He sipped happily at the (spiked) punch and happily smiled at the milling crowds of people happily going about their way. So happy. Happy. Happy. He liked watching happy people. They made him happy. Genuinely happy. But then he turned to see Dethrin’s face. Normally Dethrin’s face was already hard for him to decipher, protected by a thick layer of ice, but right now there was such a burning fire in his eyes that he couldn’t help be drawn to the fire.
When Dethrin’s hand caught his chin, he suddenly recalled watching a film about a farmer restraining a cow in order to shoot it and butcher it. He felt like that cattle. Trapped in an inevitable demise. There was no where to run. He had created this hell himself. His docile choices had finally caught up to him and he had to face his fate.
He glanced over to where Damian was, only to see a completely different person there. He must have moved on. Just as he had already moved on from that painful moment. He didn’t know what that had been, but it must have just been something he ate earlier getting stuck in his chest. For a moment, he had thought he had feelings for Damian, but his mind had quickly drowned out those thoughts. That was ridiculous. No, he didn’t have any feelings other than amicable ones towards Damian. They were just… friends, if he could even call themselves that.
He melted under the light kiss, his knees getting weak. His heart fluttered weakly, like a dying butterfly. No, he liked Dethrin. Why else would he feel this lightheaded when they merely kissed. If he didn’t have feelings for Dethrin, why would he feel so wonderful with him? He pouted and glared at Dethrin for once, his face lacking any sort of the happy grin he usually had plastered onto his lips. He grabbed the taller guy by the collar and tugged him down to press his lips against Dethrin’s.
He put force into it. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t cute. He wasn’t Joyboy. He was Roscoe. He leaned into it, letting his lips angrily drag over Dethrin’s mouth, biting lightly so that Dethrin would open his mouth. Forcefully, he ran his tongue along Dethrin’s teeth and explored the contours with a desperate urgency. He didn’t make it very far before he had to break apart for air, but he did so with a burning on his cheeks. Sometimes, he thought perhaps there were three of him out there. A Joyboy, a Roscoe, and the guy in between. Right now, he was the guy in between. He wasn’t sure if he was Joyboy or Roscoe, but he knew that he had to reassure Dethrin and himself.
“If I had feelings for Damian, I would have asked him to the Yule Ball, not you.” His voice was gentle but serious. Then he leaned in an whispered, “I want you.” Apparently the drink… had done something to him and he was feeling rather hot and bothered in his clothes suddenly.He saw the almost bit of fear in Roscoe’s eyes, before he looked over at Damian. He watched the confusion on the boy’s face, but the look didn’t last long. A look of almost pure determination washed over his face, a look of concentration he hadn’t really seen on it.
Before he knew it he was the one being grabbed, Roscoe’s lips pressed against his. He jumped lightly, his muscles tensing as he was bitten, but it got the desired effect with his mouth parting. Soon he felt Roscoe exploring his mouth, and he closed his eyes, leaning back into him once the initial shock wore off.
One arm laced around Roscoe’s back, lifting him lightly until he was on the tips of his toes, his other hand now caressing along the side of Roscoe’s face, his eyes closed as he enjoyed it. He fumbled at first, really unsure about what he was doing. This was his first kiss, and it was awkward thinking about the fact that it was being done in front of so many others. But that didn’t stop him from kissing Roscoe back, letting his tongue slide along his lips, tasting a bit of the drink there and inhaling the sweet scent that was Roscoe.
As he pulled away he smiled, taking a few breaths, feeling that his heart had been hammering without his notice. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Roscoe’s looking into his eyes with a pleased smile on his face. His arms stayed around him, holding him tightly as he let out a pleased sigh.
“Then I am yours,” he said happily.
Keeping one arm around Roscoe he reached over to grab a drink for himself. Taking a sip of it he smiled, finding that it reminded him of home, of Christmas with his family, their homemade drink—
The smile wiped from his face, and he sighed, pulling away from Roscoe and rubbing his eyes. The drink, it was spiked.
Taking out his wand he waved it, all the glasses that held the liquid suddenly empty. Looking at one of the teachers he sighed, and immediately she knew what had happened.
Setting down the empty drink he looked at Roscoe, suddenly concerned that he’d just had alcohol, and most of the students in the room. He had a feeling the pleasant affair wasn’t going to be fun for too much longer, and he’d suddenly need to be more aware of everything.
Wrapping an arm around Roscoe again he held him close, his fingers lightly running along the base of his hair. “Would you like to dance?” he asked, hoping if he could keep the boy distracted he wouldn’t do anything to get himself in trouble.
“Yeah, yeah. I wanna dance.” He swayed, light headed from the lack of oxygen, mainly because he wasn’t even sure if this was real. Everything felt so surreal, he’d never been so happy in his entire life. He felt as light as a feather, like he could float away if someone were to even breeze past him. Three kisses. He had three whole kisses with Dethrin so far, and every single one of them had left him tingling like a cat ready to pounce.
