ONE IN THE HAND

       SETTING: OUTSIDE THE GREAT HALL, 1:24PM        CHARACTERS: A PISCES AND A TAURUS (@bvbblin​)

                                                        ♡

     by all means, she shouldn’t be eavesdropping. it is none of her business whether or not teddy nam does well on the upcoming potions exam. but the ravenclaw is unable to help herself after all—you see, she is all too aware of the ravenclaw heartthrob at any given moment (his daily schedule, the amount of sugar and milk in his coffee—they’re friends, she insists, insists on a moot point, as if the way her heart trembles in his vicinity isn’t already a dead giveaway. teddy nam? taurus. yeah).

     and she swears this is out of friendship, the brilliant fluorite folded into her palm. for motivation. for stress. it’s normal to gift such a thing to a friend right?

     right, it is. you’re totally fine, syd. totally valid. the ravenclaw waits nervously outside the great hall, having spotted the quidditch captain slip in for lunch a while ago. totally valid. rina would—a small audible gasp slips out, near scandalized by the realization. rina. one super duper best friend, one drawn out pact between youths and their mutual crush. is this really legal? is it really? was there terms against gifts in the grand scale of their “agreement”? was there?

     is this breaking clause 2b of—”ah!” her eyes widen, barely noting her object of affection the boy (the very very mutually agreed upon boy) walking right past her in time. which was it? what should she do??

     here, i feel it is necessary to clarify the extent of sydney jung’s ability to think in the face of pressure—the fact that she had absolute NIL. the crystal out of her grasp before she fully realizes what ghastly wrong she had committed. all this, a spell for chaos (for the end of times, the wheezing shrill voice in her head exclaims, it’s fucking over sydney you fucking dolt), happens agonizingly slow.

     his name slips out. he turns. the rock collides against skin.

     oh my god. “o-oh my god!” good one, syd. “t-teddy!! are you okay?“

he’s been on the brink before, and has somehow returned in one piece after, if that’s any reassurance.

but this time, this time, teddy can already envision the tumble and the fall: death not by any potion, but a potions exam. for the past hour he’d stared and stared until flitterbloom and flobberworm on the page blurred into nonrecognition, a telltale sign that it’s time to get as far away from his textbook as humanely possible.

which leads him to lunch. he’s okay during the spinach and pomegranate salad. fine during borscht. better during the tender ginger and lamb pilaf. maybe even reverting back to optimal teddy state by the time dessert slides through. until someone drops the word “potions” and the  smile falls flat from his face down to the floor. the freshly baked loaves in the breadbasket suddenly begin to look a lot like bezoars.

if this is a sign from god, he’ll take it: it’s time to leave.

the great hall is behind him in a matter of minutes. he’s unaware of the girls’ presence until he is, ears perking up in recognition. “syd?” he calls back, slowly turning around and—

teddy nam’s highway of a forehead, meet rainbow rock of doom.

the crystal lands with a thud. he nearly does the same.

“ow. shit!” he winces, hands braced over his knees. slowly, teddy cranes his neck to look up at her. dead center of his forehead sits a blue, blooming bruise.

“where on earth did that come from?”

2017.03 HIGHCUT vol.193