Vincent laid there stolid, not returning even an inch of Cassian’s frustration. Instead he looked pensieve, face relaxed and lips turned slightly up. This puzzled the blonde, the same way this damn sonnet did. It was the same thing that bothered him about divination or potions class; he struggled with the gray area for interpretation.
“Of course I do,” he interjected unflinchingly, sounding a bit dismayed that the Slytherin would even ask. “Don’t you remember? The first time we really spoke was third year, after…” he trailed off, partially because of course Vince remembered, and partially because the brunette’s grazing fingertips on his forehead sent electric currents through his entire body. This is how he looks when he’s unmasked, Cass realized, heartrate picking up for reasons he didn’t care to define. Blue eyes searched intently as his best friend spoke, working to commit these details of his expression to memory.
“Ah–” the syllable came out as a sigh clipped with surprise. This was the exact same feeling he had at the end of nearly any disagreement with Vince: where Cass thinks he’s winning and winning, up until the last moment, when he learns that he’s walked right into his friend’s snare. Only this wasn’t a disagreement, it was a discussion about the rhetorical meaning of a sonnet. Moreover, Vincent’s confession to him had been profound.
“I know you do,” Cass answered indirectly, a slight blush indicating how truly ill-equipped he felt for the way their conversation was going. But dutifully, it carried on with his promise, and didn’t shy away from this part of himself Vince decided to reveal. It meant a lot to Cassian that he even did. “I’ll always see you, and listen to you,” he started, slowly trying to articulate how he felt. Distantly, he heard the rain pick up outside. “I mean… I love my brothers too, and you’re… close family to me.”
“Of course I do,” he interjected unflinchingly, sounding a bit dismayed that the Slytherin would even ask. “Don’t you remember? The first time we really spoke was third year, after…” he trailed off, partially because of course Vince remembered, and partially because the brunette’s grazing fingertips on his forehead sent electric currents through his entire body. This is how he looks when he’s unmasked, Cass realized, heartrate picking up for reasons he didn’t care to define. Blue eyes searched intently as his best friend spoke, working to commit these details of his expression to memory.
“Ah–” the syllable came out as a sigh clipped with surprise. This was the exact same feeling he had at the end of nearly any disagreement with Vince: where Cass thinks he’s winning and winning, up until the last moment, when he learns that he’s walked right into his friend’s snare. Only this wasn’t a disagreement, it was a discussion about the rhetorical meaning of a sonnet. Moreover, Vincent’s confession to him had been profound.
“I know you do,” Cass answered indirectly, a slight blush indicating how truly ill-equipped he felt for the way their conversation was going. But dutifully, it carried on with his promise, and didn’t shy away from this part of himself Vince decided to reveal. It meant a lot to Cassian that he even did. “I’ll always see you, and listen to you,” he started, slowly trying to articulate how he felt. Distantly, he heard the rain pick up outside. “I mean… I love my brothers too, and you’re… close family to me.”
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