Closed Meet You in the Light

Freddie Lagowski

Freddie Lagowski

professional posturer
 
Messages
1,019
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.
 
Freddie wondered if she was just saying that. If she was just saying she wasn't upset 'cause she was trying to be nice. People got annoyed when he needed stuff. Sometimes they rolled their eyes, or sighed a little bit, quietly, like they thought he wouldn't hear. But Molly didn't. Syrah didn't. They didn't even ask him to say how much it hurt on a scale of one to ten. They just believed him. And they were kind.

The first time he met Syrah, he didn't like her. Called her dumb in his head. What if she knew that? Would she still be nice then? He didn't think mean stuff about her any more, but he still felt sorry.

"Yeah," he said. Maybe she'd hug him if he asked her to. But he couldn't. He was too big for that now. "Can I just get water please?"

They made their way back to the kitchen, Freddie walking in her shadow. He could sit down now. He climbed up on one of the island chairs and leaned on the counter. His eyelids felt tired suddenly, but he made them stay open. "Since I was little," he said. "I was... I fell off my roof and hurt my back. It's better, but not completely." It was probably always gonna hurt, the healer said. It was always gonna be like this.

The lump in his throat turned into a noise. A tiny noise. He closed his eyes. Squeezed his fists. He wasn't crying. He just really, really wanted to.

Godmod approved​
 
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Syrah nodded at the request of water. That she could do. Shutting the lights back down in the sunroom she closed the door before starting to make the way back towards the kitchen. Syrah kept glancing back towards Freddie every now and then, making sure he was still alright and behind her.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge the brunette poured some into a glass she'd taken from the cabinets before turning to give it to Freddie. He looked so tired and small sitting there and it took everything in Syrah not to give him a comforting hug, the kind she always gave her children when they needed consoling. "I'm sorry that happened to you, I cannot even imagine the sort of pain." She spoke giving him the glass. "The potions, they help? Is there anything I can do to prevent the pain from coming back while you are staying with us?" Deciding there and then that she'd try her best to help Freddie be as comfortable as he could whenever he stayed over, her father had suffered an injury that bothered him every now and then. Though it was nothing major it still gave her a perspective, even if there wasn't that factor it was still up to her as an adult to try and provide Freddie comfort while he was staying with them. "You are very brave, you know that right? It takes courage to live with pain and still help others, which from what I have been told you do." All she'd heard of this boy was good, her own daughter had practically sang his praises back in Madam Puddifoot's.
 
Rose hadn't dreamt that night. Usually her nights were filled with a variety of facinating stories but tonight her mind was clear, until her eyes had shot open. She peered through the darkness, forgetting for a moment that she was in a sleeping bag, the unfamiliar surroundings taking their time to come back to her. She wasn't sure what had woken her up, but the moment she was now aware of the room, she stretched her senses to those nearby.

She'd fallen asleep with her back to Freddie, too nervous to let him see her face while she was asleep, and surprised herself by how quickly she'd dropped off some hours ago. Now however, all she could hear was the soft breathing of her siblings. Risking a peek over her shoulder, she was alarmed to see Freddie was no longer anywhere in sight. Had he tried to find the kitchen for another drink? What if he'd decided in the middle of the night, the stupid film Blanc had decided to show him had been too much, that he wanted to go home. He'd probably had someone come to pick him up and got out of here as quickly as he could like he had at the cafe. Rose hadn't been sure why Freddie accepted the sleepover if he didn't like her family, but maybe because she hadn't spoken to Freddie much this evening, he'd grown bored and realised he wanted to go back to his own bed. Sure, they'd had a good time in the park, but she couldn't help the thoughts of doubt that crept in from behind.

Rose sat up, leaning back on her arms but immediately grimaced as she leant into something wet behind her pillow. Between now wanting to make sure Freddie wasn't lost in their house, to confirm whether he was still there at all, and washing whatever stickiness she now had on her fingers, Rose slipped out of her sleeping bag and padded across to the door. She opened it quietly, careful not to wake her siblings behind her, before slipping out into the hallway with light footsteps.

She wasn't really sure where to start searching, but she'd decided to begin with the kitchen since Freddie had previously asked for a drink. Besides, she could wash her hands in there too. She tiptoed down the corridor, careful not to step on any of the tiles that she knew would shuffle under her toes, alerting anyone to her presence (or wake mama) and only paused when she outside the kitchen door. It was the voices she heard first. Freddie was definitely still here, because Rose could hear him talking to mama. Mama, was already awake.

