Open With One Finger on My Pulse

[Wren Louise]

It was important to check in with your heart every once in a while, Wren knew, and since he'd left a significant part of it back in Hogwarts, it was only fair that he return periodically, just to see if it was still beating away. Just as it had been every time he looked across the lake at the edge of the village, up into the faraway spires of Hogwarts Castle, Wren found it again, still beating feebly away and causing a lump to grow in his throat. Every time he came to Brightstone it was harder to turn away again, but at least he had incentive to; there was somebody waiting for him to come home. He didn't know how long he could do this for, though. She was starting to ask questions about his periodic absences, which was unusual for them as they always traveled together, but it seemed pointless to explain since it was only a couple of times every other year, or so. Still. The Frenchman was delaying the inevitable. This is the last time, Wren thought. More than this, his risk of getting 'caught' grew each time. What are you afraid of?​

It wasn't even worth asking himself when he couldn't even admit the truth to himself. He'd never had a reputation for cowardice; indeed, it was quite the opposite. Wren exuded a lazy, understated courage of pure conviction in his sense of self and purpose- or at least, he had, seven years ago. Perhaps it was the hubris of youth, or perhaps he'd been overcompensating, but things hadn't been the same since he had left everyone behind. He was starting to think that perhaps the confidence he'd had before coming to Hogwarts had been the real bravado, and the courage he'd thought was his had come from the people around him. Working with people like Monty and Arvo had certainly shown him what true bravery looked like. And Aspara, Wren thought, with some pain.​

He wasn't going to sit there and torture himself all afternoon, though. He did enough of that at night, alone in his bed, wishing he had a time turner so that he could go back and ... do it all over again the same way, probably. Even though he could barely live with the decisions he'd made, now, it was better than the uncertainty of what might have happened if he'd stayed. The looks on everyone's faces if they saw him now might've even been bearable compared to the way they would have looked at him had he stayed. Aspara's face came to mind most insistently, first, and Wren closed his eyes against it and heaved himself off the wooden guard fence, 'straightening' up into his usual, lanky slouch. For all that so much time had passed, Wren hadn't changed much. The same wild curls, the same crappy leather jacket (when he wasn't forced to wear a somehow permanently wrinkled set of robes for an event), and the Frenchman even had some dying clovers woven into his hair, though these hadn't been done by his own spidery fingers. There was a few more lines, and the cigarette stains on his fingers had faded, but it was still Wren. Stepping up next to him was like stepping back in time.​

 

[Arvo Tuuri]

Wearing light robes and walking with a cane, Kata had managed to convince the part-goblin to get out of the house and have a cup of coffee at the local cafe, and from that point, it was now a matter of finding something else to do with himself. His wife had many errands to go on apparently, but Arvo suspected that her plan was to get him out of the house and into some sunshine after he had been indulging a prolonged period of lethargy. Brightstone was often peaceful at this time, without students or families lining the streets and coming in from Obsidian after a day of shopping, which made it a prime spot to go for a walk. The water's edge was his destination, to gaze upon the scenic view of the castle and thank Merlin that he no longer had to climb those God-awful staircases. It had been almost seven years, but by Merlin was he grateful. Grateful.​

​

It had been years since Arvo had saw a certain curly haired man in the distance, and at first he presumed that it was someone else; anyone else, really. The Arithmancer had lived in New Zealand for many years, visiting Brightstone almost daily as he played with his grandchildren, helped his wife get the shopping done and simply sat down and watched the waves until recently, but he had never spotted him until now. Life was slow these days, though it was likely for the best as he was a much slower man now. The effort to go for walks and magic grandchildren out of trees was steadily growing over the years, until one day, he was sure it would all become too much. It was perhaps that inevitability that Kata hoped to push back with a surprise breakfast outing.​

​

"Wren Louise," Arvo started, approaching the lanky man as quickly as his tiny legs could carry him, which wasn't quickly at all. The cane didn't help matters, but it had taken him almost ten years to accept the fact that he might need one, and he still frequently left it at home. "As I live and breathe. It's been quite some time." Seven years, in fact. Possibly longer, possibly shorter, they had all blended together these days since his retirement. Wren was looking old, Arvo decided, which was definitely new. The Frenchman had been known to somehow look both eighteen and thirty at the same time, but now he just looked rather tired. Perhaps sad, as well. There were all sorts of new lines on his old friend's face that he would have to spend some time asking about. "What are you doing here? It's been years."​

 

[Wren Louise]

