an elastic heart.

He was only half aware, a small part of him had disappeared to leave his reactions sluggish and over the top. The latter evident when the quirk of his lips grew thrice over, small smiles were one thing with Darcy, often used as bait and to soften the edges of hard blows, but grins. Darcy didn’t grin. He’d lost that part of him as a boy. There was something unsettling about the way the voice that called his name was familiar, a ghost of his past, who had a very physical and real touch. The hand behind his head was cold. Darcy shivered. He canted his head towards the voice, eyes blurred but he could make out the silhouette of a boy, small and unassuming. It took a moment to realise that he was being helped, not scolded. His hands were freed of the bottle he’d been so tightly grasping, they felt empty, without really thinking he reached out and latched on—contact was necessary. In the face of the self-inflicted harm, touch was one small comfort.

❝I can Sit,❞ he slurred. It was a proud smirk that laced his lips as he clung tighter onto Theodore just about able to he heave himself upright. His legs however, felt too heavy to stand, so that would have to wait. ❝Put me in deten—see if I care.❞ The heavy lilt of his voice was stunted, thoughts mulled in and out, crossing over one another until his speech became a heavy mix of the all. Still, he clung to Theodore. ❝Who’re you?❞ Darcy shifted one of the hands that had knotted into Theo’s robe to his shoulder, his gaze intimately close as he leaned in to get a better look. ❝Theo?❞ He stammered, the surprise lighting up his expression with an arched brow. Perhaps he was wrong, there were plenty of unassuming boys in the castle, Theodore wasn’t the only one. He was however, one of the many to take a great ( and reasonable ) dislike towards him.

❝I don’t…❞ Darcy started, before his sentence ran off again down the long draughty corridor. Of all the places to pick it was the worst, but that was just it, Darcy didn’t pick this place to have his breakdown. It had found him. Between stumbling to avoid the other prefect on duty and three thirds of the bottle gone, he’d found a new home on the cold stone. Not that Theodore cared—why was he here? The question dissipated nearly as soon as he’d aired it, greater thought wasn’t available to Darcy, he was a mess of incoherence. ❝Fine.❞ The snap in his voice was faint, distant, barely recognisable. It was apparent, that despite being likely incapable, Darcy had riled himself up enough to merit standing, after a few desperate pathetic tries, he was on his feet. His arm practically slung around Theodore’s shoulder for support.

❝Don’t—❞ let me go.

If this was another situation entirely - an alternate universe where Theodore could watch Darcy grin like that in a scenario that didn’t involved the possibility for three months of detention and the ruin of Slytherin’s house by losing three hundred points because their prefect was dead drunk in the hallway, he would’ve blushed. Darcy was beautiful and there was no denying there, Theodore wasn’t blind either and that grin was as boyish and devilish in a way that suited the Oldridge younger. Theodore’s body wasn’t particularly warm, in fact he was colder than average because of his low body mass but it was probably enough for Darcy to hold on to him - and he accepted it. Most times Theo couldn’t bear people in his personal space but right there, right then, it felt just right. Oh, this would probably come back to haunt him later. 

You’re so fucked up Theodore. 

“Good, sit up, here I’ll help.” He says softly, encouraging as Darcy slurred and sat up. The smirk on his face almost made Theo smile back, amused but he was far too worried in removing Darcy from the public eye first. More than anyone, Theo could understand the drama of being the avatar for your family, a life you never asked and a kind of weight no child should have to bear, and yet there they were. “There there, stay upright a bit-- I’m trying to save you from detention, doof.” Darcy’s surprise in recognizing him was entirely worth just the effort of being there, of ignoring all the years past. “Theodore, yes, that’s me--- I don’t understand either but I’m not going to leave you like this.” He’s never in his life had that kind of confidence or reassuring voice to anyone who had ever mistreated him, especially as badly as Darcy did. But in that very moment he couldn’t just look away. Maybe there was something in him stronger than he had ever thought. 

