Close your eyes (don't let you catch me)
Flossie1
Summary: When something feels so suffocatingly right, is that when you leave it all? Is that when you cheat the ones that care the most?
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and Michael.
Author's Note: A million and two thank yous' to: Squiggles1- If it weren't for you I would not have had the inspiration for the entire chapter. Small obsession- thankyou for both reading my story- and for introducing me to your fabulous fic!
coffeegal102- thankyou once again for your on-going support through-out almost all of my stories! How you review always makes me smile.
Dare I say it- but I enjoyed writing this chapter the most out of all of them, perhaps this shows in my writing?
-0-0-
Left, right, left right…remember to step, two three, four, don't stop…eight, nine, one leg, two…He could still feel the hammering of his heart against his chest, feel his legs moving below him- but was hesitant he was actually getting anywhere.
He could be sure his hands were shaking, but unsure whether or not he could actually take his mind off of getting out of that room and look down to see.
He could actually remember her face as he took one last glance to her- after promising he wouldn't.
Alone, small; the bed looking as though it could eat her up. Sitting up at the top of her bed, pretending she wasn't analysing each and every move they had just made- each touch. That's what I love about her.
It was scary how the words formed in his head, and then so easily they escape his lips.
Too late now. He answered himself;
Do I always leave things, important things, let them settle- never even say them?
Amazing how you can know something for so long- that it begins to wear away like old stone against a new building.
The bigger, newer things just take over- and when there's no one there to remind you of it, it becomes unnecessary. So it came as a shock to him when he whispered it- aloud. It had replayed over and over inside his head for so long- but now…
Oh god. She was, simply, per-
-0-0-
So. She was going. Home.
She knew she should be focusing on the fact that her father was trying very hard to make her feel comfortable.
Suffocatingly so.
People always try their hardest when they are feeling more unpleasant than their company. Ever noticed that? They're too preoccupied with what that person should be feeling- that they don't bother to notice what they really are.
Lily wasn't too worried about coming home until she had seen her father; he looks worse off than before, she immediately thought, then mentally slapped herself. That was what she had told herself all the way on the train- that he would only look worse because she hadn't seen him for so long.
That's not true…she shook her head distractedly;
Smile…look happy, cheerful, be nice…don't mention it…
She knew she should be focusing on it- but she wasn't. Her mind was sloppily plastered with thoughts of a boy. One particular boy;
"So Lily..." her father began, "How has school been?"
This is it. Talk about everything you practised on the train, Lily. Talk about how hard the potions was, talk about the Hufflepuff third year of which you're tutoring. Talk about all of that, Lily.
"…There's this boy dad." Her hand shot to her mouth in a second. I hadn't meant to say that!
"Oh?" He turned his head from the road for a second, giving her a sly grin.
That's why I said it, Lily realised, I could always talk about things like this with him. Just because things are different now- I don't want more things to change. I want to feel the same. I can't- but at least I can make him smile. At least I can talk to him.
"I have a feeling this isn't that Michael boy we're talking about Lily?" He smiled again at her, as though he felt that this was good progress. He wants the same thing as I do.
She frowned, she had forgotten to write to him during the last month. Other things on her mind.
"No, no- he- we broke up." She looked out of the window, when had this conversation become uncomfortable?
When you mentioned Michael. Her head was quick to answer that one again, Because when you think of Michael, you think of James, and when you think of James…
"Oh that's a shame." Her dad's voice brought her back into focus, 'So who's this boy, ey?"
Unknowingly, a slow smile crept along Lily's lips as she thought of him, Unlike anyone else dad; he's just per-…
-0-0-
Perfect.
It had begun to rain. No… rain could not possibly describe such weather.
"Slow drizzle" would be what your grandfather would say; the forecaster would most probably describe it as "slight shower"
It was none of these. In fact, I cannot seem to find any such words as to tell you what it was.
Perhaps spitting? As if Zeus himself was partial to the old style western spittoon.
The sun had long since taken refuge behind the grey, depressing clouds, giving the air a sharp sweep of the cool, a wind had become.
A breeze, to make one shiver as to be out without one's jacket, had picked up the autumn leaves from the side of the road, once red and gold with youth, blown away to the gutters.
Yes, both girl and boy decided at once. It was quite saddening weather.
-0-0-
Voices from downstairs woke Lily from her daydream. She stretched herself along the window seat of the sunroom. Sunroom, she repeated, looking out of the window again, what a joke.
Walking into the hallway her mind again drifted to James, as if her mind had ever stopped thoughts of him. Wondered where he would be today, certainly not on his broom? Perhaps he was stuck at home as she was, looking out the window at this terrible weather…
"Lily! Lily- there's a boy here for you…" her dad passed her, winking and giving her ponytail a tug, "A boy…" his voice laughed from down the hall.
Lily's heart gave a jolt. James! He had come to see her! Her mind spun with the possibilities. Anxiously she thrust open the door;
Michael?!
"Michael?!"
"Oh! Lily, hi, " he gave her a quick smile, "Dreadful weather, huh?"
Wherever her mind had been, flying about, amongst suns and stars and rainbows, all came crashing down, smashing into thousands of tiny little shards. Why does he always turn up? Always turn up when I least want him to? Immediately she felt a pang of guilt.
Michael must have noticed her grimace, "Lily, you know- I could come back some other time, if you don't..." he eyed her baggy tracksuit pants and slippers.
"No, no Michael," she found her voice, " here, come on in…"
-0-0-
James grinned as he crossed the street, almost tripping up on the kerb. Lily's house, he noted, with Lily in it…
It was, if he was to say so himself, frightfully clever of him. Who other wizard could find a house using only a last name and a book?
He was to surprise Lily.
Sitting at home watching the patterns the rain made on his porch was alarmingly boring, but it gave him an awful lot of time to think.
Think about Lily. And with all the questions and nonplus answers swimming around in his head he had been able to make one conclusion.
That he was going to get nowhere sitting at home.
"It's just up here Michael, the second door from the stairs, I'll be up in a moment."
The blond haired boy studied the girl's room. Before sitting himself on the edge of her bed, he glanced at one of the photographs on her bedside.
She came into the room, and passed him a glass of water, "Now what was it you wanted to say?"
James looked up to one of the windows above the front door. A beautiful glass pattern was darkened from no glow of the sun, however easily seeing the expensive glass chandelier hanging from the antique ceiling.
Taking a step away from the door and running his hand across the water from his forehead, he turned to the above window…
…the rain fastened its pace from the sky- beating down on the boy's raincoat. The boy did not bother to shake them away- nor did he move from the pour to the cover.
From the clouds a streak of light passed, and from somewhere, too far to make out, came a darkening beating of drums.
.