He squeezed Dethrin’s hand and smiled at him, still trying to regain his composure. It was then when he looked around that he realized that everyone had been watching them as they lip locked. He blushed into a cherry red. He hadn’t really been thinking about the consequences. He saw a few people with smiles on their face, almost in congratulations or amusement, another group were giving him glares worthy to kill. He cowered, pressing closer to Dethrin’s side.
They were probably either angry that he was sullying Dethrin’s presence with his own. He knew how big of a secret fanbase Dethrin actually had, even if the man showed no sign of interest. It was inevitable, considering how Dethrin was one of the smartest students, nearly perfect at everything, and a Quidditch player in addition to being abnormally attractive. He still couldn’t quite believe he was really together with Dethrin at this point. It all still felt like a dream. And he really didn’t want to wake up.
He tugged Dethrin to the dance floor, excited to be dancing, because it was one of the few things he enjoyed. The current song was an upbeat waltz, so he got into position, doing his best to adjust to the woman’s position. They seamlessly stepped into the rhythm and swirled around on the dance floor.
Perhaps if he had been thinking straight or on his medication, he would have taken into consideration the hope in Damian’s eyes and what that might mean. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t.
He was off to look for Dethrin, so he could tell him all about the idea he had with…
He brushed off the incident with Damian easily, though later when he escaped into his designated study room where he usually met Damian and he was no longer around, it took him a moment to wonder why. Even now, he was still confused what had happened with Damian.
When Damian congratulated him, he had the most pained expression, like he had just torn his heart out. Why did he look so aggravated? Was he jealous that he was going with Dethrin? He didn’t think so. Probably not, since Damian wasn’t exactly the most expressive about liking other guys and Dethrin didn’t seem to be his type anyways.
He just thanked him and told him that he was trying to look for Dethrin so he couldn’t talk to Damian. After all, he was in a relationship with Dethrin now. So he should be a priority? He sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was all so confusing. So this is what he knew. He liked Dethrin.
But he didn’t like seeing Damian with anyone else. Whenever he saw Damian… anywhere, with anyone other than him, he felt such white-hot pain in his chest, like someone was branding his lungs. It was probably coincidence, though, he never felt like that about Dethrin. It was never painful being around Dethrin. He was just filled with the most tickling happiness. When he was with Damian, it was like a python was coiling around him and suffocating him. It hurt, yet, he didn’t want to escape. It was so strange. So strange.
Frustrated, he tugged on his hair as he tried to do his Divinations homework that he hated. What was the point of the class anyways. He hated bullshit like destiny and fate and prophecy, because what if your fate sucked, you couldn’t do anything about it. He hated that. He didn’t want to be stuck in the situation he was in now his entire life. He’d rather die. It would be easier. He pulled on his hair harder. He couldn’t think of a single thing to write.
Fuck. He was so emotionally confused. Fuck.
Slipping his own arm through the elbow space, he smiled broadly at his date. His. Date. Inside, he was screaming in a very effeminate manner. He glanced around briefly looking for a place to sit, when he noticed a very familiar silhouette standing slightly away from the crowd with a very pretty and fashionable girl. He almost called out to him. Almost called out his name. Almost waved. Almost.
But when he saw the sincere smile sparking on his face, he stopped. He stopped walking. He stopped breathing. His heart stopped beating. His brain struggle to process the mess of emotions suddenly yanked out from the deep recesses of his heart and tossed into a tornado of confusion. He blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the strange and crippling pain in his chest. What was that? Why did he feel so sad that he wasn’t the one receiving that smile. Why?
He glanced at Dethrin for reassurance, and tightened grip on Dethrin’s arm. Immediately the pain subsided and he forgot what it had been like. He forgot so quickly. He needed to. He wouldn’t be able to breathe otherwise. Swooning once more as he gazed upon Dethrin’s handsome face, he smiled again. Broad and wide. He pointed over to the drinks table, on the opposite end of the room from where Damian was standing. “I’m thirsty, so let’s get a drink and probably head to the dance floor?”
He pulled Dethrin to the drinks, making sure not to let his eyes trail back to Damian. Today, he was with Dethrin. He would only think about Dethrin. That wasn’t so hard. No. He would be okay. Again, he felt giddy as he shyly let go of Dethrin’s arm to get a drink.It was strange how fast the smile fell from Roscoe’s face, and as he followed his gaze a slight frown crossed his face. Damian. Damian was here. His heart fell lightly, and he looked back down at his date. “Roscoe?”
He felt the squeeze on his arm as he was pulled suddenly, a determined look on his face. No, Dethrin couldn’t do this. That smile… wasn’t as genuine as it had been moments before.
