It didn't take long to realise he was clinging to the shreds of something that wasn't even there. Even the tatters of what they'd had were dissolving in his grasp as soon as Tybalt could clutch at them. So - this was it. They had nothing left, absolutely nothing. Not even the pretence of knowing each other or of once having been friends, because already she was looking for an out from this encounter; had said she was sorry; her blue eyes had welled with tears that sent a pang of guilt through him, like he was entirely responsible for her anguish.
But that wasn't fair. He may have been the one to start the conversation, all those months ago, but it had been her to end things. Her to tell him it wasn't worth it. It was Elsie who had made it clear that they didn't want the same things, and could never work. It was Elsie who had broken his heart, not the other way around, and she thought she was the one who couldn't face seeing him again?
"You can't?" He repeated, in a low, incredulous tone, his face contorted, all hint of his smile vanished. No sense in deluding himself then, or trying to patch up the surface of a chasm between them that now ran so deep, right to the centre of the earth - if he understood her now, Elsie would rather never see him or talk to him again as long as they lived. Maybe that was the smarter option in the long run, maybe she was right and it was what was easier, but... Tyb had gone months of that already, and it wasn't easier. It would never be easier. He was still in love with her, he couldn't lie to himself about that. He was in love with her, hopelessly, and unless he moved out of Hogsmeade - out of the country, maybe - he would have to live the rest of his life agonisingly aware that he might bump into her at any moment, tomorrow or the next day or a month or a year or ten years from now, and nothing would have changed. She would look past him blankly, and turn on her heel, and there would be the same twist of a knife in his chest that there was now.
"You won't even try," he murmured, frustration bubbling up incoherently - mostly at himself, because there was no use in her trying, was there, when they had already concluded that he wasn't enough for her. She didn't want this. That was why they were over, in the end. Maybe if he weren't so thick, he would have already come to terms with the fact that trying would only make this worse, draw out the torture.
But maybe he just needed telling again.
But that wasn't fair. He may have been the one to start the conversation, all those months ago, but it had been her to end things. Her to tell him it wasn't worth it. It was Elsie who had made it clear that they didn't want the same things, and could never work. It was Elsie who had broken his heart, not the other way around, and she thought she was the one who couldn't face seeing him again?
"You can't?" He repeated, in a low, incredulous tone, his face contorted, all hint of his smile vanished. No sense in deluding himself then, or trying to patch up the surface of a chasm between them that now ran so deep, right to the centre of the earth - if he understood her now, Elsie would rather never see him or talk to him again as long as they lived. Maybe that was the smarter option in the long run, maybe she was right and it was what was easier, but... Tyb had gone months of that already, and it wasn't easier. It would never be easier. He was still in love with her, he couldn't lie to himself about that. He was in love with her, hopelessly, and unless he moved out of Hogsmeade - out of the country, maybe - he would have to live the rest of his life agonisingly aware that he might bump into her at any moment, tomorrow or the next day or a month or a year or ten years from now, and nothing would have changed. She would look past him blankly, and turn on her heel, and there would be the same twist of a knife in his chest that there was now.
"You won't even try," he murmured, frustration bubbling up incoherently - mostly at himself, because there was no use in her trying, was there, when they had already concluded that he wasn't enough for her. She didn't want this. That was why they were over, in the end. Maybe if he weren't so thick, he would have already come to terms with the fact that trying would only make this worse, draw out the torture.
But maybe he just needed telling again.
