Mimosas, Mark V (Azalea)

Everything hurt. Every breath was painful to take, each step filled his legs with nothing but agony. His eyes, after too long of silently weeping to himself, were burning, the only slight positive being that there were no more tears to spill. Or, at least he hoped that was true. But as was per usual on the mornings of his regular talks with Azalea, Joe forced himself out of bed and stumbled clumsily down to the greenhouses.

He hadn't bothered with a jacket, clad in the jeans he had worn on what was supposed to be his date with Brooke, and a black t-shirt. His arms felt the harsh cold of the light flakes of snow that dusted the ground around him, but the boy didn't care. He was only cold for a matter of moments, and after that it was the numbness that he enjoyed the most. The same kind of numb he had barely managed to drag himself out of.

"How could I have been so stupid...?" the black haired Hufflepuff murmured to himself, chest heaving with each damned breath that he allowed himself to take. "How could I have been so stupid as to think someone could fall for me?" He reached the spot with the flowers and sat down on the ground, his jeans beginning to soak as the snow melted against the fabric. It was nice to be able to feel something, he decided, and made no attempts at stopping the sensation against the skin of his thighs.

The boy looked at the flowers he had planted all those years ago. Just last year, he had been stupid enough to believe that he had grown up with the little Mimosa plants, to believe that he had matured and changed and become that much more of a man. But no, he was back again to the same state as always. Cold inside and out, heart still pumping but his brain begging it would stop.

As he waited for the only woman he could rely on, the boy felt his eyes prick again. "Look into my eyes, it's where my demons hide," Joe mumbled softly, allowing a single tear to escape the ducts behind the orbs of lifeless blue. "I'm hellbound." The droplet seemed to freeze, immortalised almost, on his pale complexion, as if to symbolise the ever-lasting pain he would suffer because... Because of being himself.

For there was no other reason. Joe Astrid had bad things happen to him because he was infact Joe Astrid, and that was how the world worked, so it seemed.

"Joe, sweetie, you'll catch a cold."

The boy shook his head, forcing himself not to jump at the sudden appearance of his professor. He had known she would arrive, but he hoped he would have been able to sort himself out a little bit before then and look slightly less of a mess. The knuckles of his right hand were bruised from punching the wall behind his bed in his dormitory and his hair was a little more unkempt that usual, something he only now realised as he reached up instinctively to arrange it across his forehead as usual.

For actually having heard the woman, Joe was proud of himself. Everyone else's words seemed to just go completely over his head, muffled as he blocked out the world. The worst part of it all was that the hurt was caused by a crush, of all things to get upset about, a crush. He sighed softly and looked up to Azalea, puffy eyes pleading that she would help.

"What's wrong sweetie," she asked, opening up her arms for an automatic hug.

It was in that moment that Joe lost ever ounce of composure he held in himself. He fell into the woman's arms and innocently rested his forehead on her chest, concentrating on breathing deep and slow for a few seconds before he muttered the four words that hadn't left his mind since he'd turned around and seen Joshua Murray's lips on hers.

"What's wrong with me...?"

"Absolutely nothing."

For no sound reason, Joe Astrid broke down at those words. Completely. His tears fell harder into Azalea's shirt, and he couldn't help but hate himself all the more for being so weak to the only person who made him feel strong enough to wake up every day. "I'm so sorry," he murmured over and over again, extremely softly, still not moving his head away because he needed someone to tell him that everything was real.

"If that was true," the Hufflepuff started, breaths shuddering between every word. "I wouldn't be crying on you..." The joke was feeble, he knew that, but hiding behind pathetic humour was his way of coping with events such as these. This wasn't Joe's first time having Josh Murray play with him, of course not, but he still felt every muscle in his heart threaten to give up as it pounded against his thin shirt. He hugged the jumper to himself, the warmth a soothing addition to Azalea's embrace.

"Nothing is wrong with you, you are one of the very best people in this world."

"Then-... then wh-wh... why does this always happen?" He didn't want to ruin the witch's perception of anyone. It wasn't Brooke's fault, heck it wasn't even Murray's fault. It was all his own, completely caused by himself because, and he realised this now, he would never be good enough for anyone.

"That's not true, sweetie."

A murmur of thanks left the boy's lips, his heart aching more than ever because he couldn't believe Azalea's words for the life of him. She was so kind, so gentle, and Joe knew that she wouldn't ever lie to him, but for some reason his mind was refusing to let what she had said ring true. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her, to peel himself away from the affection she was showing because he knew that missing it would make him break again.

"You want to talk about it?"

In all honesty, he didn't know. What would he say? Josh Murray is a git and keeps chasing the girls I like just sounded plain stupid, and yet that was the only way he could phrase his biggest problem. No-one effing likes me and what's the point in being alive just sounded like he was asking for the sympathy vote from the witch. He nodded nonetheless, forcing himself to stop convulsing long enough to sit back properly and look into her eyes.

"I-... I d-don't know wh-... what I'm doing h-here an-an-... anymore," he stammered out, voice waivering on every word. He shrugged a little, mindlessly picking the skin around his thumbs before he continued. "I'm-... I'm n-not good-... good e-enough for th-th-this place..."

"You are so much more than you realize, you make this world a better place to live in, sweetie even if its hard to believe."

He let Azalea have his hand, for a second believing that she would make everything okay somehow. In some kind of magical way, the way that Azalea always could. Nothing came except a gust of bitter cold wind, though, and once again the boy was reminded of exactly who and where he was and why he didn't belong there. Not anymore, at least...

Joe gave a pathetic sniffle, trying to mask it with a cough but knowing he'd failed. After their four years of companionship, he figured that it was safe to assume that the witch knew him too well to be able to fall for the same old stuff everyone else did. "Hard t-to believe," he murmured, almost drowned out by the sounds of the early morning. "Is the un-un-understatement of the c-century..."

"I felt like this too a few years back."

The second the words met his lips, the boy's frozen cold heart sank a thousand feet in his chest. No, no, no, no, no, no, no he thought, close to tears again at the thought that Azalea had ever felt the way he did. "But-... but you don't deserve to have ever felt like that, Azalea," he said softly, shaking his head but not looking her in the eyes for fear that she would say the same back to him. "Y-... bu-... wh-... N... I..." Lost for words wasn't even how he felt. He had all of the words, they were just jumbled together in a big ball of things that he couldn't comprehend. "What happened?"

Like she'd ever tell you he thought with an internal sneer at himself. Honestly, child. You just don't know where your boundaries are, do you? He sunk again at that thought, an almost silent apology escaping his lips at his intrusion of her privacy. "Y-... I ju-... Sorry..."