Stopping Roscoe he grabbed his wrist, pulling him around so he could look down into his eyes. One hand moved up to his jaw, cupping his face so he wouldn’t pull away. “Roscoe,” he said with a sigh. “If you want to spend time with him then go. If you’re going to be with me, you need to be with me, and I don’t think you can manage that right now with him.”
Closing his eyes he leaned forward and kissed him lightly. “Do you want me, or do you want him? It’s best if we both know now where you stand.” Even if he was left alone and their brief relationship ended he’d be fine. He was used to going to these things by himself, and it allowed him to watch everything without being distracted.
But even with that knowledge it was still kind of sad, the idea of him being willing to try only to be left so soon afterwards. People left all the time though, he’d get over it. “I would still be your friend,” he said with a light smile.
He didn’t notice that they were being watched, that his small fanclub was glaring over at them, shocked that he’d shown up with a man and Joyboy of all guys.
Right now he ignored it all, staring into Roscoe’s eyes, trying to focus on all the thoughts he could read passing through his eyes, concentrating on each reaction to see what he was thinking behind that smile.
He sipped happily at the (spiked) punch and happily smiled at the milling crowds of people happily going about their way. So happy. Happy. Happy. He liked watching happy people. They made him happy. Genuinely happy. But then he turned to see Dethrin’s face. Normally Dethrin’s face was already hard for him to decipher, protected by a thick layer of ice, but right now there was such a burning fire in his eyes that he couldn’t help be drawn to the fire.
When Dethrin’s hand caught his chin, he suddenly recalled watching a film about a farmer restraining a cow in order to shoot it and butcher it. He felt like that cattle. Trapped in an inevitable demise. There was no where to run. He had created this hell himself. His docile choices had finally caught up to him and he had to face his fate.
He glanced over to where Damian was, only to see a completely different person there. He must have moved on. Just as he had already moved on from that painful moment. He didn’t know what that had been, but it must have just been something he ate earlier getting stuck in his chest. For a moment, he had thought he had feelings for Damian, but his mind had quickly drowned out those thoughts. That was ridiculous. No, he didn’t have any feelings other than amicable ones towards Damian. They were just… friends, if he could even call themselves that.
He melted under the light kiss, his knees getting weak. His heart fluttered weakly, like a dying butterfly. No, he liked Dethrin. Why else would he feel this lightheaded when they merely kissed. If he didn’t have feelings for Dethrin, why would he feel so wonderful with him? He pouted and glared at Dethrin for once, his face lacking any sort of the happy grin he usually had plastered onto his lips. He grabbed the taller guy by the collar and tugged him down to press his lips against Dethrin’s.
He put force into it. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t cute. He wasn’t Joyboy. He was Roscoe. He leaned into it, letting his lips angrily drag over Dethrin’s mouth, biting lightly so that Dethrin would open his mouth. Forcefully, he ran his tongue along Dethrin’s teeth and explored the contours with a desperate urgency. He didn’t make it very far before he had to break apart for air, but he did so with a burning on his cheeks. Sometimes, he thought perhaps there were three of him out there. A Joyboy, a Roscoe, and the guy in between. Right now, he was the guy in between. He wasn’t sure if he was Joyboy or Roscoe, but he knew that he had to reassure Dethrin and himself.
“If I had feelings for Damian, I would have asked him to the Yule Ball, not you.” His voice was gentle but serious. Then he leaned in an whispered, “I want you.” Apparently the drink… had done something to him and he was feeling rather hot and bothered in his clothes suddenly.
“Dethrin!” He sincerely felt a rush of adrenaline spike through his veins when he saw the familiar face. His heart jumping like a salmon flopping upstream, he averted his eyes, suddenly feeling the weight of all the bashfulness and modesty crashing around him. Suddenly the dorm room was too small for the two of them, but at the same time, just big enough. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to melt into a puddle of goo or float away.
He let Dethrin take care of his hair and shut his eyes as the magic oozed over his hair and tamed it as easily as a hound. And he nearly had a heart attack when Dethrin’s lips pressed against his. That had to mean something! That had to mean Dethrin felt at least something for him. He was okay with this. He opened his eyes and for a moment, he saw Damian and heard Damian’s voice instead, whispering those words. He froze at the realization for just a moment. What… what was he even thinking?
Why… why had he felt such exhilarating happiness when he had imagined Damian telling him those words and whispering them in his ear? He blinked a few times then brushed the thought away, flashing a wide smile at Dethrin instead. And in an instant, he forgot Damian again.
He blushed even further when fingers weaved through his and a flower were tucked behind his ear. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” For some reason, he felt like he was being married off. And fuck… he didn’t mind if he were. Dethrin was amazing. Just the perfect person. He couldn’t get rid of the fuzzy feeling in his stomach. So wonderful.
