“I don’t know why it made me so upset,” Albus was saying, unaware of the war going on inside his best friend’s mind. “I guess I just don’t want people to look at me like that, anymore. I’m a confident bloke, but it hurts to have people hate you.”

Scorpius mulled it over, before saying, “I don’t hate you.”

For a moment, it seemed as though Albus was still angry, but then he smiled and it was like he was himself, again. “I know,” he sighed, lightly nudging the blonde boy’s side.

Title taken from the song Wicked Games by The Weeknd

“I thought you heard me,” Albus said, his voice distinctive even through the pounding of Scorpius’ heart in his chest and ears. Instinctively, his hands went to cover himself, but Albus likely could not see through the curtain, and it was not like him to yank it aside, anyway. It was only his hand that hung casually over the rod.

Scorpius was able to see his pinky. He stared, his back still pressed against the wall. “No, I didn’t. I must have been-”

“Daydreaming? Yeah, you’ve been doing that a lot, lately.”

“This is a million degrees of screwed up,” Scorpius mumbled to himself.

“What is?”

His eyes lifted as Albus breezed pass him, slipping into the spot next to him. Where Scorpius sat bent over, with his elbows on his thighs, Albus lounged in his seat, arms spreading out on both sides. He looked at Scorpius.

“What’s a million degrees of screwed up?” Albus asked again.