I'm relieved I left my room tidy

Dear Penny,

I want to start off this letter by saying I care for you so much. You’ve been my best friend ever since my second year when you came up to me in the library and shyly asked for my help in Transfiguration. I didn’t tell you then, but I had no friends except for Oliver, and I often felt he had to get along with me because we were roommates. You, on the other hand, for a reason I couldn’t understand, wanted to be my friend. I fully expected you to never speak to me again after I helped you in Transfiguration, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. After all, who would want to be friends with stuffy, boring, responsible Percy?

But you kept talking to me. You waved to me in the halls; you studied with me in the library; you even sought me out outside of the library. I didn’t understand it, but I never told you how much it meant to me. I probably wouldn’t have made it this far if not for you.

And then you kissed me.

Penny, I love you dearly. I have since the moment I asked you why you chose to talk to me and you said “well, we’re friends, aren’t we?” I thought because I loved you, it was romantic love. All my books told me the best friends always fall for each other- the guy and the girl, always. But there’s something I never told you, Penny, because I was worried you would hate me for it, especially after we started dating.

Penny, I’m gay.

It took me a while to realize it, but in fourth year, I realized I liked someone, a guy someone. It wasn’t what everyone else did, and I didn’t need another reason to be different, so I pushed that feeling down as hard as I could.

When you kissed me, that feeling tried to come back, the feeling that told me I could only ever like a guy. I hated it. I hated myself. Why couldn’t I just be normal? Why couldn’t I like a girl like every other guy I knew? I should’ve counted my lucky stars that someone as amazing as you would even want to be with me, but instead… it was a painful reminder that I could never be normal.

I didn’t want to break your heart, Penny, and I didn’t want to have to explain why I didn’t love you romantically. I didn’t want to see you look at me with disgust in your eyes, like Marcus Flint did when he caught me staring at him in second year and called me a faggot. Why do bullies always seemed to know things about you before you yourself do? I’m sorry I led you on, and I’m sorry I’m breaking your heart now. You don’t deserve it.

You’re the most amazing person I know, Penny. I was the selfish one. I was the coward. I was the one who wasn’t right. You deserve so much better than me, Penny, and now that I’m gone, you’ll finally get it.

I love you, Penny. I’m sorry it wasn’t the way you wanted me to.

Love,

Percy

“Penelope?”

Penelope Clearwater stared at Oliver with red rimmed eyes. She seemed to notice his own red eyes and the broken expression on his face.

“So it’s true?” Penelope asked.

Oliver knew immediately what she was asking. He nodded reluctantly. He wished it wasn’t true.

Penelope’s expression crumpled, and she seemed to cave in on herself, her shoulders hunching and her chest caving as she started to cry.

Oliver was never really good with comforting others. He wasn’t even good with comforting himself. But he awkwardly placed a hand on Penelope’s shoulder.

“Is he going to be okay?” Penelope asked, lifting her head so he could see her wet cheeks.

“They’re not sure,” Oliver admitted. “He’s in a coma right now.”

“Why would he…” Penelope stammered before trailing off, unable to finish her sentence.

“I don’t know,” Oliver said. He really didn’t.

But maybe… He looked at the letters in his hands. The proof that this hadn’t been spur of the moment, a moment of pain so deep, Percy couldn’t see a way out of it. This was planned. How long had Percy been feeling this way? Maybe the letters could answer at least some of the many questions Oliver had.

“But… he wrote some letters,” Oliver said, shuffling through them until he found the one labeled Penny. “This one, he addressed to you.”

Penelope stared at the letter in his hand as he offered it to her before taking it with a shaking hand. She traced Percy’s handwriting on the envelope with her eyes.

“How long has he been planning this, and he didn’t say anything?” She asked.

“I’m not sure,” Oliver said, “But there’s a lot of letters. It would’ve taken him at least a day to write all of them.”

“He could’ve come to us. We could’ve done something!” Penelope exclaimed. “Why didn’t he?”

“Professor McGonagall said this kind of thing-“ depression, pain, suicidal thoughts- “It blinds them to all the people around them until the pain is all they can see. They forget they’re not alone.”

Penelope was quiet for a moment. “Percy felt alone for who knows how long, so alone he tried to kill himself. We could’ve said something, done something, so he knew he wasn’t alone.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Oliver said. You didn’t live with him.

“I should’ve. I was his girlfriend,” Penelope said.

“You are his girlfriend,” Oliver said, ignoring the pang those words sent to his heart. “He’s still alive.”

“I know,” Penelope said. “But for how long?”

Oliver didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to.

Penelope sat on her bed in Ravenclaw tower some time later, staring at the letter in her lap. She’d needed some time alone, so she’d retreated to her room after talking to Oliver, away from the stares and whispers of everyone at Hogwarts. By now, everyone knew.