They walked down the stairs and through the halls together, hand in hand, and Joyboy could have cared less what those girls were whispering to each other as they passed. He was the happiest guy in the whole school. They could all go suck his dick tonight. He gave no fucks. None. In fact, negative fucks because he never cared what people said.
A large smile spread across his lips as Roscoe practically yelled his name, immediately noticing a slight blush on Roscoe’s cheek. He’d known, through various amounts of people complaining, that Roscoe had randomly spent most of his day looking for him when he wasn’t in class. While the other students had found it annoying, Dethrin found it charming. He wasn’t used to getting this reaction from anyone.
It was hard though, to let anyone in after so many years of being scared to do so. He hadn’t cared for anyone as much as he had his sister. Was he to that point with Roscoe? No. Not even close. But would he allow him the chance to? That was a difficult question to answer, but he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.
As they walked through the hallways they got a considerable amount of looks. This was the first time Dethrin had really gone anywhere with someone, and their holding hands made it obvious that they were not going as friends. There was already that rumor flying around about Damian and Joyboy, which was spurted on by the fact that Damian had punched Dethrin. Suddenly Dethrin was the third wheel in a longstanding rumor, a love-triangle surrounding the decedent man at his side. But those thoughts didn’t cross his mind. No, his mind just focused on getting into the Hall and the smaller hand in his.
Stepping inside of the Hall Dethrin took a moment to look at everything, before looking down at Roscoe’s reaction. “I think they did a better job this year,” he said happily.
Bending his arm he offered it to Roscoe, letting him place his hand in the crook of Dethrin’s arm. Dethrin’s other hand went on top of Roscoe’s, lightly running over his knuckles as they walked further into the room. “Where would you like to start?” he asked, the festivities already in full spring as they were a bit late.
Slipping his own arm through the elbow space, he smiled broadly at his date. His. Date. Inside, he was screaming in a very effeminate manner. He glanced around briefly looking for a place to sit, when he noticed a very familiar silhouette standing slightly away from the crowd with a very pretty and fashionable girl. He almost called out to him. Almost called out his name. Almost waved. Almost.
But when he saw the sincere smile sparking on his face, he stopped. He stopped walking. He stopped breathing. His heart stopped beating. His brain struggle to process the mess of emotions suddenly yanked out from the deep recesses of his heart and tossed into a tornado of confusion. He blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the strange and crippling pain in his chest. What was that? Why did he feel so sad that he wasn’t the one receiving that smile. Why?
He glanced at Dethrin for reassurance, and tightened grip on Dethrin’s arm. Immediately the pain subsided and he forgot what it had been like. He forgot so quickly. He needed to. He wouldn’t be able to breathe otherwise. Swooning once more as he gazed upon Dethrin’s handsome face, he smiled again. Broad and wide. He pointed over to the drinks table, on the opposite end of the room from where Damian was standing. “I’m thirsty, so let’s get a drink and probably head to the dance floor?”
He pulled Dethrin to the drinks, making sure not to let his eyes trail back to Damian. Today, he was with Dethrin. He would only think about Dethrin. That wasn’t so hard. No. He would be okay. Again, he felt giddy as he shyly let go of Dethrin’s arm to get a drink.
(( http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/126/a/2/pottermore_yule_ball_dethrin_by_kerushi_sama-d4ysijt.png Yule Ball Outfit))
Dethrin had set out all the small gifts he’d purchased for the house on all the desks in the common room. It had been a habit from his sister, who would try to get…
Like promised, Dethrin took him down to Diagon Alley on the weekend to let him pick an outfit out for the Yule Ball. He told him not to worry about the price, so for once, he let himself forget his worries (much too happy to be in Dethrin’s presence) and splurged. He had found the best outfit in the entire world. Just his type.
The day of the Yule Ball came quicker than he imagined and he did his best to keep himself busy so that he wouldn’t drift off and think about the Yule Ball all day. He did his best in class, trying to pay attention to the teachers. He tried. It was the thought that counted, but it was only a matter of time when his mind went back to imagining and day dreaming about the Yule Ball.
The conversation with Damian had long left his mind and all he could think about was a romantic scene with Dethrin on the dance floor. Out of class, whether he tried it or not, he found himself looking and searching for Dethrin, which probably had irritated the prefect, considering it wasn’t always the best of times.
Nevertheless, the time to get prepared for the Ball arrived and he quickly found that his mind, even on the medication he decided to take, was often far far away in a distant dreamy land. He did his best to calm the mess on his head he called hair. He gelled it back, though the gel caused his hair to spring into gentle curls that kept rolling to the side of his head. Frustrated with it, he left it in it’s half gelled - half curled state and proceeded to put his outfit on.
It was a vintage outfit, made of light blue and silver thread, hand-embroidered. A very expensive piece of clothing, but Dethrin hadn’t complained. He didn’t even say anything about the outdated style or the vibrant coloring. He just told him it looked wonderful. Sigh, Dethrin was perfect.
