Mad World Mods (madworldmods) wrote in madworldrp, @ 2007-10-30 22:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | landon aubrey, meghan mccormack |
RP Thread: Landon and Meg
LJ-SEC: (ORIGINALLY POSTED BY landaubs)
Characters: Landon and Meg
When: Late Tuesday evening
Where: An old, unused classroom
Rating: TBA
Summary: Engagement in a high-standing Scottish tradition: Getting drunk!
A scammed and carefully stored (albeit warm) bottle of his Uncle Peter's moonshine was tucked in the bag on Landon's shoulder, and briefly he entertained the thought that this was probably not one of the best ideas he'd ever had. While the missing getting drunk part had been true, Landon also missed Meg's company a lot more than was perhaps sensible of an 'ex-boyfriend'. And Landon was definitely happy with what was developing with Daisy--he fancied her a lot, and he definitely saw potential for a great relationship... but did that mean he had to give up spending alone time with one of his best mates? Even if she was a lass, and someone he'd shagged a number of times?
Landon wasn't sure he grasped relationship boundries.
When he got to the classroom, Meg wasn't there. He unlocked the door and found a comfortable spot against the wall where he could see out the window at the starry sky. He took the bottle out of his bag and set it on the floor, and then crossed his legs and put his arms behind his head, and waited.
Meghan had felt like a downright spy as she crept out of Gryffindor, making her way quietly to their usual meeting spot. Not only had that stupid cat of Filch's been patrolling more than normal, she was having second thoughts. Was doing this the right thing? Most likely not. She shouldn't be so chummy with her ex boyfriend, not by halves. She probably shouldn't have shagged him, either, if it came down to it.
Still, she made it to their room in good time, slipping quietly into the doorway and shutting it behind her with a soft click. She dropped down beside Landon (companionably near, although it was a matter of willpower not to snuggle up against his shoulder comfortably), pulling out a couple of blankets, the bottle of her own Scotch, and tumblers. "Figured in case we fell asleep, we shouldn't freeze this time," she said by way of greeting, wrapping her own blanket around her shoulders. "Think I can tell why this room's not used any more. Drafty, innit?"
"Aye," Landon agreed, turning his head slightly and smiling at her and taking the blanket she'd offered him and tucking it over his legs. "Ain't s'bad as me room back home. Da keeps sayin' he's gonna fix the window. Doubt he ever will."
He popped the cork on the moonshine and poured it into the tumblers. He handed Meg her glass and took his own, smelling the whiskey. "Tis strong, stiff. Gonna warn yeh. Me Uncle Pete knows how teh pack a punch."
Okay, so it was a little weird. Should he put an arm around her, or was that only a girlfriend/boyfriend thing now? Maybe a sip or two would loosen his nerves? He took a sip.
Meg took her glass, raising it to him in a toast. "Slainte," she said gently, taking a small sip.
It was far stronger than she'd anticipated. Far stronger. "Oh, fuck!" she sputtered, turning red and coughing. "Water. I need water. Agua... Aguamenti!" she coughed out, filling her tumbler back up with water (although there was a very small amount to fill) and looking at it warily, as if it would reach out and bite her hand were she to pick it up.
"My compliments to your uncle," she said, voice still watery.
Landon laughed. "Told yeh! Yeh'll get used teh it. Take it real slow. Get more out of it tha' way," he said, taking another sip of his own. "So. Uh. How yeh been keepin'?" he asked stupidly, as if it hadn't been all of two days since they'd bummed around Hogsmeade after 'breaking up'.
"Oh, aye, real slow, and maybe it'll just get bored and drink itself." This is why she never drank, she reminded herself. Meghan's palate didn't run towards alcohol, nor towards spicy foods - she preferred more moderate tastes. "You want the truth, I never really drank before."
She looked at him askance for a moment, taking a nearly dainty sip of her drink - less of a sip and more getting her tongue wet. It burnt, but not so badly, and it was a bit warming. "Been all right. Classes, arguing with people so I can have private Quidditch practice, life goes on!" She sounded too cheery, she thought. "It's been a bit boring," Meghan admitted.
