Basil didn’t know so very much about healthy emotional expression. In fact, he was quite averse to it, health be damned. His gut instinct was always to push things aside, ignore them, pretend they never happened; anything to prevent a scandalous uproar of sentiment. He was quintessentially British in this regard, as was his brother, mother, and father before him. Some days however, some much like this, he wished he was better at it all. To be, even a fraction more …American, would have helped his case of tongue-tied lolly-gagging. (Not that he had any particular affinity or disdain for Americans; he quite admired their less-flappable way of life, but he liked the ease of expectation when it came to decorum and tradition that the English way enforced. Most of the time.) Listening to Lissington also struggle to speak made him feel only the slightest bit better that this was awkward on both their parts. But then the redhead forced out a laugh and stepped towards him and Basil could feel himself leaning subtly away. Grey eyes betrayed nothing as he appraised the other. Lissington had a very intentional look on his face, one Basil wasn’t sure he trusted, and rightfully so as, a moment later, Lissington reached up to hold his head in place.
Everything about the action made Basil squirm.
He wasn’t used to Lissington, or anyone really, being so close up in his personal space. It was uncomfortable, in the worst way possible. Entirely unsolicited too. He didn’t hear much of what the other said as he blinked, quickly, and tried not to jerk away. There was a cloudiness touching his peripherals; the darkness loomed, just out of sight but cold and threatening. Basil felt his breath shorten a touch, and he tried to force himself to breathe evenly.
He didn’t know why something as mundane as Lissington holding his head was eliciting such a response. Perhaps it was the head injury, perhaps it was being forced to reconcile with something he was so deeply terrified of confronting. Whatever the matter, he held his breath as Lissington pressed their foreheads together. We can’t ignore this forever.
Eventually the redhead stepped away from him and Basil felt all the oxygen in the world rush back into his system. He felt dizzy almost from the tremendous relief of it, and sucked in a few short, panicked breaths. The darkness creeping up into his system seemed to pause, not yet overwhelming him, but not quite abating either. Basil screwed his eyes shut.
Lissington was right. They couldn’t ignore this forever. They had to hash it all out, once and for all. He was terrified of what that meant. Did it mean loosing Lissing, his Lissing, forever? Did it mean losing something else, something potentially more terrifying? (His family, his beliefs, his own sense of self?) Basil wasn’t sure he was ready to even consider the latter. Frustrated and in a state of panic now, the former Ravenclaw frowned and ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends in a way he hadn’t since he was a child. He stepped back, away from Lissington, and paced back and forth hoping to make sense of his own thoughts.
What did he want from Lissington? What did he want from himself? What was it that prickled at him so much about… all of this. Why was it so hard to believe that Lissington could feel for him, could love him— ?
“I don’t know!” Basil finally crowed. He paused, abruptly, realizing he’d said that aloud. “I-I just mean… I wish I could understand…” he hesitated. I wish I could understand what I want, what this feeling is, why it’s so stressful… why I can't stop myself from wanting to shove you against a blasted tree! The darkness prickled at the edges of his consciousness again. He could feel the panic building in his gut. It shouldn’t have been so difficult to discuss this; it shouldn’t make him feel like the world was closing in on him. Basil didn’t know if Lissington knew about his wretched vapors; couldn’t remember if this was anything they’d ever managed before. He desperately hoped not, and he willed himself not to have a fit here and now in front of the redhead. Sucking in a deep breath, he looked anywhere but at the other. Ten, nine, eight…