He was in the process of pulling on the matching shoes (the blue lacy ones on the far left) when there was a knock at the door. He glanced at the clock on the wall and yelped when he realized he was considerably late. He told Dethrin he would be down in the common room about 20 minutes ago. He hopped to the door and opened it as he slipped on the other shoe.
As the door opened Dethrin looked at Roscoe, taking in the outfit. The fight with Damian was on his mind, and he had so much he wanted to talk to him about, but he couldn’t do it. Not while looking at the genuinely happy smile on the boy’s face.
Smiling he looked at the mess of Roscoe’s hair, and shook his head lightly. Taking out his wand from an inside pocket on the jacket he sad a few quiet words, one to get rid of the gel, the other to slick his hair back much as Dethrin had done his own.
Once he was done he put the wand back, and looked down at Roscoe. Leaning forward he pressed his lips against his, lingering for a moment before pulling him into a hug. “You look wonderful,” he whispered into Roscoe’s ear.
After a moment he pulled away, but let his fingers lace with Roscoe’s. He decided he couldn’t ask him, not yet. He could ask him after the Ball about what was going on with Damian, he just wanted to continue seeing that smile on Roscoe’s face for the entire night.
“Are you ready?” he asked, pulling out a silver flower from a pocket and lacing it behind Roscoe’s ear. He’d gotten it just for this outfit, knowing it would look good on him.
“Dethrin!” He sincerely felt a rush of adrenaline spike through his veins when he saw the familiar face. His heart jumping like a salmon flopping upstream, he averted his eyes, suddenly feeling the weight of all the bashfulness and modesty crashing around him. Suddenly the dorm room was too small for the two of them, but at the same time, just big enough. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to melt into a puddle of goo or float away.
He let Dethrin take care of his hair and shut his eyes as the magic oozed over his hair and tamed it as easily as a hound. And he nearly had a heart attack when Dethrin’s lips pressed against his. That had to mean something! That had to mean Dethrin felt at least something for him. He was okay with this. He opened his eyes and for a moment, he saw Damian and heard Damian’s voice instead, whispering those words. He froze at the realization for just a moment. What… what was he even thinking?
Why… why had he felt such exhilarating happiness when he had imagined Damian telling him those words and whispering them in his ear? He blinked a few times then brushed the thought away, flashing a wide smile at Dethrin instead. And in an instant, he forgot Damian again.
He blushed even further when fingers weaved through his and a flower were tucked behind his ear. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” For some reason, he felt like he was being married off. And fuck… he didn’t mind if he were. Dethrin was amazing. Just the perfect person. He couldn’t get rid of the fuzzy feeling in his stomach. So wonderful.
They walked down the stairs and through the halls together, hand in hand, and Joyboy could have cared less what those girls were whispering to each other as they passed. He was the happiest guy in the whole school. They could all go suck his dick tonight. He gave no fucks. None. In fact, negative fucks because he never cared what people said.
(( http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/126/a/2/pottermore_yule_ball_dethrin_by_kerushi_sama-d4ysijt.png Yule Ball Outfit))
Dethrin had set out all the small gifts he’d purchased for the house on all the desks in the common room. It had been a habit from his sister, who would try to get…
Like promised, Dethrin took him down to Diagon Alley on the weekend to let him pick an outfit out for the Yule Ball. He told him not to worry about the price, so for once, he let himself forget his worries (much too happy to be in Dethrin’s presence) and splurged. He had found the best outfit in the entire world. Just his type.
The day of the Yule Ball came quicker than he imagined and he did his best to keep himself busy so that he wouldn’t drift off and think about the Yule Ball all day. He did his best in class, trying to pay attention to the teachers. He tried. It was the thought that counted, but it was only a matter of time when his mind went back to imagining and day dreaming about the Yule Ball.
The conversation with Damian had long left his mind and all he could think about was a romantic scene with Dethrin on the dance floor. Out of class, whether he tried it or not, he found himself looking and searching for Dethrin, which probably had irritated the prefect, considering it wasn’t always the best of times.
Nevertheless, the time to get prepared for the Ball arrived and he quickly found that his mind, even on the medication he decided to take, was often far far away in a distant dreamy land. He did his best to calm the mess on his head he called hair. He gelled it back, though the gel caused his hair to spring into gentle curls that kept rolling to the side of his head. Frustrated with it, he left it in it’s half gelled - half curled state and proceeded to put his outfit on.
It was a vintage outfit, made of light blue and silver thread, hand-embroidered. A very expensive piece of clothing, but Dethrin hadn’t complained. He didn’t even say anything about the outdated style or the vibrant coloring. He just told him it looked wonderful. Sigh, Dethrin was perfect.
He was in the process of pulling on the matching shoes (the blue lacy ones on the far left) when there was a knock at the door. He glanced at the clock on the wall and yelped when he realized he was considerably late. He told Dethrin he would be down in the common room about 20 minutes ago. He hopped to the door and opened it as he slipped on the other shoe.
