A Rose Tinted Lens (Continued)

Arvel Ayers

Passive | St Mungo's Cleaner
Messages
723
OOC First Name
Claire
Blood Status
Half Blood
Relationship Status
Single
Sexual Orientation
Bisexual
Age
11/2033 (26)
Continued from here

Arvel tried not to glance over Nixon's shoulder at Marlowe, but the harder he tried, the harder it became to stop himself. It was like trying not to think of a pink elephant. As soon as Nixon spoke, however, Arvel's attention was bound to his face. Nixon wanted to apologise... to him? If anybody should be apologising, Arvel felt that it was him, though Nixon did have a lot to be sorry for. Arvel supposed he'd just expected to have to be the one to apologise first. Nixon's maturity was surprising, and almost made Arvel feel immature in front of him. But though the apology was nice, there was a finality in the boy's statement, an unspoken implication that nothing was ever going to happen between them. Arvel hadn't even realised he was holding out hope that Nixon might turn around and profess his undying love for him until that moment. It cut right through him, threatened to make him cry. "Oh," he said, willing the tears not to surface. Suddenly he was overcome with the desire to get out of there. Nixon was rejecting him. Officially. In the middle of the Valentine's Dance. "OK. Thanks..." Thanks. As if Nixon was doing him a favour. Maybe he was; maybe this way Arvel could let him go for good. Too embarrassed to muster an apology of his own, even if Nixon deserved one, Arvel turned around and walked quickly in the opposite direction.
 
Arvel accepting his apology with no more than a thank you and leaving as quickly as he said it flashed by in what felt like an instant, leaving Nixon standing on the spot, confused at what had happened. He didn't expect, or think he deserved an apology from Arvel in return but leaving immediately and brushing off the conversation like it was nothing made no sense to him. Swallowing his pride and ignoring his fear of talking about feelings wasn't nothing and the rejection and vulnerability Nixon felt began to turn to frustration as he stood alone, gaze on the floor. When Nixon finally looked up again he glanced in the direction Arvel walked, trying to spot him in the crowd again and seek him out for a response or at least an explanation for leaving, though he had no luck. With Arvel being out of sight and the pressing reminder Mars was still waiting for a dance, Nixon felt pressured to cut his losses and bury what he felt to avoid humiliating himself further or making a scene for no reason. He turned around and forced a smile on his face, trying to appear as if the interaction with Arvel hadn't struck a chord in him he didn't know existed as he returned to where Mars was standing. "Sorry about that, just had to sort out a problem." Nixon explained, unable to conceal the frustration in his words as easily as he could with his expression. "Should we dance, then?" Nixon held out his hand to Mars, assuming she would lead him to the dance floor.​
 

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