Hearing his name, Wren was surprised enough to turn around, and Arvo had never seen such an expression on the ex Professor's face, which was a mixture of shock, pleasure, shame, fear and a terrible longing that spoke to a great loneliness. Loneliness didn't belong on Wren Louise's face; particularly when he did have friends, if only he would reach out.​

​

"Mon lutin," Wren greeted the elderly part goblin warmly and quietly, having to resist the urge to take a knee and bundle him into a hug. He didn't deserve a hug from the man. "It certainly has been a long time. You got old," he grinned a slightly gap-toothed smile. Wren gave in a little and shuffled closer, touching Arvo lightly on the shoulder with the tip of a few fingers. Even that made his chest ache, and the mid-thirty-year-old wanted to cry.​

"I was just in the area and I thought I'd take a walk," he lied. No one was 'just in the area' when they traveled from France to New Zealand, but then Arvo didn't know where he'd been. "So many memories ... You are well, yes?" Wren knew that Arvo would either complain exaggeratedly about just how unwell he was, or, if he were actually frail (and he certainly looked it, too- the lump in Wren's throat grew), he was as fit as a fiddle and 'Wren'd best mind himself'.​

 

[Arvo Tuuri]

It had been far too long since he had heard that nickname, and fortunately for the both of them, it brought back enough fond memories for him to not be as annoyed at his friend as he perhaps should be. Arvo knew how life could get, especially when he sometimes took longer than he intended to either write a letter to his own children or sister, or drop around and visit some of the ones that were geographically closer to him. Seven years, however, was quite a stretch. he still had the letter the younger man had left behind, but it was hardly worth the years they had spent together when it was followed be complete silence and no address. Wren had known where to look in order to contact them again, and even now, it appeared that he had had no intentions of visiting.​

​

"So have you," Arvo replied warmly. He was too old to hang onto disappointment, and with whatever it was that Wren had gone through (or was still going through, seeing as he didn't look like a worry-free man even now), he trusted that he had his reasons. They may be stupid reasons, or they made be good ones, but as far as Arvo was concerned, he couldn't be one to judge. He smiled wryly at the idea of Wren having just been in the area, as he was sure that, if that were true, they would have run into each other sooner. Wren was a difficult figure to miss, and Arvo more so. If Wren had wanted to see him, it would have been too easy. "Very well," the elderly man answered, standing straighter to prove it. He sometimes still complained about his hip to Monty, but that was on good days and this was not one.​

​

"You've still got that bird nest on your head," he added, pointing rudely to Wren's hair. "Now, are you going to give me a hug, or a I going to have to climb that bench over there and initiate it myself?"​

 

[Wren Louise]

Wren warred with indecision, but in the end it was impossible to deny the old Arithmancy Professor. "I'm tempted to watch you try," was all he could say before he sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around his friend. For all that he was all bony limbs, he was still a comfortable hugger, and Arvo was enveloped in the smell of boiled sweets, incense, old tobacco and a new, melony scent. Wren's heart was beating wildly against the other man's for a moment, betraying his uncharacteristic nerves, and there was a slightly trembling to his arms that gave him away him before he could pull away, but his eyes were still warm as he leaned back onto his knees to survey his friend.​

"I have missed you," he said truthfully, still quiet. It was a different sort of quiet to his usually sleepy tones, and his tone was threaded with slight discomfort. "And Kata. She is well, also?" Disappointing as it was to keep it to small talk, the Frenchman couldn't afford to linger. He longed to lose himself in the old world again, as he saw it, but he was weak to this place and everyone in it. His parents had cautioned him against going back for good reason.​

 

[Arvo Tuuri]

Arvo's eyebrow rose, but they both knew that the part goblin had been bluffing about climbing a bench. He would rather just hit the backs of Wren's knees with his cane than actually put any amount of athletic effort into anything. He had spent years climbing the stairs of Hogwarts Castle as he switched between attending festivities and eating, to then teach and sleep on the sixth floor. That was enough exercise to last the rest of his days.​

​

He wrapped his arms as far as he could around the taller man, and gave him a pat on the back, that then slowed to start a proper embrace. Wren, Sloane and Monty had quickly become substitute children for him, and it had been disappointing to see Wren leave for what seemed like forever. Something was clearly on his mind, that much was obvious to the Arithmancer, but prying it out of him when Wren seemed determined to engage in small talk was going to be difficult. "And I have missed you," Arvo replied, letting him go with a final squeeze of his forearms as his hands withdrew. "Kata is always well. You should come for a visit, I know she won't mind." Perhaps a change of scenery, and some privacy, would have the Frenchman more forthright, and if that didn't work, then Arvo was likely going to have to rip the bandaid off in the streets, then.​