I'm back on my bullshit making stories that no one requested smh

--Heavily inspired by The Story by Conan Gray--

********TRIGGER WARNING*********

Trigger warning for suicide and mentions of rape

Suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255

Please do not take these ideas to heart, this is purely for writing purposes. If you are feeling suicidal, please get help. You mean something to this world.

For those of you who don't understand the American schooling system, junior year is our third year of high school, and 11th grade. Senior year is our fourth and last year of high school, and 12th grade.

Let me tell you a story,
About a boy and a girl,
It's kinda short, kinda boring,
But the end is a whirl
They were just sixteen when the people were mean,
So they didn't love themselves and not they're gone,
Headstones on a lawn

It was a school full of white kids.

A school full of white kids, and her.

Hermione Granger.

She was like a fly in a bowl of marshmallows, small and insignificant, but they wanted to get rid of her.

Their hair was straight or wavy, light in color, dyed blue and red and purple and every color they could think of.

Her hair was tight and curly and black, and they told her putting color in it would look ugly.

When she tried to straighten it one morning, her mom came in and yelled at her, that she should be proud of her natural hair, that being different wasn't bad.

But when she went to school with her natural hair, people stared.

Their skin was light, sometimes with scatterings of freckles.

Her skin was dark, and they liked to joke that even if she had freckles, they wouldn't be able to see them.

They would turn off the lights in class and pretend they couldn't see her.

They would tell her that what she was wearing looked awful with her skin color.

They would tell her they were glad she had dark brown eyes, because with blue eyes like theirs, she would look terrifying.

They would tell her she didn't belong in this school.

They would tell her she should go back to where she came from, and just laughed when she insisted she was born here.

Every day she heard these things.

When she reached her junior year, more boys started talking to her.

That was when she started to feel like she belonged again.

But when Theodore Nott put his hand a little too high on her thigh in the middle of class, she decided she would rather go back to how it was before.

So she would avoid them.

That is, until Zacharias Smith locked himself in the girls bathroom with her and did unspeakable things to her.

After that, she felt a lot more hollow. Empty.

One time in class, he leaned toward her and murmured about how he liked variety in his diet.

She excused herself to go to the bathroom and threw up.

She was pushed in the halls, laughed at in class, and stared at every time she made any sort of movement.

She was an outsider in her own life.

So when she heard that the boy a year older than her had killed himself that week, she found her escape.

It was a school full of straight kids.

A school full of straight kids, and him.

Ron Weasley.

He was like a rainbow across a grey sky, unable to miss and impossible to not point out.

He was called every name in the book.

When he walked in the halls, guys would sneer at him, shove him, spit bitter words at him.

Girls would tug their boyfriends a little closer to them, watching him like a hawk.

He was an outcast, much like the black girl a year below him.

Once, they had thrown rocks at him.

He had marks all over him from that. Three were on his face.

Thirty more were on his body.

There was another senior in his school who seemed just a little too close to his best friend, and Ron thought they were secretly dating.

He approached one of them once, nodding toward his friend, and asked him if they were ever bullied.

The boy had looked confused.

Ron explained that since you're together, does anyone ever give you trouble?

The boy went pale, and stared at him in horror for a minute, before whispering that they weren't together.

Ron wondered why the boy had been so horrified by the idea. Was it really so repulsive?

Was he really so repulsive?

He had told his mom, because he thought she would be kind.

She kicked him out.

So now he was homeless, alone, and hopelessly self-loathing.

How could he stop all of this?

He didn't know what to do, where to go, how to cope.

So he threw himself off a bridge.

And when I was younger, I knew a boy and a boy,
Best friends with each other,
But always wished they were more,
'Cause they loved one another,
But never discovered,
'Cause they were too afraid of what they'd say,
Moved to different states

Draco was laughing at something Harry had said, and Harry had already forgotten what it was, because god, Draco was fucking beautiful.

He was stunned by the person in front of him, how he could be so perfect in every way.

Draco nudged his shoulder. "You ok?"

"Yeah. Sorry." Harry shook his head, grinning. He glanced across the room, watching as a girl in the grade below- Harmony?- was pushed by another girl.

