Theo looked indignantly at him at the mention of his father, as if some of the fault was Nathaniel Gallivan’s for having scouted him – although if there was any merit in that, then from this vantage point that was some messed-up irony. And he had always known how important quidditch was to Cash – he’d witnessed the way Cash was when quidditch wasn’t the easy cure to everything – but now he saw it so much better, how quidditch had been Cash’s one real freedom in life. Something he’d chosen. Something he, for all intents and purposes, had gone and sold his soul for.
“You did it for quidditch,” he echoed hoarsely, scoffing simply because he didn’t know how else to face the incomprehensible madness of the thought. So, fine, he had gotten to be a seeker, and in exchange he would just – drop dead if he happened to publicly disgrace the family? (That was so vague, so dangerously broad: how many risks must he have taken in the last nine years? How many times had Cash casually weighed up his life, or seriously considered that he might be caught again?) Theo almost wanted to shake him by the shoulders for ever having agreed to something like that – but if agreeing was mental, then Cash’s father was utterly deranged for demanding it. And this was not the point of anything, but he was resoundingly furious about it anyway: “And he made you swear to – fucking lunch?”
Nevermind. He gave up and opened his hands in a despairing gesture, aware it was wasted breath – not only was it years too late to undo anything, Cash was clearly too accustomed to the terms of his confinement to find any outrage with them. Theo exhaled heavily. But now Cash wasn’t even looking at him any more, which sent a new spiral of frustration through him where he stood. “Well at least you can move out, then, now you’re getting married,” Theo said bitterly, as if there was a bright side in it, and no bile rising in his throat.
(If there had been a more pointed hint about anything in the last condition Cash had mentioned, he had missed it. Future career changes didn’t yet seem so dire, compared to the sudden, nauseating possibility of having to share the sponsor’s box at matches with Cash’s fiancée, whoever she was.)
“You did it for quidditch,” he echoed hoarsely, scoffing simply because he didn’t know how else to face the incomprehensible madness of the thought. So, fine, he had gotten to be a seeker, and in exchange he would just – drop dead if he happened to publicly disgrace the family? (That was so vague, so dangerously broad: how many risks must he have taken in the last nine years? How many times had Cash casually weighed up his life, or seriously considered that he might be caught again?) Theo almost wanted to shake him by the shoulders for ever having agreed to something like that – but if agreeing was mental, then Cash’s father was utterly deranged for demanding it. And this was not the point of anything, but he was resoundingly furious about it anyway: “And he made you swear to – fucking lunch?”
Nevermind. He gave up and opened his hands in a despairing gesture, aware it was wasted breath – not only was it years too late to undo anything, Cash was clearly too accustomed to the terms of his confinement to find any outrage with them. Theo exhaled heavily. But now Cash wasn’t even looking at him any more, which sent a new spiral of frustration through him where he stood. “Well at least you can move out, then, now you’re getting married,” Theo said bitterly, as if there was a bright side in it, and no bile rising in his throat.
(If there had been a more pointed hint about anything in the last condition Cash had mentioned, he had missed it. Future career changes didn’t yet seem so dire, compared to the sudden, nauseating possibility of having to share the sponsor’s box at matches with Cash’s fiancée, whoever she was.)
