𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕤. cedric diggory

9

I resented myself for the little amount of time we had together. I figured if I would have been more open about my feelings then we could have had more time. We deserved more time.

But, instead, I was listening to Dumbledore spew out these empty words about you (empty because he didn't know you, not because they weren't true) and I was sitting here, numb and wondering where it all went wrong. I didn't cry, couldn't allow myself to, even though your sister hasn't stopped since she saw you on the field — or maybe she has; no one has seen her.

I figured I didn't deserve to.

And maybe I didn't. Maybe I did. I didn't know, nor did I care. My whole body was numb and I was drowning again and the voices were far away and so was I.

Later on, I was on my own, packing up my stuff when I saw it — your bloody jumper. It was the one I liked to wear, especially when it was cold, and it was yellow and black and your mother knitted it for you. You let me steal it because you claimed it looked better on me. I called a load of crock, but you had laughed and kissed me squarely on the mouth, saying that it was true. But I had forgotten the whole argument as soon as you smiled at me.

It sat there, on the corner of my bedpost, taunting and haunting me like some peeve. I swiftly clenched it in my hand and I swallowed a sob but it forced its way out and I cried for you. I dropped to the ground and I clutched the jumper in my hand and I sobbed and screamed and hurt so bad. My mended heart had shattered once more and the currents took me under until I was gasping for air, trying to imagine you here with me, wishing it were a reality.

My heart screamed and I joined it and I sang my own lament and it hurt. I wanted you here with me, by my side. I wanted to celebrate your victory in the tournament. I shouldn't have been sitting there, clutching at the jumper like a life line. But I was and you were gone and I couldn't do it.

I wondered how life could be so cruel. How could they take you away when I barely had any time with you? How could they force me to live without you? I needed you. You were my best friend and my boyfriend and I loved you so much and you shouldn't be gone.

It was like a hole was ripped in me. A giant, gaping hole the size of you that no one will be able to replace, even if they tried.

I tried to leave, got up and grabbed my trunk because being in that dormitory was unbearable and I couldn't stand another moment. But I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye and my knees buckled in front of me.

Roses.

Roses that were once painted a beautiful crimson now glared back at me with a deadly glimmer. In the dim lighting of the room, they seemed darker, more fragile and I clutch them to my chest like a lifeline. You gave them to me on a random day, shoving them into my chest with a bright smile.

"What are these for?" I asked.

You beamed. "Dunno. Wanted to do something special, I guess." You pecked my cheek. "Plus, they reminded me of you. . ."

"How?"

"They're thorny," you said like the dolt you were. It was followed by a laugh that I kissed silent. They were a nice sentiment, even if you were always idiotic with how you said things, and I couldn't have loved them more.

But, now, they stared at me and it was a reminder of everything that I had. They were a taboo and I hated them and I hated this and I wanted you here but you weren't. You were dead and gone and I was never going to see you again. Never going to hear that boisterous laugh of yours or feel that ghost of a kiss as you said goodnight to my almost-asleep figure. I was never going to play another Quidditch match with you. I was never going to intertwine my pinkie with yours — that promise was broken, obliterated with lifeless eyes and a cold body. I was alone. You left me.

You left me with nothing but wilted roses, Cedric.