"Aye, really?" Landon asked, surprised. He was a drinking guy. It' what he and his buddies on the island's did when things got boring--which was basically when they weren't working. "Spose I might as well be an alcoholic. When I wasn't on the boats the summer I was boozin' up. Which was... uh. An effective way teh kill braincells?" he laughed.
"Sairy," he said after she answered his question. "Twas lame and stupid o'me. Just uh. Dun want it teh be awkward. Though spose it is. Here," he added, holding up his arm so she could shimmy over closer to him.
"Aye, really," she answered, smirking at him. "Just never got a taste for it, or smokin' either. Always seems... contrary to what I should be doing, exercising and eating right and making sure I'm fit enough."
She looked at his arm for a moment, clearly debating, but in the end Meghan couldn't resist snuggling close, holding her drink in both hands as she leaned her head against his body. "T'wasn't lame," she said, "nor stupid. Kind of ye to ask, really. Now tell me about what's new in your own world, Landon," she said. Perhaps if she could keep the conversation to such nontopics, this wouldn't be such a bad idea.
He was dating Daisy, anyway. She was just his mate. Meghan took another drink, getting a slight taste for it, and let a deep sigh escape her. The tension in her shoulders fled as well, and she was relaxing into his embrace like old times.
"I've managed teh collect all teh best habits, eh?" Landon grinned. "Did try'n quite smokin' fer yeh. Did yeh know?"
Landon exhaled contentedly when Meg made herself comfortable in his arms. "Nothin' really. Dunno," he said. He didn't want to start talking about Daisy because it felt horribly inappropriate. He took a gulp of his drink before continuing. "Just readin', playin' a little guitar, takin' naps? Nothin' real eventful, don't spose."
She glared at him playfully, sticking her tongue out. "I didn't mean it like that. Eat too much to be some paragon of dietary virtue. Still, nice that ye tried fer me. Didn't mind it, though, so yeh needn't have bothered."
It wasn't so awkward any more, and Meg didn't know whether it was the alcohol or just getting to talk to Landon again. She found it hard to mind much about their closeness, either. "Never played anything for me, Landon," she teased, bumping him in the side with her elbow. "Leastways, not after you got better at it."
"Guid teh know now. Back teh a pack a day. Gonna die o'cancer before it's all said and done," Landon sighed.
"Oi, shut up, you," Landon replied, bumping her back. "Hardly play fer anyone anymore. Play in the commons sometimes, but most people ain't interested. And besides, you were the one that insisted I play fer yeh when teh only full song I knew was Hound Dog. And yeh had teh sing along with yer own words."
"Don't joke about that," she said sternly, all play gone. "Death's naught to joke about. If ye die, I'm followin' ye and kickin' yer arse straight back here." Meg was almost plaintive, and she seemed to shrink a little, curling into herself.
"All right," she said, eager for a subject change. "What songs can ye do now, then? And don't say I still have to sing along. We all know I can't sing for love or money."
"Sairy," Landon said sheepishly. "I can use a good arse kick every now'n then, and wouldn't trust anyone but yeh teh do it properly."
"Oh, I dunno. Quite a lot'o Beatles. Rolling Stones. Rod Stewart. Different stuff. Old Scottish folk shite, though it drives me nuts. The uncles make me play'um when I come home, and Harry whips out the accordion, and Da the harmonica, and we about do the floors in. Drives me mam bats."
Meghan laughed, taking a larger drink out of her tumbler and managing not to choke on it as it went down, although her face looked rather pained for a moment or two.
"You gotta play something for me now, then," she said goodnaturedly. "Before we go to yer house and hear these songs of old, I mean, because my ears might start bleedin'. McCormack curse. We started out as pipers and can't play music now to save our very lives."
"Name the time and place and I'd be happy teh whip it out." He paused. "Me guitar I mean. Bugger. You knew what I meant." Blushing scarlett he drained the rest of his glass in one go of it. He reached for the bottle. "Yeh bring out the double entendres in me, seems."