Penny tried not to think of how she found out, how Cho Chang had approached her and told her in a hesitant, careful voice, afraid Penny would break at the news. And Penny did. How do you even feel when your boyfriend just tried to kill himself? Penny felt a lot of fear for Percy’s life but also a lot of sadness, a lot of grief (he wasn’t dead yet), and a lot of anger.

Why didn’t Percy come to her? She asked him how he was every time she saw him; he had several opportunities to tell her, but he didn’t. He kept quiet, and now, he was in a hospital bed.

Penny slipped her finger under the lip of the envelope and gently tore- so gently, it was like she was handling a priceless artifact. She was all too aware that if Percy didn’t wake up, these could be his last words to her.

She pulled the letter out and unfolded it, Percy’s cursive spiraling down the page so neatly and deliberately. He hadn’t been rushed or distraught when he wrote this; the handwriting was too precise and neat. He’d been calm when he wrote this.

Somehow, that made everything worse.

Penny read the letter, almost hearing it in Percy’s voice. The more she read, the more her heart broke… but not for the reasons most would think.

She wouldn’t have hated him. Never in a million years. She had always suspected and had been looking for a way to bring it up.

Not to mention hating him for the whole being gay and being in a straight relationship to hide it thing would’ve been hypocritical of her.

She never told him about the way she looked at Cho Chang or Padma Patil, how she kissed him because that’s what she thought she was supposed to do. Like Percy, all her books told her the girl and guy best friends always fell in love, got married, had kids, and lived happily ever after. That was the job description. For Penny, girls should’ve had no part of that. But they did.

It was ironic that the two gay people in the school managed to find each other and date the other to cover up the fact that they were gay.

Would Penny ever get the chance to tell him he wasn’t alone? That he wasn’t the only one who didn’t feel normal, who didn’t feel right, who didn’t fit the mold everyone else was setting for them?

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? It was the mold everyone else set for them, not the one they set for themselves. They just wanted to be themselves, to love who they loved and live their lives how they wanted.

Now, Percy may never get that chance.

Percy opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was that he was lying on the floor. Why was he on the floor? He had no idea.

He sat up with a groan. His head was throbbing, and his arms itched badly, like the time the twins poured itching powder all over him. He blinked against the harsh lighting in the room he was in, trying to get his eyes to adjust. After a moment, things in the room started to take shape. He was on the floor beside a bed with crisp white sheets, an equally white bedside table at his back. The walls were white, the beds were white, the lights were white. Everything was white, and Percy immediately recognized it. He’d spent enough time there in second year when Marcus Flint decided he hated him and beat Percy up every other day.

The Hospital Wing.

Percy groaned again as he found his way to his feet. He buried his head in his hands, trying to block out the lights to hopefully quell the aching in his skull. When it did nothing, he braved opening his eyes again, squinting under the lighting, and his eyes landed on bandages, as white and crisp as the bed sheets, wrapped around his arms. On one, a spot of red had started to seep through, about halfway down his forearm.

What the…

It all came crashing back in, like he’d been hit with a Beater bat. The notes, the knife, the blood… Oliver. He remembered the door opening and Oliver screaming his name just before he passed out.

He almost broke down into tears as he realized he failed. He couldn’t even kill himself properly! And even worse, Oliver had been the one to find him. He’d hoped it would be anyone but Oliver or his siblings, but it had been Oliver. He’d traumatized his best friend.

Percy sat heavily in a chair beside the bed. He was a horrible person. Not for killing himself- everyone would be better off without him- that much, Percy was sure of. But because he’d slit his wrists in their dorm room where Oliver was sure to find him. He should’ve done it anywhere else, any other way, but instead, he’d traumatized his best friend for life.

Percy was still screwing up and making things worse for everyone, just like he always did.

Footsteps sounded, and Percy followed them to the doorway. Penelope appeared in the doorway, her robes rumpled and her hair a mess, her eyes rimmed red with tears. She paused, her eyes slightly to the right of Percy, like she couldn’t even bear to look at him.

Percy stood up, almost knocking the chair over in his haste. “Penny-“ he started, not even sure what to say but knowing he had to say something. He started to say he was sorry, but was he? What was he sorry for? She’d be better off without him, just like everyone else. Maybe he was apologizing for surviving.

Penny approached him, never even glancing at him. She kept her eyes fixed to the right of him.

“Penny,” Percy whispered. “I’m so sor-“

She kept walking and then… she walked right through him. Not past him. Through him, like the ghosts often did.

Percy yelled, his hand flying to his chest in a panic. Cold washed over him like a bucket of ice water had been dunked over his head. He stumbled back, knocking into the chair and making it shake.

