It’s not like it hasn’t been years, but when he opens his eyes and she’s there his breath halts in his chest and it’s like he’s nineteen again, young and terrified and still so in love. The pain’s fresh like a wound, not healed over because he won’t stop picking at the skin, and it’s relieving, in a way, that nothing’s changed.
"Evie," he breathes, name a ghost on his lips because he hasn’t spoken it out loud since the last time he saw her.
She looks good, beautiful, barely real, so he reaches out before he can stop himself, closes his fingers around her wrist like a manacle (but loose, loose enough to remind them both that she’s not his and doesn’t have to be here and is free in all the way’s he’s not).
He’s not even surprised when she rolls her eyes, mouth quirking into a smirk that hides the tension. “Shut up,” she says. It’s a small blessing that she doesn’t move out of his grip. “It’s not like this is the last time you’ll ever see me.”
The words hang in the air, though, unspoken undercurrent of uncertainty, a ripple in the reality that their words are often promises, or try to be, until they’re not anymore. Theo’s fingers twitch against the soft skin of her wrist, fighting the urge to press in, make a mark, prove he was there was and could be again.
He settles for a sigh, for deceptively stiff fingers running through his hair, making it more a mess than it’d been five minutes ago. “How’d you even know where to find me?” His apartment isn’t exactly in a nice area of London, and it’s hidden behind enough enchantments that he’s impressed she’s standing before him now. Impressed, not surprised. He could never settle for a girl less intelligent than Evolet Hadamik. It’s his curiosity that drives the question, the need to know why and how.
Evie shrugs, moves her free hand to Theo’s shoulder where she taps a lazy rhythm with her fingers. “You leave traces of yourself that aren’t hard to follow…if you know what you’re looking for, of course.” She’s barely given more than a cursory glance around his one-room place, but he knows how her mind works, knows how perceptive she is.
Theo stands up from the couch he’s been half-asleep on all day, side-stepping the pile of spell research that sits on the floor without letting go of Evie’s wrist.
"I’m almost done here. I wouldn’t have owled without a reason, and I’m—" he swallows, throat dry, because it’s half a lie, there isn’t a real reason for her to be here, but he’d wanted to say—
"I’ve done a lot these past few months. Reverse spellwork for curses and such. I haven’t turned it in yet, but I will, and it’s going to have my name on it." He can’t hide the pride that colors his voice, knows arrogance isn’t exactly a loved trait but doesn’t care, not with Evie. She’s always known who he is, even through his metamorphosis, and she sure as hell knows his flaws.
Looking down, he rubs his thumb over a vein on Evie’s pale skin, just at the juncture of her palm.
"You’re so stupid," Evie says, quiet but with the kind of bite she uses when she’s pissed off. He loves it. He missed it. "You got away with, with everything, escaped Azkaban, you could live the rest of your life in peace—” Evie’s voice is rising, but she cuts herself off there. They both know peace isn’t quite what he’d wanted.
"Yeah, in peace," he scoffs, "alone and bored. I’d be hiding forever. Maybe if you came back. I’m not asking," he adds, dropping Evie’s wrist from his grasp and stepping back. It’s too much, her being here again, something he hadn’t prepared himself for, hadn’t even known how. Hadn’t thought she’d come at all. "I want credit. For all of it. The good and the bad. I’m not going to grow old in a dark room with nothing to show for what I’ve done."
"I know," Evie says, just as he closes his mouth. She gives him a wry smile and moves into his space again, and all at once his lungs forget to do their job. What’s an inhale when he’s got all he’s ever wanted in front of his fingertips? "It’s not like I’d try and stop you, even though you’re as good as turning yourself in. It’s selfish for me not to want you to. And you deserve recognition." She pauses, slides a hand into Theo’s hair, anchoring them together for a moment. He leans into the touch. It’s so daring, so sure, so unlike the Evolet he’d known after he first escaped. "At least it’s on your terms, right?" Her smile widens, and he closes his eyes, letting his forehead drop to rest against hers. She has always known him better than he knows himself.
"Yeah," he murmurs. "My terms." Theo presses a kiss to her forehead, her nose, her lips. He knows she understands. I just wanted to say goodbye.