“Ah, my bad, almost took another wrong turn.” He let Orrick (he discovered his name was) spin him around and tug him towards the other direction. He continued his merry jive down the hall (in the right direction this time), twirling and swirling around on his feet.”Orrick…
“Oh, you’re a fifth year too? Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t know you. I thought I knew everyone, but you know, I forget things a lot, so well… sometimes I just miss over things.” He spun on his toes as he waltzed down the hall, but slowed down after a few steps, toppling like a top losing momentum. It was dizzying work.
He tilted his head curiously, “Oh? You’ve seen me before? Where? Though, I guess with hair like mine, I guess people would notice. I’ve tried to get the color out, but I can’t seem to be able to, not even with Muggle hair dye. It’s rather frustrating for me.”
He looked down at his toes. “My real name is Roscoe Papashvilly, but I know it’s long. So Joyboy is fine with me.”
Pacing back and forth in a hallway had never been a therapeudic thing for Damian…more like something that made him more anxious than he was already feeling. He glanced at the hall again, squinting his eyes to see if he could see someone coming, no one yet. But soon enough…
The boy’s head snapped…
Perhaps if he had been thinking straight or on his medication, he would have taken into consideration the hope in Damian’s eyes and what that might mean. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t.
He was off to look for Dethrin, so he could tell him all about the idea he had with making a spell that shot out confetti from one end of the wand like one of those Muggle party contraptions. But instead of being ordinary confetti, this confetti would hang in the air, dance and sing any song you ask it to. Yes. This was a good spell.
But then he ran into Damian and he forgot momentarily about Dethrin and the spell. His brain was like a new monster when Damian was around. It yearned for Damian, to talk to him, to walk with him, to dance with him. But he always ignored it because… well, if he got any closer to Damian, they were bound to hurt one another somehow. Whether it’s his fault or Damian’s, it wouldn’t work out in the end. Or so he kept telling himself.
He flashed a happy grin at him anyways, “Hi, Damian!” Roscoe. Dethrin called him that too. He waited for Damian to hurry and get his words out, it wouldn’t be long before he got distracted again. He tried his best to focus. He tapped his fingers almost impatiently on his legs when there was a long pause.
Then he blinked again and smiled innocently, not grasping the full meaning behind Damian’s suggestion. “I’d love to, but how can I do that and go to the Yule Ball? I’m already going with Dethrin Black. Have you heard of him? I suppose you have. He’s on the Quidditch team for Ravenclaw. He’s the Keeper. They actually asked him to be the Captain, but he turned it down, because he isn’t interested in power.” Now that he was on the subject of Dethrin, his mind was already back on it’s search for him.
Unable to stop himself, he continued, “Dethrin is so good at everything. He’s the one who taught me how to make my medication for myself back in first year. He was so nice. And he’s so tall, and has a great body… and,” He sighed dreamily. “He’s so cute.” He twirled at the thought of the kiss and the way that Dethrin had hugged him afterwards. He nearly exploded from the joy it brought, that he failed to notice Damian’s reactions.
He paused his mad scribbling when Dethrin handed him the expensive vials filled with the new Potion. He blinked then flushed into a deep pink when he remembered how he abruptly and very much out of the blue, asked Dethrin out to the Yule ball. He hated himself sometimes for his lack of control when he wasn’t taking his medication. It was like any will power or rational thinking was tossed out the window. He couldn’t help what he was saying, the words just poured out of his mouth.But at the same time he was happy for once, for his lack of self control when it came to his loquaciousness, because Dethrin had said yes. He smiled uncontrollably as he conjured up scenarios that may happen at the Ball. He imagined dancing with Dethrin, (he screamed in his mind like a little girl, bouncing up and down… come on, seriously, look at the man’s body. He was like a god), eating dinner next to Dethrin and feeding each other. He imagined a complicated scenario in which women would be flinging themselves over Dethrin’s well-dressed body and knocking them down when he romantically kisses Dethrin.
He didn’t show it on his face, save for the redness in his cheek, but in his head he was squealing like a fangirl who’s just met her favorite idol. ( For reference please see any Thomas Hiddleston fangirl on tumblr. ) “Dethrin…” He said, as Dethrin moved away, feeling like he should say something, but blushing to hard to figure out what. “Ah… uhm…” He searched for words desperately, “Thanks… for everything. For watching out for me, and you know teaching me things. I know it was you back then, sneaking me more ingredients for the potions. I never did thank you for that.” He paused, his voice shaking from nervousness.
