confessions i'd confess... if i could confess

And it cuts like a curse that my life revolves around yours when, at best, I'm just passing through your orbit. We'll inevitably crash and burn. Who will pick up the pieces then?

Harry's regaling him with tales of his weekend when Draco slumps down in his chair. It's Gene this and Gene that and Draco thinks he might be sick if Harry keeps talking. It might be worse if he stops though... either Draco will no longer be a confidant or the details will be too salacious to share. He isn't sure which is worse. Then Harry trails off, shrugging away Draco's obligatory offer of tea and he knows. The silence is worse.