Jump to content
Sign in to follow this  
Simon Reed

we built sandcastles that washed away

Recommended Posts

Simon Reed

a week-ish after the attacks

 

 

“I have to go. Bye.”

 

This contradiction spoken just minutes after he’d assured Simon that he wasn’t going anywhere. The small retreating frame leaving him alone among the wreckage from the previous night. Healers and students alike walked about and went about their day, trying to recover and trying to make sense of the attacks… but Simon reverted back to thinking about Rad, and Rad alone.

 

Liar.

 

His immediate departure had felt like another blow, causing Simon to drop back down on his cot and nurse his new unseen injury. It now took him twice as long as it would have with help to actually get up and figure out what he was supposed to do. The Ravenclaw hung around the Great Hall, like a lost child at the supermarket waiting for his parents to come look for him, to come pick him up… but nothing like that ever happened. Instead, Headmistress McGonagall made an appearance and announced a few changes that were to take place due to the recent devastating events.

 

The day turned into night, and the night into day, and without much thought about how the days were blending together a week had suddenly gone by. He’d yet to make much sense of anything, much less the dramatic appearance and disappearance act executed by a certain Slytherin. He himself couldn’t believe that he was thinking on it again…

 

‘What did I do wrong? I wonder if he’s okay…. Why, why, why?’

 

As he aimlessly walked around the corridors, shuffling closely  behind a group of students so that he wouldn’t be chided again for not having a buddy… when he just happened to glance up at just the right time, spotting the boy that had been inhabiting his every thought and who he assumed to be his buddy heading to the bathrooms.Simon slowed his pace and watched as Rad hung back and decidedly rested against a wall for his friends return.

 

He couldn't have created a better opportunity had he even tried, and unconsciously he had but Radueriel was a hard person to get a hold of. This was his chance.  The teen quickly changed directions in dire need of explanation and wound up grabbing Rad’s hand, heart pounding as he dragged him along to the nearest classroom that thankfully wasn’t in use. Simon ushered the raven haired boy inside before shutting the door behind them. A tactless act, seeing as he didn’t really know what to do or say next…

 

“You said you weren’t going anywhere, and you left me.” he huffed, letting his emotions get the best of him. He was upset, annoyed and utterly confused. Why the kiss? Why had he stayed? WHY DID HE INSIST ON RUNNING AWAY ALL THE BLOODY TIME.

 

 

Edited by Simon Reed

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Guest

The willingness alone to spend time with Lester Roach said a lot.

 

Very few circumstances presented themselves to Rad that made him wish to spend time with the disgusting, oblivious, rude, and bullying taller boy. In fact, prior to the werewolf attack and the subsequent attack of guilt, prior to McGonagall's stifling buddy system and the unfortunate truth that the tiny Slytherin didn’t really have any friends anymore, he probably couldn’t have come up with a single scenario that would make him do it.

 

But the brashness of Lester was far preferable to the worry and the guilt of Simon’s company.

 

A week, more or less, had passed since that night. He hadn’t seen Julian yet— though he had tried, it had become clear to him that helping out Hazel was more important than massaging his own guilt— and he was doing a bang-up job of avoiding Simon. The few times he’d caught sight of that familiar mop of dark hair, he flew, making up the necessary excuse or not even bothering.

 

Within the depths of his self-hatred, a few leagues, perhaps, more intense than typical teenage angst, was no comfortable place to dwell.

 

Suddenly, there was Simon, all flush and nerves, right up in his face. Before he could do anything, the Ravenclaw grabbed his hand, a vise-like grip that either Rad couldn’t or wouldn’t pull himself out of, not even as Simon used it to yank him out of the busy hallway and into a quiet classroom. The windows shone white with the outside snow, making the room both cool and bright, like the inside of a cloud.

 

Then there was nothing but Simon, nobody but the two of them, no way out except through the Ravenclaw closing the door behind them. A new look surfaced on Simon’s face, not casual smugness or even confused affection — no, this was hurt, and this was anger, and before Simon even said a word it felt like someone had dipped a sword into icy-hot and plunged it into his heart.

 

When Simon did open his mouth, to accuse with contorted face, Rad was genuinely surprised that he didn’t immediately burst into tears. No, he didn’t cry, though he felt smaller than ever, put on the spot, bathed in self-loathing. What answer did he have to give? How could he explain that Simon deserved someone a thousand, a million, times better than he and leave no room for argument?

 

How, too, to say it all and hold on to some of his pride?

