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latest work - quarterback
"Woah." A suspicious pair of eyes was glaring at him. Boy, did she look pissed. "What do you think you're doing?"
Theo's hold on the girl relaxed. She hadn't seemed familiar until now - naturally, placing her wasn't his top priority at the moment. But now that she was awake and scowling hard at him, something about those dark, deep-set eyes set atop her sharp facial features sent a jolt of recognition through Theo, like a barely-there memory at the tip of his tongue.
But then the girl groaned and screwed her eyes shut.
just skin and bones (a Skin & Bones. by Raye inspired fic)
You deem your on-again, off-again ex-boyfriend insane for thinking he can make love without having to love you (ex!theo nott x reader)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
a/n - all he wants is that skin and bone and lungs and a heart two eyes and a liver and a nose and no brain he's INSANE cuz he thinks he can MAKE LOVE without having to LOVE me. that is all. stream THIS MUSIC MAY CONTAIN HOPE.
tropes/warnings - fighting (verbally), name-calling, bickering but a tad hateful, slightly comedic?
Theo, shameless vagrant that he was, wasted no time following up on that favour you owed him. It was why you were stuck at home one Friday night, distastefully eyeing him digging into your fresh, hot, buttery popcorn, freeloader that he was.
Time did funny things to that thing inside your chest. Being back in your childhood home with Theo beside you as the sights and sounds of Wall-E washed over you, reminded you of simpler times. You hardly remembered watching it as a child, and you hadn't had eyes for its beauty until you were a teenager. Sitting here, chin propped on a knee, took you back to a time when you felt so individualistic, so autonomous, so free. Back when you felt you had your whole life ahead of you.
As much as you wished otherwise, you didn't have the stamina to glower at Theo for the whole 98-minute runtime. Scene by scene, your stiff body language softened. Your position shifted away from the edge of the couch, towards the popcorn bowl, towards Theo. It was fortunate the movie enthralled you so - it was the only way you could stomach the way your fingers would accidentally brush against Theo's, still as ice-cold as you remembered.
As the credits rolled, you watched what you could see of Theo's face, disappearing then reappearing in the flickering light of the screen. Eventually, the screen went blank, and so did his silhouette. You felt rather than saw his gaze tilt towards you. You dusted the salt off your fingertips.
"There," you said. "You've had my popcorn. Now get out before my mom asks you if you want to stay over."
Theo leaned back, his long legs unfolding as he stretched. He yawned, scratching at his jaw.
"Actually, that's not a half-bad idea."
You scowled.
"Don't tempt me. I will haul your sleeping bag into oncoming traffic if I get the chance."
"Who said anything about a sleeping bag?"
It was dark, but clearly not dark enough to disguise the shit-eating grin you could hear in his voice.
"You're hilarious," you deadpanned. "I can't imagine why things never worked out between us."
"Certainly not for a lack of your charming disposition."
"Or your chivalrous tendencies."
Theo sucked in a breath between his teeth. You suppressed a smirk.
"It was one time. You know you only have yourself to blame for walking into that door." He dropped his voice. "I can't be your eyes and your keeper, sweetheart."
You snorted as you blindly reached into the dark to push his magnetic heat away. Your hand settled on his chest. For a moment, you forgot where you were, or what you were fighting about; there was only Theo and his warmth and the insidious, no-good dark pressing in on both of you.
"Okay, but seriously, leave. My mom will be insufferable if she finds out you're here."
"Promise?"
You shoved him.
You walked Theo to the front door. You told yourself it was only because you couldn't wait to get rid of him. As he reached for the doorknob, you instinctively picked his jacket off the coat stand, as if from muscle memory. For a second, your wilful, nostalgia-addled brain drifted back to the many nights that drew to a close on this very porch. Nights that ended with, er, warm goodbyes. Goodbyes that ended with Theo staggering home a good fifteen minutes later.
Oh, of course, you'd never do it today, but it was the sort of thing you'd indulge in as a teen. Theo would bid you good night, and you would sigh, or pout, or whatever it took to hold Theo back just a minute more. He had this way of holding you close, watching you with a reverence that bordered on devotional as he listened to you yammer about whatever was ailing you, fictional or otherwise. The way he'd peer down at you through his eyelashes, the way he'd lower his voice for just you to hear, the way his nose nudged yours, so unbearably soft - it was enough to make you feel like the only girl in the world.