Suddenly Rose felt as though she was overstepping the mark, listening in on their conversation with strained ears. Their voices were low, but she could still pick out the majority of their conversation. She didn't move a muscle, hidden behind the doorframe as she pressed herself against the wall, barely breathing as Freddie was talking to mama about his back. When had he hurt it? Had he fallen over during the skating and she hadn't realised? Mama said something about living with pain though, and Rose had to wonder whether there was more to it. There was something bigger at hand, something that until now Freddie had never voiced. Was this why Freddie had agreed to come to the sleepover? Freddie had already let mama give him food at the cafe, was he about to use her mama as a comforter, only to leave again when the mood suited him? Rose felt a pang of jealously that Freddie was choosing mama as the person to open up with, not her, which paired nicely with her previous considerations that perhaps it was Rouge who was the person he seemed to be friends with most. Plus, who knew what kind of things he was extrapolating from her brother when they were in their dorms, too. Mama would never realise Freddie may have had other intentions, she was too nice and too caring to ever turn away a child that seemingly needed her, and Rose wasn't even aware of the frown that had appeared on her face until she felt the pain of her muscles at the top of her nose.

Rose knew she was missing the point, that Freddie was telling mama about a pain in his back, perhaps one he'd had for a long time, but if that was true then why hadn't he told her? He'd only met mama once! Rose's fingers were balled up into a fist in frustration, her mind frazzled with a number of questions. Before she risked being caught out in her hiding spot, she retraced her steps back toward the living room. She'd debating going back to her own room, she didn't want to share her sleeping quarters with a boy that lied to her. Well, he hadn't lied exactly but he hadn't told her the truth.

Slipping back into her sleeping bag and trying to force her eyes to close before Freddie returned, Rose was replaying the scene in her mind. Freddie was here because of Rouge, but he was also here because he knew mama would take care of him. She couldn't be mad or upset about that, but if Freddie was going to take advantage of her mama's compassion, then she wasn't going to let him get away with it, no matter how cool he thought he was.
 
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The pain wasn't usually that bad. It was just... annoying. Like, it was always there, every day, just a little. And everything he did made it worse. He didn't even really remember not having it. Didn't wanna remember, 'cause it made him sad. The potions helped - he nodded - but they only made his brain forget that it hurt. They didn't actually make his nerves better. His leg still felt fizzy, numb, hot, weird. Still didn't work properly. They didn't have a potion for that.

He glanced at her, then down at the counter. That was really kind - she was being really kind, for some reason. "I dunno," he said, fidgeting with his knuckles, squeezing them. He probably shouldn't sleep on the floor. But he didn't definitely know that made it worse. He'd never been on a sleepover before. Could he ask to sleep on the couch, even if he didn't really need to? Everyone else was on the floor. He didn't wanna be special. He wasn't like that. "Not really. I dunno."

Brave? No. No. Maybe. He tried to be nice. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t even that nice. She was just saying it. Being kind. Why? It wasn’t real. He didn’t want her to say it if it wasn’t real. “You don’t even know me,” he said, as he started to cry. “How can you be nice to me when you don’t even know me?”​
 
Syrah watched Freddie as he was fidgeting thinking, but eventually giving another he didn't know answer. That was fair, she thought. "Okay well you let me know if there's anything I can do, yeah?" She responded leaning onto the counter, in not only to give herself something to do other than hug the poor child that seemed so lost and sad in the moment.

Her words seemed to have struck something, because suddenly a lot of emotions were passing his face but it was difficult to say what he was feeling. That was until he spoke, it seemed to be disbelief at the forefront and then there were tears. As Freddie started to cry it was the last bit of restraint on her instinct to console a child that snapped. If this had been any of her children she'd done the same hing. Moving off the counter Syrah walked towards Freddie. "Is it okay if I hug you?" She asked first, still not wanting to break any boundaries. "I don't have to know every single thing about you to know that you are good. All three of my children like you, a lot. I have seen how you interact with them and that is quite enough for me. You shielded me from your pain for whatever reason but I can promise you it's okay, I want to help you." It was grating on her heart seeing him cry. "You don't have to be alone with the pain Freddie."
 
Freddie didn't hesitate. He leaned into her, eyes closed, feeling small and stupid and safe all at once. Susie said he was too old for hugs, but maybe this could be the last one. No-one had to know - and after this, he'd be a lot braver. He swore it.

He nodded, though Syrah was wrong about some stuff. Rouge liked him, maybe Blanc too, but Rose acted weird around him. It made him feel like he shouldn't've come. Like he was just pretending to be their friend. 'Cause even if he liked them all, he knew it deep down: he only came so he could hang out with Rose.

Gradually, his throat stopped aching, and the tears slowed down. Maybe that was the thing. No-one could really help him - not really. But it didn't feel as bad when someone was there. He felt okay now. Was this what having a mom was like? Someone who was there for him, but all the time? Even when he messed up?

He didn't say anything yet. Just stayed there, feeling her kindness, wondering if he deserved it, hoping he did. "I do try," he said at last. He tried to be nice. Be good. Stay out of trouble. That just wasn't enough sometimes. He pulled away, thinking. His thoughts were all jumbled up, but he knew what he needed. "The floor - the floor hurts, I think. I dunno." He risked looking at her. "I'm not sure."​
 
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