 

“I did,” he said. Blush stained his cheeks, for his act of hypocrisy was just another thing that made him lesser, another reason for Simon to hate him and abjure him, not chase him down. How did Simon not see that? Rad chewed his lip, no idea at all what to say. There was nowhere to go but forward, no way out of this without saying something, but for the boy who always had an opinion or a snarky comment (often repressed, true, but always there) there were suddenly no words at all.

 

“You’re just… I just… I freaked out.” The truth, if halved. “I keep running away.” How many times was this now? Five? Why was that his response when things got tough or confusing? And why, more importantly, why did Simon keep coming back? “I’m sorry.” He held Simon’s gaze, still determinedly not crying. This was their ending, he could feel that, and Rad deserved all the discomfort and the anger thrown at him. No more self-pity, face it like a man. “Are you, was everyone okay?”

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Simon Reed

‘Shoot.’

 

One look at Radueriel’s face told him everything.

 

He’d done it now.

 

This, their current predicament, was probably the exact reason why Rad had been avoiding him… he was too much. Overbearing, needy, weak. He was an embarrassment and this was just dawning on him. How had he not realized this sooner? I. D. I. O. T. He looked down at the floor before carding his fingers through his hair, abashedly letting himself fall back against the door for support. Everything that had happened between them could be easily explained by the attacks. Fear. One the biggest motivator for irrational acts, like seeking out a familiar face in a whirlwind of chaos, or kissing that same exact person in the heat of the moment thinking that they might not get a chance to kiss anyone ever again. It had never been a mutual interest, not in friendship or anything more than that. Given his state, his trauma… he must have imagined something that had never been there in the first place.

 

How could he have been so wrong?

 

He groaned, letting his arms fall at his sides, attempting to compose himself as to not come off too strongly or scare the third year more than he obviously already had. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to apologize. It’s alright…it’s not your fault I’m a mess.” he sniffed, keeping his eyes downcast before continuing, “Not enough sleep or something, I’m sure you won’t be the last person who runs away from me” he smiled wryly, biting at the inside of his cheek as he tried to bury his affections somehow muster enough energy to give the performance of a lifetime.

 

He needed to act normal.

 

“Yeah. I think so… I just… wanted to make sure you were fine too, but uh...  We should probably get you back to your buddy.” he sidestepped away from the door, dragging his back onto the cool castle wall. "I won't bother you again. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Edited by Simon Reed

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Guest

Oh god. Oh, oh, oh god.

 

Was Simon Reed actually crying?

 

He’d really messed it up, hadn’t he? If only he had stayed, walked the Great Hall with Simon, found Hazel and Julian (ugh, Julian) and Aurora and everyone else— but he’d had to go, he had to protect Simon from himself, couldn’t stare at the wound on Simon’s arm any longer knowing it was his fault that it was there— if only he’d stayed, but he hadn’t, and if that wasn’t proof of his utter terribleness, he didn’t know what he could do that would convince the Ravenclaw he was unworthy of his time.

 

And now Simon was crying, sniffing at his words and hiding his face. The small boy was unused to being on this side of the equation; he only knew how to act when it was he who was crying. How strange it was to be the one whose gaze shone hard, cold, and bright, while someone else’s eyes brimmed with water. Rad didn’t like it, felt powerless against it, and he wanted to kiss Simon again and make everything better.

 

But even if he did, wouldn’t he just find some other way to hurt Simon later down the line?

 

Simon stepped away from the door. It would have been easy, so easy, to make a run for it right then, back out into the bustle, back to Lester and to quiet misery and phantom pains in his perfectly healthy arm. But something in what the Ravenclaw said stopped him. After everything that they’d been through, it seemed like craziness to Rad that Simon could ever think he was bothering the Slytherin.

 

Was this the impression he’d made? Was that what Simon took away from all the times Rad fled? Oh god. Oh, oh, oh god.

 

Maybe it was better that way. Maybe if he kept it up and convinced Simon that he didn’t want anything to do with him, that was the way to keep him safe. But he tried to formulate the words, tried to push out a brusque I’m fine, and leave the room in a huff— the way he’d seen people do it on television— but the sentence lodged in his throat like a stubborn piece of candy.

 

So no, he didn’t do any of that. What he did was what he knew on some level of consciousness untouched by language was what he craved when he got weepy the way Simon was now. Rad quickly closed the gap between the two of them. The distance was short, covered by just a few strides of his short legs, but it was like plunging himself into a pit of icy guilt. He pushed through it, though, and wrapped his arms around his friend. His friend.

 

They were friends.