Meg started laughing, nearly choking to see the way his face turned red. It was the funniest thing in the world to see him blush, and it was about twice as hilarious as the joke itself. She leaned her cheek against the cool stone of the wall, grinning at him widely.
"We have a good time, though, in our way." It seemed a good segue for a more serious thought to her mind, and she voiced it with only slight hesitation - alcohol, it seemed, did wonders. "D'you think Daisy minds?"
Landon refilled his glass with some consideration, and took a first sip before answering. "Dunno," he said honestly with a shrug. "I mean, I dun think she'd be too impressed or nothin', but yer me oldest friend at school besides Frank. Couldn't give yeh up fer nothin', even fer a relationship. Mates first. You in particular."
She paused, giving his words careful consideration. "Wish to fuck you'd been in Gryffindor," she said, setting her glass aside (how had it gone to only half-full?) to squeeze him tightly around the neck. "You're one of my best mates." The 'and I don't know what the hell I'd do if some bird changed that' was only implied, but it hung in the air between them.
"One of the best," Meg repeated, adding in an extra squeeze.
"Hat screamed Ravenclaw when it barely touched me head," Landon said with a smile, returning her hug. "Didn't stand a chance. Hey, yeh remember how we first started bein' mates? When we got paired up for transfiguration and yeh turned me hat into a talkin' parrot when we were supposed teh be turnin' mice in to teacups? I knew then that I was stuck with yeh because the first thing yeh said about it after yeh finished laughin' was 'Whoops. Sairy, Aubrey, he shat in yer hair.'"
Meg wrinkled her nose, laughing at the memory and joining him in downing the rest of her glass, clearing her throat as tears sprang into her eyes from the strength of the alcohol. "The parrot swore like a sailor, aye? Think he told McGonagall to stuff it up her arse when she started lecturin' me. Good bird. Wish I'd kept him for a pet, but ye did need yer hat."
She held the empty glass in her hands, looking at him with a large grin. "Fill me up again, barkeep?"
"O'course, madam," Landon replied, mirroring her grin and pouring more booze into her glass. He finished his second and refilled the tumbler again, looking pensive. "S'weird, isn't it? How it's all sort o'ended and we're gonna have this new reality teh deal with. No more Hogwarts, and classes, n'tests and houses and points. Jus' our lot and the real world. Bein' adults. Dun think it's gonna be too different than now, is it? Just a differ'nt setting and a lil more freedom? I already drink, smoke and shag, s'what else is there except payin' fer meself?"
"S'weird, but s'pretty amazing at the same time," she said. "Can't wait for it. No parents nor aunts to nag ye about gettin' married to a nice boy. Well. I don' think you get nagged about gettin' married to a nice boy. But bein' an adult..."
Meghan shrugged, taking a healthy drink out of her glass. "Not much fun, seems like. Kinda worried about it. Bout what I'm gonna do fer a livin' if I don' play. Do what needs done, I reckon."
"Not sure meself, though quidditch certainly ain't an option," Landon said. "Dunno. Spose it'll pan out how it pans out and I'll just hafta figure it out, aye? No straight answers, Da always says. Just the bare bones and what yeh use 'um fer."
Meghan shrugged, setting her glass down. She was drinking too quickly, and there was a slight flush beginning in her cheeks - it was hard to hang onto her worries, as well. Easier by far just to throw them away - why worry? She was so damn good at Quidditch. She'd make a team for sure.
"An' you'll be a famous writer, naturally," she said, continuing her thought out loud. "Can't see ye not bein' successful."
"Hmm?" Landon questioned, confused by her continuation of a thought that hadn't been voiced. "I dunno. Maybe. Gotta write somethin' decent and get it published first. A'm too particular about it. Anyway..." he trailed off for a moment, staring out the window quietly as he knocked back another quarter of his third glass full.