“Look, uhm, I really do admire you and you probably already knew that.” He was beginning to wish he really hadn’t taken the medication. “But…” He breathed deeply. It was now or never. “Ireallylikeyou.” He said in a rushed sentence. There. He said it. Biting his lip, his hand clenching around his quill, he quickly explained, “I just wanted you to know, so that we’re on the same page.” He was burning up under the blanket. He wished it were hot enough for him to melt away into oblivion so that he didn’t have to face this amount of embarrassment. “And I guess it’s redundant to say this but, I really am gay, so I’m not talking about the sort of like that friends have for each other. I mean… if I were a girl and I was like… you know, had a crush on you. That’s the sort of like that I have.” He knew he was rambling, but the silence was killing him slowly.
Ugh, this was so embarrassing.
As he called out his name Dethrin turned around, looking over at him. He had made it only a few strides away, but could see a faint glow of red on Roscoe’s features. He smiled lightly at seeing it and the small smile on his lips. This was what Dethrin wanted to see, this was the side of Roscoe that he felt needed to come out more. Honestly it had been difficult watching that smile fade over the years, and wishing he could do something about it. But after his sister had died he had become a little more reserved than when he’d first met Roscoe. No, he was much quieter now.
As for the thank you it left a faint hint of red on his features. If he was tan it might have been difficult to see, but on his pale skin the rush of blood was fairly obvious. He ran his hand along the nape of his neck, a little embarrassed at it. He had been hoping Roscoe wouldn’t notice, but he was wrong. For someone who was quiet, he wasn’t very good at sneaking anything. Stepping forward towards him he was stopped when Roscoe said, “But.”
Stopping once more in his tracks the subtle blush increased with the words that followed. Oh wow. He didn’t really know what to say. He blinked slowly a few times as he listened to the words, giving himself time to think about all of this.
Dethrin hadn’t been in a relationship before, he didn’t know what to do in these situations. Most people now admired him from afar, though he didn’t know it. He hadn’t held hands with anyone and he would probably be a mess with all of this.
Stepping forward he moved to sit next to Roscoe as he took a deep breath. This was going to require a bit of words, more than he’d spoken in some time, and he wasn’t sure how well it was going to go. He wasn’t good with words, which was part of why he didn’t speak.
“Roscoe,” he said, before he gave a slight cough. His knees were parted, and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. Staring at the ground he took a deep breath. “I haven’t been in a relationship before. I don’t care much about boy or girl, I just have mostly kept to myself.” His gaze was very firm on the ground. “I haven’t really allowed myself to like anyone before, and it’s come to the point where I’ve never even… I haven’t even held anyone’s hand.” He wasn’t turning him down so much as just giving him a warning. Dethrin wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend, and he’d want everything to go rather slow. It would take him a while to open up. “I’m a private man, and that seems to bother people.” His throat hurt from talking so much, and he wasn’t really sure what to say or do. He looked up at Roscoe, wanting to see what he thought of all of this. Usually when Smiles tried to set him up with someone or if someone asked him out he’d just say no and leave, but this was Roscoe.
When Dethrin came over to sit next to him, his heart nearly jumped right out of his chest and onto the floor. He tried not to faint, but he felt like he might. There wasn’t enough oxygen going to his head. He listened attentively, but really he was just listening to the way Dethrin voice spoke the words, sort of like gravel against rock. It tickled his eardrums pleasantly.
He nearly snapped the quill in his hand, waiting for the words of rejection, but they never exactly came. At least, he didn’t say outright, ‘Roscoe, I don’t think I can be in a relationship with you.’ He had left room for possibilities and that was enough for him. He blushed as he reached out, with his hand and gently placed his hand in Dethrin’s. He laced his fingers through Dethrin’s strangely warm hand, and held it there.
“We can go slow. Look, now you can’t say you’ve never held someone’s hand.” He beamed brightly and honestly. Sure, he was probably grossing Dethrin out with his slimy, sweaty hand, but he was so happy he could do this. It was his lifelong dream come true. “Don’t worry, I can talk enough for the both of us, at least when I’m off my medication.”
He forgot about his papers, his homework, the things he had to get finished. All he could think of was his hand holding Dethrin’s and sitting next to him. He watched Dethrin face, his eyes concentrated on the older guy’s lips. He couldn’t help himself. When he wanted to do something, he did it without thinking.
Before he knew it, his lips were brushing against Dethrin’s, molding against the contours. He wasn’t a very sexual person, but he loved the way kisses felt. They were so… happy. He didn’t know if there was anything as pure and pleasant as a kiss. Not thinking, he pressed further, his head moving to the side, to make room for their noses. He sighed happily.
It wasn’t until he stepped back into the common room when he realized he should have waited until Dethrin had finished the potion before taking his own. Who knows, Dethrin could have improved it. But there was a reason why he hadn’t modified the potion, even if he could figure out a way himself. He didn’t want for it to last very long, because he wasn’t ready to take off his mask and face the world as his real self.