He sighed, shaking his head. "Do you ever think-"

He was cut off by the way Draco was staring at him, eyes completely transfixed on him.

Draco blinked, blushing hard. "Do I think what?"

Harry shook his head. "Sorry, I don't remember."

*

It was two days later when the boy approached him.

Draco had shaken his head when Harry asked him to replace his nacho cheese Doritos with cool ranch ones. 

"Nacho cheese is better, you fucking weirdo," he complained, already standing. Harry grinned, because he knew Draco would do it.

He was a good friend like that.

"You're delusional," he commented, snatching a carrot off his friend's tray. Draco mock-scowled and left to replace his chips.

A boy was in front of him suddenly. Harry hadn't seen him approach. He jumped.

"Do you two ever get bullied?"

Harry frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry. Hi, I'm Ron. I meant, since you're together. Does anyone ever give you trouble about it?"

Harry felt all the blood drain out of his face. Was he really so obvious? God, what if Draco realized? He would hate him!

"We're not together," he whispered shakily. Ron's face fell, and he left with a murmured apology.

"Who was that?" Draco asked, throwing cool ranch Doritos in Harry's lap.

Harry pushed them to the side. Suddenly he wasn't hungry.

"No one," he murmured, trying not to let his voice shake. "Just some guy."

*

"Did you hear one of the guys in our grade killed himself yesterday?" Draco asked quietly, not touching his food.

Harry started. "What?"

"His name was Ron. He was gay, and... he went through a lot of shit for it."Draco was staring firmly at the ground, voice quivering. "He jumped off the Love Bridge."

Ron...Ron... Harry's blood suddenly went cold. "The redhead?"

Draco just nodded somberly, still staring at the ground.

Harry felt sick.

What if he was part of the reason Ron was dead?

*

"Someone else killed herself today. A junior, Hermione Granger."

Harry nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. "I heard."

"Our town is a fucking disaster waiting to happen." Draco's voice was hard and angry. Harry looked up, surprised at his tone. "I'm getting the fuck out of here as soon as I graduate."

"You are?" Harry asked. He knew his voice was small and scared, but he couldn't help it. Since they were fourteen, they had a plan to stay in the city, rent an apartment together, be friends forever.

Draco rubbed his hands across his face. "I can't, Harry. I can't stay here. Not with the deaths and the hate and y-" he glanced at Harry and stopped, sighing and hanging his head, loose blonde curls falling and obstructing Harry's view of the boy's face. "I just can't."

Harry forced himself to nod slightly, trying not to break.

Maybe it was better that he moved to a different state.

Maybe he would fall in love with someone else.

*

Draco's name was called for graduation. He went up, he took his diploma, and he smiled at Harry.

After everyone had gone up, Draco approached Harry, hugging him tightly and whispering that he was the best friend Draco had ever had.

That was the last time Harry talked to Draco.

Oh, and I'm afraid that's just the way the world works
It ain't funny, it ain't pretty, it ain't sweet
Oh, and I'm afraid that's just the way the world works
But I think that it could work for you and me
Just wait and see
It's not the end of the story

Harry had been living in America for three years.

He had a two-bedroom apartment with his friend Pansy, and they both worked in the bakery across the street, her as a waitress and him as a baker.

He had created a life for himself here, but never once did Draco stray from his mind.

He wanted him to be here.

Maybe so much so, that he was seeing things.

A flash of blonde hair out of the corner of Harry's eye piqued his interest, but he didn't turn. 

It's not Draco.

Draco had left him. He had run off to New York, and Harry lived in California, on the other side of the country.

"Table 12 is ready for their check," Pansy said sweetly to one of the other waitresses, before grabbing Harry's elbow.

"Pansy, I'm busy."

"Harry, turn around."

Her voice was hard and insistent, and Harry turned to face the customer at the counter.

He was met with grey eyes.

Now it's on to the sequel about me and my friend
Both our parents were evil, so we both made a bet
If we worked and we saved, we could both run away
And we'd have a better life, and I was right
I wonder if she's alright

"I've been saving a lot," Pansy said softly.

