#contemtus

           albus was never one for extremes ( though he was one for dramatics at times ). he never liked the overbearing heat. even if it meant drinking sweet teas and lemonade in the summer or an excuse to do absolutely nothing. he never liked the freezing cold. even if it meant hearing the firewood crackling and having warm wool socks to keep his feet warm. eventually he’ll find himself content, if only the changes made to stave off what nature fully intends. he just wanted things to be okay and the fluttering in his chest ( with thoughts of him going a mile a minute in his head! ) was an anomaly he tries to desperately understand. there was no calculation, no magical theory that could possibly account for this. what was this feeling? love, love, love? he’s never been in love, has he? 

          but albus waits ( wait for it, wait! ) because he knows that he has gellert’s attention. for all the lack of interest that may appear upon the other’s face or any other reaction, he has it. and if he waits, he’ll get what he wants ( the answer to it all! ). it’s an answer that he’s not sure if he likes. 

                                                                        ❝ oh ❞

                                                   maybe. maybe. maybe. but who? 

          there’s an ACHE in his chest at the thought of someone who could possibly have captured the other’s attention in such a way, perhaps even greater than what he tries to do on a daily basis. after all, who could possibly match gellert in all the things he could ever say, do and be? there’s a burning in his chest now, a bitterness at the back of his mouth. JEALOUSY. it was never an emotion he was familiar with. its cousin, envy ( for the families that were still whole and happy! ), but never quite jealousy. there’s a slight turn of his lips in a frown, eyebrows furrowing as fingers pinch at a delicate white petal with more force than necessary and it tears off instead.

          the sound of the book closing draws his attention once again, though this time he looks up. breath hitches as he’s suddenly face to face with the other. close, too close almost ( but he could have been closer ). ❝ just curious ❞ because he wants to know everything about gellert. everything. preferences, quirks, habits. EVERYTHING. even when hands covered his own and ruins his count of petals ( does he love you? does he not? ) or as fingers ghost up his forearm, he dares not break his gaze away from the other’s. albus answers back. not with much delay as gellert, but with something else.

                                                                    ❝ maybe ❞

                                                   like a challenge ( come find out ).

          he’s never been in love before, has he? too busy with his nose in the books, head in the clouds, and gaze searching farther than the eye can see. a visionary ( a revolutionary! ) in the making, but always too busy. too busy with his ideals and scheme of things, his ambition and desires to excel and exceed expectations ( his own and others! ). has he been in love before? the girl he asked for a dance was out of courtesy. the lingering gazes never lasted long. he was in love with intellect and wit, but gellert?

      Body still and eyes trained downward as moments ticked by - inching towards oblivion and still Credence would not move. Muscles twitching just below the surface of skin as he concentrated. Lips parting as the barest hint of a exhale left him . . . and then a flicker. Translucent and dim - but it had been there. Coiling, snake-like tendrils with the sheen of oil. Sickly and yet they still practically thrummed with life. Itching to take shape. 

      And then he was no longer alone and his hand snapped to the side - eyes wide and shoulders drawn up. A beat of silence - hesitation - and then the tension bled from his muscles. Anxiety uncoiling in his chest and leaving him vulnerably open. Easily read and eager to be seen. 

      “ M-Mr. Grindelwald. Forgive me I was just . . . I was only -- ” a slight flick of a palm towards the now tidied room - gaze intent on the man as one palm closed over the other. Nervous. Hopeful. “ I was only tidying up. I did . . . I did as you told me too a-and I was waiting and then I just -- fell into habit. ” Decidedly leaving out the attempts at shaping the thing within him, Credence dared a peek upwards before reaching into his pocket. A single envelope revealed and held out. “ What you wanted, sir. I -- You’re not -- mad I was doing m. . . muggle things again. Are you? ” 

            IDEAS were dangerous. it all starts with the smallest inkling. a fleeting thought, a shadow that might simply pass like that of a cloud. but it looms and it stays, plucked out of its passing course and held onto. it blooms into an idea. with a bit more thought, with a bit more care, it’s something to latch onto. and eventually it turns into a FASCINATION, one that starts to occupy more than a split second or a minute of fanciful. rather, it starts to occupy every single waking moment, each free second of thought between tasks. and finally it grows into a DREAM that you want to see come into fruition. it’s an idea ( or perhaps a dream at this point with all her longing and wanting, wishing and praying ) that albus has to shut down.

           ❝ you can’t TEACH her magic ❞ and while it broke his heart ( as it did his mother’s, didn’t it? ), it was a reality he must accept ( as must they all ). ❝ there’s nothing you can do, gellert. ❞ no matter what he thought, no matter what he believed in. there was no changing what damage the past has already caused. short of returning to the past and changing what had been to pass - of which, albus knew the illegality to it unfortunately - there was nothing that could be done.

                                ❝ that’s just the way things ARE and you can’t change it ❞

           doesn’t he understand? after somehow slipping into his life ( suddenly and all at once, as if he fit right into it! ), does gellert really believe that he has the right to interfere with what family affairs he deems important? try all he might, but albus has exhausted every possible solution. every possible chance. every possible possibility. ❝ i’ve TRIED. ❞ and he’s tired with his late night research, his countless thoughts, and thousands of what ifs and buts. he has tried and he was tired. it wasn’t as though he has not read the entirety of hogwarts library and any other book he could find in nicolas’ collection. as though he hasn’t consulted perenelle countless of times with his what ifs as a child before learning that sometimes somethings and someone can’t be healed, but at the very least you could still move on with time ( or be swept underneath it all like the tides of the sea ). 

