Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Apple Crumble	By : starstruck86 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Ron Views: 14575 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
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A second chapter for you all!

Title: Whisper

Pairing: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley

Prompt: 073: Light

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: ~789

Warnings: Angst, first person POV

Summary: Ron has to make a decision, no matter how hard it is.
This was his idea, the holiday. He said we needed time away to try and breathe away from everyone else.
Whatever, Harry. I would have been happy at home drinking beer and sleeping all week long.
That apparently isn't what our relationship needs. Sleep. Alcohol. Lazy mornings in bed. I think that'd be pretty useful, don't you?
So now I'm here being blinded by the light and cooked alive by the sun, even though I'm in the shade. And Harry is sitting outside the shade, sunglasses on, looking like a fucking God, and I look like the ugly deformed cousin hidden from sight.
I didn't want to come to the beach. I wanted to stay in bed and go for lunch later when the heat had cooled off. But no. Here I am, for him.
You'd think he was the one who got strung up and abused.
I could hate him, but I don't have the energy. I could go home, but I don't have the energy to do that either. So I sit in silence, and look out at the sea and think about what to do.
What to do. Should be a pretty easy decision, right? It wasn't the first time it had happened. It wasn't the last either. We went fine for two weeks, and then he had a bad day at work and as soon as I walked through the door, it happened again.
Except that time, I didn't stop him.

~*~

“You're not eating very much.”
I shrug and sip my liquid dinner, which is giving me the courage to formulate the words on my tongue. My mother always told me never to rely on drink. Sorry Mum. I think even you'll understand this.
“Harry.”

“If you don't like it we can order another meal?” Harry moves his stare from the plate to me.

“It's not the food.” I clear my throat and put down my wine glass.

“Then what is it?”
I push back my chair slightly and brace my feet on the floor. Clearing it didn't work; there's a lump there and if I cry here I'm going to look like a right tosser.
“I don't think that I can do this any more.”

“Do what? Christ, if it's an issue, just push the plate away. No need to make a drama.”
He rolls his eyes at me and resumes shovelling pasta into his mouth.
“I don't think I want to be with you any more,” I say, more specifically.
Half-chewed lumps of pasta and carbonara sauce fly through the air. Maybe I should have waited until he was finished. Now I've ruined his dinner. Harry gulps down some water before he looks at me, dumbfounded.
“What?”
It's a gasp. Not really a word. A gasp. He sounds horrified. I don't bother to repeat it. He heard me clear enough.
“Ron, why?”

“Do you really have to ask that?”
I let my eyes follow a waiter past the table and then finally look at him. He's red in the face from choking but his eyes look too damp.
“Ron.” He's down to a whisper now. “Ron, please don't do this, please. Please.”

“Harry, do you think this is easy?”

“Please don't leave me.”

“Please don't beg me,” I counter.
His mouth opens but no words come out. The lump in my throat is threatening to choke me. I get to my feet.
“I'm going home. I'll get my stuff from the villa first.”

“Ron-”

~*~

“Are you telling me there isn't another portkey out of here until tomorrow morning?” I ask, stomach sinking.
The wizard nods apologetically and then shuffles off out of sight of the ticket window.
“Fuck,” I mutter, and aim a kick at my bag on the floor. I really wanted to get out of here tonight. Now I have nowhere to stay and very little money on me. “Such a prick.”
I turn around, looking for a seat.
“Oh.”

“Ron.”

“Harry.”
The overwhelming urge to laugh comes over me, but when Harry throws himself at me, wrapping his arms around my neck and holding on tight. He's gasping against my ear, like if he lets go of me his life will be over.
“Don't go. Don't. Please don't go.”

“I can't go anywhere for tonight,” I whisper. “No portkeys.”

“Get your suitcase and please come back with me. Even if it's just tonight. I want to... I want to talk about this.”

“Talk?” I breathe.

“Please?”
He says the word into my lips. How am I supposed to resist?
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