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Title: Crush
Author: Relala
Beta Reader: Lady of Scarlet
Thirteen-year-old James Potter doesn't quite comprehend what is happening, nor can he honestly pinpoint an exact moment when it began. In his mind, it all seemed just to occur overnight without any reasoning. One day he was out frolicking with Sirius in the fields behind his house, jumping off rooftops into mounds of leaves which exploded in showers of vibrant oranges and reds mixed with crisp scented browns, casting random fists into his friend's face with delight, tumbling off real broomsticks stolen from cousins onto hard cement and laughing at Sirius when he yowled in agony with a broken arm, lighting fireworks in the basement and letting the household guest take the blame.
One day he was a normal boy, thunderous burps at the table and causal roughhousing making up the moments of his life. The next he was... very wrong, pink-red colours now adorning his thinning cheekbones at mischievous winks from Sirius as they sat across from one another in the classroom, tough fists softening into sweating palms when asked to pass the ink or quills. Shy and hopeful glances at Sirius whenever he performed a complicated Seeker maneuver. None of it made sense.
Somewhere betwixt the best-buddy verbal abuse and childish shenanigans played on one another had slipped a piece of misplaced romance. Like a love letter placed within the pages of a novel, found halfway to the good part—yet not there yet—you couldn't help but read it.
It went a little something like this:
I feel as though there is a great chasm forming in my life—cracking right down the center. I am on one side of the distance watching you on the other and the distance is so ginormous that I cannot reach you any longer. Can you span the distance? My so-called lion-hearted courage has faltered. Reach out with your fingers and clasp my hand, pull me to my feet so that I do not drown in my own waters. I cannot do this alone, Sirius.
Under average circumstances this little memo would have been the subject of many razor-sharp insults, establishing James as a target for cruel snubs and cold shoulder attitudes. But beneath the butterscotch lighting of The Three Broomsticks in their first trip to Hogsmeade such a thing didn't seem as terrible as it might have before when they were immature Second Years. In fact, to the young Sirius Black, such a note didn't seem half bad at all.
Sliding his clumsy oaf-like hand across the rounded table, he entraps James's hand with a nervous smile and receives one in return. Neither boy is old enough to truly have any grasp on the reality of romance, but they are old enough to know that some things are worth a try.
THE END
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