#p027

The choking feeling had subsided, with only the heavy lump in his throat remaining. Glassy olive-colored eyes stared out beyond the windshield, seeing nothing. The lights from the field had long gone out, the voices of the lingering parking lot stragglers gradually faded, leaving Sam alone.

His phone sat on the dashboard, vibrating every so often with texts and calls he refused to answer. Couldn’t answer. Not right now, at least.

Answering meant talking. It meant explanations, and Sam didn’t think he had it in him right now (or ever, really) to explain what had happened on the field, outside of him blowing everything up.

One shitty pitch right after the other. Practically handing the Vols the state championship in the seventh inning that allowed them to soundly whoop the ass of the team that trusted Sam to do his job, because that’s what he always did.

And now here they were. Months worth of work, four seasons worth of work, damn near fifteen years of his life working at it. Scrubbed out. And maybe some other day he could have reassured himself, to approach it rationally. That it was only one game, that it didn’t mean his future was on fire, that there was always an another option, another door. But today wasn’t it. He simply didn’t have it in himself to do the pep talk, yank himself out of the swirling mass of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

His skin felt hot and itchy underneath his clothes, ‘Panthers Baseball’ stretched across his broad chest, stark white letters against the navy cotton almost mocking him every time he glanced down. Serving as a reminder of every damn face he’d let down while failing so spectacularly on the mound. His coach, his team, the whole fucking town. 

His family. Oliver Evans, who always boasted so proudly about his ‘golden arm’ boy to anyone who would listen. The money spent getting him right where he needed to be, in front of scouts looking to offer him something in return for committing to their particular programs. He wasn't ready to face his parents or brother, not yet.

The feeling was returning, gagging him and he tried to take a breath but it ended in a wheeze and he found himself choking on the very air he was struggling to inhale. Trembling fingers reached for the steering wheel, gripping tightly and white knuckled and he lowered his head to steady the breaths that seemed impossible, scrambling to, determined to, but unable to…

Tears, hot and quick slipped down his cheeks and Sam dropped his forehead to the steering wheel, shaking from the effort to calm himself. Or from the dam of emotions finally collapsing under the weight of his actions, he wasn’t sure which. The reality of the loss and the overwhelming uncertainty he found himself wallowing in.

Guilt choked at him, mixing with the anger and disappointment he hadn't managed to shake since the game was called.

Broad shoulders heaved, tears still falling heavily, silently save for the ragged gasping breaths that did nothing to calm him, and Sam knew he couldn’t go on much longer like that.

Gently, slowly, he released his death grip on the steering wheel, lifting and flexing his fingers one by one, inhaling deeply and breathing out slowly. Ten digits on a steady ten count, until the pressure at his head and the racing of his heart slipped into something a bit more manageable.

The tears still fell, and Sam pushed at them, scrubbing a hand down his face as he dropped back into the seat, bouncing against the headrest. Now what?

He truly didn’t had no idea. The sense of loss was greater than a game, it felt like he’d thrown his whole damn future away. The panic of perceived disappointment and failure had manifested itself into the real thing and he was left with the ugly reality of his fuckup. With only a few months left until graduation, he’d never felt more shame in himself than this moment.

Fingers pinched the bridge of his nose and he pushed out a slow, steady breath, willing himself not to cry but fresh tears fell anyway.

His mother would always say ‘sleep on your troubles, things will look better in the morning’.

After the announcement, it was all that Elliott could do not to flee the Great Hall. Food tasted like ash in their mouth, the thought of making conversation with anyone was impossible, but Elliott managed not to flee.

They wanted to go curl up in bed, too, to try and sleep this off -even if it would never happen- to wake up in a world where Kurt was alive. Where he hadn't been killed. Where Elliott knew that they would have snapped and hexed something and destroyed something, had they been able to escape the crushing feeling of numbness and emptiness. If Elliott hadn't felt hollowed out already.

But Daniel had told Elliott that he wanted to hang out with him tonight. No, that was wrong, he’d told Elliott that they needed to talk and that it has to wait until Sunday but that he wanted to get something out there. Whatever it was, Elliott didn’t like the vibes they’d gotten off of it. They didn’t want to wait.

So they’d agreed to meet up after dinner,  and they’d headed up to Daniel’s dorm, because at the moment, Elliott still didn’t want to go up to their own dorm

But, outside of a few kisses when Elliott had first gotten back, they’d been distant all the same. It was one thing, to say they were okay, and another entirely to actually act it, after all. They hadn’t been acting fine on the way to Hogwarts, they hadn't been fine at dinner -they'd been the farthest thing from it- and that meant a lot of things. It meant Elliott could hardly stand human contact, right now. That Daniel was watching him both warily and with concern, and things had been silent, on the way up here.

But here Elliott was, perched on Daniel’s bed, exhausted and dreading the moment that they’d have to return to their own. Maybe they could just crash in one of the armchairs, instead of facing a dormitory without Kurt. Elliott looked over to the other. Daniel seemed lost. Elliott felt lost.

What were they even doing here? What had Daniel wanted to talk about? Elliott was at the point that they no longer cared. But they knew that they should. It was that that made them speak.

“So,” Elliott broke the silence with a soft sigh, fingers carding through her hair. “What are we doing here?”

“W-what?” Daniel was caught off guard, and Elliott pursed their lips in thought. Didn’t he remember? Did he really think Elliott would drop it so easily? “I thought you wanted to spend time with me?”

