Vince could still hear ringing in his eardrums as he trotted down the few front steps of the Valenduris house out into a London street. His feet were like lead, the pounding of his heart deafening. He didn’t have anywhere to go, anything to do, and he certainly couldn’t make it back to Hogwarts without his things and yet… the idea of going back in there made him want to keel over and vomit.

The tone, the words, the very expression Cass had exhibited cut at the deepest, most painful parts of Vince the Slytherin had locked away a long time ago. He’d never let anyone in like that, not really. It was always too much of a risk in case they too cast him aside, but with Cass he’d felt safe. He’d let himself be vulnerable in a way that had exposed his most sensitive nerve. There was no path forward for them from here. Cass had made that much very clear, and the thought made Vince dizzy. He didn’t know what his life looked like without the big blonde; he couldn’t imagine a version or a lifetime in which they weren’t in some way connected. In every reality, in every universe where there was Vincent, there was Cassian. Edmund and Edgar, Hades and Zeus, Loki and Thor. What was Vince without him? Nothing, a small dark voice whispered in the back of his mind.

As the dampness of the humid air around him settled into Vince’s clothes, he felt suddenly asphyxiated. It was like a claw was growing tight and wrapping itself around his throat. Vince felt panic grow alongside the odd sensation and it wasn’t until a hand grasped onto his shoulder that the Slytherin came back to reality. He startled so violently he almost leapt out of his skin, rounding on the imposing figure like his very life relied upon escape. Surprise, then, settled upon Vincent like a blanket of snow, accumulating as the seconds trickled by.

Cass?

As the other spoke, Vince neither heard nor saw him really, so overwhelmed by his own thoughts as he was. Cass had come after him. Cass was here, he’d reacted. A few little words finally filtered into the Slytherin’s conscience, more jarred by Cassian’s collapse and sentiment than actual verbiage. Vincent looked down upon him, wordlessly.

It was quite a sight to see Cass, all big, blonde and beautiful, on his knees in such a pitiful state. Something old and vindictive inside of Vince rolled its shoulders back at the sight, stretching, and the Slytherin frowned at the sensation pointedly. He did not revel in this; he couldn’t in the same way Cass simply couldn’t let things go as they had been. The both of them were tied tightly together by the red string of fate, for better or worse. There was no one without the second, no sun without the moon.

Vince dropped beside the other, burying his face in Cass’ shoulder rules be damned. He breathed in the sweaty, smokey, anxious scent that was Cassian Valenduris at this moment and realized… he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave the other behind, no matter how much he might need to for the better of them both. He could not now, nor could he ever, even if he wanted to. Cass was as much a part of him as his left pupil. He could not cut the other out anymore than he could gouge out an eye and be left whole.

“I can’t,” he whispered honestly. Even if I wanted to.

Vince crouched there for a moment, knowing that eventually this moment too would break and that his confession might only complicate things further. But Cass had a right to know. He had a right to try and understand the beginnings of Vincent’s undying devotion. Eventually however, the smaller one tugged away and stood. They had much still to say as this mess was far from resolved. Vince cleared his throat searching for something to bridge the gap.

“I don’t regret what happened,” he finally settled upon, perhaps less helpfully than intended. “And I resent the implication of being less than because of my…” adoration of you “lot in life. But you need to decide Cassian if this all is something you can stomach.” Vince’s tone softened. “I will always be yours,” even if you can’t be mine.

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