"Tired o'thinkin' about the next great adventure," he said finally, looking at her and smiling a little lopsidedly. "Think I got enough on me plate here without tossin' jobs and flats and feedin' meself into the mix."
It made sense to her, but she grinned at his confusion, laying her head on his shoulder. "Brilliant writer, you are. Just... gotta write it, y'know? Gotta sit down an' do it. Was always my worst problem," she admitted, snuggling into his shoulder contentedly.
"Let's just focus on the day to day, aye? Too much goin' on in the world to worry about the future anyway."
Landon started laughing. "Meg, yer drunk," he said, grinning widely and giving her a poke in the side, though the arm wrapped around her tightened so she felt even closer than she was. He liked the way she felt.
"Find the day to day overwhelmin' enough though, sometimes," he said, deciding to continue the conversation. He was pretty tipsy himself, after all, considering just how strong the moonshine was. "Depending on the day and the moment and what's goin' on. Not worryin' now, though, cause I'm feelin' kinda guid an' I got yeh here with me, and who better, aye?" Except maybe Daisy? He asked himself and sighed.
"Yeh know, I fancy Daisy somethin' fierce," he admitted. "I do. An' I think we could really have somethin', if we worked at it, aye? But is it bad that I'd rather be here with you than her?"
"So what if I am?" she challenged playfully. The one part of her brain that was still mostly rational decided that she ought not drink any more, and she set her glass aside, wisely.
"Scares me pretty bad. Has ever since Shiver got murdered. Never nice to see that, but so much worse when it's people ye know a bit." It was the first she had mentioned the killings in a while, but they had always been at the forefront of her mind. "But for Daisy..." Meghan shrugged. "We're comfortable with each other, you an' me. S'gonna take a while to get there with her."
"Aye," Landon sighed, leaning his head back against the cool wall. "Spose it's easy teh take fer granted the comfort yeh already got until yeh got to start all over again with somebody else..." He paused. He didn't want this encounter to get depressing, so he chose not to address her mention of Shiver. Instead he returned to her drunken state. "S'just funny, you bein' drunk," he said, smiling widely. Yer cuddlier than usual, and yer all pink, fer starters. An' yer accent's thicker."
Meghan wasn't so far gone as to lose control of her sarcasm, and she rolled her eyes, making sure he got the hint. "Told ye I didn' drink much. S'all yer fault for suggestin' it, ye alcoholic wastrel." There was a lack of malice in her words, but she did pull away to leave a gap of a couple of inches between them, instantly regretting the loss of contact.
"Jus' don' see what we should do. Lines 'n boundaries. S'weird. We could be a first. Best mates who go on bein' best mates after the shaggin's done."
"Hey, come back," Landon said, tugging her over again. "The alcoholic wastrel's gettin' cold. And aye, well. We're here now, ain't we? We can be close an' comfortable, I think. S'a lil weird, but it'll get better. Easier? I dunno. A'm talkin' out me arse. Best mates can shag, can't they? Ain't there a term fer that?"
"Aye," Meg said. "I do believe the word yer lookin' for is 'cheatin'," she said in her poshest voice. "In the dictionary between 'arseface' and 'scumbag', somewhere in the middle, there. Said yerself that ye like Daisy, an I'm not lettin' ye bollocks that up," she said sternly, going so far as to wag her finger at him.
She did consent to being pulled close again, curling up against him much like before, sharing in his warmth. "N'matter how fit ye are."
Landon laughed and then sighed. "An' I know it must be hard fer yeh not teh jump me bones whenever yeh see me, due to me fitness, o'course... but yer right. Could be a total shit an say what she dun know won't hurt her, or that we ain't technically a thing yet... s'not fair teh be so bloody confused about everythin'. I want her in a different way then I want you, yeh know? It'd be some completely differ'nt thing with Daisy. Christ."
Meg grew serious, if not more sober, and paused to think over what to say. "If she makes ye happy," she said finally, deep in thought. "If she makes ye happy, an' ye enjoy every minute ye spend with her, then ye should definitely jump in headfirst..." Meghan nodded, affirming her own statement. It seemed very deep to her, this great pontification upon life and love. Besides, jumping in headfirst was her own life philosophy for every occasion.
