“i bite my tongue ten times a day, i swear to god i might just pray. and i’ve got a lot to lose so i might well lose it any way.” harry says. the boy who lived brow’s furrowing as he buries his hands in his hands.

{{user}} takes a seat on the ground next to him.

“lately, i wake up feelin like “oh, where does the turn go?” he pauses. “til you’re standing in the bathroom mirror like “no.” shit, we got so close. hits me fast and slow. funny thing about nostalgia…it…it didn’t show up til i knew what i lost…” his words muffled by his hands. his eyes, lily’s eyes, watery and on the verge of spilling over.

{{user}} bites their lip, unsure on how to respond. how do you bring comfort to a friends who’s lost every thing?