AN: Title and summary credit go to Pierce The Veil. If you've taken the time to read, please review.
Have you ever really danced on the edge?
Or is something still scaring you?
Al's quiet and he's shy and there's something about the flash of Scorpius's smile that's just dangerous and really Al shouldn't be doing this.
"I shouldn't…" he says, voice trailing off.
"Shouldn't?" Scorpius scoffs. "Do you want to?"
Al nods but really he's not sure.
"Then that's all that matters."
There's something about the way Scorpius sounds so certain that has Al thinking that he feels the same way, and he smiles in reply. Hesitantly at first, but then wider and Scorpius is smiling back and Al feels his heart constrict. He's feeling something -what he's not sure- but it's strong, overpowering and yeah, maybe he is agreeing.
Then Scorpius kisses him and suddenly it's all he was wanting -all he was needing- and Al kisses him back. It's a few moments before Al's realising -really realising- what he's doing and he jumps back. "What was that for?" he manages to stammer out, breathing heavy, green eyes wide and bright.
Scorpius rocks back on his heels, shoves his hands into his pockets, sneers that characteristic sneer. His grey eyes appear stormier than usual, flashing under his fringe of white-blond. "Was that not what we were discussing?" he asks coolly, but something –perhaps hurt- flashes across his features, almost too quick to see.
But Al's watching -really watching- and he sees it. (kind of like he notices everything Scorpius does) He bites down on his lip. "I thought we were talking about Quidditch," he says, his words sounding weak and pathetic, even to his own ears. He didn't want to try out for their house team, to go against his brother, his cousins. That was all. (Wasn't it?)
Scorpius narrows his eyes, looking at Al as if he was no more than a bug found on the bottom of his designer shoes. "Then you're even stupider than you look," he says, voice cold. He turns around, making to leave, and it's just so like him to storm off dramatically and it's so like Al not to be able to admit to -let alone express- his feelings and it's just so typical them but Al's sick of it all. He's sick of Scorpius's back being turned to him, sick of letting him go. His feelings are far from hurt; he's known Scorpius long enough to see through his icy act. It is in this moment that he finds himself so terribly torn; between sense and feeling, between admittance and denial.
Al's realised that at some point their conversation had changed meaning, to something that had been dwelling, mostly ignored, at the back of his mind for far too long. He's realised that at some point he has to listen to his heart, to reach for what he really wants. (As scary as it may be to do so)
Be brave, he tells himself, for once in your life take a chance.
"Scorpius," he says and his throat is dry, his voice hoarse and breaking on the last syllable. But he says it and he grabs hold of Scorpius's wrist, pulling him back to him. "Scor, wait."