“Hi,” Theo said automatically, and, with a wince, realised he’d said that already. That blank look had thrown him off. He should say something else. And there was so much he wanted to, so he opened his mouth to let it all tumble out, but his vocal chords felt constricted and his throat jammed up, so all that came out was, “Um.”
There was some weird fight or flight instinct ratcheting around in his chest, which didn’t make sense, because no one had forced him to come. He’d wanted to. Needed to. As if seeing him could have lent him some clarity.
There wasn’t any. He couldn’t tell how Cash felt. Are you angry with me? he wanted to ask. Am I still angry with you? He thought back to the wedding, when the feeling had been closer to despair – and that settling since into something more hollow, a slow blunt ache. I miss you, he could say. I hate you. I love you. I’m sorry.
But he – he couldn’t even tell how Cash was from here, looking from the outside. So even how are you? felt like an impossible start. There was no point asking, was there? He could only imagine Cash listing facts instead. Well, I’m married. I work at the Ministry. It’s terrible. Hogsmeade’s fine.
Theo glanced at the ceiling briefly, cleared his throat. “I just came to – give you these,” he offered lamely, shifting the package onto the nearest chair. Late retirement gifts – late Christmas gifts, at this point. It didn’t really matter; regardless, they were only depressing now. The larger frame contained a rare vintage Cannons poster, not unlike the ones hanging in the hallways and the sponsor’s office. The smaller pair were photographs of the whole team, one from Cash’s first season, right out of school; the other his last, with him in the Captain’s spot. He grimaced slightly. “You don’t have to keep them.”
There was some weird fight or flight instinct ratcheting around in his chest, which didn’t make sense, because no one had forced him to come. He’d wanted to. Needed to. As if seeing him could have lent him some clarity.
There wasn’t any. He couldn’t tell how Cash felt. Are you angry with me? he wanted to ask. Am I still angry with you? He thought back to the wedding, when the feeling had been closer to despair – and that settling since into something more hollow, a slow blunt ache. I miss you, he could say. I hate you. I love you. I’m sorry.
But he – he couldn’t even tell how Cash was from here, looking from the outside. So even how are you? felt like an impossible start. There was no point asking, was there? He could only imagine Cash listing facts instead. Well, I’m married. I work at the Ministry. It’s terrible. Hogsmeade’s fine.
Theo glanced at the ceiling briefly, cleared his throat. “I just came to – give you these,” he offered lamely, shifting the package onto the nearest chair. Late retirement gifts – late Christmas gifts, at this point. It didn’t really matter; regardless, they were only depressing now. The larger frame contained a rare vintage Cannons poster, not unlike the ones hanging in the hallways and the sponsor’s office. The smaller pair were photographs of the whole team, one from Cash’s first season, right out of school; the other his last, with him in the Captain’s spot. He grimaced slightly. “You don’t have to keep them.”
