a/n the eighth drabble for PrincessPearl's 200 Flavourful Prompts Challenge on the NGF

shattering fantasies

blueberry cream ;; fredochugo ;; glory, model, incandescent

Hugo's always been the ordinary one in the family. He's not too tall or too short, he gets average grades, and his hair is the perfect blend of crimson and brunette.

And until now, he's been perfectly content being ordinary, with his stargazer best friend by his side, a multitude of cousins to protect and be protected by, and the promise of being brilliant at something in the far distant future. But then he meets this girl, see, and she's kind of ordinary too, with her black hair and glasses that frame murky blue eyes, and the pretty smile that hides nothing.

She gets lost in the crowd just like he does, disappearing in the whirlwind that is James-and-Fred-and-Delia, while he becomes invisible beside his cousin Lily, and he feels a kinship to this girl who is so many years older than himself, even though her heart belongs to Fred and never to himself.

He never really speaks to her after they meet, and she becomes perfect in his mind, all stunning eyes like shiny blueberries, and smooth skin the colour of tinted cream. She blazes with glory in his mind's inner eye, like an incandescent candle glowing brightly against the relative darkness, and he finds it oh so hard to sit across from her and Fred in the Great Hall, his thumb brushing over her skin and a blush tinting her cheeks far too often at Fred's surprisingly sweet words.

One of the only times they speak is almost an accident, because although he placed himself close to her in the compartment in an attempt to get her to look at him with those dazzling blue eyes, he really didn't mean to drop his luggage on her foot.

"Ow!" she exclaims, pulling her foot out from underneath the brown, slightly battered suitcase. He bites his lip, looking away from her as if he doesn't know what to say, because he doesn't. How does one speak to an angel? he wonders, and makes a mental note to tell Rose that line later. She might like it; it sounds kind of poetic.

She pulls her bag back on her shoulder from where it has been slipping down her arm and walks off, a disgruntled look on her face that seems out of place to him.

"Chloe!" he calls after her, regaining the use of his voice, but she doesn't turn around, still walking slightly funny from the admittedly heavy suitcase being dropped on her toes.

"She just didn't hear you," he tells himself, knowing that it's not really true, because Chloe's always been one to hold an unnecessary grudge over the littlest things. And his imaginings mix with the truth and the lies, and those bright blueberry eyes become dimmer in his mind, because she's not as perfect as he's made her out to be.

And strangely, he's almost okay with his conceptions crumbling to dust, because she's never really belonged to him anyway.