❝𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴,
𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘢❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 was a somewhat quiet, yet mischievous guy who had trouble tailing him since he was a mere one year-old. He encounters a girl, whose only known attribute wa...
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CII. TO LET SOMEBODY GO
21:79 ─❁────────── 31:80
◁ Ⅱ ▷
❝We had that kind of love
I thought that it would never end❞
༻───────────────༺
HOW DID SHE DO IT?
How was she able to spend most of her years alone? Had she become so dependant on her friend's company to the point that she could not find any way to function by herself?
How did she ever become the way she was now? It was as if the mere thought of being alone again felt like something so impossible, but now that she must suffer the suffocating loneliness once again, she began to regret being s accustomed to her friend's presence.
She regretted ever letting her guard down.
As the hot wind of summer blew through her face mockingly while she sat on the windowsill of Ron's room, a leg dangling out as she looked out toward the aimless yonder while she pretended as if the ghoul that was pretending to be Ron with spattergroits in the attic over the room was never there. She found it ridiculously hard to feel any type of emotion whatsoever. The sky was beautiful, clear, and blue; the scenery was peaceful and quiet with the only sound was the present birds chirping, so why couldn't she sense any sort of happiness?
It's because your happiness was ripped away the moment they vanished.
Yeah, that could certainly be it as well.
Since that fateful evening where everything fell into chaos, her once tranquil heart had never stop from its storming state.
She had never been so tempted to see the world burn before... She wanted to set it on fire.
But she refrained herself, for she knew that would bring her no benefits if she were to do so. It would only end up being a bother to her than to release the stress she had been repressing this whole.
It would probably prove to be much more of a stressful job than to pretend that the remaining Weasleys in the Burrow were not watching her every move.
She was no fool. She knew what they have been doing — she could sense the eyes that were looking her way, observing her, tense like they were waiting for her to just jump and try to kill herself via the height she would always be in and for them to catch her before she could. It felt as though she was under the watchful eyes, and while she didn't like it, she refrained herself from vocalising it.
