enigmatic |t.r.|

11.

sadness doesn't suit you.

she blinked at the deep voice coming from behind her shoulder and turned to face the dark eyes of tom riddle.

she was in the library, with a book in her hand she obviously didn't care to either read or rip apart.

she was miserable for five whole days, then again,

she had been miserable for almost seventeen years and she had gotten so used to it she sometimes forgot how bitter its taste was.

but tom riddle was in front of her and he was looking at her with cold eyes, eyes that would convince you they tell you the truth while killing you with a lie.

i'm always sad.

the answer left her lips like a secret, almost too quietly for him to hear a thing but he already knew the answer,

he already knew everything

and he knew why she was so sad and miserable and-

still, sadness doesn't look good on you.

and what does?

her tone was sharp and challenging and she turned to fully face him as she violently closed her book

and she wasn't sad anymore but she wasn't angry either

she was nothing more that dust in the shape of a person.

and tom riddle knew that

and tom riddle fucking smiled

as he looked down at her with eyes that knew everything but weren't telling her a thing.

pain.

he said but he meant

my hands around your neck

and she knew that

and she didn't know how

but she fucking knew

and of course he was absolutely right because pain had raised her,

pain had shaped her mind and heart, pain was all she knew and she could pull it off quite well,

she knew she looked good in pain,

painfully good

and she knew that tom riddle would kill to see her in pain.

words are a funny thing.

and -oh sometimes- irony is hilarious.

offer me pain then, watch me break from the inside.

and tom riddle kissed her.