Staring keenly out over the side of the cliff from a moderately safe distance, Basil raised the cigarette to his lips again and sucked in another deep, long draw. He could just make out the glint of rocks below and the shimmering moonlight that glinted off the water’s surface. It looked enticing enough, as if he could fall and sink into its depths like a siren. The waves he’d make would come up around him, enveloping him in their cool embrace until silence finally—

It’s too cold out to be dressed like that.

Basil tore listless grey hues away from the edge of the cliff and was surprised to see Lissington ambling towards him. An immediate wave of reality washed over the brunette, self-consciousness and alarm both, as he quickly rubbed one cheek into his sleeve. It was damp, if not entirely moist. An uncomfortable warmth settled on his chest then and under his collar in the form of embarrassment, even as Basil drew the cigarette to his face again. He needed something, anything, to pull himself together. The calming swell of tabacco in his lung soothed, if only for a moment.

As Lissington moved to wrap his own tattered, beat-up looking Hufflepuff scarf around Basil’s shoulders, the brunette was silent. He held the smoke in, almost wishing it would asphyxiate him so he wouldn’t have to respond. He didn’t know how he felt at seeing the other so suddenly. Not after the terrible truths he’d faced on the path to madness his mind had just trampled down. Basil both wanted to sink into him and pull Lissington close as much as he wanted to bolt. A third, less grounded part of him wanted to say blast all and shove him up against a tree once and for all, but this Basil swallowed down with as much of the smoke as he could manage. Eventually, when Lissington stepped back and reached for his hand, the brunette let out a long breath letting the scent of tobacco swirl in the chill between them. (He turned his head as any gentleman might to keep from puffing directly in Lissing’s face, but it still lingered.)

They stepped further away from the edge of the cliff and Basil wobbled a little, though he couldn’t tell if it was a mental wobble or a physical one. Both probably. “You shouldn’t be here,” he finally managed to whisper. It was a weak, pathetic little sound but determined nonetheless. “I don’t…" he paused and tried again. "You shouldn’t see all of this—" chaos. Basil made a vague gesture about himself with the hand still holding his cigarette. Ash dropped to the ground nearest them and he stared at it, gravely. “I don’t trust myself to behave like a gentleman with you Lissington, not right now.” He finally said again, a little louder and a little more pleading.

He hoped more than anything he wouldn’t have to explain; he wished desperately that for once, his terribly broken words and wretched emotions would just be transparent to the red-head instead of causing another misunderstanding that would likely break them apart for good this time. He wanted so badly, more than anything, to just... give in. To let himself fall under the easy spell of the handsome red-head. He wanted to snog Gus senseless, to shove him up against a tree and explore the infinite depths of physical touch much as they once used to. He ached to feel Lissington in his arms again, to feel the warmth of his exposed midriff against cold, ink-stained fingers. It would certainly make him feel better right about now, that was for sure. But like the cigarette, it was only a temporary solution. The aftermath of such selfishness would only complicate things further between them, confuse them both more than Basil already had over the summer and things were finally, almost, normal? (They hadn’t talked about it, but they hadn’t needed to. Yet.) This… this was something else entirely.

Running a hand through his mess of curls and tugging on them a little harder than necessary, Basil let out a sigh and took a few steps away from Lissington towards the trees. He drew on his cigarette again and let the thing rest between his lips to keep from saying anything else.

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