you're all i want | t.n, d.m

37

THEODORE - September 2006

It was a dream.

It was a lie.

None of it was real.

Celeste and I were never meant to be okay.

In the span of three months, everything took a drastic change in both our lives — and not in a good way.

Celeste's health never got better. I haven't been able to save her, and even if I did everything in my power to keep her safe, the Blood Curse is way much stronger than her.

Celeste knew during the summer that all she had were only a few months left. And she didn't let the news affect her. Didn't let the affliction consume her mind and heart like it did her body. Didn't waste a single second of her days to stay inside and cry about the misery of her fate.

She lived her life to the fullest, surrounded by the ones she loves most. Her brother and Blaise — who we hadn't seen in ages — took a break from Quidditch to spend some time home. Pansy, who appeared out of the blue from her spiritual voyage — in which she only hooks up with tons of witches whilst she travels — has been staying in one of the unoccupied apartments above the café.

Draco takes care of his pregnant wife but helps around the café, too.

And Celeste, my shooting star, she has managed to smile throughout the pain. She has managed to create unforgettable memories with each one of us. She has managed to be happy with the bare necessities, and that's who she is. Who she always has been — she has never needed to have the world in the palms of her hands to make the most of her days.

The mere thought of losing her, of being without her— It is making me feel as though everything around me is turning to ashes. I feel like my chest is giving up on me every time I look into her crestfallen eyes when she awakes weaker than the previous day. I feel like my whole entire world is about to come crashing down, and I won't be able to heal from the upcoming agony.

***

It's on a rainy September evening that it happens.

Celeste is lying down in bed, a few pillows behind her head as she gazes at the television device in front of her. Dean is next to her, sat against the headboard as their fingers are laced on his lap.

Her hands are trembling, her eyes are golden as she chuckles softly at the funny scene deploying in the movie.

Her brother, Atlas, is lounged on an armchair, sitting sideways with his legs dangling above the armrest, a bowl of popcorn laid on his stomach.

I sit at the windowsill, the back of my head knocked against the cold window, my eyes flickering from Atlas to Dean to Celeste, and to Pansy, who has her head leaned on my shoulder.

Pansy shifts her head to look up in my eyes, and I observe the tear rolling down her pale cheek. She offers me a soft smile before sniffling. I swallow the lump inside my throat before pressing a small kiss to her temple.

When Pansy stands up, she walks towards the bed. Sitting on the edge of it, she leans forward to kiss Celeste's forehead.

They start whispering, and I force myself to not listen. I try to focus my mind on the sound of the rain pouring down and on the voices of the movie, yet my gaze cannot drift away from my Celeste.

Celeste's brows knit as she coughs in the crease of her elbow. Pansy grabs her hands, rubbing gentle circles on the back of them. I look at Dean as he closes his eyes, a tear escaping whilst his jaw clenches.