No. Snap out of it.
Your gaze fixed on Theo once again. He was watching you with an expression that was too knowing for your liking. His hand was resting on the doorknob, but it was as though something were holding him back from turning it.
"Well. Good night, Y/N."
"Night, Teddy," you rasped out. Even as the words left your lips, you knew you'd pay dearly for letting that term of endearment slip.
You took a step closer to the door. Theo didn't move. You squinted up at him questioningly, half-suspicious. You didn't know what he was doing, still standing here, but you weren't sure if you wanted him to leave either. He was so close to you. Closer than he had been at the diner, or all evening. Close enough to be breathing the same air as you.
Your lips parted, poised to shape words to a question along the lines of are you having a stroke, Nott? That is, until you realised you had no voice for it. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Theo drop his head as he leaned towards you. His breath ghosted your lips.
You were doused by a sudden bout of reality. You flinched, badly, knocking into Theo's mouth. His head snapped back as he poorly stifled a pained groan, his hand flying up to his face. Your heart was racing as you tried to piece together what your body had reflexively picked up on.
"Did you just - ?"
"No," came the muffled reply. But his answer was too fast, too automatic, too ready at his lips.
"Oh, my God," you continued, not paying any mind to the drivel coming out of that uncouth mouth, "you just tried to kiss me." He did. He did just try to kiss you. Brainless. "Are you insane?"
Theo dabbed at his face gingerly, checking for blood on his fingertips. "Look, I don't know, or care, about what you thought I was doing, but I -"
You groaned. Always with the excuses and the lies - ugh, you did not miss this, good riddance.
"Don't even - " You scoffed, more at yourself than him. Of course he'd make a pass at you. It was so typical of him. The Theodore Nott you knew didn't know how to keep his hands, or his mouth, apparently, to himself. You crossed your arms.
"You're sick, Nott. Really. This is a new low, even for you. Trying to get me in bed when you don't even love me."
"I wasn't trying to -"
"Sure, you weren't." You rolled your eyes. "What kind of idiot do you take me for? Of all the people you know, do you really think I'm going to buy this innocent little Boy Scout who would never hurt a fly act?"
"I wasn't - "
"Oh, please. Like I don't know what you look like when you want to kiss me!"
"Fine," Theo snapped. He dropped his hand, apparently having deemed himself sufficiently unwounded. "I was going to kiss you. Happy?"
He raised his arms, outraged.
"How the fuck else have we ever said good night?"
You hesitated.
"That was...different. We were dating - delusional, but dating. How could you think this was in any way justified or appropriate?" You fixed him a derisive look. "I have a boyfriend, for Merlin's sake."
The corner of Theo's mouth twitched.
"Boyfriend," he repeated, in a patronising tone. "Don't make me laugh."
You ignored the jab.
"I don't know why I expected anything different from you," you went on, as though he hadn't spoken a word. "It's so like you to think we'll just pick up where we left off. This might be hard for your tiny little brain to comprehend, but I had my own life in Paris."
A poor, lackluster life, admittedly - not that Theo needed to know.
"And it was great. It was..." Er, maybe you were exaggerating a little. "...spectacular."
A little fib never hurt anyone.
"I have never been happier!"
Okay, now you were just straight up lying. A bit hard to stop once you've got started.
You stopped short when you picked up on the subtle shake to Theo's shoulders.
"What's so funny?" you demanded, waspishly.
Theo stifled a snort. He leaned down again, putting his face in yours, though you suspected he had no kissing-centric intentions this time.
"You know," he said softly, "for someone so thrilled with their life, you look pretty fucking miserable."
Your face burned hot. Oh, he was going to pay for that. You wanted to throttle him. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. What the - who the fuck did he think he was, sauntering into your house, eating your popcorn, making comments about a relationship he knew nothing about?
"Save it, Theodore," you said in a clipped tone. "I know who to call the next time I want to hear someone talking out of their ass."
Theo let out a sharp bark of laughter.
"This - this is your problem," he crowed. "You love the sound of your own voice too much to listen to anything anyone else has to say. Why should you, when you're always right, huh?"
