After the Loss, Before the Tears
We are not like everyone else.
We have still not decided.
After years of bickering,
Years of longing,
And finally the physical breaking point-
We are still not sure.

That one, final kiss.
That blissful moment of joy, where I completely forgot there was a war.

The uncertainty was supposed to end there!
But then Harry had to interrupt, so now; here we are.
The battle is won.
And we’re still afraid to glance at one another.

I have half a mind to walk up to him and explain that yes- my kiss meant that I do, in fact, love him.
But then I remember that I kissed him, so maybe he never felt the same.
Maybe it was my imagination.
So, I’ll wait.

I want him to- no.
I need him to come up to me and let me know that he did kiss back.
I need to know I wasn’t dreaming.

I’m watching him.
He’s looking at me.
And he’s just staring.
What does that mean?

What if he rejects me?
For unknown reasons?
Or worse-
For known reasons?

I’m not pretty enough.
He’s just a friend.
We’re not compatible.
The timing was off.

Timing.
If only we had better timing.
But would it all have been worth it if our timing had been different?

He begins to approach me, and I can’t quite read his expression.
He sits down next to me, and for a moment, he just gazes into my eyes.
I need him to say something, but I want him to stay silent.
He continues to gaze.

I can see the hurt in his eyes, and I realize what he’s lost tonight.
What we’ve all lost tonight.
But honestly, I can’t help but continue to dwell on us.

I’ll mourn later.
I feel selfish, but it’s what I’m thinking.

I’ll mourn later.
Just tell me you love me first.
Then we’ll go on to what’s happened.
I need to finish what started before I can dwell on what’s been done.

He still gazes.
He speaks, asking what I’m doing alone.
I yearn to tell him that I’m waiting for him, but I still don’t know his feelings.
And I’m far too insecure to assume.
So I merely gaze at him.
(See how he likes it.)

He looks rather confused.
And repeats himself.
“Why are you alone?”
This time, I answer;
“I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to be with anyone.”

He looks somewhat hurt, and begins to put his arm around me.
I glance at his gesture, and look into his eyes, silently begging him to say it, for once.

“You’re supposed to be with me.”
And somehow,
Despite the typical insignificance of such a simple statement,
He managed to say it all.
And I can’t even respond.
I lean into his embrace, finally satisfied.

I realize he won’t say he loves me for a while, because I won‘t either.
We’ll have to tend to other emotions first.
But at least we’ll both know.

He holds me tighter, and I’m sure he’s thinking about those we’ve lost.
I am too, but right now,
In this moment,
I’m a bit preoccupied with what I‘ve gained.

My love.
My Ron.
(But I repeat myself.)