                                    ❝ so stop giving her these ideas that she could - ❞ 

           that’s when he stops. she could what? have a normal life where she didn’t have to worry of hurting someone else, those she loved and those who were simply innocent bystanders? have a normal life where she could go to hogwarts and learn magic just as he and aberforth had? and maybe, just maybe, for once he too could have a NORMAL life ( a child once again who did not have to grow up all too quickly! ). it stirs more WHAT IFS again - those dangerous imaginations! - and it draws what pain and anger that has been festering in his heart, hidden and locked away ( or so he thought ). it wells up with each pressing word that escapes his lips like blood beading to the surface of a cut that refuses to stop and heal. 

                                                                 ❝ stop it. ❞

@contemtus​ ✧ a meme lost in the meme war

                                                            misunderstandings.

         was that all it was? MISUNDERSTANDINGS? shame wells up in his chest ( memories of summer appear! ), a feeling that only he could have drawn out. though, he supposed it was, wasn’t it? nothing but MISUNDERSTANDINGS because he was too blinded! how he had gotten so caught in the web spun by gossamer threads of grandeur and ambition, so enamored by sweet words that became engraved in his mind and promises that would be fulfilled ( they were promised a golden future! ). but he suppose life was the GREATEST teacher there was. the way it tears away at the seams of his heart and rips away those he wants to keep ( riddled with tragedy! ). though he tries - and tries and tries and tries! - his best, it’s never enough, was it? 

         there is a bitterness that coats his tongue as he looks upon the other. how time and life has hardened them both. a FRIENDSHIP that still lasts ( yes! ), but friends that stood together they were not. Certainly not as they had expected, had dreamed, had hoped for! and albus only wishes it were so, but he has to be WRONG before he could be RIGHT. isn’t that how it goes? lips curl into a rueful smile, one that most certainly does not suit him ( though perhaps it did ). 

                                       ❝ i could say the same to you too, old friend. ❞

         his hand sweeps to the side, draws attention to the smoke and ash ( the carnage, the destruction, the collateral damage! ). albus smiles still, even as his heart breaks and fear ( oh yes fear! ) tries to take hold.

                                                    ❝ this needs to END, gellert. ❞

                       it started with gellert, it grew with them both, and it will end with him.

               Caring for him in spite of everything that had come to pass between them. 

      A hesitant glance upwards towards the blood splattered, still expression Gellert wore -- Credence hesitated. He knew how much the man despised his touches when unsolicited. But to that point he hadn’t uttered a word against it. He hadn’t breathed a single syllable or complaint while he had been moved to be cleaned. Perhaps this time it would be alright. 

POLITENESS is so often confused with niceness that Albus has often been called the latter when people really mean the former, to the point where he’s become frustrated with the word. He’s not nice, or, at least, not as nice as people are led to believe. He’s often sarcastic with a cruel sense of humor, and can be unsympathetic to the point where even he’s surprised by it. Yet, unfortunately, Albus has an innate need to be as pleasing, as accommodating, as polite, as possible, so the fact that he often is annoyed with those actions goes unnoticed.

He thought Gellert would notice. 

He thought Gellert would see past any pretense that Albus was always so wont to put up, and see him.

However, not an asshole ( though, for the record, he is ), isn’t inaccurate either ( despite how it feels as such ), so Albus puts aside any irrational disappointment at the statement ( it is, after all, a compliment. gellert is complimenting him ) and smiles.

“ ------ Surely your peers at Durmstrang weren’t so awful?”       

                                                               ❝ yes, it must be. ❞

         the ONLY EXPLANATION that becomes reaffirmed by gellert’s words. there would be no chance ( in heaven, in hell! ) that either of them would meet again in this place that carried far too many memories ( ones to hold dear and others to cast away! ). he turns away, keeps his gaze focused on the hidden river in which they once splashed through as boys and how afterward they escaped the heat of the summer sun by seeking refuge here beneath the great oak. it hurts more than it should. after all this time, it still hurt. like some WOUND THAT WOULD NOT HEAL no matter how much he tries to cover it with bandages and salves, stitched it together with such careful handiwork, or cauterized to keep it from bleeding. it still does so. IT BLEEDS AND BLEEDS AND BLEEDS just like his heart continues to and albus can only consider himself a FOOL still for being so sentimental. 

         but he feels old. so TIRED of the things he must do ( he can see it in the future, knows the inevitable will come to pass! ), the tasks ahead and the ones that lay just on the horizon. he is tired, isn’t that how he was even before meeting gellert? the thought of DESTINY working against him to pile a heavy burden upon his shoulders. first and foremost with such duty and loyalty to a family that no longer exists ( shattered bonds ) and a childhood dream of dying like a martyr ( BROKEN DREAMS ). a HEAVINESS weighs upon his heart then as he tilts his head back so it rests upon rough tree. why was he here? why were they BOTH here? did fate decide that if they would not meet in person, then surely they should meet on this plane instead?

    ( OR WAS THIS A FIGMENT OF HIS IMAGINATION, A MIND THAT WILL NOT SETTLE? )

         albus has never SHIED away from the other’s touch, not when such small shows of trust and affection were always things he liked to receive. he feels fingers pressing against his own, pushes against his fingertips. it was the tentative touch ( so light! ) that gets his attention along with the late greeting. ❝ hello, gellert. ❞ and despite his best efforts ( was he really trying? ), the smile he gives reflects the same SADNESS that gellert shows, an ECHO that stands as a testament to how they were now and before ( and in the future! ). ❝ it’s good to see you. ❞ in person so to speak.