a/n: for Merc, (Child Of The Masquerade, or le Wallflower, whichever, really) who is sixteen and now officially ancient enough to require a walking stick and just a year away from being carted off to the old folk's home. thanks so much for being an incredible friend, & happy (belated) birthday! and thank you to angela for beta-ing :) stay awesome.

pairing prompt was pansy parkinson/tom riddle jr. first harry potter fanfic. (let's pretend that pansy and tom were in the same hogwarts generation.)

tell me i'm winning wars

ϟ

"i once knew a boy who made all the wrong choices"

—albus dumbledore.

.

tom stares into the water below him. he cries out, but no one hears.

(he jumps in, and instead of drowning in water, he's drowning in her.)

.

pansy has almost-black hair and very very pretty dark eyes. the kind of eyes that don't make a big deal out of themselves. he's the first girl he ever wants to take out on a date when he can fly, just because she's such an ingénue. she's completely ordinary, and yet so mellifluous.

.

pansy smiles at him, but he can't breathe and he can't see and he's not in love with her, he can't be in love with her because he can't love, he can't. he can't. he can't. he can't.

.

she leans her head on tom's shoulder. he smells like apples and cinnamon and burning firewood and a pinch of darkness and home. he always smells like home.

.

he looks at her, kisses her full on the mouth in the privacy of them. but then he's running away because he's tom riddle jr. and she shouldn't love him.

(mirror, mirror on the wall, am i the most messed up of them all?)

.

rodolphus lestrange has a birthday party and his mother makes him invite the whole school. slughorn insists that he go, because all of his friends will be there and it would be rude not to go, after all. so he goes.

he sits on a nice orange floral couch in the lestrange's living room, watching his classmates socialize. an hour after the party starts, millicent bullstrode opens the front door and pulls pansy parkinson in behind her. millicent hugs near everyone in the room (except him) while pansy scowls and leans in the corner.

inevitably, someone suggests they play the muggle game of 'seven minutes in heaven', just for a he ends up shoved into a closet with pansy parkinson, who gives the boy who escorts them in a hard look before slamming the door.

she barely gives him a second to comprehend what's going on before she shoves him against the wall of the tiny closet and slams her mouth over his.

she tastes like cherries and cigarette smoke and magic and very possibly alcohol.

she shoves him away a second later, and turns to shout to the boys on the other side. ('i kissed this freak, now open the fucking door, asshole, or i'll break every bone in your body')

he spends the rest of the party floating in midair.

(but he's tom riddle jr. so damnit, he can't.)

.

maybe he's less prince charming than she thinks, more dark knight—he's still the hero in her tale, always. that's what she tells herself, anyway.

but even when he's away from her, he can see he is a failure at a riddle. and she's not sure she can resurrect him.

.

he can't sleep, so he sneaks outside close to dawn and sits with his back against a tree and stares out across the grass until the ground meets with the sky a ways away.

"you're still awake?" her voice cuts through the air and makes her jump. he plays it off like she's not startled.

"yeah, i am. what do you care?" he snaps, even though he doesn't know why he's so angry (except for the fact that she keeps looking at rosierthat way and she keeps touching rosier that way and keeps talking to rosier that fucking way).

she rubs at her eyes, yawning a little, then holds up her hands in mock defeat and laughs and says she doesn't care. she sits down beside him and places her elbows on her knees without his permission.

.

she falls asleep on his shoulder. he can't say he minds.

.

"leave me, please. please, please."

she laughs, "don't you know, tom? i can't. i can't leave you, no matter how much i try."

.

they kiss with mouths that taste of mint chocolate chip (her) and straight vanilla (his) but it never feels like it's enough.

he wonders why it has to be so complicated between them.

.

"hello?"

her voice on the other end of the line is flat, listless, and he knows he's too late and oh fuck oh fuck—

"don't leave me again! pansy, listen, i—i need you! pansy, please, pansy ," his voice cracks –

the dial tone is deafening –

his heart cracks.

.

tom is the one to leave.

.

the day he leaves,—she can't do this anymore—pansy kind of just sits on her windowsill for a while. then she counts the number of flowers on her wallpaper, the number of freckles on her arm, and then she just counts as high as she can. once she's counted everything in her room twice, she sits on her bed and cries.

she doesn't know why she's crying, but she just knows that her heart hurts a lot and she can't feel her legs, so when she stands up to get some tissue, she falls and then just kind of lays there and cries some more.

.

she's off and engaged to evan rosier in seven months and he cries and he cries because the sky's a mess and he's lost and he's not in love.

it's raining. this is yucky & not very inspired, and quite messy and disorganized but this is what my head looks like when transferred to ink, i s'pose.

oh, well. hope you didn't despise it, Merc. (all reviews got to the Mersaydez Belated Cake And Lemondade Fund. but shh, don't tell her. it's a secret ;)

-all the lost souls.