Dry My Eyes So You Won't Know
It’s that fear of looking weak, despite the undying trust you have for one another. That fear that makes the rest of him wonder, that makes his mind race with doubt. Is that trust really as strong as he once thought? What else could he be lying to himself about? What if Harry’s noticed. What if he’s noticed and he doesn’t like what he sees. What if he’s just pretending. What if nothing was ever real.
But still he holds on to whatever reality he can grasp, hold on to what’s real, and what he can only hope is real. His hands, wrapped around his knees, squeeze tightly for a moment more, his knees tucking into his ribs and letting out a long, forced, shaky breath. He felt Harry’s presence; his heart simultaneously sunk and fluttered away, a stir of emotions flooding over him as he tried to subdue them.
He loosened his hold on his knees, allowing on leg to stretch flat on the floor while the other remained bend upwards. He wiped the messy streams of tears from his face with his palms, moving his dampened hair out of the way in a desperate attempt to regain his composure. He didn’t know how long Harry had been standing there, but the less his face reflected the disaster he felt like inside, the better.
After all, why should Harry worry for him if he didn’t need to? Why put him through that? It seemed pointless. And besides, he’s fine. He’s never been more fine. He’s better than fine, he’s great.
Harry watched his movements, his concern softening into a faint, sympathetic smile. He approached the figure with soft steps. He wrapped his arms around Draco, gentle and kind.
Draco felt the embrace. He felt every fiber of his body tense up and melt away just as quickly. He felt the rush of emotions rush through him. He felt the fiery warmth of Harry’s heartbeat against his. He felt safe. Tears streamed once again down Draco cheeks. He leaned into Harry’s shoulder. This is real, this is true.