You're trying to kill me, aren't you? This is the conclusion I've reached. You're trying to kill me with beautiful-yet-oh-so-heartbreaking fic, and you're doing a really good job of it.

Love this, and I love it even better included in this series. I'm just sort of in awe of how much you can say in so few words, how much you can convey with the simplest concepts.

He hasn’t cut himself off from anybody.

Not deliberately anyway.

At least that’s what he thinks, but Harry’s socks don’t match, and he can’t quite remember the last time they did.

This just hurt so much to read. Such beautiful, unhappy boys... I'm now desperately in need of schmoop to cheer me up.