You sneered at him.
"Oh, yeah. Sure. I don't know about always, but this time I'm..." your eyes flitted around the doorway. "...not wrong."
"That's just another way to say you're right!"
You threw your hands up.
"You know what? You're right. This is my fault. It's my fault for thinking you've changed. That you've grown up. Merlin forbid I think we're just having a nice time together. Kept your mouth shut for a couple of hours, so now you get to cop a feel? What, did you think I'd be easy enough, begging for you after all those years away?"
As you spoke, Theo's jaw set. Good. It was about time something ruffled his devil-may-care feathers.
"Now you're just putting words in my mouth. I never s - I never thought - "
"Face it, Nott. You're just too proud to admit you wanted to kiss me."
"And you're too proud to admit you wanted me to kiss you!"
Your face blanched. The shock quelled your rage momentarily. Shame masked any vindication you might have felt over Theo's lack of denial.
"Doesn't fit your sweet, innocent little image, does it?" Theo continued smugly, revelling in the quiet that followed. "Cheating? With an ex-boyfriend you're still hung up on?"
Anger flared in your chest once again. How dare he insinuate that you were pathetic enough to still have feelings for him after all this time, after all he's done?
"Get out. Out!"
You hooked Theo by the elbow as you yanked the door open, sending him stumbling down the front steps. A good and proper row, oddly reminiscent of the 'off-again' parts of your old relationship, appropriately theatrical and heavily dosed with low blows.
"Get out of my house," you hissed at him. "I never want to see you again. Take your filthy jacket with you."
You balled up his jacket and hurled it at him, which he caught at his stomach. He didn't stumble, didn't even flinch. Why should he, when he was just as seasoned as you were in navigating your aggressive spats? If you had to (grudgingly) admit to one redeeming quality of Theo's, it was that he gave as good as he got.
"Uh-huh. Yeah, sure. Today the jacket's filthy, but when I went to Europe - "
"You shut your mouth, you lying bastard."
Theo gave a sardonic whoop as he walked backwards down the path, towards the pavement.
"Oh yeah, that's good. Merlin forbid I don't take your abuse lying down. I'm the worst! I'm despicable. What else?"
You wished you had more of his possessions to pelt at his head. Your bicep was itching to heave something, preferably heavy enough to inflict considerable injury, at that ratty face of his.
"You narcissist, you egomaniac - "
"Oh, yeah! Can't forget about my head, it's the size of Manhattan."
You raised your voice, uncaring about the scene you were making, or what the neighbours did or didn't hear.
"Merlin help you if I catch your lying ass skulking around here, day or night."
"Oh, believe me, I'll be staying far, far away. You bet I thank my lucky stars every night I don't have to deal with this FRIGID. BITCH."
"MAN-WHORE!"
You flipped him off. He responded in equal measure.
Glaring, you watched him throw his jacket into his car and climb behind the wheel. He looked up as he yanked at his seatbelt, meeting your gaze. His lips were pressed into a thin line. A muscle in your jaw twitched. You refused to look away.
if ur my follower and u engage with my posts often rest assured ur username and icon combo is in my mind and I see it and go oh yeah I know that guy yay
Sometimes you hear a song and a fic pops into your head full formed. This is a trap. The fic may be fully formed in your brain, but you still Have to write it down. This is an important step that most people forget about.
did you get your taste back? (a Taste Back by Harry Styles fic)
Three years after you last saw your on-again, off-again ex-boyfriend, you realise you still haven't grown out of your taste for him (ex!theo nott x reader)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
a/n - I think this is the first fic where I genuinely have nothing to say LOL anyways kiss all the time and disco occasionally!!! <33
word count - 1.5k
tropes/warnings - estranged exes to lovers, mildly unhealthy r/ship, second chance
You nibbled at your chocolate sundae, your ears ringing with the tinny echo of the Latin pop music. You had long since lost interest in your boyfriendâs antics, such as starting a paltry Macarena chain at some random diner on a Thursday night. Of course, you were the only one who had seen it all before. Even your best friend, Ivy, was goggling at him from behind the counter, seconds away from dropping the glass in her slackening grip.
