Closed Meet You in the Light

Freddie Lagowski

Freddie Lagowski

professional posturer
 
Messages
921
OOC First Name
Clairey
Blood Status
Half Blood
Relationship Status
Too Young to Care
Wand
Curly 12 1/2 Inch Rigid Willow Wand with Fairy Wing Core
Age
11
Follows from here
CW: descriptions of pain from nerve damage

Freddie woke to darkness and the sensation of hot knives. For a few long seconds, he lay frozen, trying to make sense of it all - the tight, scratchy sheets; the weird ticking noise; the sweet smell of lemon soda. Stuff came back to him in flashes. Sleepover. He was at Rose's house. In her living room. In a sleeping bag. They were all in sleeping bags, in a row - Blanc on one side, Rose and Rouge on the other. Everyone asleep, except him. And he'd knocked over some soda. The rug by his pillow was damp and sticky.

Another stab. This one was like electricity. Like the time he accidentally zapped his finger on his guitar amp, but multiplied by a thousand, all the way down his leg. He rolled onto his back, trying to unzip his bag, but it was stuck. The zip was stuck. No - one more tug, and it went. Okay. He was out. He was standing up. Where was his backpack? In the hall. He left it out there, or in the kitchen, or somewhere. He couldn't remember. There was a potion in the middle pocket though. One-hundred percent. He remembered that.

He went out into the hall. There was a glow coming from under the kitchen door. Noises, too. Like someone opening and closing cupboards. Freddie pawed through the coats and bags hanging on the wall, feeling for his rabbit keychain, for his waterproof backpack, but it wasn't there. Wasn't on the floor. Wasn't by the stairs. Wasn't anywhere. He felt lightheaded. He had to go in the kitchen. Had to ask Rose's mom for help. But she didn't know. He didn't tell her about his nerve stuff - thought he wouldn't have to. It was only one night. How could he be so unlucky?

He stared at the crack of light under the door. The noises had stopped. It wasn't cold, but he was shivering, big shivers that made his shoulders shake. He didn't want to go in. He didn't want Syrah to see him limping and shaking. But the thought of lying awake all night in pain made him want to cry. So he wiped his nose on his pajamas, and pushed the handle.

The light was too bright. He squinted, looking down at the floor, hands tucked inside his sleeves. "I can't find my backpack," he said. It came out scratchy. His throat was aching. His leg felt like lava. But he wasn't gonna cry. "Sorry. Have you seen it?"​
 
It had been a while since Syrah had had the house full of life. She'd almost forgotten how alive it felt with her babies all together. No matter how much work she tried to bury herself in there was still a gaping hole at home, not just one but three. Three holes the shapes of her children. The house was silent, cold, empty without the trio so it was more than a relief when the Holidays had arrived. Syrah had given each child at least three hugs that lasted longer than they should have and plenty of kisses. There might have been a tear or two, definitely more, but it was all from happiness. When Rouge had asked if their friend, Freddie, could come stay over for a sleepover the woman had had no issues with it, as long as a guardian could let her know it was okay for him to come over.

Syrah had spent the night listening secretly in the next room to the kids' laughter and talking, enjoying every moment to the fullest. Knowing that sooner rather than later the break would end and all the kids would return to school and the house would be empty and quiet again. After the kids had quieted down Syrah had gone to the kitchen and cleaned up after dinner, also catching up on some work related things before finally deciding to make a cup of tea. She was by the stove waiting for the kettle to heat up when she heard the door creak and then a voice.

Turning around Syrah gave a warm smile to Freddie, who seemed slightly off. "Oh hello, I hope I didn't wake you." She spoke softly, her face slowly morphing into one of worry. "Your backpack? I think I saw it somewhere. Here take a seat honey, I'll find it for you." Moving towards one of the seats by the kitchen island she gestured to it. "Is everything alright?" She asked still in a soft voice, trying to see if he'd just had a bad dream or if something was off otherwise.
 
Freddie shook his head. Syrah didn't wake him. He leaned on the wall a little, still holding the door, like he was scared to go all the way in. "No, I don't want to," he said. Sitting would make it worse. He just needed his backpack, he needed it now. Where else did he go? He never went upstairs. Maybe he didn't look under the coats properly. It might've fell down, or got kicked somewhere, right under the bench. Or someone moved it. Blanc. No, there was no way. Freddie told everyone: no-one touched his backpack. Unless he forgot to say...

He wiped his nose again, nodding, though he couldn't stop his face from screwing up every time it got bad. "Yeah," he said. "It might - I dunno - it might be in the sunroom. Sorry. I'm really sorry." She was so nice. He should've told her. Aunt Thalia would've. That's why he'd got his dad to talk to her instead - made him promise not to say anything. He just wanted one night. One night being okay. One place where no-one knew and no-one worried about him and no-one told him what he could and couldn't do. But he'd roller-bladed too much, and slept bad on the floor, and now it hurt again and it was totally his fault.