"Ye deserve to be happy, Lands," she said, "an I think I am too drunk to make sense."
"Nah, yeh ain't that drunk," Landon said quietly. "Thas the thing though. Yeh, she makes me happy, like that. Tis new and weird, but... it makes me happy. But there's other things that make me happy, aye? And tis hard teh just differentiate between um. The moments I can have and the ones I can't. Like holdin' her hand, or havin' a fly, or readin' a good book, playin' me guitar, goin' home, writin' letters, blowin' shit up with Frank, and you. Anythin' I do with yeh. Yeh make me real happy."
"I'll always be yer mate," she said, voice firm. "Thick an thin. An if anythin' we do together makes us happy, then we don' need to do things we ought not." She paused a moment, making sure that sentence's logic was sound, before pressing onwards.
"Think we know the answer, though. Love ya so much it hurts, Landon, I'd die fer ya in an instant. But it's not like that. It's not weird when I hold yer hand. S'not like I'm in love with ya."
"I know yer right," Landon said, squeezing her shoulders and finally finishing his last drink before setting the empty glass down on the floor. "And I ain't in love with you neither. I ain't tryin' teh press nothin' if it comes off that way. Dun expect... A'm just. A'm just tryin' teh make sense of it all, I spose. Things changed real fast and I sort of feel like a'm suck in limbo, I spose? Am I makin' any sense?"
He scratched his head with his free hand and then turned his face, burying it in her hair, as if trying to hide from his frustrations. It really was weird, the thoughts running through his mind--what made him happy, what he wanted to do, how much he wanted to learn from the things that were happening to him. But with Meg? Like and Love mistaken for Lust and Sexual Attraction, the latter two still there undoubtedly, and he loved her as a friend without a second thought. Whereas with Daisy it was Like and Lust, and a yet unexplored sexual attraction.
He was making himself dizzy.
He let out a small, irritated noise in Meg's hair, and hugged into her.
She leaned into him welcomingly, squeezing his hand before taking it in both of hers, running her fingers over the back of it gently. "It was all quick," she said. "Don't think I helped there. I'd come off a real bad thing, and I figured I needed ye to sort me out." Meg patted his arm, letting go of his hand. "That didn't help ya a bit, though, did it?"
Meg slumped into his chest, sighing and looking for some comfort of her own. Half of her just wanted to crawl into his lap and cry, but both of those were beyond her - the lap belonged to Daisy, and Meg never did something so weak as crying. In front of people. "S'weird how the things like that stay with you."
"Things like what?" Landon asked, rubbing small circles on her back and taking a deep, slow, relaxing breath. "An' I dun regret nothin'. What happened with me an' you was one of the better things. Wouldn't trade it."
And that was true. He wouldn't. He had loved being with her, and he still got to do it now in a physical way, if not a sexual one. And it was weird to differentiate between the two in the wake of Daisy's new significance in his life.
Meg sighed into his shirt, gradually relaxing but not pulling away. There was too much comfort to be had - something she felt rather entitled to at this moment in time. "Just a few bad decisions," she said cryptically. After Frank had reacted, she didn't quite feel like telling Landon - if he looked at her with the same quizzical expression as Frank had used, as if her sanity was in question, Meghan might fall into a heap and die on the spot.
"It was nice, yeah," she admitted. "D'ye really not have any regrets? Nothing at all? I can think of a hundred."
Landon nodded silently and didn't push; if she wanted to tell him then she would, in time, and there was no use trying to force anything out of her.
"Regrets about you and me?" he asked quietly. "Not really. Useless teh have regrets because what's done is done, aye? Mean, might not have let it turn inta a... er. Relationship? Like a boyfriend and girlfriend thing. Might've been easier fer us teh keep it platonic... eh. Sexual. Does tha' sound sleazy?"
She looked up, startled. "No! No. Regrets in general, I meant." Meg shook her head, mouth quirking up as she thought.
