IN NOX, SUM VERITAS━━DRACO MALFOY

twelve. toska

━━━━  · 。ﾟ☆ .☽ .* ☆ﾟ. ━━━━

(n.) a dull ache of the soul,
a sick pining, a spiritual anguish

THERE WAS A CERTAIN BITTERSWEETNESS IN NOT KNOWING WHAT WAS THOUGHT OF YOU. It was in the way one was able to go about their life and not have to worry about what others were thinking, what thoughts crossed their mind as they passed by, that blissful ignorance one had when they kept to themselves. On the other hand, the act of wanting—of needing—to know what someone thought of them was sometimes all that they knew, taming that constant craving for validation and approval by always seeking it out.

Louis was lucky enough to grow up and become the former, a free thinker not taking into account what anyone thought of him simply due to the reason that anything they said didn't influence him, whether it was positive or negative. Growing up a half-blood and fatherless had ever-so-slowly taught him not to take anything personally, which was rather contradictory with the way he would react when someone would leave him. So after Draco had suggested that they not talk to each other for some time, that was the first time Louis tried to not take it personally, tried to not have himself think that it was his fault.

Draco had reassured him that it wasn't his fault, which Louis had reluctantly accepted, albeit the feeling of not being good enough still managing to sink in and settle, upsetting his stomach. Draco had also gone to wipe a stray tear away from his face, which Louis hadn't expected. He had leaned into his touch before Draco pulled his hand away and shoved it into his pocket. Louis wondered what brought Draco to make this decision, especially since things were going so well between them. Or at least he thought.

Maybe Draco did need space to think a few things through, which was a very normal reaction to something that had become overwhelming on their behalf. Louis wasn't quite sure what had become overwhelming, but that wasn't his place to discern. All he had was the hope that Draco would find him again.

Draco once again found himself in the Room of Requirement, pacing back and forth in front of the Vanishing Cabinet. This had been his umpteenth attempt at fixing it and still no luck. He had thought that cutting down on speaking to Louis would help in lessening his growing feelings for the boy, however, that only brought him to think about him more, leading Draco to miss him—even if it had only been a day, the void was already so large.

He had thought he was doing himself a favor by saying "no" for Louis instead of actually giving him the chance to say it, but now Draco couldn't help but think that he had raised his chances in Louis actually saying "no" to him (which he probably had), a bundle of nerves beginning to tangle themselves together in his stomach, making an intricate knot that would take him hours to untie.

Draco then slid down to the floor in a heap of tired eyes and a bag of worn-out bones and brought his knees to his chest, taking in a long, ragged breath. He liked someone and it had only taken him a handful of hours to ruin it, the descent into the thrashing sea below already starting to pick up the pace. He thought about the way Louis looked at him, a certain gaze he had seen on the cinnamon-haired boy only a few rare times. The first time was the night in the library when Draco could see the freckles on the bridge of Louis's nose, an indication that the two of them were rather close.