âWell, I never.â
You flinched, nearly upsetting your sundae. You knew who it is before you turned to look. Your eyes darted over to the counter, from which Ivy had mysteriously disappeared. Oh, that snitch.
âDo mine eyes deceive me?â
You reluctantly peered over your shoulder at your ex-boyfriend. You hadnât wanted him to know you were back in town, and you had liked your odds of not running into him this evening. But then again, it was a small town - there were only so many places to go to.
âHullo, Theodore.â
Theo slid into your booth, opposite you. His smile was as flippant as you remembered - the years had done nothing to mature it, or him, from the looks of it.
"Where did you go again? Portugal? Paraguay? Papua New Guinea?"
"Paris."
He screwed up his forehead. "Where's that, again?"
"Just south of go-fuck-yourself."
Theo placed a hand on his chest in mock indignation. You rolled your eyes. Please. As if you had forgotten how much filthier his mouth was, or could be.
"Oh, look at that. Three years on, and you still want to act like I don't got jokes. I'm touched, really."
You flashed him a sardonic smile. "Anything for you, baby."
Theo slid your sundae towards himself with a practiced ease.
âTwo sundaes? I donât remember you being this greedy."
He turned, craning his neck to survey the diner.
"So whereâs your newest boy toy?â
His eyes settled onto the dwindling macarena chain near the back entrance. He turned back to you with a knowing look. You scowled.
âIâm going to take a wild guess.â
âDonât.â
Theo grinned, keeping his mouth shut for once, but you felt embarrassed anyway. His eyes wandered over the table, the checkered floor, then you, as if searching for a change in subject. You could feel your face starting to burn under his gaze.
âI canât believe you didnât tell me you were back in town," he said, as if he had the uncanny ability to read your mind. Ugh, that you didn't miss.
You grimaced, pulling your sundae back towards yourself. Theo reached out towards what was left of the maraschino cherry that had been steadily wilting for the better part of the last hour. You slapped his hand away.
âQuit it. This oneâs mine.â
âBut you donât even like the cherries.â
âNeither do you.â
Theo shrugged. âFree food is free food.â
âBut this is my food.â
âLike I said, free food. Anyway, watch this.â
He plucked out the cherry anyway and dropped it into his mouth. For the next couple of minutes, you watched Theo's mouth work steadily, cautiously plying at the cherry. You watched, unimpressed. If nothing else, it was nice that it shut Theo up, even for just a short while.
"You're on your own if you start to choke. I still haven't learned the Heimlich."
Theo's eyes widened in a way that suggested he was playing up his surprise. Oh, you wanted to kick him for that.
Finally, he extracted the cherry stem, now expertly twisted into a knot. You gave him a bored look.
"Wonderful. The most useless skill I've ever witnessed. I've finally seen it all. I can die happy."
You went back to fiddling with your sundae. You were distantly aware that you were doing a poor job of disguising your horrid mood, but you didn't care enough to put any real heart into it, especially in front of Theo. Even when you were dating, you never bothered trying to hide your true feelings, not that it would have ever worked. The man could read you like a book.
Now, though...he probably didn't even realise anything was amiss.
Theo sucked at his teeth, breaking the awkward silence. The sundae that you had barely touched was now half empty. You looked up, and followed his gaze to where he was watching your boyfriend.
âHeâs very spirited, isnât he?" Theo murmured. "Look at those hips go.â
You rolled your eyes.
âSure,â you said, ignoring Theoâs barb. You swirled around what was left of your sundae in the bottom of your glass dejectedly. âHeâs got enough spirit for the whole bar. Everyone except me.â
Theo's eyes slid back to your face. Something in his eyes flickered, as if he was finally putting two and two together. Oh, you hated when he did that. Trust Theo to sour your one visit home within your first 24 hours back.
âC'mon," Theo said, his tone deliberately unsympathetic. You had always hated being pitied. "Chin up. We can make him jealous. Here,â Theo continued, covering your hand with his own. âFeed me some whipped cream.â
You had never held hands in public much when you were dating. You stared at where the joints of his fingers rested against your knuckles. It felt like a caricature of the time you spent together. Maybe that was what your relationship had needed - more hand-holding.
When you didn't respond, Theo wavered, closing his mouth uncertainly.