"I kind of liked yeh for a boyfriend. I mean. Havin' one, it was a nice change-up." It was wrong, suddenly, this moment of camaraderie had soured and Meghan blamed herself - they had ended things benevolently enough, but her second thoughts were far too late to give voice to now. "It's late," she said, untangling herself from Landon carefully. "Should be goin'."
Landon kept a hold on her and frowned suddenly. "Wha-- yeh okay, Meg? I didn't mean... I'm sairy. Crossed a line, didn't I? Dun want yeh teh be uncomfortable," he rambled, not wanting her to leave. He'd been comfortable and content, and it felt good to talk about things.
"I got lots'a regrets if a'm gonna be honest wit meself," he admitted, hoping she'd snuggle back up to him again.
"S'fine," she lied glibly, and sat next to him again, their shoulders touching. "'M not uncomfortable, just... a lot to think about, and I don' wanna think tonight. Y'know?" she asked, engaging in some time-honored rambling herself.
"S'just too much to deal with. Feel like I'll go mad, with all this jumblin' around in my head." She said no more, hugging her knees up to her chest and laying her head down on them, her face turned towards Landon as if expecting him - begging him - to make things better.
"S'okay," Landon said gently, trying to be reassuring as he held out his arms. "C'mere," he instructed, wanting her in his lap so he could hug her properly. He smiled slightly. "C'mon. I can't do much witcha sittin' teh yehself."
Meg nudged his leg gently with her own, a mild rebuke. "Ye sure that's a good idea?" she asked, tilting her head to one side. "Seems like bad things happen when I sit in yer lap." As tempting as it was to just curl up and block out the world, Meghan figured that sitting in Landon Aubrey's lap in a dark room after they had had some drink wasn't the best idea. But she never was a fan of good ideas, anyway, was she?
"Fine," she sighed out, nowhere near as reluctant as she seemed to be. Moving quickly to his lap, she took the blanket with her, wrapping it around them both until they were well insulated from the drafty castle. "S'all bolloxed up," she said into his chest. "You, school, life, everything. Nothing feels as it ought to be."
No, Landon reasoned, it probably wasn't a good idea for Meg to climb into his lap, but he didn't care. She was upset, and so was he, truth be told, and the closer she was the better he felt. "I know," Landon agreed softly, wrapping his arms around her under the blanket and hugging her tightly.
"Dun seem like anythin' is quite right, does it? Overall, I mean. Everythin' ain't fittin' together. Jus when yeh think yer in a good place, everythin' changes, and yeh gotta adjust teh somethin' else entirely..."
There was something familiar about this, about laying with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. As if it were connecting her to him and to life. She squeezed him around the middle briefly, nostrils full with the scent of him.
"It's never all right," she opined. "Like... the world's a puzzle with pieces missin'. 'M scared to death to be movin' out on my own."
"Me too. Know a'm gonna make more mistakes than a'm already makin', an' that thas my real life a'm playin' with, yeh know? Like what am I goin' teh do? Will I get a good job? Get married? Have kids? I ain't ready teh make those sorts o'decisions," Landon rambled thoughtfully, giving her a squeeze and burrying his face in her hair.
"I can barely decide what a'm doin' this very second."
"Ye'll be brilliant, whatever ye do," she said firmly. "S'just yer way of things. Don' think ye'll make any huge mistakes, or ye will. Power of positive thinkin' an all of that rubbish." Meg's hand ended up on his upper arm, giving it a familiar squeeze.
"I'd say yer huggin' me," Meg quipped, leaning against him. "Might even say yer bein' sweet, come to think of it," she teased playfully.
"Aye, spose I am," Landon said, smiling and squeezing her again. He laughed. "An a'm always sweet. A'm a Scottie lad. Tis programmed into me blood t'be charismatic. An' completely fit and dashin' o'course, but that really goes without sayin'."