“And I thought you wanted to talk,” Elliott returned, voice even and flat, like it had been for the majority of the week. The toneless quality was new though, a product of the night's events. “I fail to see how we could talk about all of that yesterday, and not touch on what you were thinking of.”

“I thought we agreed to drop it,” Was that a tone of nerves in Daniel’s voice? Or was it just Elliott’s imagination playing tricks on them? Sleep deprivation could do that, right?

“No, I let it drop last night, so that we can talk in person,” Elliott said without a moment’s hesitation, “Because that’s apparently important to you, with whatever this is. That’s not me dropping it, by any means.”

“But I really, really don’t think that’s a good idea, Elli-Belle,” Daniel began, and for the first time, Elliott held his gaze, trying to sort out what he was trying to avoid or dance around. What in the world was going on, right now? “Let’s just leave it. With everything, it seems-”

“Or you can tell me now,” Elliott continued as though he hadn’t spoke. “It’s not fair, to make me worry and then call it off without any kind of indication that anything’s wrong or we fixed it.” Elliott nodded towards Daniel, words still hollow. “Now talk. Please. You said you trust me? Then you should be able to.”

“I…” Daniel paused.  “Here’s the thing, Elliott, I uhh- I did what I told you I was going to do, these past few weeks. I took some time away for myself, and I tried to think it out.” Daniel hesitated, “And it dawned on me about…. About a week ago, that I can’t be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t trust me, or who made me… Who made me feel the way that I did, earlier in the week.” Elliott studied him as he spoke, ice slowly working their way through their body, replacing the numbness that had filled them for the past few days.

“The thing is, I wanted to be there for you, at least a little, and you turned me away,” Daniel stressed the words and Elliott folded their arms briefly across their chest, working to figure out how they felt. Something other than straight out grief, that was new. “And this break, it’s given me a lot of time to think. And I realized that on top of that, and the fact that we’re different people, and the we rushed into this, that maybe we’re just better off… Not dating. Especially with you graduating, I think I’d be better off not attached to anyone, and we’re not really going anywhere and I just- yeah.”

“And you were going to tell me all of this… Today?” Elliott clarified, voice no longer toneless, but frigid and full of malice. Everything about them felt tense, every line of their body filled with emotion to controlled to be simple anger. “You were going to let me know today, without any kind of warning or indication that anything was wrong?” They continued, the slightest of tremors to their voice now. “And you’d been planning this for a week without any indication of anything? So that you could drop the bomb three days after my best friend died?”

“Well yes, but i-“

“Kurt was killed, and you dropped this on me now?! And then we talked and you just… You magically thought that might fix it?”

“I thought we were okay!” Daniel protested, standing and running his hands through his hair, “I thought yesterday was progress, that I’d learned something more about you, that you might trust me a little more, that-“

“Yesterday was me explaining to you why I can’t trust you,” Elliott pointed out, “And why when I can, I choose not to trust you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Daniel looked to Elliott, then, gaze unreadable. “Then maybe we should stick to my original plan.” He said after a few too long moments. “Maybe we’re not good for each other anymore.”

“Funny, I was just going to say that you were an asshole,” Elliott said without missing a beat, immediately moving away from Daniel, towards the door so that they could get the hell out of here, before the ice in their veins faded once more. There were few people Elliott could be vulnerable around, and right now, Daniel was lower than most in the castle on that list.

“Stay the hell out of my way, Daniel, or I swear you’ll regret it from here on out.”

“Ells-“ Elliott wheeled around midstride, wand aloft in a clearly offensive pose as Daniel approached them. Normally, Elliott was all for defense. Not for attacking, but defending when necessary. At least, not unless properly motivated.

But Elliott had never been like this. One best friend dead, and now this? It was a measure of self control that Elliott didn't hex him on the spot.

“Stay out of my way, Daniel,” Elliott repeated, voice as cold as it had been before. “You have five seconds to let me leave, and get the fuck away from me, or I swear to God I’ll hex you until you can’t move.”

Daniel began backing away then, and Elliott lowered their wand slowly. They saw Daniel shift though, take half a step forward mouth open as if to say something else, and Elliott fired off a Bat Bogey Hex wordlessly before they were entirely aware of themselves. It was the only show of restraint that they hadn't picked another spell they'd learned over the years, one that could truly hurt Daniel.

“You of all people should know not to doubt me,” Was all Elliott could get out, sweeping out of the dormitory without another word. As painful as it was, Elliott made their way to their own, suddenly unable to stand the thought of seeing anyone. What if someone saw them, like this?

The sight of Kurt’s bed when they entered the dorm, without his trunk, or any of his belongings, though, made Elliott regret that more than words could say. For half a second, Elliott debated on fleeing. Running away, finding James or Unique or Gracie or anyone who could get them away from here. They were frozen in place, a broken sob escaping them at the sight.

Somehow, it was more painful than Elliott had thought.

But between the few hours of sleep they’d gotten over the past few days, the stress of the situation, moving anymore took too much effort. Elliott felt sick to their stomach, and they wished in that moment that they could honestly say that all they wanted right now was a nap.

But it was a lie, and a painful one, at that.

Elliott wanted one thing. They wanted Kurt back, and they couldn’t have him back. So instead, Elliott curled up in Kurt's bed with another sob, uncaring of who might have heard the sound, and who knew what Elliott was up to.

This was the closest that they could get to Kurt again.

Curtains drawn, and silencing charm cast, Elliott settled in beneath the covers, trying not to think of the times that they’d curled up with Kurt in this same bed, surrounded by sheet music and magazines, just for the pleasure of each other’s company.