"You w-w-what?" Draco whispered as his face went pale.
"I- I- love you Draco Malfoy. And I always have! And I can't help it! I've tried and tried to hate you but it doesn't block the feelings I have for you. And ever since you have been hanging out...
Monday , 6th of April 25 weeks & 4 days Or 6 Months
edited
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My deepest yearning is to erase the painful imprints that suffering has left on the canvas of my mind. I long for a pristine state of clarity, untainted by the malevolence that has taken root within.
I've attempted to expunge those haunting memories from my consciousness since their inception, yet my efforts have yielded no respite.
Two interminable days have elapsed within the confines of this room – a room I've come to detest, reminiscent of the one that housed my shattered heart upon the revelation of Leo's betrayal. Curiously, a fraction of me is inexplicably drawn to these spaces, recurrent chambers of despair that fate seems intent on thrusting me into.
Surveying the room, I observe that the once-familiar pictures adorning the walls have vanished, leaving an unsettling void in their wake. Every aspect of the room has undergone a transformation since my last gaze.
The door handle shifts, and the portal swings open to reveal a blond boy, his expression etched with worry. His eyes meticulously traverse my form, returning to lock onto mine. His cautious approach brings him closer to the bed, finding solace in the chair beside me.
"How do you feel?" The shadows beneath his eyes and the rumpled silk of his black pants, paired with a creased white button-up, betray the toll of sleeplessness or, perhaps, a complete lack of rest.
Unwilling to answer, as my own emotions elude me – a cocktail of emptiness, emotionlessness, and the deprivation of every sentiment that once resonated within my body – I shift my focus back to the wall opposing me. The wall, devoid of empathy, refrains from probing questions I have no answers for.
"The doctors say your body fought itself like it wasn't its own." His eyes drop to the floor. "Y/n?" He implores, meeting my gaze with a tremor in his voice. "I know you don't feel like talking, but can you at least say something?" The urgency in his voice is palpable.
My eyes remain fixed on the indifferent wall. My lips part, and a whisper escapes. "Why?" The question hangs in my thoughts, its meaning elusive. Why do I persist in asking this seemingly meaningless question? Yet, 'why' is the only response my mind conjures.
"I think it's best you get rest. You look like you haven't slept in ages." He rises, planting a soft kiss on my forehead, before hesitating. "I— I care for you, y/n. So please... let me help you." His back conceals his face, but the pain in his voice reverberates through the room.
"I don't need help," I murmur, my gaze unyielding on the wall.
His figure turns slightly, a fleeting glance in my direction. "Yes, you do. I can't explain it right now, but all I can tell you is to let the people that care for you do it." His eyes close, his expression tightens, and he turns away. The door opens, closes, and I'm left in solitude with my ruminations.
