give her love » james potter

35

"It doesn't work that way," I finish for him, sighing. "You're not supposed to chase after me and I'm not supposed to chase after you. When things get rough, we're supposed to meet in the middle, James."

I know he wants to say something, that he's annoyed slightly that I've cut him off. But he's shaking his head like he always does. "Creevey is a good guy," he admits. "It wasn't right for me to say that thing."

"He is," I agree. The way his eyes stare at his shoes makes my stomach turn, I feel terrible. "I know you care. That night I was just upset about something else and I took it out on you."

Then he breathes some life into my heart that hasn't beaten in three weeks, "Tell me, Pierce," he says, with his honey like voice that I'd spent hours listening. "Tell me why you were upset and we can start from there."

We wander along to the kitchen because for some reason it feels easier for us to be there. Surrounded by the warmth of fires and smell of all these different foods, it's better than the dark cold corridor. I'm sitting on the floor staring at my nails, the same red as the ones on his robe, trying to think of all I want to say whether I should. The possibilities are endless but the outcomes are so terrifying that I can't even force myself to think about it for more than a moment.

He's ditched his head boy duties saying that nothing bad ever even happens, though Lily might be upset with him in the morning. But the way he shrugs it off makes me realise he doesn't care much about it. 

There's a raspberry muffin in my hands and some drink in his. We play this game of sips and bites while briefly looking up and looking away when the other catches you. It feels so childish. But maybe that's the consequences of not talking to someone for such a long time. 

James has taken his glasses of giving me a very clear look at his face, he looks exhausted. 

"Long day?"

He gives me lazy smile, "We had an early practice this morning, so I've been awake since five."

"I'm sorry about keeping you up late," I say, sincerely.

"Peirce," he shakes his head. "I have decades to catch up on sleep. Right now all I want is for you to talk to me."

I finally let out a exaggerated sigh. "I can't do this anymore," I tell him, pointing between us. Confusion spreads across his face and he's about to open his mouth but I cut him off. "I know we're friends, really good friends actually. Even though we've gone through this three week talking strike. But, James," I bite my lip and want to just melt into the ground because what the hell am I doing? "I like you, a lot. I like you so much that I can't sit around and watch you go on dates with another girl, at least without knowing how I feel."

My hands have started fumbling with the hem of my shirt, I refuse to look at him. This is terrible, horrible, holy mother of--

"I thought it was pretty obvious," he says, making my face heat up. "Not you liking me. But, uh, well, you know?"

I frown at the floor. "I really don't know."

"Really?"

"God, if I knew wouldn't be asking."

"Oh, well, I like you too." He pauses and I see blush spread through him before saying, "I was hoping to like tell you on Valentines Day--actually, no. Sirius wanted me to tell you on Valentines Day because he thought it would be romantic and you'd swoon."

"That sounds cheesy," I say.

"It does."

He moves to sit beside me so our stretched out legs and shoulders touch, and it makes me melt. But even though I'm turning into a puddle of feelings right now, I ask, "Why'd you give her the necklace?"