Reading Basil Foxwood was like opening a book to a random page in a book and expecting to understand the entire story from the start; Gus was never sure what reaction he’d be getting, and no two outcomes to the same situation were ever truly the same. Sometimes he wondered how fearful the man was of allowing his past and present to collide; his emotions had been stronger, less reserved, and it was almost as if he felt he might cease to exist if he were to unshelve some of the more difficult emotions he hadn’t felt in years. Gus didn’t expect him to say he loved him - that ship had sailed a long time ago, leaving himself marooned on an island as he tried desperately not to be in love with a man who broke his heart.

(Gus was quite aware if he wanted to let go of Basil, he could have. There was just something about him that made him feel like home; like he’d wasted an entire decade looking for his place in the world when he’d found it already. He’d take any place in the brunette’s life he was willing to offer.)

If anyone broke his heart, it was himself; he held onto memories like this because there was one miniscule sliver that maybe, just maybe one day, Basil would say those three words. Gus almost breathed out a laugh, knowing full well he was delusional for even thinking that. He wasn’t sure what he was to Foxwood, but someone he was in love with? Never. The very notion was ridiculous and Gus knew the universe would cease to exist in that very instance. But there was a tiny part of his heart that held onto that hope (and if he could rip that part out and stomp it to death, he would.)

This was one of those moments.

The small flicker of hope spread through his chest and warmed his entire body. Basil’s fingers slipped against the nape of his neck and Gus felt goosebumps rise against his skin; it was reminiscent of how they spent much of their seventh year. Some of his happiest moments had been with Basil; tucked against his side in their spot, sitting across from him in the Great Hall as he traumatized Basil with just how many pieces of pumpkin pie he could eat in one sitting, laughing the first time he’d gotten a spell right that the brunette had tirelessly spent weeks trying to show him how to do correctly. (Of course Gus had fallen in love. Basil had made it so easy.)

Closing his eyes, the redhead sighed against his lips and opened them obediently, the taste of fire whiskey staining his tongue. Gus loosely tangled his fingers into his shirt and pulled him forward, his other hand curling against Basil’s cheek. He pulled Basil forward before relaxing his fingers. Greed was nipping at the edges of mind, wanting more. Demanding more. But whatever the brunette was willing to give, he was willing to take.

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   Basil Foxwood