A part of him, amused, wanted to say you’re actually in my turf now, the library’s door, of all the places for them to meet and Darcy wasn’t where he knew to be safe. Fine, Darcy decided to say in attempted spite but the truth was, he was just agreeing as Theo aided him to stand on wobbly legs - as funny as it was, Theodore wasn’t as weak as he looked. Maybe because carrying a bunch of different tomes daily had given him something to physically work with - the problem was Darcy’s height, he well towered over him. But with enough shuffling, Theo managed to support him with his own body. Looking up, before they got moving, he reached up one hand to touch Darcy’s face. “I’m not leaving you.” It was a warning, a promise. There was a weird bond in that very moment, where they each desperately needed each other and weren’t even aware. “Now, let’s go.” And slowly but steady he wanted to steer Darcy towards the kitchens.

The bottle that danced between his fingers had been empty for nearly a full hour, but he still clung too it just in-case it should refill itself again. It wasn’t so much the betrothal itself that had him slumped against the stone, prefect duties forgone for the sake of drinking alone, but the loss of control that came with it. His brothers had been given freedom, with only Viviana married off like she was a sheep to trade for milk, and so, by default Darcy had thought himself above it. Apparently, he had sunk low enough that there was no other option, he brought the bottle to his lips again, chasing the wretched liquid that had long gone. ❝Shi-❞ he stammered, one hand struck the stone to steady himself but a tad too late as he slid down and down until he was sprawled across the floor. Long limbs unchecked as he brought the bottle in close to his chest, it was a foolish error to wonder aimlessly through the castle, but Darcy couldn’t stomach the common room. She could be there, his fucking future wife. This was not how he wanted his year to end.

It was supposed to be glorious, the quidditch cup in one hand, the grades that would support his ambitions in becoming an auror, and now — this. Darcy’s head met the stone, it was cool enough to temper the heat that was scalding his cheeks. The potency of the bootleg liquor appeared to have upped between tonight and the last time he’d swindled a bottle. He practically missed the familiar burn of firewhiskey. Sluggishly, his eyes narrowed a distant sound echoed through his very being, a chair dragged across stone, the sound of a door pushed open, he winced. It was decidedly too late to clamber up to his feet, even under the awareness that someone was oncoming Darcy couldn’t fathom a reason to care, he already was the black sheep — so why not bring himself to ruin quicker. ❝I don’t—-❞ He started, half of his sentence disappeared as his lips quirked into a lucid smile. ❝Care.❞

He’s tired - well, he’s always tired and that’s not news at all. But dealing with himself and his own mind lately, trying to gather pieces and bits, all by himself, it was tiring. But if he wasn’t going to fend for himself, no one else would and Theodore was tired of being meaningless. At least to himself, he was going to mean something. Spending the day in the library as usual, it was one of those hollow days where no matter how many times he read over a page, the information just wouldn’t stick. Standing up, shoulders hunched, an array of heavy tomes inside his backpack, it was closing time when he forced himself to finally go back to the common room. He couldn’t deem he had... friends there and that late realization hurt as much as his own fear and paranoia. He stepped out in the cold hall, folding inside his robes and scarf at the cold wind crossing stone hallways and heard the violent clang against the cold hard floor. 

Snapped out of his thoughts he jumped a little startled, most times, he’d find either professors or prefects in the hallways or it was just the eerie emptiness of Hogwarts at night. It could be Peeves, too. “I know, I’m gonna be the one who dies first in the horror movie.” He mumbles to himself before he starts looking out for the source of the sound. It wasn’t far - nor discreet, as the smell reached him and almost made him nauseated, the strong smell of moonshine liquor that he knew so well (thank you, Nic and Solomon) mixed with expensive male cologne, another smell he knew so well. Theodore stepped forward only to find a scene he couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams. 

For a moment he wanted to feel vindicated - oh how the mighty have fallen. But he couldn’t. His gut twisted with pity and the unease feeling of knowing. He knew what rock bottom looked like and more so, he knew what rock bottom felt like, especially if you’re the kind of idiot who isolated yourself. They were a lot more alike than either of them would ever acknowledge, in their layers of solitude, guarded hearts and a kind of desolation only children who didn’t belong to their families would ever have. “Oh Darcy.” Theo sighed out. Years of mistreating and bullying and yet, he couldn’t leave his cousin to his own devices like that. Kneeling down and slipping one cold hand under the other man’s head. “I know you don’t but come on, help me a little, can you sit up?” He reached out to grab the empty liquor bottle, grimacing at the smell. “Come on Darce, help me here, I need you to get up.”

