Harry hated crying in front of people. And yet.
“Harry, please, don’t do this,” Draco said. His voice was thick and tearful.
It wasn’t his fault, he had to do this. He couldn’t let this go on the way it was. Harry clenched his hands into fists, shaky, always shaky lately. What was wrong with him? Draco loved him, he loved Draco, this wasn’t fair to either of them. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He had to. He was going to hurt Draco, he wasn’t good enough. He’d never be good enough.
“I have to. You understand, don’t you?”
Draco shook his head. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, wiping away tears. His shoulders shuddered with his breathing and Harry felt a pang of guilt in his chest when a small sound escaped Draco’s lips.
“Please, Draco. You have to understand. I can’t- I can’t do this anymore.”
“I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about! We were happy yesterday, we were happy this morning, and suddenly you just want to end it? What happened between then and now?”
Draco looked up at him. His face was flushed red, blotchy. It made Harry’s throat ache. He swallowed. His mind felt overfull and empty at the same time, so many things racing about in his head and not one good enough to explain how he was feeling, why he was doing this. How much he hated himself, how he felt like he wasn’t good enough, how he would never be good enough for anybody— he didn’t deserve what Draco did to him. He didn’t deserve to be happy.
“I can’t.” His voice was choked.
(He wouldn’t cry, there was no way he was going to cry in front of Draco tonight. He wouldn’t make him feel guilty.)
His name sounded like an accusation. Harry ran a hand through his hair, closed his eyes, tried to breathe even though all the air seemed to have been sucked from the room. He was so tired. He just wanted to disappear.
“I’m fucking talking to you. You don’t get to blank out like that right now. Something is wrong, and you need to tell me what it is because I’m not just going to let this go. It’s been three years.” Draco spoke in that forceful voice, the one that always made Harry talk
“I— fuck , Draco. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s not an answer.” He softened a little, stepped closer, grabbed on to Harry’s wrists. “Take a breath.”
Harry’s breathing stuttered, paused. He took a deep breath, and the room brightened and focused. He looked Draco in the eyes, then he let his gaze flicker away toward the door.
“I’m not good enough for you. I just want you to be happy so I thought if I wasn’t here—“
Draco cut him off. He grasped Harry’s wrists tighter. “Who told you that you don’t make me happy?”
“Nobody, but I thought—"
“Harry. Stop talking.”
“Look at me.”
He did. Draco’s eyes met his, certain and safe and jesus, Draco was everything he needed and he was trying to leave him. What was wrong with him?
“You’re enough, okay? I’ll tell you every day if that’s what it takes for you to believe it. You’re enough. I love you.”
“No. You’re not going to end this because of that. We’re going to work through this together, okay?”
“You’re enough. You have always been enough.”
Harry started to cry. Draco pulled him closer, against his chest. The smell of him filled Harry’s lungs and he clutched at Draco’s shirt, closed his eyes and breathed him in. He didn’t deserve this. Draco. But he was going to stay. He was going to stay.