He wished Syrah would hug him. He held his elbow up to his chest, so she couldn't. "Can you just help me look?"​
 
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Syrah pushed the chair back where it previously had been, Freddie didn't want to sit so she wouldn't force him to. "Alright no sitting then," She said keeping her tone even, though her instincts were telling her something was very wrong currently and she just wanted to help the boy. Keeping her eyes on the boy Syrah quickly took the kettle off the stove, all thoughts of tea abandoned until she found Freddie's backpack and she wasn't too keen on hearing the damn thing whistle while she least expected it or god forbid whistle and wake up the rest of the household.

As the young Ravenclaws face twisted, as though he was in pain, Syrah took an instinctive step towards him and when he started apologising she shook her head. "Oh no honey it's alright, please don't apologise there is no need. It is alright." She told him reassuringly her soft smile returning to cover up the worry blazing through her system. "I'll go check the sunroom, will you be alright if I leave you just for a moment? I'll be right back okay? It's going to be alright," Syrah kept the even tone as she spoke, she'd find the backpack for him because right now that seemed like the only thing he'd need to get out of whatever state he was in. She'd figure out the rest later, after he was alright again.
 
She knew. How? Freddie didn't tell her. All he said was sorry, 'cause he made a face for a second. That didn't mean anything. Before that, he said he was okay. But she was still looking at him too hard, smiling weird, talking soft. Like he'd gone ghost-white, or something. Like she thought he was gonna pass out. Except he couldn't've gone white, 'cause his face was burning. He didn't mean to scare her. Really. He was okay. He just needed his backpack.

"I can look too," he said. "I looked out here already." When he woke up like this at school, he had to walk all the way to the fireplace, and then down the corridor. The nurse's office wasn't that far, but it was still way further than the sunroom. He went back out into the dark hall and waited there, shivering again. It was darker now. His eyes got used to the light. And he couldn't remember where to go. Which door. Quietly, he said, "I checked the coats."​
 
Syrah grabbed her wand that had been set on the kitchen counter before following Freddie to the dark hallway. Casting a soft light orb to help them in the darkness without having to turn on the lights she turned to Freddie. "Alright, the sunroom is this way just follow me." Syrah said with a soft smile before starting to walk the long hallway from the kitchen to the back of the house. Passing the room in which her children were sound asleep she took a moment to softly close the door so that they didn't disturb the trio by accident.

Once they reached the sunroom Syrah turned on the fairy lights hanging from the ceiling and walls, illuminating the room nicely so they could see properly. On one of the armchairs there was a backpack, turning to Freddie the woman gestured to it. "Is that it?" She asked, knowing she hadn't seen that particular backpack before so it wasn't any of her children's.
 
Freddie held the wall as he followed Syrah down the hallway. He tried to breathe slow, so she wouldn't hear. So she wouldn't look back. Just one step, two steps, three steps. Into the sunroom. Okay. Was it here? It was. He limped to it and yanked open the zip. He nearly didn't bring a potion. Bringing one made him feel weird. Like there was something wrong with him. But he wasn't stupid. He brought one anyway.

The pain turned right down, like a speaker, like his leg was put on mute. It still felt kinda buzzy, heavy, but it didn't hurt. Freddie stood there for a second, just sniffing and catching his breath. He closed his bag. Dried his face with his arm. He was all sweaty. What did he say? Did he tell her? Make something up? He didn't know what to do. He didn't wanna go back to sleep. What if sleeping on the floor made his leg hurt, and the potion wore off, and he had to bother her again?

"Sorry," he said. She told him not to say sorry, but he had to. His eyes were watering and the knot in his throat felt like it was taking up his whole airway. "Sorry. I'm okay. I just have this thing, I just - I didn't tell you, 'cause it's fine. It just hurts, and then it's fine. It just happens. I dunno why I'm shivering. It stops though. Sorry."​
 
Syrah watched as Freddie limped hurriedly to his bag, the worry she'd been able to push down coming right back up as she watched him. He had something that looked like a potion that he all but chugged down. Syrah almost told the boy to not apologise when he said sorry again, but she gave him a chance to say more, which ended up being more apologies. "Freddie it's okay, no need to apologise. I am not upset and this was a no bother so please don't feel like you have to apologise." She spoke leaning against the doorframe slightly.

"Do you feel better?" Syrah asked, though by the looks of him something had changed so it had at least helped a little. "Would you like some tea? Warm milk? We can go back to the kitchen and sit down if you'd like?" She offered carefully, not wanting to push anything on Freddie. "Has this... pain been going on for long?" The brunette asked softly, curious if he'd been dealing with whatever this was for long and why he seemed so apologetic over it. In her eyes the child shouldn't have had to apologise for his pain, which he'd clearly been in.
 
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