Whenever she got sad, there was 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲.
And on the other hand, whenever he got sad, there was 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫.
Until they discovered something that only required both of them in the same room -- nothing else.
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 �...
I sat up to look at him closer, but it seems that his words made me forget the main reason why I was laying down before him. I winced in pain as I forced myself to sit up straight, my eyelids wrinkling from the sudden sting.
Freeing my arms, he brought his palms to my shoulders, securing me down onto the couch. "Don't move. You're sore."
Yeah, thanks to you.
"Draco-"
"Get some rest," He stood up before I could continue my sentence.
"Call for Dobby if you need anything." He mumbled, leaving the hot compress on top of my stomach. It bewilders me how fast this boy can go from warm, gentle, and passionate, to cold, bitter, and careless—as if nothing happened just a few moments ago.
What happened to the Draco who, a few seconds ago, knelt in front of me and asked me where it hurt the most? The Draco who kissed my wrists after I showed the slightest sign of pain?
Because the Draco I am seeing right now is avoiding my eyes—like he wasn't so engrossed in them when were talking, and right now he's walking out of the living room—like he hadn't carried me in it because I couldn't walk.
Merlin, is he confusing.
But as long as his feet weren't out of the ginormous living room, I still had my chance.
It had to be said. So with all my remaining strength, I muttered, "Draco."
He halted his steps, turning his head slightly to finally look me straight in the eye. "Hm?"
Let's talk ... please?
The look in his eyes when he kissed my wrists was gone; the slight metallic twinkle and hopeful stare was replaced with an empty, ash-colored gaze.
I couldn't seem to tell him what I actually wanted.
My eyes fell to his back—which I haven't really paid much attention to before, but right now I could make out the muscles that rested underneath his loose shirt. Loose—but not loose enough for me not to notice his body slowly heave up and down as he breathed.
"What?" Draco says in a louder tone.
Yes. Words. I sure know how to use them.
"Nothing."
I couldn't. The words "Let's talk about it" and "What do you mean with what you said?" couldn't seem to escape my mouth.
And so he left, the sound of his footsteps fading away as I assembled my thoughts. We were so close to having an actual conversation that didn't lead to sex—or another tension-filled argument.