He needed it to wear off when he woke up, so that his countenance would be happy and joyful, albeit absentminded and inattentive. He needed it to cope with certain things, like the playful, harmless jabs of fun people poked him with. When he was ‘normal’ he didn’t like to ‘play around’. He wanted to get shit done and fast. This was the way he had to live at home. He didn’t want it to be the same when he came to Hogwarts.
He grumbled as he sat in an armchair close to the fireplace, pulling out some scrolls and his quill to write an essay for Potions class. He scribbled without even looking into his Potions book. Some people would find it hard to believe, but he was actually rather good with concepts and theories, his only problem occurred with memorization. He could understand how things worked, but he could remember specifics, well, except for Potions, because he enjoyed reading everything about potions.
He momentarily forgot that Dethrin was around, but the silence was comfortable. He enjoyed it and he knew Dethrin probably would too, since he was previously working on something it seemed.
As Roscoe came down the stairs he turned around to look at him, giving him a light smile. But after a moment he turned and went back to his work. He was tired, very tired, and the bags under his eyes showed just how little sleep he’d been getting. Even with that fact he wasn’t planning on sleeping much.
The captain of the Quidditch team had suggested changing the time for practices, noticing how tired Dethrin was, but it wouldn’t matter what time practice was. He still wouldn’t get much sleep.
When the potion was finished he flicked his wrist and the fire went out. Walking over to his bag he grabbed a few vials. He only had nice ones, gifts from his parents that he didn’t care about. He’d have much rather gone with the cheaper ones as they worked just as well, but his parents never really understood it. Filling up about 8 vials he stopped them off, making sure each one was closed tightly. With another flick of his wrist the cauldron was cleaned and he started putting his ingredients back. Everything was done exactly, in a certain order, in a certain way. He wasn’t wearing the jewelry to help with his OCD so he was very orderly about everything.
Once he was done he took the vials and walked over to the Roscoe he knew would be concentrating. He’d seen both sides of the man, and he knew Roscoe would be difficult to interrupt like this, not that he was planning to.
Instead he set the vials down next to him. “These are potent,” he said. He wasn’t sure how strong, and he wasn’t going to go into detail. He did know it would essentially be enough for one bottle to last him a couple of weeks if he diluted it.
Walking back over to his desk he sat back down, rubbing his shoulder lightly. He’d injured it some time ago, and some nights it’d bother him. Sort of like his nose. It broke during a Quidditch game and he didn’t get to the hospital wing soon enough. It didn’t cause him issue, though. He could still breathe, but his shoulder ached every now and then.
Once he rubbed it for a bit he grabbed his quill and started writing once more, his pen flying over the parchment with exact, delicate handwriting.
He paused his mad scribbling when Dethrin handed him the expensive vials filled with the new Potion. He blinked then flushed into a deep pink when he remembered how he abruptly and very much out of the blue, asked Dethrin out to the Yule ball. He hated himself sometimes for his lack of control when he wasn’t taking his medication. It was like any will power or rational thinking was tossed out the window. He couldn’t help what he was saying, the words just poured out of his mouth.
But at the same time he was happy for once, for his lack of self control when it came to his loquaciousness, because Dethrin had said yes. He smiled uncontrollably as he conjured up scenarios that may happen at the Ball. He imagined dancing with Dethrin, (he screamed in his mind like a little girl, bouncing up and down… come on, seriously, look at the man’s body. He was like a god), eating dinner next to Dethrin and feeding each other. He imagined a complicated scenario in which women would be flinging themselves over Dethrin’s well-dressed body and knocking them down when he romantically kisses Dethrin.
He didn’t show it on his face, save for the redness in his cheek, but in his head he was squealing like a fangirl who’s just met her favorite idol. ( For reference please see any Thomas Hiddleston fangirl on tumblr. ) “Dethrin…” He said, as Dethrin moved away, feeling like he should say something, but blushing to hard to figure out what. “Ah… uhm…” He searched for words desperately, “Thanks… for everything. For watching out for me, and you know teaching me things. I know it was you back then, sneaking me more ingredients for the potions. I never did thank you for that.” He paused, his voice shaking from nervousness.
“Look, uhm, I really do admire you and you probably already knew that.” He was beginning to wish he really hadn’t taken the medication. “But…” He breathed deeply. It was now or never. “Ireallylikeyou.” He said in a rushed sentence. There. He said it. Biting his lip, his hand clenching around his quill, he quickly explained, “I just wanted you to know, so that we’re on the same page.” He was burning up under the blanket. He wished it were hot enough for him to melt away into oblivion so that he didn’t have to face this amount of embarrassment. “And I guess it’s redundant to say this but, I really am gay, so I’m not talking about the sort of like that friends have for each other. I mean… if I were a girl and I was like… you know, had a crush on you. That’s the sort of like that I have.” He knew he was rambling, but the silence was killing him slowly.
Ugh, this was so embarrassing.
