Closed Sucker Love

[Arvel Ayers]

When Arvel had told his parents he was going to Brightstone to watch the new year's fireworks with Analei, he'd been telling both the truth and a lie. He was going to the park, and he was going to watch the fireworks, but he certainly wasn't going with Analei. His parents didn't know the pair had fallen out. It seemed unlikely, difficult to believe. They were the sort of best friends that just couldn't be split, even after the most heated of arguments. Yet here Arvel was, wandering around Tākarokaro Park by himself in the dark, trying to find somewhere to sit on the grass that he wouldn't disturb a nearby couple or family. He was one of the only people here by himself. Nothing served to highlight his loneliness better than realising that. Still, it was ten times better than staying at home. Hands stuffed in his pockets, Arvel made his way awkwardly up the park, head bent down, looking at the grass. He didn't want to see the happy families, and they didn't want to see him. Maybe he'd go right up to the edge of the trees, where he could stand on the hill and watch the fireworks from a distance. Or maybe he'd keep walking until he got lost. Sometimes, the thought excited him.

 

[Nixon Mercury]

Nixon arrived home for the holidays to see that his new sibling was most definitely on the way, and no longer able to avoid or deny the signs his family would have another addition in a matter of months, staying cooped up in his house became overwhelming. Reminders of the inevitable permanent changes in his life began to set in differently to when he was at school, and with everything so blatantly in front of him he felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, the responsibility of growing up enough to help take care of his sibling feeling as if it were suffocating him. By the time new years rolled around Nixon was all too eager to get away from it all, deciding to seek solace in spending part, if not all of his night sitting peacefully in Tākarokaro Park to watch the fireworks. He figured that if he escaped at least temporarily, the promise of a brand new year and a metaphorical fresh start would be enough for him to return home feeling comfortable with the changes in his future. It might have been unrealistic of him to think so optimistically when he knew sooner or later he would let his entire family down, but without some positivity on his mind surrounding his family he was sure he would go insane.​

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As he sat atop the blanket he brought with him, slowly eating the bag of sweets he purchased earlier, Nixon felt as if his choice to leave home for the night was worth it. The longer he spent taking in the atmosphere, moving his attention between the night sky and other people there to see the fireworks, the more he began to feel relaxed and carefree for the first time in a while. It was just his luck however, that once Nixon felt better about the whole ordeal in his home, he was reminded of a different ordeal as he spotted what looked like Arvel's silhouette a short distance away. At first Nixon was torn between the decision to avert his gaze and avoid Arvel, or to greet him assuming the apology he had given meant their differences were put aside, but he quickly decided the latter was the smarter decision, knowing if he worried over something so small it would ruin the rest of his night. Raising his hand to wave to Arvel, Nixon called out "Hey! Arvel!" To get his attention, assuming a greeting wouldn't be too out of place despite their history.​

 

[Arvel Ayers]

Hearing his name, Arvel looked up. Nixon. The sight of him was like a bludger to the stomach. Painful and familiar. He thought about ignoring him and walking on up to the trees, as he'd planned - but what was the point in that? He wouldn't be able to enjoy himself getting lost in the woods if he was busy worrying about what Nixon thought of him. Changing his path, Arvel wandered over to the Hufflepuff, stopping at the edge of his blanket. "Hi," he said, not quite able to meet Nixon's eye. What was Nixon even doing? Why had he called Arvel over? He could have just let him walk by, and Arvel would never have been any the wiser. He could never get his head around what the boy wanted, or didn't want. He was a puzzle Arvel just couldn't solve.

 

[Nixon Mercury]

Nixon didn't know what he expected when he waved Arvel over, soon met with the realization that greeting the boy meant he would actually need to talk to him, and discovering he was dumbfounded when Arvel approached, stopping at the edge of the blanket. Simply wanting to give a polite gesture that would reassure him things were alright between them, and that seeing Arvel's familiar face wasn't something extra to worry about on a night where he wanted nothing other than to forget everything that bothered him, Nixon hadn't thought further than saying hello. Looking up from where he sat, Nixon paused, unable to form a sentence that was fitting for the moment. Really, what could he say to Arvel? They weren't exactly friends after Nixon's apology at the valentine's dance, nor after the time they kissed at the spin the bottle game. Without the assurance they were at least on neutral terms, his mind was entirely blank in moving from one step of the conversation to another, not wanting to accidentally say or do something to turn the interaction into a disaster. "Uh, hey." He repeated after a silence fell, when his mind eventually found something to talk about. "Here to see the fire works, too?" He wondered for a moment if Arvel was also alone, there to escape whatever was on his mind by ringing in the new year.​

 

[Arvel Ayers]

Something was different. Arvel was different. He still got butterflies in his stomach when he looked at Nixon, but it wasn't the intense kind of pining he'd known before. He realised it was because he hadn't thought about Nixon for a while. He'd been distracted with his fallout with Analei, and with Quidditch practice, and with homework; there hadn't been time to think about the boy who didn't like him back. "No, I just like walking through fields full of people at midnight," He said. Then, as an afterthought, "Yes. I won't block your view." Figuring the quicker he left, the happier they both would be, Arvel turned to walk away.

 

[Nixon Mercury]

Nixon frowned at Arvel's response, his gaze moving to the ground as he felt slightly hurt by the sarcasm. It told him despite swallowing the little self esteem he had to admit he was wrong in some way and apologise to Arvel almost a year ago, nothing had changed. And as hurt as he felt and as much as he wanted to be sarcastic in return, biting back out of pettiness to save himself further embarrassment, there remained a lingering urge to try and make amends. This might have been due to Nixon's worry his night would be ruined if the smallest thing went wrong, or due to the fact was sick of yet another person at Hogwarts hating his guts for reasons he still didn't understand, though either way his instinct to try to better the situation remained the same. Looking up as Arvel began to walk away, Nixon called out, raising his arm slightly to urge him to stop. "Wait, Arvel, are you alone?" He looked to the empty space next to him, knowing full well there was enough room for Arvel to join him. "Stay. Sit with me." Nixon felt his throat turn dry as he turned his attention back to Arvel, worry he would be rejected setting in. Soon holding out the bag of sweets he had with him, as if it would be extra convincing for Arvel to stay, Nixon added, "I have too many sweets, would be a waste not to share them," and shook the bag slightly in offering.​

 

[Arvel Ayers]

Arvel stopped. Slowly, he turned around. He noted with interest that the tugging feeling in his chest wasn't longing any more, but pity. Nixon looked lonely. Here he was, all by himself on New Year's Eve, surrounded by strangers in the park. Where were his parents? Why weren't they celebrating with their son? Or perhaps Nixon, like Arvel, was here by choice. Because no matter how lonely he was, it was better than being at home. Perhaps they had more in common than Arvel thought.

So he sat down. He took a sweet, not because he was hungry, but to give his hands something to do. Somebody at the bottom of the field was counting down from sixty. This was it, then. The start of a new year. No doubt it would be much the same as the last. He remembered when the beginning of a new year excited him, filled him with visions of opportunity and fresh starts. You could only break your new year's resolutions so many times before you realised you had absolutely no self-discipline or any hope of getting any.

Suddenly, with twenty seconds til midnight, he was overcome with the urge to take Nixon's hand. He didn't, but he wanted to. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe there was still a little bit of longing, after all.