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“That’s weird,” Harry straightens, childhood tar-thick in his chest. “I would think most people try to forget.”
“I think people make memories into ghosts,” he fixes his hair, at home in his bones, unaware, like he isn’t casting spells by licking his lips. “I think it’s easier that way, to put the blame somewhere else. But we’re our own ghosts,” Louis looks up at him, a storm gathering in his pupil. “We haunt ourselves.”
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Bookmark Notes:
I cried like a baby
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Cigarettes and nectarines
All you need to fall in love and to rip your heart out apparently 🤷♀️😭