For Wolf. Here it is for the October oneshot exchange! Prompt used was Muggle AU.
Written for Challenges by the Dozen at Caesar's Palace (prompt: write for ten different pairings).
Written for Chocolate Frogs at Hogwarts (prompts: Druella Black card - Dewy, Fruitful, Infamous, Favourite).
Written for Ship Wars at HPFC (prompt: "Stay" by Hurts).
Written for The "Without" Competition at HPFC (prompt: hunger).
Written for The Ultimate Boredom Solver Challenge at HPFC (prompts: Scorbus, trust).
WC: 619
There are two things that Scorpius considers before parting his lips with a breath to possibly say the three words that Albus wants to hear.
One, the dewy morning leaving droplets on the windowsill behind Scorpius is much less intimidating than this conversation, so maybe he should go check that out instead?
Two, maybe he isn't ready.
He shuts his mouth, again, one too many times.
Maybe he always trusted that Albus would come back.
Every morning, Scorpius pushes himself off the bed, leaving behind the warmth of the sheets and the warmth of alone. Outside of his room, he's never really by himself.
He pulls back his hair and grins into the mirror, checking out the plaque on his teeth, before scrubbing away it and the grime of the honesty that comes when it's just him in his room. No one is there to stop him from being his disgusting self. It must be lucky that he gets his own room now. Albus would hate him if he saw him like this.
Scorpius sighs, dresses, nibbles on something, picks up his briefcase. The worn leather handle reminds him every day that his right hand is left empty, since it's not holding Albus's on the way to the tube anymore.
He fumbles with the key when he tries to lock the door. Usually, Albus leaves (left) for work after him, so Scorpius didn't ever have to do that job.
Nobody told Scorpius that missing would be like this.
Nobody said it would be seeing a hat in the window of a shop and hesitating, almost buying it because it's Albus's favorite color or because it has the logo of the infamous Manchester United on it. Nobody said it would be the hollow feeling that follows when he refers to Albus in the past tense for the first time, or a fruitful day and an empty dinner table, or a terrible one and only a pillow to cry on.
It's a side of the bed still made. It's starvation and withdrawal and obsession.
Scorpius wants.
He's not sure how to get.
There's a memory that he can't turn off.
"Scorpius."
"Mm?"
"It's been five years."
"Yeah?"
"What are we?"
Albus's face is a little red, a little nervous.
Scorpius takes too long to answer. What happened is a little more complicated than this, but Scorpius's brain likes simplicity. It's so much easier to shrink the years of disagreements and underlying tensions to a few words and call it the truth. But it's also easy to forget the happiness of mornings spent un-alone, being stripped bare and scrutinized and still loved, moments of laughter.
It's pouring outside, how opportune, and all that Scorpius can think of saying is, "Stay."
"That's all I've done, Scorp."
Albus goes upstairs to pack up his bags, and it doesn't take him long, as if he's planned out this moment already.
The living room blurs. Scorpius sits down.
Albus presses a bleary kiss to Scorpius's chapped lips, and he almost lashes out, asking if Albus just wants to cut one more wound. He instead takes the kiss as a gift.
The click of the back door has a soft finality to it, and Scorpius is still sitting on the couch, his fingers digging into the pillows.
It is quiet.
The rain clears a few hours later, and when Scorpius can hear a bird chirping outside, he gets up from his position and heads to the kitchen.
But before that. Before the chaste kiss, Albus's closing the door behind him, things go like this most of the time:
"What would you do for me?"
"Besides make an entire alternate universe?"
"Yeah," whispered.
"A lot," words almost swallowed.