𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄, j. potter

── 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍
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JAMES POTTER KNEW HE WAS fucked the moment Olivia Kinsley walked in the room that night. The same way he knows he's fucked now as he sat by her bed, his eyes studying the soft features of her face.

How absolutely idiotic of him to once again fall for a girl who could never feel the same way.

The night they spent together played in his head in a constant loop. Her words repeating again and again to remind him of the inevitable heartbreak that came with loving a girl unable to love herself. James revisits old feelings the way someone re-reads old books. He finds comfort in the familiar words despite knowing how the story ends.

They had already shared a few drinks, Olivia's arms wrapped around his neck and his own around her delicate waist. Her forehead touched his, their lips inches apart as James' heart hammered through his ribcage.

Isn't it beautiful? How our hearts can effortlessly fall in love with something as simple as a smile. How one single spark can inspire wildfires within us, and how the thought of forgetting how someone makes us feel is as absurd as thought of the coast forgetting the ocean, and the earth forgetting the sun. Isn't it beautiful? How ruthlessly we still hope and how beautifully we surrender to a feeling as temporary as love.

"Is this the part where I kiss you and we live happily ever after?" He asked cheekily, his hands travelling from her waist to her neck. The shiver that erupted from his touch made James' smile wider.

The grin that covered her lips would be his destruction. "I don't do love, Potter."

He knew then, as he knows now. She's the kind of girl to break his heart. She'd claw at his soul and consume every piece of him, and James would let her. With Olivia Kinsley came longing and temptation.

How many boys had fallen in love with the fire inside her, but not be man enough to handle a little burn? James welcomed her heat with open arms. He'd let himself be consumed by her flame.

Fuck, he thought as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers. He was a goner. She'd break his heart, and James would let her. He'd watch silently as she steps on it and shatters it to a million tiny pieces. And afterwards, he'd use those pieces to delicately glue hers back together. At that moment where his lips molded to hers, James could have sworn he held the whole world in his arms.

"I'd break my heart and use the broken pieces to fix yours," he whispered to her sleeping form, realizing just how fucked he is. "And that's my problem."

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps James has always been destined to fall for women way out of his league.

Olivia Kinsley is a fucking goddess, spat out by the heavens itself, none of them unable to handle the girl that held the universe in her eyes. It had taken a supernova to form someone as perfect as Olivia is in James' eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" A voice asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He faced her, his lips breaking into a smile to see that the glow in her skin is back. Her lips had retained their flushed pink color and her eyes no longer looked weak.

"Nothing," he lied, reaching for the glass of water and handing it to her. "How are you feeling?"

She shrugged as she took a sip. "Better."

"You scared the shit out of me," he admitted.

"Sorry," she says. "Aren't you supposed to be in quidditch practice?"