to see hamilton

tannioli ravioli

yeah i kno so what

you

lin invited me backstage and I'm there right now and I'm freakingadslkghncnaksdjfh the fuck ou t

tannioli ravioli

YOU DIDNT TELL ME THIS BEFORE PRAY TO GOD YOU FOUND MY EMEGERGENCY KIT

you

i did don't worry but its rlly awkward idk?????? how do you play this right so we can start you knowing

tannioli ravioli

fucking?

you

WHAT??? NO!!!!! DATING YOU PERVERT

tannioli ravioli

oh. nvm my previously typed out advise is deleted

tannioli ravioli

um maybe just be urself??? ik its cliche but like play to both of your interests, like see what he wants in a relationship and if match up with you he's the one. make sure he's not an asshole and he's open and honest. don't be a fake. if all else fails make him jealous.

you

thats actually good advice.

tannioli ravioli

ur welcome

tannioli ravioli

also gtg me & alice got to marvin gaye and get it on while u heterosexuals be heterosexual bye ;)

you

u suck

tannioli ravioli

but your straighter than me so you suck harder.

you rolled your eyes and laughed. taking deep breaths, you analyzed your situation. before you could start, though, anthony walked in.

“hey, the show is gonna start in like 20 minutes so... you wanna head out?” he asks. you laugh and nod, grabbing you things and heading out to your assigned seats.

you were crying so hard. you had seen hamilton live, and your life goal was complete. you started to walk out before someones hands grabbed your arm.

“y/n! wait! i wanted to hang out a little bit!” lin says, pulling you back into the theatre. you wiped your eyes, embarrassed, and rubbed your arms. why was san francisco so cold.

“lin that was amazing. i know you didnt act in it at all but just, god you are such a genius. i could never write music that brings so much emotion, that is so perfectly created with each detail hand crafted” you look up at him with adoration. he kissed you. when his lips touched yours, a feeling of erratic calm set over your heart. you weren't in love, but you were definitely in something right now.. you brought your arms to his waist and deepened the kiss.

as he pulled back, he whispered, “thank god for the bus.” you nodded in agreement.

ps. finally done. woo. last post for a while now. ily guys. sorry I'm a sucky blog

#hamilton #alexander hamilton #lin manuel miranda #hamilton imagines #alexander hamilton imagines #lin imagines #lin x reader #lin manuel x reader #lin manuel miranda x reader #hamilton x reader #alexander hamilton x reader #imagines #fanfiction #hamilton fanfiction #baguette fics

42 notes · View notes

eyeliner-byeliner-blog · 7 years

Text

Everything is Nothing

Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy

A/N: so listen this is the first time i ever written anything and this is just the first chapter lemme know if i should continue to the second one, oh and these will be in Draco and Harry POVS so next chapter is Draco’s. And I am dyslexic so I tend to miss a lot of spelling and grammar errors so I'm sorry about that in advance (Also feel free to give me criticism please)

Description: angsty as shit bruh

—————————————————————-

“…you never know exactly how much space you occupied in people’s lives”- F.Scott.Fitzgerald

-Harry- Harry woke up on the grimy floor in a dimly lit room,it wasn’t very large and it had no windows or doors that harry could see,the light seemed to be coming from the edges of the walls and from along the lines in the floorboards, it was a strange light , it looked faint but enough light so the whole was lit in a soft light, yet it was somehow menacing, Harry adjusted his glasses to look closer and saw why, a green aura was faintly on the edges, it made the whole room vaguely glow a green hue that was barely visible, harry sat up startled after this realization, he checked himself. His was missing his wand

He senses on high alert now that he felt powerless without his wand. He walked around the room, searching for a way out, or for his wand, he found neither. No hidden doors, no trap door in the floorboards, no wand. Upon examining the room’s edges further in his attempt to find it, harry saw that the floor and walls were splattered was a dark substance

Blood

Harry got away from the was as quickly as he could, he stood in the center of the room, he needed to get out of here, NOW. He needed his wand, he would at the least have more options with it, he hoped that this was all a bad dream, but everything looked and felt too real, the walls were cold under his touch, there was even the faint metallic scent blood leaves once dried.

