FoolsxxGold

I'm losing my mind. I must be. It's the only logical explanation for what is going through my head. These thoughts are rushing about and colliding with each other in a never ending torrent, driving me insane. I don't know what to do. I don't even know who I am anymore. I'm losing him. I see it every time I visit. He's gone a little more each day, and there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing except watch, and wish it was me. His skin is so pale now it's unnerving. He almost fades into the white sheets. His resemblance is so strikingly close to that of a ghost it makes me want to scream. This was never supposed to happen. No progress is bei

Footsteps echoed in the strangely quiet kitchen. It had been a while since it had been this quiet in the house. With a barely audible sigh the black-haired youth walked to the blessed coffee maker and put on a pot. He sat heavily in one of the wooden chairs that adorned the kitchen table and sighed again. This was getting ridiculous. Damn Draco and his insecurities. It was tearing Harry apart, however slowly it was happening. The pot dinged its readiness and Harry gratefully fixed himself a cup before returning to his seat. It wasn’t too long after that a blonde head bobbed beneath the doorway and into the kitchen. His headphones were c

Sacrifice. When you think of that word, what is it you think of? Perhaps you think of the things you have to give up when you’re in a relationship with somebody. A sport, a collection, a habit or whatsoever it may be. I bet what you don’t think about though is sacrificing yourself so he could live. Sacrificing your happiness, your heart even, just to watch the one you love walk by every day and not recognize you. Maybe that’s what true sacrifice is. Selling your soul for that one person, and then in twisted fate he cannot even remember the time you two shared. He was dying and everyone knew it. Nobody was sure what exactly had

I remember how heavy he was, his unconscious form weighing me down until it was a struggle to even stagger. Yet I would not let go. Even as flames licked at us, their fiery bite scorching my robes the way his words had only moments before, I struggled to place us both atop a charred desk and cowered from the flames, his large body behind my lithe one as if I could stop the unquenchable fire. He had been the closest thing to a friend, even if he had been cornered into turning on me at the end. I couldn’t let go. I felt the smoke start to choke me; my eyesight started to blur with tears. Then there he was. I remember the green fire blazin

There once was a little girl. Though perhaps little was the wrong word, for while she was small in stature she was nearing adulthood. Now this girl had a doll. He was her most prized possession of them all and she loved him far more than perhaps she should. This girl wanted to be a photographer, and her doll was always her model. “Riseon,” she would say as she positioned him this way and that. “That is not the proper pose for somebody attending a wedding. You look far too somber. Come and smile, at least a bit.” And while his expression would not change -for how could it?- she would always feel as though he had done exactl