If Only He Knew

If only they knew the way I felt, I wouldn´t have to suffer through this hell alone.

Of course, even if they knew, it wouldn´t matter. Because they still wouldn´t understand. The tears streaming, unbidden, down my cheeks for what seems like no reason at all. There was no provocation for this sorrow. It was nothing he said, nothing he did. Or rather, if it was, it was everything he´s ever said, or everything he´s ever done; maybe, though, it´s just a single thing. His existence. Who he is.

They call me a know-it-all. If only they knew how little that was true. I know everything but that which I most desperately want to know. I know everything but when he looks into my soul with those ocean-deep eyes, I wonder what he sees. Because he certainly doesn´t see his name written on it with neon florescent lighting, which is all I know of it anymore.

I can overcome any obstacle of the mind, except when I try to string together words to speak to him. Because the words can´t speak the volumes I feel when I look into those ocean-deep eyes, when I reach out to that soul. The words mean nothing to the multitudes in those eyes, the unfathomable emotions. And then, I´m lost, because knowledge means nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I´m forced to accept that I can never know that which I want to understand the most: Ronald Weasley.

Love seems like an all-too-simple word to express what it is inside me. After all, love seems like too much of a four-letter-word to produce these unadulterated tears, to make me lose my mind when all he´s done is smile, to make my eyes linger on that hair of copper fire until I´ve lost sight of time and space and life in itself. Love seems too little to make me want to comfort him when he´s made me cry, and I see the glint of guilt in his eyes. I care for his emotions more than I care for my own; I´d gladly step into the Killing Curse to save him, if only to know his lopsided smile would still grace the world. Because Ron always makes me happier than anyone else in the world, and I know that without him in it, the world would be a place not worth living in- not for me. As selfish as it is, I would rather die before him, just so I would never have to live in the world without him. Without him, the world is missing the sun´s rays- he shines over everything in my life, washing away the dull monochrome of a weary life and bringing me to a world where there are colours abound, and at every turn there´s something new to live for. But it´s really only one thing it comes back to- it´s really only Ron.

And yet, he brings me devastation just by existing, as easily as happiness. Because I love him so, if love is the word; and yet, I can never tell him. The emotion in me runs too wide, too deep; he would drown in the depths of it, and be lost to me forever. I can´t lose what it is we have for the dreams that there might be something more; I can´t take an unwarranted risk, because if I lose him, there´s nothing left. I´ll have lost the sun, and all the things under it I ever wanted to live for. If he leaves, he´ll take my soul with him, and I´m not ready to part with it, not yet.

I look into his eyes sometimes, though, and I feel I might almost be reaching his soul. I feel I might be seeing my emotions reflected in those eyes, as if he might feel the same, as if in those ocean-deep eyes, he expects me to drown, as if his love were a bottomless pool I could never surface from. And yet, when I look away- when we smile, when we talk, when we scowl, when we argue- the reflection is lost. I ask myself if he could be hiding, like me, hiding his soul behind his eyes and hoping I´ll find it and understand, and we can drown together, like lovers pledging their devotion for eternity. But every movement fills me with doubt. We dance around each other, two parts to our tango, and yet even when he seems stark raving mad, he still seems unaffected, somewhere in his eyes. How can someone whose emotions seem so genuine on the surface shift beneath, a current beneath his eyes? I´m left only to contemplate, but never to know- Ron may seem like an open book, but I never know which page to turn to.

So I watch, and I wait, and I cling to the moments when I look in his eyes and see the mirror reflection of my feelings, wondering if it can be true. And every time we fight, every time we call a truce, every time we share a smile- something stirs inside me just a little more, and the feeling builds up as if it´s unbearable to withhold, but somehow I keep it inside. I have to, because I can´t live without him. And I don´t know if he´ll be able to take it if I let this go, if I hand over that soul and show him just whose name is written all over it.

The tears still flow down my cheeks, silently mourning, but rejoicing, because I can´t help but be grateful to bask in the sun that´s my one true north, my one reason to be on this earth. And eventually they´ll subside, because I can only cry for so long.

I wonder if he would understand, if only he knew.