âIs he looking?â
âAre you?â
âLooking?â
âJealous.â
The corners of his mouth tightened.
âNo,â Theo said. He said it so easily, automatically. You should have known the answer just as automatically. He searched your face, his mouth pressed into a thin line, as if the question had made him uncomfortable. As if you had made him uncomfortable.
And who could blame him? He had probably long since moved on. You were the one harshing the vibe with your three-years-too-late thoughts that, really, were better kept to yourself.
You dragged a hand down your face. âI donât - Iâm sorry.â You fidgeted, tapping at the rings of condensation on the table. âForget I said anything.â
The embarrassment washed over you like a wave. Your face felt hot, too hot. What did you care about Theo being jealous? That was his problem, not yours. And you certainly didn't want him to be jealous, heaven forbid. That was the whole reason you had moved away in the first place.
You closed your eyes, your head in your hands. Were the diner lights always this bright? Blinding, really, the way they reflected off the tiles. Oh, and that god-awful jukebox - you were ready to take a bat to it if they didn't stop soon. Between the noise and the emotional rollercoaster, you were starting to get a bit of a headache.
"Could you - could you leave, actually?" you forced out, your voice unnaturally high-pitched. "I think Martin's finishing up, and we should really get back to our date."
Theo stared at you. For a second, it looked like he would refuse, that he was going to tell you off for trying to hide when things got tough. But then the moment passed, and he sat up straighter, glancing at his watch.
"Yeah. Sure. I need to get going, anyway."
Theo climbed out of the booth. Even with your eyes still fixed on the sticky table, you could feel him hover, as if he were not quite ready to leave yet.
âOi. Psst. Y/N.â
Grudgingly, you glanced up.
âYou owe me.â
You raised your eyebrows, appalled.
âYou all but devour my sundae, and Iâm the one who owes you? Merlin, you really haven't changed.â
âHey," Theo said, without any real outrage. "I didnât just do that. I also ate your yucky medicinal cherry. Have some gratitude.â
You spluttered indignantly. Theo gave you a lazy half-smile. As he turned to leave, he ruffled your hair, which you imagined was some half-baked attempt at a brotherly affection.
Only, it doesnât land right coming from Theo. All you can think about is the feeling of his fingers on your scalp, so gentle with their pressure, yet so persistent, as if the pads of his fingertips were aching to seek you out all these years later.
You were pulled out of your reverie as the diner's bell chimed. Theo stepped out and once again bled into some non-descript, unimportant detail in the void of your hometown.
You exhaled. Your thoughts wandered back to the conversation, to how Theo had subtly shifted towards you, as if his body were still attuned to your moods even if his mind no longer was. Perhaps it was something about the way you spoke that tipped him off on how lonely Paris was.
Maybe you just needed a little love. Or maybe you needed Theo.
the one where you're not feeling like yourself (a What's Wrong With Me by Olivia Rodrigo inspired fic)
Your head is reeling, and your stomach is sick. It's hard to admit, but you might be in love(sick)
Sister fic: the one where theo's high on cough syrup
a/n - there really is nothing like getting your spark back in your 20s after the emotionally tumultuous years of being a teenager <3 im soso excited for this fic literally for 2 straight weeks it was the last thing i thought abt at night and the first thing i thought about in the morning HSJDKAWK also it was such a fun experience writing sister fics like these! a nice change to get the creative juices flowing heheh anyways enjoyyy
tropes/warnings - mild angst, descriptions of depressive symptoms, fluff
Like every other day this week, you opened your eyes with this niggling feeling of sadness that you felt strangely detached from. You stared at the ceiling, slowly trying to take deep breaths that would not come. It was as though there were some physical weight on your chest, crushing your lungs, robbing you of breath.
"Took you long enough to get up."
You stirred, hardly listening. It was just at the back of your mind, at the top of your tongue - something important. Something you needed to remember. It drove you crazy not knowing what. You could hear Ivy walking around the room, rifling through boxes, likely hunting for a scrunchie that she could never seem to keep track of.
"Going to bed early, waking up late. It's enough to make me think you're avoiding us."
The rifling stopped.
"Anyway, Melissa's already downstairs at breakfast. Let's go."
You closed your eyes. Whatever it was, it wasn't coming to mind now.
