cw. homophobia & sexuality denial
![[Image: BC4TW0z.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/BC4TW0z.jpeg)
eyecandy by fox<3
‘ I do suffer love indeed…’
It wounded Cassian to even consider what he just saw. Let alone acknowledge the screaming in the back of his mind, the crushed feeling, the breathless feeling, the understanding that maybe there was nothing so special about who he was or what they’d done. This stupid, illogical attachment he reserved for nothing and no one but Vince, no less needy than a child with his security blanket. (Those thoughts felt dangerous. If the scene sent a ripsaw through his gut, teasing out how much this hurt just dragged each jagged ridge to tear open a bigger wound. He’d bleed out and die here, if he did that.)
For a second he even considered walking away from this all, pretend this never happened. It would be a better alternative to turning around, and confronting what would then cement itself as far too real. Though as his eyes opened and he forced a steadying breath, a voice that called out to him seemed to make the decision for him.
Cassian half-turned his body towards its source, fixing the redhead with a bewildered look that darkened as his eyes settled on the green-and-silver scarf swung over his neck. “Do you think this is funny,” his response was low, quiet, and deceptively cool for the anger bubbling up from within. That was his first thought. His second thought was a flicker of recognition as he clocked the redhead as Gus Lissington, the Hufflepuff in their year who they often paired off with as the top students in DADA. The proximity of who he was stung more than it should have - made his mind map back to every past interaction, the times he’d left them to their study session because he couldn’t be in a room for too long with Vince.
Vince’s voice cut in to throw him off his thoughts, with words that landed like acid, angrier than he expected. Hindsight reminded him that this was likely justified, at least a little. The way they left things in muddy waters, never quite finding resolution around if they were friends or if Cassian could ever accept all that came with who Vince was. Though this level of self-awareness never surfaced to change his ability to react, not at this moment. A wounded look registered across his face, mouth opened in brief and silent shock. Shock thinly veiled by resentment, as he turned to address the pair fully.
“I came to find you and warn you about the rumors, that you mutilated a baby mandrake and strung it up for the kids to see,” he retorted callously. Cold blue eyes scanned them like they were a pair of rattlesnakes reared up. “I came to say how I tried to defend you. Though I see now, I shouldn’t have bothered. Looks as though you’re content to ruin your reputation all on your fucking own.” His gaze lingered on the yellow scarf that looked foreign around Vince’s neck, a sight that hollowed out his lungs.
“If you’re going to be perverts together, you could at least find a private room and spare others the offense,” he spat, knowing as the words left that this was as necessary as punching air. But it felt good to say, to return fire even if it was a final act of desperation.
It wounded Cassian to even consider what he just saw. Let alone acknowledge the screaming in the back of his mind, the crushed feeling, the breathless feeling, the understanding that maybe there was nothing so special about who he was or what they’d done. This stupid, illogical attachment he reserved for nothing and no one but Vince, no less needy than a child with his security blanket. (Those thoughts felt dangerous. If the scene sent a ripsaw through his gut, teasing out how much this hurt just dragged each jagged ridge to tear open a bigger wound. He’d bleed out and die here, if he did that.)
For a second he even considered walking away from this all, pretend this never happened. It would be a better alternative to turning around, and confronting what would then cement itself as far too real. Though as his eyes opened and he forced a steadying breath, a voice that called out to him seemed to make the decision for him.
Cassian half-turned his body towards its source, fixing the redhead with a bewildered look that darkened as his eyes settled on the green-and-silver scarf swung over his neck. “Do you think this is funny,” his response was low, quiet, and deceptively cool for the anger bubbling up from within. That was his first thought. His second thought was a flicker of recognition as he clocked the redhead as Gus Lissington, the Hufflepuff in their year who they often paired off with as the top students in DADA. The proximity of who he was stung more than it should have - made his mind map back to every past interaction, the times he’d left them to their study session because he couldn’t be in a room for too long with Vince.
Vince’s voice cut in to throw him off his thoughts, with words that landed like acid, angrier than he expected. Hindsight reminded him that this was likely justified, at least a little. The way they left things in muddy waters, never quite finding resolution around if they were friends or if Cassian could ever accept all that came with who Vince was. Though this level of self-awareness never surfaced to change his ability to react, not at this moment. A wounded look registered across his face, mouth opened in brief and silent shock. Shock thinly veiled by resentment, as he turned to address the pair fully.
“I came to find you and warn you about the rumors, that you mutilated a baby mandrake and strung it up for the kids to see,” he retorted callously. Cold blue eyes scanned them like they were a pair of rattlesnakes reared up. “I came to say how I tried to defend you. Though I see now, I shouldn’t have bothered. Looks as though you’re content to ruin your reputation all on your fucking own.” His gaze lingered on the yellow scarf that looked foreign around Vince’s neck, a sight that hollowed out his lungs.
“If you’re going to be perverts together, you could at least find a private room and spare others the offense,” he spat, knowing as the words left that this was as necessary as punching air. But it felt good to say, to return fire even if it was a final act of desperation.
eyecandy by fox<3