Harry closed his eyes, feeling powerless and cornered, he hoped that when he opened his eyes he’d be staring at the ceiling of his room, safe and sound. He slowly opened his eyes, he saw immediately the room had changed but it wasn’t the ceiling of the room, he instead was looking at a crumpled body on the ground.

He was staring at the broken and bloodied body of Hermione Granger, her eyes open in a familiar blank, glassy stare. Her body showed battle wounds but He knew that wasn’t how she died.

Harry felt his blood leave his face, all thoughts of finding his wand and finding out where he was left him, he jerked back but nearly fell from tripping over something behind him, he spun around and saw Ron’s crumpled body with the same wounds but also the same blank, open and empty stare of someone who had died from the Avada Kedavra curse, the same look Harry had seen too much after the war.

Harry turned again but this time instead of just seeing Hermione’s body he saw that the whole room was filled with the bodies of people he loved

Remus

Tonks

Ginny

George

Charlie

The list went on

That’s when the bodies started to slowly stir. one by one they slowly came back to life, “ but they couldn’t be Inferius, Im the only person in this room” Harry thought to himself trying to reason with the obvious he had no where to go, he stood frozen on the spot, half from fear and half from helplessness, he had nothing to defend himself, the bodies formed a circle around Harry and that’s when he saw her

“M-mom?”

“This wasn’t real his parents were-” he stopped himself “are dead”, the woman turned to face Harry fully confirming his question. A look of recognizance crossed her face and with it came a look of malice “Oh isn’t it the magnificent Harry Potter” Harry was flooded with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, this was his mom but how? And why was she looking at him like that? Why did she sound so sarcastic?

She continued was a sneer “ if only I could have known you were going to get me killed, if only I had know you were cursed from the very beginning, if it weren’t for you Id be alive! But no I had to get killed, you were a burden that I had to deal with, an unwanted obstacle that caused me nothing but pain.” She finished with a look of utter hatred.

Harry was speechless, she had just confirmed all of Harry worst fears of how she felt about him, his heart felt as if it were breaking in two but before he could say anything another familiar voice spoke from somewhere else in the crowd that Harry realized belonged to his dad “if we had never had had you me and Lily could’ve been living a happy life right now instead of being six feet under!”

Harry who had stumbled back from the shock and pain these words were bringing him tripped over someone behind him and fell on the floor, then came Fred’s voice “ i would still be alive if it weren’t for you, who are you to think you should have people die for you? I had a family! You could have saved so many people and families if you had died no one would have cared, you killed the only family you had, not like that would’ve mattered not exactly like they even wanted, you aren’t special, hell you aren’t anything to have so many die for you!”

Then from the crowd a chorus of voices arose from the group yelling at harry and agreeing telling him how he had failed to save them , how it was solely his fault that they had died, telling him it should have been him

Harry stared up at the group from the floor where he was propped up on his arm trying to get away, he couldn’t go anywhere he was trapped and out of options, he laid in shock, feeling as if his heart was broken beyond repair and the pain… he felt as if he was suffering a Dementor’s kiss, there was no such thing as happiness for him anymore because he didn’t deserve it, his mouth felt dry and his tongue felt heavy

“No no please no! Im sorry! I tried! I couldn’t do anything! I-” Harry’s voice cracked, he was trembling

“I tried!”

But the words sounded fake when they came out of his mouth, he didn’t know if it was true anymore, he curled up into a ball crying, they continued they’re yelling, his feeble attempt to defend himself worked to no prevail. “Its not real, its not real, its not real, it cant be” harry whispered to himself trying to keep sane

The voices yelled louder as if they all had megaphones “Im so sorry, I tried, I tried…"said harry trying to convince himself of the truth

he curled more on to himself, he body racking from the force of his sobs, they were closing in on him, everything was going dark…

Harry woke up sweating with tears running down his face, he had the same dream -or more better titled- nightmare agian, the same one he had ever since the battle of Hogwarts, it was always the same thing but it always felt so real

he hated waking up.