"Uh-huh," she said, clearly disbelieving. "Dashin and fit, I'll give ye, but sweet, it's a rare thing." It wasn't right, she tried to tell herself again. It was as if, any minute she expected him to kiss her or do something stupid, and worst of all, she was looking forward to it.
"I really should go," she said, suddenly quiet. "S'just... Still like ye an awful lot, Landon Aubrey. Ye stupid, charismatic bugger."
Landon cleared his throat. "We ah. We should probably both get goin'," he said quietly, without much conviction, and without moving except to squeeze her a little more tightly.
"A'm... a'm sairy," he practically whispered, reaching a hand up to brush her hand away so he could press a light, gentle kiss to her neck.
She closed her eyes at his touch, biting down hard on her lip to avoid saying anything for a long moment. It wasn't fair that one stupid bloke could just ruin her composure like that, it wasn't.
"Don't be," Meg said, touching his shoulder lightly. "'M not. Should be, but 'm not."
Landon knew that this was a bad idea. He could distinguish between right and wrong. But one side of his brain was reaching for straws telling him that he and Daisy hadn't really labeled what it was they were doing and until they did... well.
After only a second of guilty hesitation, he kissed Meg, keeping one arm wrapped around her and touching his other hand to her face.
Meg stared at him after the kiss broke off, her mouth a round "O" and her eyes wide; the perfect picture of befuddlement. She started to say something, but she wasn't sure what, and she cut it off. Still thinking for something intelligent, Meghan could do nothing but sit there perched awkwardly on his lap, half-pulled away but unable and unwilling to cut their ties any further.
While it was uncommon among the older years, the Gryffindor firsties had had a saying, used to try and impart some wisdom to them. 'What would Godric think?', it asked, and challenged the eleven-year-olds to be both brave and chivalrous in ideals. A big job, but it seemed to work on some of them. Meg just hadn't been one of the success stories.
"Right," was all she could say. "Right." Chivalry. 'Be chivalrous and bold, do the right thing by getting up and walking out the door. Don't, don't get angry at him, because if he could do that to Daisy, he could have done it to you.' Jaw set, it was obvious to her what she needed to do. "Not goin' to do that, Landon."
She slipped off his lap, gathering up her bag to depart. Doing the right thing was supposed to fill you with all sorts of moral fortitude, not give you this helpless, sinking feeling.
Landon's cheeks burned red and he completely deflated, and instead of watching her leave watched his own hands in his empty lap and took a deep breath. She was right with everything she wasn't saying, but that he knew she was thinking. That he was a jerk. That he was selfish and foolish and cruel. That he knew exactly what this would do to Daisy if she found out about it, but he had kissed her anyway.
"A'm..." Well saying that he was 'sorry' felt redundant, as (truth be told) he was more sorry that she was leaving than for what he had done. He cleared his throat. "Right, then. Erm. I. You. We. Um." And then breath shaking on the words because he didn't know what else besides honesty to turn to, admitted.
"The worst part is that I ain't sairy I did that."
Meg was thankful for his distraction, as it meant he wouldn't see her own vulnerabilities: the slump in her shoulders, the angry twist in her mouth, the peculiar shine in her eyes. Signals, meant to be hidden. She drew a breath, then another, getting herself into control with a rigid posture and forcedly neutral expression. It was a hard-fought battle, but she won it.
"'M not either," she admitted tersely, the words flung out from behind a gritted jaw. "'M not, an' I'd prolly do it again. Kinda hate m'self fer that. But I won' tell Daisy."
The 'that's your job' was implied as she walked from the classroom, her shoulders held high with indignant anger.
"Meg!" Landon called as he scrambled to his feet and ran after her, grabbing her by the arm halfway up the hallway. His heart was sitting in his shoes and he felt angry at himself so well as (at least) sorry for making Meg so angry. He deserved everything she was directing at him, and he kind of hated himself too. But he didn't want her to leave.
Most of all he didn't want to leave it like this. "Dun. A'm. Dun leave. Please. I know I ain't a good person and I shouldn't have done that, but..." He took a deep breath. "I dun know what else teh say, Meg, but I jus dun want yeh teh leave."
