Hugo Weasley (wheezelee) wrote in platform_zero, @ 2016-09-05 22:53:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | hugo weasley, scorpius malfoy |
Who: Scorpius Malfoy and Hugo Weasley (with a cameo by Lily Luna Potter)
When: Saturday, September 3rd, late morning (backdated)
Where: Shack #5
What: A depressing conversation. Who knows how it will end.
Rating: Medium for language?
Status: In progress, closed
Hugo had never felt so drained in his life. He'd woken up before Scorpius that morning and watched him sleep, fully aware of how weird it was, and then pretended to be sleeping himself when he saw his boyfriend begin to stir. He'd faked sleep until Scorpius had left for his shower and shifted sleepily when Scorpius had returned, the better to sell the charade. He didn't want to hurt him any more today than he ever did, but every day that passed made it clearer that it couldn't be avoided forever; it was what he did: he disappointed people. It was only a matter of time. And when the door had closed behind him on his way to the shop, Hugo's heart had broken, and he wasn't sure why; he'd been feigning sleep for over an hour, but he hadn't wanted him to leave. An unbearable sense of impending doom and loss had swept over him, and the thoughts that had followed hadn't been remotely healthy. Less than an hour later, Hugo couldn't have gotten out of bed if he'd wanted to. His heart weighed a ton and he could barely find the motivation to reach for his journal, numbers chasing each other in his head as the age difference suddenly, properly dawned on him. By the time he realized everyone could see what he was writing and he'd scratched everything out, his throat ached with tears he would've been relieved to shed. They were caught, a jagged stone cutting into his esophagus. He could barely breathe around it as he warded his scribbles and declared himself off for the day.
And then everyone had laid into him.
The more he wrote and argued about it, the tighter his throat became, the occasional tear sneaking past and onto his pillow. When he'd finally snapped and told Lily, the stone fell apart and the floodgates opened, but the damage to his throat was done and couldn't be undone. It hurt, constricted beyond the point of pain into an agony that fed into his heartache. He hurt and he needed it to hurt, but not like that. Without sparing a single thought to the outside world, to whether he could be heard or what anyone would think if they heard him, Hugo screamed, a terrible animal sound that finally succeeded in pushing away some of his pain. It tore at his throat and rang in his ears, but drained him of some of the violence he so wanted to turn on himself.
A few minutes later, Lilu had arrived. For her, Hugo had managed to drag himself out of bed, but hadn't made it thirty seconds before wrapping his arms around her and weeping his heart out into her shoulder. It was as much a relief as the scream had been, until his head began to pound and his chest tightened again. He'd asked her to leave not too long later, nauseated and aching all over, tears slowed if not altogether stopped. He wanted to sleep, he'd said. He just wanted to be alone. Lily had finally relented and agreed to leave, though Hugo knew her to be sitting on the top step of the shack, sitting vigil while he vomited inside and vanished the product.
He was lying forward on his side of the bed, his face stuffed into Scorpius's pillow which he clutched tightly to his chest when he heard people speaking outside, followed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. As long as it wasn't his mother. Anyone but his mum. Love her though he did, he didn't think he could handle her disappointment just now.
"I'm tired," he murmured into Scorpius's pillow the moment the door was opened. His hair clung to his forehead, shirt twisted about him in the heat, but he didn't care. He needed to renew the refrigeration charm on the shack, but that seemed far too much effort for something as mundane as comfort at a time like this. At a time when he craved superficial pain followed by quiet and empty bliss. The prick of the needle. If he couldn't have that... the bite of the blade could do just as well. "Leave me be." He wanted to die. He deserved to die. He deserved the pain of the knife and he deserved to die. His father might disagree, but that didn't matter. He'd get over it pretty quick, he was sure. People had come back a little bit different every time; maybe the next Hugo Weasley would have his shit in order. Maybe the next Hugo Weasley will have done something in his life to deserve a place in this world.
Then again; any Hugo Weasley would be just... him.
"Just go away."