Because the reality of everything would come crashing down on him again,

it was always more or less the same thing

Remembering who was alive and the feeling of flooded relief and then the crushing blow of who wasn’t anymore

Because of him

Harry laid on his bed breathing hard, he thought it would’ve been better by now, it. Had been four months since the battle, since he killed the Dark Lord , since he had boarded himself up in his dead godfathers house not wanting to be harassed everyday by the daily prophet and varying other news outlets

or that’s at least what he told himself so it seemed rational to lock himself away and not for the real reason of just wanting time alone to fix himself and totally not because he felt as if he didn’t deserve anything and probably deserved worse

He could still remember that day he defeated Voldemort as clear as if it had happened the day before.

Harry actually did it, he was elated, and so was everyone else

Cheers broke out all around him, and celebrations ensued, it was several hours later until things died down and Harry wandered around campus in search of Ron and Hermione, they probably ran to make out in some corner he thought chuckling to himself, too bad he wanted to talk to them about sleeping arrangements for the night. He turned into the Great Hall

That was his first mistake

He had forgotten that’s where they had left the bodies of everyone who had died

Harry stopped in his track, his eyes falling on the dead yet peaceful looking bodies of Remus Lupin and Tonks Andromeda, his thoughts going towards Teddy who now was an orphan.

“All because of me” whispered Harry to himself

His eyes darted around the room and fell on the body of Fred, his thoughts traveled the Weasley family, of George who had lost his other half, of Ron, Ginny, Percy, Charlie, Bill who had lost a brother, of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who had lost a son.

“All because of me”

Harry’s thoughts spiraled

If only he had found the horucruxes sooner

If only he had turned himself in sooner

He could’ve faced Voldemort alone without having anyone die for him

If only…

Harry felt as if he was about to fall to pieces, he had spent so many years actually sane and he didn’t know how, he realized now he had only bottled it up, until it broke like a dam.

He had to get out now here, not just the room but Hogwarts, he had to get away, away from the tears that were sure to come from those who had lost someone, away from anyone and everyone

Harry couldn’t bear the thought of the Weasley family crying over Fred knowing that is was his fault Fred had died, he couldn’t stand the thought of Teddy with out his parents anymore because of him.

Harry knew what he needed, he needed a quiet place to fall apart

He ran out of the Great Hall, tears starting to fall down his face, peopled looked at him as he passed, some every stopped to say something to Harry but he didn’t stop running, he at one point crashed into Draco Malfoy

Draco looked up startled until he saw who ran into him “i thought you would be off celebrating with your friends Potter. what are you doing running down these halls crashing into people?”

“Not right now Malfoy!” Harry replied and pushed Draco to the side leaving him standing in the hall with a look of confusion.

Harry realized a while ago that something had looked off about Draco but he couldn’t figure ut what, he had just wanted to get away

Harry needed to get off the grounds and disapparate, he didn’t think he could concentrate enough to fully show up at the house but so what if he died by getting splinched? It would be better to die, to feel nothing at all rather then everything he was feeling right now

12 Grimmauld Place

He apparated in front of the house and made his way in the house somehow he found itself in Sirius’s room which made Harry hurt more, knowing that Sirius had died for him, he crumpled to the floor and cried, for how long? He couldn’t remember…

Harry laid on his bed, staring at his ceiling, calming down slightly as he reminisced everything

He had told Kreacher to tell anyone who stopped by that Harry was not excepting visitors at the moment, no matter who it was, he ignored the steadily growing pile of letters in the corner, he had also told Kreacher to burn anything that was not a letter from someone they knew, he knew those letter were from concerned friends, Hermione and Ron would be worried but he couldn’t face it and talk to them

Not yet, it all hurt too much still

Harry replied several weeks later with half-assed apologies that would seem earnest to them , he gave them the excuse that he didn’t want to be harassed by reporters and that was the sole reason why he locked himself away, that Kreacher had been accidentally burning their letters along with the Daily Prophet ones, he told them he was fine just bored.

