Chapter five: The stupid thing to do

"It's just like, they don't even notice you at times," said Xander.
"Yeah!" said Ron. "Like, they're all that matters. They're the ones with talent, the ones who're gonna get somewhere with their lives. And I'm just…"
"… left behind," Xander filled in. "Yeah, that's exactly how it feels. And no matter what I do, no matter how many times I try to prove myself…"
"… it doesn't matter, 'cause I'm always the one who'll be the least important. I'm expendable."
"Me too."
"We're the expendables, then."
"Yeah."

The young men – for that was really what they were; it would've been wrong calling Xander a boy, but he was most surely not a man, and the same could go for Ron – had now been sitting in the common room talking for about two hours straight. They'd both gone over some of the adventures they'd had the 'pleasure' of participating in, and small bits of their lives, of course, but the point where they'd really connected was on the subject of their feelings. Now, it wasn't that normal for them to talk about how they felt, but in this case, it seemed once they'd opened up to each other, there was no stopping them.
The burning topic of the evening was their mutual feeling of insufficiency, and how hard it was having talented friends when you yourself was really nothing special in any way.

There was a slight pause in their conversation. Then, Ron spoke again, and his voice was trembling almost as though there was an earthquake going on.
"Now there's a scary thought."
"What?" Xander looked at Ron questioningly.
"When the big battle comes – and it has to, one way or another, 'cause there's always a big battle – we're the comic sidekicks. We're the ones who're going to die. Like I said, we're expendable. I mean, we have nothing going for us, nothing at all. My magic's so-so, you… err, what exactly is it that you do?"
"I drop quick, sarcastic remarks," said Xander gloomily. "How's that for a useful talent?"

"Well," Ron said, in an aspired cheerful tone of voice, "at least your remarks are funny. Mine are just pathetic. I know they are. I think you have a bigger chance of making it than I do. And your leader is a grownup. Mine's just a teenage boy."
"Hey, don't disrespect the power of the Boy Who Lived. He's made it through some seriously troublesome situations. And he hasn't even died once. Buffy's died twice already. I mean, look at the odds! Twice in six years, that's…" He paused to think, frowning. "That's not a statistic I would bet on to last in the long run."

Ron looked at him, his face askew in a concerned grimace. It would've looked funny to an outsider, but Xander didn't feel any impulse of laughter coming on. He knew Ron was dead serious. So was he. "It's too bad you guys can't stay here at Hogwarts. We could really use some people who're more… uh… experienced with fighting evil than we are."
Overcome by a sudden melancholy, Xander tried to smile. He didn't often find himself without something witty and funny to say, but this time, it just wasn't there. "You've managed so far, haven't you? Besides, we're needed in Sunnydale. There's some evil afoot there you wouldn't believe."
"Oh, I would believe it," said Ron. "I wasn't born yesterday, you know."
"I know, Ron," Xander said. Thank God for that, he thought to himself. You're young enough as it is.

He shrunk back slightly. He and Ron had been sitting at the edged of their chairs, close together so they could talk easier and a bit more quiet, so they wouldn't wake everyone up. But now, he felt like he needed some distance from the younger boy.

He leaned back to get as far away from Ron as possible. The fire was beginning to fade at last, but it was like it was fighting for its life, and it had been for hours. The flames danced, mingled with each other; became one, only to separate into multiple new ones. It was kind of beautiful, especially to Xander. He was now staring at it, trying to avoid the persistent feeling that there was something he wanted.

The last half an hour or so, Xander's head had begun to feel very heavy and thick, as though he was drunk or something. That was impossible, since he hadn't had anything to drink in weeks, but nevertheless, everything was turning into a red inferno in front of his eyes. He didn't know why. All he knew was that strange feelings and thoughts were running through him, that he didn't want to recognise as his own.

"You know what? I'm kind of tired. Maybe we should go to bed. And you have class tomorrow, don't you?" Xander hoped that Ron was feeling equally exhausted – although his own exhaustion had more to do with how strange he felt – but his reaction to his suggestion wasn't that endorsing.
"No! Please, Xander… can't we just… talk some more?" Ron's eyes told Xander that the last thing the boy wanted was for them to part. Although they had been talking for hours, he still wanted more.
Xander sighed. "Look, kid, I've got to get some sleep. I don't know if you wizards usually hang out until four o'clock in the morning…"
"Don't call me 'kid'." Ron's eyes were suddenly aflame with a restless anger. He arose from his chair, parking himself in front of Xander, who could no longer recognise the shy, cautious boy he'd met before. True, Ron's insecurity had kind of disappeared more and more as they'd spoken, but this was taking it to a whole new level. "I'm not a kid."
"'Course not. Sorry," said Xander, now a bit frightened at the sight of the rage-empowered Weasley teen. "Take it easy. You're not a kid… way younger than me, though."

Ron took a step forward, and he was now very close to his chair-seated company. "What does age really tell you?" he whispered, kneeling down on the floor. Xander lowered his gaze to meet his, and saw that he'd calmed down a bit now. When Ron exhaled, Xander could feel his breath on his face. He tried not to admit to himself that it wasn't a completely unpleasant experience. "Everyone always underestimates me," he continued, his voice still lowered so that Xander could barely hear him. "Even my friends do. Though it's not because of my age, it's 'cause I keep… screwing things up. That's why they don't think I'm capable of things the way they are. But I'm not incapable." He stood on his knees now, and placing his hands on the arms of the chair, he leaned forward, his head now the same height as Xander's. Xander could feel chills running down his spine as he felt Ron's elbows come in brief contact with his thighs. "I'm just kind of… stupid, is all."

As Ron pressed his lips against his, Xander couldn't think of one good reason to draw back.