InsaneJournal

RP: Baby you're a firework
Who: Dean Thomas & Susan Bones and/or Seamus Finnegan
What: Fireworks for Diwali do not make this bloke happy
Where: Various locations, London
When: Thursday October 23rd
Rating: NSFW - swearing, trigger warning: flashbacks and significant PTSD episode




It had been a bit of a weird week, depending on how you looked at it it had all started with Sunday lunch with Seamus and Jess, and hadn't that been a delight?! Come Monday he had originally been planning to take Ophelia to lunch and actually properly explain his PTSD better to her, but he just hadn't felt up to it. Instead he'd put it off, and put it off all week, and then it came to Thursday and she'd been out meeting some sort of client for most of the morning and he'd been working on the painting of his father that had perpetually sat in the corner of his studio for the better part of a year now. It wasn't something he did often, but he did do it with great care and attention and he'd been feeling the awkward mood and the journal messages with Roger inspire him. It was also fairly draining to do, because he tended to wallow in the feelings of regret and disappointment that he'd never known the man. So come 5.30 he was packing up and heading home.

Apparating back to his flat he immediately switched on the radio on to fill the flat with noise as he did some chores. First hovering he’d neglected for the last couple of days, then sorting the laundry and sticking it in the machine. He knew he could use cleaning charms on the lot but they’d never been his strongest suit, and crap though his neighbours were he couldn’t discount the fact they’d notice him never doing any of the noisier housework muggles needed to participate in to keep tidy.

Even though he'd spent a good portion of Saturday making meals for the next week or two it seemed stupid to waste them when he was home with plenty of time to spare. Since he had plenty of lasagne, portions of various stew-type meals in the freezer he decided to go in a totally different direction and make something with Chinese flavours and set about putting together Sesame chicken, planning to serve it with some stir fried vegetables. Busy marinating the chicken and pre-preparing the sauce and vegetables and singing or humming along to the radio Dean wasn’t particularly paying attention to what was going on outside the flat, although he did pause, frowning a couple of times at something he couldn’t place. He’d closed the curtains earlier though, knowing he’d be too lazy to get up afterwards.

Looking down at the pile of vegetables he’d chopped he pulled a disappointed face. A small carrot, half a pepper, the remains of some cabbage and a quarter of a head of broccoli did not a satisfying stir-fry make. And he was short on garlic. Trip to Tesco it was. He cast a quick protective spell over the veg to preserve it for his short absence, checked the washing machine only had a spin cycle left, and grabbed boots, jacket and muggle wallet, before apparating to the slightly larger store that would likely have a better selection of vegetables he might want.

The hint of smoke and cordite in the air hit him immediately he appeared in the alley a short walk from the store and stiffened, looking to the sky. For long moments there was nothing and he set off on his walk, thinking himself safe.

He was walking across the carpark when the next flash of light erupted into the sky. It was pure white, startling Dean’s heightened senses which had been expecting the red or green of spells. The next flash moments later was green, the powerful flare of Aveda Kedavra and he dropped behind the nearest car, heart in his throat, eyes wide, breath coming in pants.

His hand grasped his wand, ready for action. Still crouched he made his way to the corner of the corridor. Hugging the wall he stuck his head out, looking for danger. At first there was nothing, and then the bright yellow-white of a pair of spells swung around the corner and he shrank back. Rocking to his feet, back bent to keep him protected from the hole in the wall he changed his mind. He turned to ask Seamus what the plan was and found him missing, and his heart clenched. Arms reaching out .

“Seamus!” he called. Throwing caution to the wind he ran down the short corridor. He picked up speed, ducking quickly around the corner-

He jumped back out of the path of the car whose horn had honked, tires screeching slightly as the man applied his breaks. Dean was flattened against the back of a small van, and back in reality. His chest was heaving, wand in hand and he began to shake. He had to get out of here. Now.

“Look where you’re fucking going!” the man yelled from his rolled down window as he drove away with a parting “Wanker!” thrown out of the window for good measure.

Dean was shaking in earnest now, and aware enough to know he needed to get out.

Get somewhere that there were people to help him.

There was no way he could make it back to his apparition point. He could barely stay upright.

He could do this. He had done this before when fleeing for his life.

He took a deep breath. Then another.

He brought up the safest place he knew into his mind and stepped forward, twisting into the void.

He arrived a split second later in Seamus’ flat. Seamus’ empty flat. The lights were off. He wasn’t home.

He had nothing more in him. Not after that.

He stumbled to Seamus’ bedroom and shoved the covers out of the way, shaking, his arms wrapped around himself as he began to cry.

He hadn’t stopped for his self-care box. Hadn’t even taken off his boots, but all he could do was curl up as tight as he could and tremble, tears falling down his face.