"Me too."

"I think we could genuinely get away from here. Away from our parents, away from society. You can find a good boyfriend, I can find a good girlfriend."

Blaise snorted. "As if you'll ever get over your stupid crush on that junior."

"Hermione's different," Pansy sighed.

"Yeah," Blaise snorted, grabbing one of her fries. "She's the only black girl in your school. That's the difference. I've never been so glad to not go to your school.  At least mine is more mixed."

"It's not because she's black, you fucking dick," Pansy grumbled, batting the fry out of his hands, much to Blaise's dismay. "She's just... something else."

"Yeah. She's black. Y'all white bitches ever seen a black person?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Pansy laughed, smacking his arm.

*

"She's dead."

"What?" Blaise's shocked voice almost stunned Pansy out of her daze, but not quite.

"She's dead. Hermione's dead. She killed herself."

Blaise's eyes were wide and horrified. "Pansy, I'm so-"

"No."

He went silent, wide eyes watching Pansy carefully.

"I can't stay in this town anymore. I'm running away."

"You? Or..." Blaise swallowed."Us?"

"I'm sorry, Blaise. Me."

"We had plans to run away together," Blaise whispered, voice cracking. "Remember? I can find a good boyfriend, you can-"

"Don't. Don't finish that sentence."

Blaise swallowed, nodding shakily. "Okay."

Pansy stood.

And she left him there.

Oh, and I'm afraid that's just the way the world works
It ain't funny, it ain't pretty, it ain't sweet
Oh, and I'm afraid that's just the way the world works
But I think that it could work for you and me
Just wait and see
It's not the end of the story

She didn't know what had happened to her best friend.

She worked in a bakery with her friend Harry now, and they were living together because goddamn, California was more expensive than she thought when she ran away to here.

She was taking a check to a table when she saw him.

The blonde hair was unmistakable. She had seen him around school three years ago, but more than anything, she knew about him from Harry's never-ending stories about his 'best friend'.

She handed the check to the waitress next to her. "Table 12 is ready for their check."

She moved around the counter carefully and grabbed Harry's elbow. 

"Pansy, I'm busy."

"Harry, turn around."

He sighed and turned.

And froze.

And the movie's always runnin' in my head

All the people, all the lovers, all my friends
And I hope that they all get their happy end
In the end

"Draco." Harry's voice was breathless and shocked. "You're... here."

"I'm here." Draco looked nervous. His eyes kept flicking from Harry to Pansy, as if trying to figure something out. 

"You... why?"

"Blaise told me Pansy was in California. We came out here to see her, and we walked past the bakery yesterday. I saw you. I couldn't... I was too afraid to go inside. But I got my shit together today... sort of."

"Blaise?" Pansy whispered faintly.

"God, those parking spots are fucking-" Blaise stopped walking in when he saw Pansy. "Pans."

"Blaise," Pansy choked out, and she ran around the counter and hugged him tightly. "God, Blaise, I'm-"

"Don't be. I am too."

Harry couldn't take his eyes off of Draco.

"You left me," he whispered, hating the way his voice cracked slightly.

Draco looked down. "Yeah."

"You didn't respond to any of my texts."

"Yeah."

"Never called. Never texted. Never even tried."

Draco just stood there, hands visibly shaking, staring at Harry.

"Why?" His voice was too hoarse, too broken. His whole world had come crashing down when Draco walked in, old feelings rushing to the surface.

Draco sighed. "Can we get dinner tonight and talk about it?"

Dinner. Dinner was too intimate, too close, too much like a date for Harry's broken heart to handle.

"Sounds wonderful!" Pansy cheered, throwing an arm over Harry's shoulders, saving him from answering. "A double date! You and Harry and me and Blaise!"

God, Harry loved Pansy.

"Actually," Blaise coughed. "It would be him and Harry and you and me and my boyfriend."

Pansy stared at him. "You actually got one?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Blaise grumbled. 

"Fine," Pansy huffed. "You can bring your boyfriend and I'll bring my girlfriend."

