He couldn't wrap his head around it. It seemed that she was saying that he and quidditch were two separate things—that he wasn't the reason she didn't want to play anymore. Why, then? He hadn't noticed a lack of passion in her, which bothered him, because he should have known. He should have seen how disinterested she was, how her mind was elsewhere. It was easier to assume that it was because of him than to try and jump through the mental hoops to try and figure out what had caused it.
"But why, then?" he asked, his brows furrowed. "Quidditch is our thing. You don't - you don't like it anymore?" He was willing to set aside his own insecurities just long enough to think about the logistics of it. He really didn't want to try and find another seeker, not when he'd be comparing them to her.
"But why, then?" he asked, his brows furrowed. "Quidditch is our thing. You don't - you don't like it anymore?" He was willing to set aside his own insecurities just long enough to think about the logistics of it. He really didn't want to try and find another seeker, not when he'd be comparing them to her.
