#we have progress

I just saw a Trivago ad before a YouTube video AND IT SHOWS TWO WOMEN TOGETHER AS A COUPLE AND LITERALLY SAYS “This is what love looks like”

EXPLICITLY HAVING A SAME SEX COUPLE IN AN ADVERT

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t get Jen out of his mind. Not that this was any different from the norm, but now he suddenly felt guilty, as if he wasn’t allowed to think of her anymore, because she had told him not to. But he was worried. He was worried about whatever it was that had made her feel so crap as to want out of the world. He was worried that she might try again. He was worried about her suggestion that drugs were back in her life, and he was worried that he had made everything even worse for her by telling on Avery, even though at the back of his mind he knew his confession to McGonagall hadn’t made any difference. They had enough witnesses already.

He had borrowed a piece of parchment and a quill from Madam Pomfrey, on the pretence of wanting to check in on his parents, but it was just covered in scribbles and crossings out.

I’m sorry

I know you’re

I hate this

You just caught me off-guard

I don’t want

Why did you

Babe, if you’re feeling

If you think

Did you

Are you okay?

Of course you’re not okay, you tried

I wish you didn’t feel the need to

Still he hadn’t managed to formulate a proper letter to her, and perhaps it was a sign that he wasn’t really meant to send her anything. That this time it should be a clean break, and he should just trust that she would eventually be able to sort things out, but only with some distance from him.

“Hey, Splinchy.”

Finn was dragged out of his reverie, looking up at the Hufflepuff girl who perched at the end of his bed.

“Hi, Libby. Did you take your test already?” he asked, knowing that most of his year had gone off for Apparition tests.

“My birthday’s not until June. Couldn’t you take yours?”

“My birthday’s not until August.”

She nodded understandingly. “What are you writing?”

“A letter. I don’t think I’ll send it, though.”

Liv leaned forwards, as if to take it, but Finn pulled it out of her reach and shook his head. “It’s to my ex-girlfriend.”

His throat felt as if it was closing up again, but he was determined not to cry in front of her. She seemed to get the vibe he was on, though, because she nodded and covered his hand with hers. Finn turned his hand over, holding onto Liv with a little more pressure than he might have done if he was thinking about her, but he wasn’t. He was thinking only of the strength and support that her being there gave him.

“She told me she would make me hate her.”

“You don’t want to hate her,” Liv shook her head, squeezing his hand back. “You just want to let her go. No hate, no love, no nothing.”

Finn nodded. It made sense. If he had to let her go, then not having any emotions towards her made the most sense. “How?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

And there it was: the big problem. But finally, he had found someone who would admit that, rather than get angry at him, or try to offer up fruitless suggestions that never worked. Tears sprung to his eyes, and he pulled his hand from hers, turning onto his side so that she wouldn’t see.

“I want to sleep,” he said quietly.

“Okay. Sweet dreams, Finn. Feel better.”