Though he couldn’t place what it was that brought him here. Though he couldn’t confess to a single plan on what he wanted to say or do, now that he was here. This moment, prising Vincent to stay, felt like the best and only choice he could make. He wasn’t sure what to expect, whether it was a punch or shove or another verbal assault. But none of it mattered, as long as his best friend, his companion in life, knew how he felt.
The blonde stiffened slightly as he felt Vince drop before him then, tense as he felt the other pitch forward against his shoulder. But only for a second, for the feel of his warmth and his breath against his bare neck soon melted Cass like ice to water. Unthinkingly, his arms wrapped around Vincent’s middle as though he wished to steady a piece of precarious glass. Rules be damned. Appearances be damned. To hell with better judgment. He needed reassurance, more than anything. That what Vincent was saying was true. That he can’t ever leave.
Cassian wasn’t sure if they lingered here for a minute or an hour; either one would have felt like not enough. His arms fell to the side as Vince stirred and stood up, this time his blue gaze seeking out green ones. This brush with near catastrophe reminded him of how precious their time was, how little of it existed in a lifetime. He wanted to talk to him, now. Properly.
“I’ll stomach it,” he responded hastily. He did not want to think about it. He didn’t think he had to. For what other choice did he have? Giving the impression that he still held on to any doubt would only serve to further sting an open wound. Cass refused to do that again.
Slowly, he stood to meet Vincent’s eye, trying to interpret that impenetrable expression and tone. It was… obvious that there was so much left there, unsaid. But perhaps after lingering here together on the verge of a precipice for these agonizing twenty-odd hours, they’d managed to pull each other back to safety. Both stood apart in heavy silence for a beat. I will always be yours. He didn’t know what to make of that statement, that bounced around his head an infinite number of ways and tipped his lips into the smallest frown. It swelled him with… a strange sense of possessiveness. One that reassured him, in its strange way, as much as it frightened him. What does this mean, about how I feel for you?
The sound of a horse carriage getting drawn down the street finally jolted him out of thought. The blonde turned to look back at it, before flicking his gaze back to Vince. “Follow me,” he muttered, tilting his head towards the general direction of his home, while he shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “I have somewhere to show you.”
Their destination was one that Cassian planned for them to visit today, if everything hadn’t gone to hell the evening before. Tucked away where few would think to go, a rolling hill bank behind a row of homes had tall grasses that sloped gently towards the River Thames. This area was not yet as developed as some of those river ports closer to London center, and was more-or-less the same as when Cassian’s father would take him here on his sailboat. The Gryffindor brought them out right up to the edge, where they could see, smell, and hear the rush of the river beyond them.
“I’ve wanted to take you here for some time,” he finally ventured quietly. Hands needing to stay busy, he fussed with the edge of his thumbnail. “One of my favorite parts of London.”
The blonde stiffened slightly as he felt Vince drop before him then, tense as he felt the other pitch forward against his shoulder. But only for a second, for the feel of his warmth and his breath against his bare neck soon melted Cass like ice to water. Unthinkingly, his arms wrapped around Vincent’s middle as though he wished to steady a piece of precarious glass. Rules be damned. Appearances be damned. To hell with better judgment. He needed reassurance, more than anything. That what Vincent was saying was true. That he can’t ever leave.
Cassian wasn’t sure if they lingered here for a minute or an hour; either one would have felt like not enough. His arms fell to the side as Vince stirred and stood up, this time his blue gaze seeking out green ones. This brush with near catastrophe reminded him of how precious their time was, how little of it existed in a lifetime. He wanted to talk to him, now. Properly.
“I’ll stomach it,” he responded hastily. He did not want to think about it. He didn’t think he had to. For what other choice did he have? Giving the impression that he still held on to any doubt would only serve to further sting an open wound. Cass refused to do that again.
Slowly, he stood to meet Vincent’s eye, trying to interpret that impenetrable expression and tone. It was… obvious that there was so much left there, unsaid. But perhaps after lingering here together on the verge of a precipice for these agonizing twenty-odd hours, they’d managed to pull each other back to safety. Both stood apart in heavy silence for a beat. I will always be yours. He didn’t know what to make of that statement, that bounced around his head an infinite number of ways and tipped his lips into the smallest frown. It swelled him with… a strange sense of possessiveness. One that reassured him, in its strange way, as much as it frightened him. What does this mean, about how I feel for you?
The sound of a horse carriage getting drawn down the street finally jolted him out of thought. The blonde turned to look back at it, before flicking his gaze back to Vince. “Follow me,” he muttered, tilting his head towards the general direction of his home, while he shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “I have somewhere to show you.”
Their destination was one that Cassian planned for them to visit today, if everything hadn’t gone to hell the evening before. Tucked away where few would think to go, a rolling hill bank behind a row of homes had tall grasses that sloped gently towards the River Thames. This area was not yet as developed as some of those river ports closer to London center, and was more-or-less the same as when Cassian’s father would take him here on his sailboat. The Gryffindor brought them out right up to the edge, where they could see, smell, and hear the rush of the river beyond them.
“I’ve wanted to take you here for some time,” he finally ventured quietly. Hands needing to stay busy, he fussed with the edge of his thumbnail. “One of my favorite parts of London.”
![[Image: BC4TW0z.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/BC4TW0z.jpeg)
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