Penny glanced at it, confused, but her eyes immediately returned to the spot they’d been fixed. This time, Percy followed her gaze.

And almost felt his heart stop… if it wasn’t stopped already.

Percy Weasley was lying in the hospital bed, face as pale as snow. The blanket was pulled up to his chin, and his face was slack, empty. Percy could sense the monitoring spells that would alert Madam Pomfrey to any change.

That was him. But… he was right here? How was he in two different places at once?

Penny sat in a chair on the opposite side of the bed, and she pulled back the blankets to grab one of Percy’s hands. Percy noted the bandages wrapped around his… other self’s? arms, just like the ones wrapped around his own, right down to the spot of blood seeping through.

“Hey, Percy,” Penny murmured, her voice thick with tears. The tears were building in her eyes, turning the cerulean ocean into periwinkle glass. “You really did a number on yourself, huh?”

Percy had pressed the knife into his skin with all his strength, which- granted- wasn’t much, but it was enough to rip open the paper-thin skin and into a vein. Percy remembered the agony blazing in both arms as the blood dripped onto the carpet. Yeah, he’d done a number on himself. The question was… did he regret it?

Percy didn’t understand. Was he dead? Then, why was he in the Hospital Wing and not in a coffin? Why would Penny be talking to him and holding his hand if he was dead?

Percy once read a book on near death experiences. People who had been in comas said they remembered hearing their loved ones’ voices. Some even reported feeling like a ghost, looking on at their comatose body and everything going on, but no one could see them. Was that what was happening?

“I read your letter,” Penny said. The tears were overflowing now, streaming down her cheeks.

Percy had written Penny’s letter first. All the letters were hard to write, but Penny’s was the easiest. Not because he felt any better about leaving her, but because he knew exactly what he wanted to say. Some of the others were a little more complicated than that.

“You could’ve told me,” Penny said, and her voice broke on a sob. She scrubbed away the tears on her face, but they were quickly replaced by more. “I would’ve understood.”

Percy wished he could believe her, but how could she understand when even he didn’t?

Percy didn’t understand why he couldn’t like girls like any other boy his age, why he couldn’t love Penelope, why he couldn’t imagine a future with anyone but a man…why his heart leaped when he looked at Oliver- who, he knew, could never feel the same way about him. He’d read books, journaled, asked badly-disguised questions like would you ever date a guy?, all to understand why he was the way that he was, and he never did understand.

So no, there was no way Penny could understand.

“When I kissed you,” Penny continued, “I didn’t really know what I was doing. I was just doing what I thought I was supposed to do. After all, all my friends were kissing boys- most of them, their best friends. For me, that was you.”

Penny had so many more friends than he did. Percy only had two friends, Penny and Oliver, and Oliver was… complicated. Penny had always been his best friend, but considering Penny’s multitude of friends, Percy had never even considered that he would be hers. It baffled him why Penny would even want to be his friend. Percy’s own family didn’t even like him; why would anyone else?

But despite that, Penny was his friend. Ever since that day in the library when she asked him to help her with her Transfiguration homework. Percy expected Penny to never talk to him again after she got an O in Transfiguration, but she kept talking to him, hanging out with him, calling him her friend. Percy never understood it, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

And he tried to leave her. How could she ever forgive him?

“I didn’t want to think about how I looked at Cho or Padma or other girls. I wanted to be normal.”

Percy looked up from the ground in shock. She couldn’t be saying…

“And kissing boys was normal, even though I would’ve rather been kissing a girl. So yeah, Percy, I would’ve understood.”

No, she had to be saying this just to make him feel better. But she didn’t even know he could hear her, so she couldn’t be saying that just to make him feel better. She meant it.

Percy thought he was the only one that felt like this- wrong, abnormal, a freak. He was the outlier. But his best friend understood him in a way he never thought possible.

Could that mean… Percy wasn’t a freak? Or were he and Penny both freaks?

He could never think of Penny as a freak. Penny was the kindest, smartest, most amazing girl he knew. It didn’t matter that she liked girls, and it didn’t change who she was. She was still just as amazing as she’d always been.

So what did that say about Percy?

“And you could’ve talked to me. About anything. I would’ve listened. I would’ve helped in any way I could. Anything to keep you from…” Penny glanced at his arms and looked like she was about to be sick. “You didn’t have to go through this alone, Percy.”

But he did have to. How could he explain to Penny or Oliver or anyone the darkness inside his head? How could he taint them with it, burden them with it? Percy wasn’t so bad a person, he would put that burden on his friends’ shoulders. No, he had to carry it alone.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was heavy, and it didn’t change the fact that it was killing him.