The break-up was nobody's fault. Things ended on rather amicable terms. Albus and Scorpius just…found that it was easier to be friends. Especially after what happened with Lily at the beginning of their sixth year. Albus was too preoccupied with his grief to keep up a relationship. It wasn't fair to either of them that he spread himself so thin. They both agreed on that. They both agreed it was healthier to stay friends.
But that didn't mean Albus didn't miss the warmth of someone in his bed at night. It didn't mean he didn't miss the pressure of someone at his side to keep the nightmares at bay. And it didn't mean he didn't miss losing himself in a kiss now and then.
It just meant he really wasn't allowed to.
He tried doing the detached intimacy thing. He tried it exactly one time. That was something he definitely wasn't good at. And it just felt wrong having Scorpius ask how it went over breakfast the next morning. Especially since the entire time Walter Belby was suckling a hickey into his neck, Albus couldn't keep his mind from wandering to daydreams of his best friend.
Albus kept his intimate distance from Scorpius for exactly one hundred and thirty-two days. He kept it until his alcohol-addled mind snapped for him in the middle of the end of year bash. One of the seventh-years had plied the Gryffindor common room with an insane number of cider bottles and Albus just found losing himself a bit too tempting. The year was nearly over and he rationalized that he deserved to celebrate the end of something so difficult.
His celebration inevitably culminated in holding tight to a toilet bowl to keep the room from spinning. And there was Scorpius, at his side like any best mate should be. Combing his hair back from his face, pressing a cold compress to his neck, and whispering soft promises of feeling better after getting it all out.
He was there and he was sweet and Albus had no inhibitions left. It took a long moment for his brain to catch up to his actions. It took a long moment for him to process that his less-than-desirable lips were pressing wayward kisses down Scorpius' face. And it took a long moment for him to remember that this wasn't something he should be doing.
"Sorry," he slurred before trying to stand on his wobbling legs. Scorpius was still on the tile floor, frozen and wearing a mask of confusion. He rolled a few drunken excuses around in his mind, nearly allowing an 'I miss you' to tumble out before catching himself with, "I should probably sleep this off. Starting to get delusional…," followed by a sloppy chuckle.
Out of everything he'd ever done while drunk, this was by far the thing Albus was most conscious about. There was nothing delusional in his need to keep Scorpius close. There was nothing delusional in his desire for escape in the most satisfying way he knew how. Because he did miss Scorpius in the most raw way he'd ever missed anyone.
But that was over. And it was fine. After all, they both had agreed to this. They had both agreed that despite those very real feelings...they were better as friends.
There was nothing to miss because it was better this way.
They had agreed on it.