"You got a girlfriend?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Pansy mocked.

Harry caught Draco's eye. His grey eyes were pleading, and how could Harry refuse?

"Yeah. Sounds good."

Oh, and I'm afraid that's just the way the world works,
It ain't funny, it ain't pretty, it ain't sweet,
Oh, and I'm afraid that's just the way the world works,
But I think it could work for you and me,
Just wait and see

Harry and Pansy were the last to arrive.

Draco was already there, along with Blaise and some boy and Ginny.

Pansy slid into the seat next to Ginny, kissing her cheek. Harry sat next to her, across from Blaise, who sat next to Blaise and his boyfriend.

"This is Neville," Blaise introduced, and Pansy introduced Ginny, and they all said hello to each other.

Pansy and Blaise were animated and happy, joking and talking to each other as Harry watched Draco.

"Hi," the blonde said quietly.

"Hi."

"I guess you want your explanation."

"It would be preferable," Harry joked weakly.

Draco cracked a nervous smile, and took a deep breath.

"I'm gay."

Harry felt all the air leave his lungs. "You are?"

Draco nodded, swallowing hard.

Harry laughed softly, shaking his head. He started laughing harder, and soon the others were staring at him as he laughed.

"What the fuck is so funny?" Pansy asked.

Harry was still giggling as he answered. 

"Just- the amount of- gay people- at this- table."

Pansy cracked a grin, and then started giggling, and so did Blaise, and soon their whole table was laughing except for Draco, who was studying Harry curiously.

"Are you..."

Harry's laughter faded away as the others fell into their other conversations. "Yeah."

Draco nodded, slowly. "When Ron killed himself... It hit me hard. All the homophobia in that town, the racism and the hate, it was overwhelming."

Harry nodded. "I know."

"I couldn't be near you," Draco said in a rush. "That's why I left."

Any remnants of Harry's smile vanished, replaced with a blank face. "Oh."

Draco blinked. "I mean- that is-"

Harry stood abruptly from the table, facing Pansy. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick. Get me a-"

"Tequila sunrise," she finished easily, grinning at him as he walked away.

"Harry!" Draco called after him as he stormed off. 

Why would Draco come back here, just to tell him he hated him enough to leave?

Harry slammed the bathroom door shut, running his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh. He walked over to the mirrors, placing his hands on either side of the sink and leaning forward with his head down, trying to regain his ability to breathe.

"Harry, that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then, Draco?" Harry asked furiously, turning around to face the blonde. "What could you possibly mean by 'I couldn't be near you?' Because to me, it seemed like you hated me so much that you had to leave the fucking state and go across the country!"

"That's not it!" Draco cried, taking a step forward. He winced as Harry took a step back to match, his back hitting the sink.

"Don't come closer to me. You went across the country to be away from me, cut off all contact, and now you're here, wanting to have dinner, and talk. What's your fucking game?"

"I couldn't be near you because it hurt," Draco whispered.

Harry froze. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Every second was agony, you laughing and smiling and talking and being perfect. It hurt to know we were so close, but I could never have you the way I wanted."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse.

"I'm in love with you. I have been since we were fourteen."

Harry couldn't breathe.

"Please say something," Draco murmured, taking a step back and fiddling with his fingers. "Anything. Tell me you hate me, you want me to leave, and I will."

"Thirteen." It came out crackly and broken and soft.

"What?"

"Thirteen. That's when I realized I was in love with you."

Draco froze. "You- You were-"

"Yeah." Harry cleared his throat. "And you were too. Apparently."

"So what the fuck have we been doing for seven years?" Draco asked, throwing his hands in the air.

"Well, if I'm not mistaken, for four of those years we danced around each other due to our town's homophobia and fear of rejection, and then you fucked off to New York and left me," Harry commented, surprised at his voice's ability to regain steadiness.

Draco winced. "I'm sorry."

Harry sighed. "Let's go sit down. I want to hear about it."

Draco smiled at him."Does that mean you forgive me?"

"I'll never admit to it."

They walked back to the table holding hands.

That's not the end of the story