Leave ‘&’ in my inbox for my muses thoughts and feelings about yours

          What would be  made  of  it,   would  be  made   of   it.
          Severus is not aware of how ѕιcк  he  could  be,  how
          sick he could one day prove, but to  say  the  way  he
          feels about her isn’t rooted in a pure truth [ distorted
          & ruined by his  capacity  to  ruin ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰᶤᶰᵍ ]  would  be
          wrong. She was  the  only  one  who  had  ever  been
          able   to   see  through   what  he  set  himself  up   to
          be,   who   had   bridged  the  gap  he’d  left  between
          his   repugnances  &  his  brilliance.  She  had  found
          the between  space  [  and  what  was  there,  he  was
          not  quite   sure ;  only  she  knew,  and  he’d  proven
          too much a coward  to  ask —  he  only  ever  wanted
          her to say it, to  remember  and  reassure  they   were 
          ʙᴇsᴛ  ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ]   and   she   was   the   only  one  who
          ever would. She was his only light.

                          &   he   would   never   learn  to  love  like  she  did —
                         without    pretense,    with    certain   freedom,   with
                         selflessness —  but,  as  sad  and  shriveled  as  that
                         was,   he   could   n o t   let   anyone  take  her  away.

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               not from him, who believed  himself
                    to need it most, regardless of how little
                                     he’d done to earn it.  

I KEEP LOSING FOLLOWERS 

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