"What?" she snapped, whirling around and wrenching her arm from his grasp with a fierce yank. Almost instantly she regretted it when she saw the look on his face, and Meg had to bite her lip to keep from spouting an apology on the spot to try and rectify what had been done. She shifted about nervously, looking for something to say.
"'M not mad at yeh, so stop lookin' at me like that." It was a brusque opening, and it made her feel slightly worse. "'M just... not gonna do that again. The other girl thing, I won't, not fer ye or anyone else. An' I need to leave. Need to think, need to shout, and kick small animals until they make satisfyin' noises." The corners of her lips quirked upwards in a small smile, but her body was still framed with militant precision. "'M through with all of that. An' if we can't be friends fer a while because o' what's between us..." Meg took a breath. "'M not sayin' I never wanna see ya again, mate. 'M just sayin... think it'd be best fer ye to clear your head."
Landon took a deep breath and looked at his feet unable to make eye contact with her. Not because he couldn't, but because he didn't want her to see just how disappointed he was in himself, and the fact that he had lost all grip on his manly self-preservation, and his eyes were starting to water. Fuck, he was pathetic.
"R-right," he managed shakily, starting to turn on his heels. "Yer right. Um. A'm jus gonna. Go. Get me shite. And go. Erm. Teh bed. I'll see yeh later."
Meg stared at him for a moment, her head swirling with the world of possibilities before her. Catch his arm! a voice shouted at her. Keep him from going, kiss him, do something it clamored at her, til it finally got to be too much and she slumped against the wall, grabbing at him to keep from falling over as much as to keep him with her for at least a few moments more.
"Landon," she said, her voice sounding choked. "Don't." Her eyes were burning. Meg squeezed them shut tightly, swallowing down a rough, jagged lump in her throat. "Fuck," she said, letting go of him to try and hide her face. "Sleep, then." She didn't even know why she was crying. Didn't even remember the last time she'd cried. But however long ago it had been, and for what reason, Meg figured it probably hadn't left her wanting to get a hold of something quite so badly as this.
Landon didn't move. He took off his glasses and rubbed at one of his eyes; both were leaking water. Christ, what kind of man was he? Looking up at her, eyes red, he frowned.
"I dun wanna sleep," he said quietly. "I dun wanna leave. I just. I dun wanna hurt yeh, and I'll do whatever yeh want me teh do, Meg. Kiss yeh, leave, stay... Jus..." he stopped. He put his glasses back on.
He stepped forward and tentatively touched Meghan's face, using his thumb to wipe some of her tears away.
Meghan sighed, at a loss. Tell him what she wanted to do? She didn't even know what she wanted to do. Running a hand through her hair, she tried to find some semblance of control, some tattered remnant left within her that would get her to stop crying at her ex-boyfriend in the middle of a corridor. She was Meghan McCormack, damn it, and she didn't cry like this.
Straightening up, she lifted her chin boldly. "Ye'll not hurt me. S'been a long day," she said. "Best if we go to bed, I think, and talk about it in the mornin'."
"Awrite," Landon agreed softly, retracting his hand and clearing his throat. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Should. Get me things. Then head up teh bed an'..." not sleep. He didn't bother to finish he sentence. She was so proud. Determined. She could get away from vulnerability so fast. And he definitely couldn't.
He looked at her for a minute, then down, and then headed back toward the classroom for his things.
"Yeah. 'Night, Landon." She tried for a little smile, but it was pathetic and she felt her lower lip start to tremble dangerously, so she gave it up.
Had he only stayed a moment longer, he would have seen the exact moment Meghan's face collapsed downwards to rend itself into a grimace, contorting and twisting painfully with the effort to not fucking cry again. Meg made sure he was well on his way before turning on her heel and racing for the cold comfort of her bed, her heart thudding inside her chest as if she'd run a mile. Forget about blokes, and relationships, and everything else. All she needed to worry about was Quidditch, something she was actually good at, and something that wouldn't ruin anyone's life.