There was nothing to be done, but watch as Theodore did precisely as he’d asked and moved away. The gap between them opened and grew, like it had been continually doing for nearly as long as Nic could remember. He shuddered and turned to the plate of food he’d abandoned, he grasped his fork in one hand and picked at it mindlessly. ❝S’good,❞ he muttered, not sure what to do with himself, what to say — for the first time sixteen years Nic was lost for words. He gulped down a large helping of juice, and despite passionately wishing it was straight vodka so he could forget the way his knee was jerking under the table, it remained juice. ❝You been studying? Not really seen you.❞ Was that his fault? He liked to tell himself the lack of Theodore around was generally because the end of the year loomed. Not, because Nic had fucked up shit—like always. He shoved one hand into his pocket for a stick of gum. The wrapper fluttered into his lap. ❝Glad you’re alright y’know.❞ 

There was a part of Theodore that had grown up along with Solomon thus he knew exactly how to be petty. That part of him wanted to simply get up, walk across the hall and sit on another table. But he didn’t, simply moving a few meters away, enough so that there’d be a distance that felt like an abyss between them but not enough so Nic couldn’t talk to him. (Or take the hint of not talking to him but Nic never took hints, did he?) I said I was sorry, he wanted to be angry about it but could he ever? He wasn’t one for anger. He didn’t do anger. He felt pain and fear and resentment. With his gaze fixed on the remnants of food ahead of him, Theodore simply pulled a set of flashcards from his backpack, set besides his plate and served himself some mashed potatoes and chicken. 

He didn’t want to eat but he knew he had to. Theo takes a long moment, charming the flashcards to float in front of him and changing with a command every few moments, not looking back at his... friend, his hands busy with the knife and fork. “Studying, tutoring, the usual.” He says as emotionless as possible, chewing on the room-temp chicken that felt like gum. “Thanks. I’m better now.” A quick reminder that he had been gone before, for a long month and Nic had barely talked to him ever since. But Theo couldn’t hold it against him - no one really cared in the end. 

Dinner for Shaw’s were a four-course meal, sometimes six. Tonight, Nic had gone for the latter and helped himself to profuse and generous portions of both chicken, rice and pudding. Not all on the same plate, although Nic had thought about it. He’d happily chatted away with his mouth full to the poor fifth year that’d unfortunately sat opposite him, the kid looked on mortified as chicken and rice spewed across the table. Nic, oblivious, happily continued to shovel food in until he couldn’t possibly eat more, and then he had pudding. He eased back from the table, half ready to get up, ❝shit, fam I shouldn’t have ea—❞ He stopped short by a prompt and rude interruption by a familiar skinny little hufflepuff. ❝The hell Teds,❞ he blurted, with a sharp elbow in Theo’s ribs to push him off, Nic ignored the heat that had crept into his ears. ❝Gotta get your own seat, you alright? I ain’t seen you since…❞ Well, it was officially since yesterday’s dinner. He hadn’t gone back to the dorms last night. ❝Uh, yeah, you alright? Eat some of the cake that shit is good.❞

The sudden elbowing to his ribs was unexpected and most definitely unwelcome - Theo was never one to join into the roughhousing among his friends, he didn’t even liked to play quidditch for fun whenever they felt like. Theodore wasn’t physical and he couldn’t deal with any kind of physical threats - and then, it had come from Nic. It’d been a while that they had grown apart, Theo avoided his... friend, if only to protect himself. Nic was sharp edges and rough hands, he loved Nic or at least wanted to, but for someone as emotionally stunted as Theo, he couldn’t expect any help from Nic. He was just like Solo regarding that - he had his heart in the right place but he was meant for hurting and Theo couldn’t handle any more shattering, his shards were already all over the place. Wincing and pulling back, he held his backpack against his chest as if to prevent another blow. “I’m gonna, alright.” His voice was quiet but cold, almost pointed as he got up again to sit elsewhere away from Nic. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” He didn’t ask back. Nic was clearly just fine.