They of course replied minutes after Harry had responded telling him they had been worried sick about him, that it was smart to stay away from the press, they said how they wished he could have been at Fred’s funeral they saved a honorary spot for him, saying they were sorry they couldn’t visit but that they were rebuilding Hogwarts and those who had lost loved ones in the war- harry’s heart sank from guilt upon reading that part- and that they were for sure keep in touch….

And here harry was, still a mess, just a well organized mess, he could conceal that he was a mess, chaotically organized, an oxymoron of the highest level

Harry sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed, his bare feet on the cold wood floor, his vision was blurry, he searched his bedside table and after several moments he located his glasses, everything became clear.

His room was splattered in a soft gold light, he glanced at the window that he had accidentally left open, it was sunrise. He glanced at his clock, it read 6:37, “early bird catches the worm right?” He said to the empty room.

Harry, still murky from waking up stretched, he felt his muscles in his body ripple from being dormant in his sleep, harry shivered, it was cold in his room from the open window

He glanced around his room, his eyes fell to the letter that had been on his desk for the past month it was a letter from Hermione telling Harry that Mcgonagall had decided to make an eighth year at Hogwarts for the seventh years that wished to return, who needed closure or for those who just need to feel something normal

Hermione told him of course Ron, Ginny and herself would be returning and that Harry should go as well, the press wouldn’t be able to crowd him at school and another year would be good for all of them, Harry of course agreed, he didn’t want to let them down again

Harry got up off his bed and looked at himself in the mirror, he had grown a tiny bit over the summer, he looked older but tired, the nightmares had taken a toll on him, his hair was a mess- or a lost cause as Harry liked to call it, his face had scruff and his pajama bottoms hung loosely around his bare waist, revealing the V coming down from his hips

He glanced around the room again and sighed, he couldn’t believe today was the day he would be going back again, his trunk was already packed with his robes and varying books, earlier in the week Harry had gone and bought himself a new owl with the help of a poly juice potion so he wouldn’t be recognized

Harry winced at the thought of losing Hegwid

he had gotten a kind and ruddy colored barn owl, he had decided to name her Caeli, it was latin for starry because the way the light reflected in her large eyes reminded him of starry nights.

He started to rummage through one of his drawers looking for clean and presentable clothes he could wear on the train before he changed into his school robes, when he finally suitable clothing he made his way towards his bathroom

“I can do this.” Harry thought to himself as he turned the water on in the shower, “I can do this.” It was the same thing he told himself everyday since the battle

“ i have too”

Too many people were counting on him, Harry undressed and stepped into the shower and felt the warm water run over him and watched it flow in rivulets down his body, as he got lost in his thoughts he went through the mechanical movements of taking a shower.

He had to at the least looks happy and not like he’s age twenty years from not getting a good nights sleep since the battle, Harry sighed, he knew already how drained he’d feel at the end of the day from putting up the facade all day, he wouldn’t want to concerned anyone, especially Ron or hermione

He didn’t think either of them would understand that he didn’t need someone to tell him it will get better, to just take it one day at a time because he himself had already been saying that for so long, he needed someone to say it wasn’t Harry’s fault, but not in that tone everyone always uses when trying to comfort someone he needed the honest truth

Harry turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, shivering at the cold air that hit him, he dried himself off and went to his room, towel tied around his waist, hair still damp from the shower, smelling clean, he pulled his clothes on anticipating the coming day.

#Harry Potter #harry #draco malfoy #harry x draco #Draco #drarry fic #drarry #drarry fanfiction #drarry fan fic #hp

10 notes · View notes