 

No matter how guilty Rad felt, no matter how responsible for the gash on his arm that would never quite heal, none of that could change the fact that they shared something. Running from it wouldn’t fix it, and to do so would be to hurt Simon even more. He leaned into the hug, resting his head on Simon’s shoulder as tears of his own began to well up. Better a sin of commission than one of omission. He would be there. He wouldn’t run away.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and he meant it. “You aren’t bothering me, I swear.” He pulled away so he could look at Simon. “I— I really want to be your friend. If you want to be mine.”

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Simon Reed

He found a spot on the ground and fixated on it, glaring at the grout as he clenched his jaw and willed himself not to cry. Not that there was anything wrong with crying, to be honest he’d done a lot more of it in the past few weeks than he ever had in his whole life… It was just that in this moment, it didn’t feel like he deserved to. Someone didn’t want to be his friend, well boo-freaking-hoo.There were obviously worst things in life, things that he himself had experienced, things that were currently unfolding within the Wizarding World... but for some reason this boy not liking him was at the forefront of everything.

 

Screw dealing with trauma, noooooo, cry over a boy instead… that makes sense, right? He could be so flacking dramatic sometimes.

 

Simon expelled a shaky breath as he let his shoulders sag against the wall. He half expected to hear Rad’s footsteps gunning towards the exit, or at least the sound of the hinges giving way as he made his getaway and slammed the door on his way out but the seconds seemed to stretch and the room stayed the same. He wanted to steal a glance, to see if he had somehow missed Rad’s departure but before he could lift his chin up, somebody crashed into him.

 

Slender arms wrapped around his torso as the smaller boy nestled into his shoulder, his inky hair tickling at his cheeks as he turned his head to accommodate him. “Merlin, you’re giving me whiplash.” he mumbled into Rad’s head, slowly inhaling his aromatic shampoo. ‘He smells like fruits.’ he thought to himself as he hesitantly returned the embrace. “I don’t get you at all…” he admitted, leaning back and letting his arms hang loosely around Rad’s shoulders. “You say one thing, and do another... but I want to. I want to be your friend too. Not just because of what happened, I wanted to before…” he trailed off, unable to keep eye contact as he thought back to their first kiss.

 

Did that even count as their first kiss? It’d been more of an unwarranted assault now that he thought about it. It had been impulsive and... but then Rad had kissed him during…so there was that. Ugh, kisses. He wasn’t sure where their kisses landed on the friendship scale, but perhaps starting with no kisses and being just friends would be the way to go. “I’m sorry about that, I don't know what..." he sighed, trying to gather his thoughts enough that so that he could form coherent sentences, "...but erm… maybe... How about we start over and just forget all the weird bits.” he offered.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Guest

Thank Merlin, thank God, thank the universe and every beautiful thing in it that Simon Reed let his arms drape around Rad, accepting the hug. Though the tiny boy only nestled in for a few moments, he luxuriated in how safe he felt there, held by the Ravenclaw, protected not only from the outside world but also from his own thoughts. It was, after all, the insidiousness of his own thoughts that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. If only he could stay in the

present moment, stay with Simon, instead of laboring out his worries until they compelled him to run…

 

Not even the comment about whiplash could break him from his muted joy. In any other circumstance such a pointed jab would activate the age-old guilt — because it was true, wasn’t it, that he kept jerking Simon along, that every time he ran or came back, Simon had to bear the brunt of it? He would have to choose, eventually, one way or the other. He’d either have to run and never return, or he’d have to stay and never leave.

 

But Simon’s arms around him kept him safe from all that.

 

Maybe it was dramatic of him, to feel this strongly for someone he just didn’t know all that well yet. But he did feel strongly, he felt everything strongly. So why was it so bad for him to feel this way for Simon now? Why was it bad that his heart trilled in harmonious song when Simon said he wanted to understand him? It wasn’t… it couldn’t be… “I want to… to know you better, too. I don’t even know what your favorite song is.”

 

That was a stupid thing to bring up at a time like this. Immediately he regretted it. Thankfully he didn’t have even a moment to worry about it, because then Simon said something that alleviated a fear he did not even know he’d had: I’d wanted to before.

 

Somewhere lingering in the back of his mind had been the fear that the two of them only felt quite so connected because of what had happened. Maybe underlying all the guilt boiling his blood was this anxiety, and maybe this was why he kept fleeing. But without even needing to know that it was bothering him, there was Simon, as lovely and understanding as ever.

 

“That’s great,” Rad said. They could start over. No more false beginnings, no more hitting strange and intimate milestones out of order. They could be friends. And if something else happened… if what Rad dearly wanted did end up happening… then they could cross that bridge when they arrived before it. “Thank you, that’s… that’s awesome.”

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Sign in to follow this  

×

Important Information

We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue.