Just in case anyone is interested, I'm not speaking to either The Chosen One or Sirius Black anymore. The Boy Who Lived is done with me. I've crossed paths with him three times at the YMCA since the break-up. Funny, because during the 6-ish months we were together, I never saw him there, not a once. I've been going on Monday and Wednesday evenings regularly for months now. Then following our unhinging I saw him twice within one week. Per my recollection to comrades, he "acted like he didn't know me," but that's really not quite the case. The longer version is that his eyes crossed mine briefly and his expression shifted in such a way that his eyebrows raise, eyes go a bit wild, and a goofy somewhat miffed smile appeared. This is not necessarily indicative of happiness inasmuch as a gallant grin is his default reaction to stimuli. That boy smiled so much, it makes my cheeks hurt just thinking about it. That is what I miss most--his smile.
A trip to South Dakota the weekend before last sealed the fate of Sirius Black. Or, in other words, I broke his heart.
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