A.N: I don't really know where this came from...apart from a few weeks ago I was listening to Kate Nash Foundations and I wrote this, and then found it again today and spruced it up a little. I still don't think I like it, though. Slightly different style of writing for me.
All lyrics belong to Kate Nash.
My fingertips are holding onto the cracks in our foundations.
Hot tears blurred her vision and dripped down onto the carpeted floor below. But she never cried, never, ever cried over him, not him with his messy hair and his beautiful eyes watching her every move. Lily felt as though she was drowning in a flood – of what? Tears? Memories? Him?
She'd thought they'd clash, of course they'd clash, even before they were together when she was still debating whether or not to give him that chance that he so desperately wanted, needed, even. It wasn't that they were chalk and cheese, as many people thought, oh, but it was, it was; oil and water don't mix, but it was because they were both so damn stubborn, stubborn as mules. Gryffindor pride.
Hence, they had their fall-outs. Fall-outs, break-ups, does it matter what they're called? Nothing like the perfect relationship that everyone thought they deserved to have, the fairy-tale ending. Muggle fairy-stories hold no meaning in the Wizarding World, anyway. Mere fantasy.
Lily nearly always found herself in the Common Room in the early morning hours after their spats, but never crying, he'd never made her cry before now. It had started off as something silly, but, as usual, had escalated and sometimes, oh, God sometimes she just wondered why was she bothering?
He'd said the exact same thing to her hours ago, when their voices were raised and their bodies angled sharply away from each other, so, so different to how they were the day before, all arms and legs entangled and breaths mingled and foreheads touching.
"If you don't think we're right for each other, Lily, then why the hell are you bothering?"
"Don't you dare start twisting my words, James. I've never said anything like that; you're the one that always seems to be looking for a way out!"
"Oh, that's right, it's all me, and never you, is it? I'm bloody fed up of this, Lily."
"Well go then. You won't see me stopping you."
"Fine."
They hadn't spoken to each other since, but, God, she was thinking about him, and Lily tried to envisage surviving the rest of the year at school without being near him, or the rest of her life, for that matter. She couldn't.
She fancied that, by the next day, everything would be alright again, oh, please let everything be alright again, and they'd meet at the bottom of the staircase and walk to breakfast, hands linked, and laugh it off as another of their 'lover's tiffs.'
But come next morning, he got up earlier, and she exited the Common Room alone. He'd gone to morning lessons by the time she'd finished her breakfast and, in the evening, he had Quidditch practice; she had homework to do.
Pride is a horrible thing when it keeps you from the ones you really care about.
I know that I should forget; but I can't.