"Can't," you lied. "Liam's got a proposal he wants to show me for the farewell party."
You sat up groggily, your hair a tangled, slightly matted mess from bad dreams and cold sweat. At the foot of her bed, Ivy pulled a face as she swept her hair up into a ponytail.
"Oh, look at me, I'm Head Girl Y/N. I have no time for commoner activities, like parties, or games, or breakfast."
You smiled apologetically, too tired to put any real heart into making it convincing.
"Fine," Ivy said, after a moment, though she didn't look anywhere near satisfied. "But I'm not covering for you if you're late to Transfiguration again."
Ivy picked up her satchel and placed her hand on the doorknob. She took one last look at you, her typically flippant, happy-go-lucky face tinged with trepidation. She looked as though it killed her to be leaving you here, alone.
As soon as the door shut behind Ivy, you sank back into your bed, spineless, held up only by your mattress. You turned onto your side and glanced at your clock. Your classes didn't start until right before lunch, which gave you a couple more hours to wallow.
You exhaled softly, your eyes drooping shut, the leaden weight no less oppressive. You felt exhausted just feeling this way. How could you come up with the energy to verbalise it? Maybe you would explain it to your friends someday. But not today.
"What did you say the problem was again, dear?"
The light at the tip of Madam Pomfrey's wand blinked as she straightened, a puzzled look on her face. You squinted as it shone in your eyes.
"Oh, um, you know. I've been feeling a little...not like myself lately."
Madam Pomfrey gave you a sharp look. "Your monthlies are regular?"
You gave a stilted laugh. "No, it's nothing like that."
She peered at you from over her glasses, turning your face this way and that.
"You do look peaky. How are you not like yourself?"
You shrugged. You smoothed your skirt nervously. "I don't know. I'm just...sad, a lot."
"Hmm. Sad. Have you been dwelling on anything in particular lately?"
Theodore Nott. Could you write me a prescription for him?
You shook your head.
"Just the usual. Graduation, apprenticeships."
"Ah, graduation. You'll miss your friends, yes?"
You pictured a life where you saw Theo never, instead of twice a week. You swallowed hard.
"Of course."
Madam Pomfrey tutted as she turned, rifling through her apothecary cabinet. "Graduation blues," she declared, from over her shoulder. "Everyone gets them, whether they like it or not. Some earlier than others."
You looked up as Madam Pomfrey turned back and handed you a blue vial.
"Dreamless Sleep potion. A bit more rest, a bit less dwelling, and you'll be right as rain."
She ushered you off as a pasty-looking Gryffindor fourth-year took your place, his wrist bent at a painfully unnatural angle. You winced, watching the boy over your shoulder, too distracted to notice who you were about to bump into.
You gave a start when you turned back and saw Theodore Nott standing in front of you. Theo was a lot taller than you remembered, and perhaps taller than he remembered, if the doorway he banged his head on was any indication. He still kept his hair just a little too long than what the dress code allowed. And when he smiled, you were reminded that it was the same boy in a much broader, more sculpted body.
"Theodore," you said, in what you hoped was a normal enough voice. You frowned slightly, your eyes giving a quick sweep of his body. "You're not here because of some Quidditch injury, are you?"
Many a day you had watched gaggles of fifth years tittering on the bleachers, sighing this way and that with Theo's every effortless throw. You'd glare at them as you scratched away at your homework, scowling.
Though perhaps your indignation would have been a little more justified if you weren't sitting on those same bleachers.
Theo waved off your concern. "No, it's nothing, really. It's just my throat. It's been feeling a little funny lately." He cleared his throat. Up close, his eyes looked a little rheumy, too.
You nodded, trying to take in his appearance as discreetly as possible. His eyes looked beautiful, and you especially loved the way they crinkled when he smiled or teased. The very tips of his hair curled against his forehead, slowly plastering to his skin as the heat of the day grew. You eyed the way it crept down his ears critically.
"Well," you said, taking a stab at cheerfulness, "at least you don't look too bad. Other than your hair, I mean."
You shut up, kicking yourself as soon as those words left your mouth. Theo looked at you questioningly, raising a hand to his hair almost self-consciously.
"What's wrong with my hair?"
"Nothing," you insisted, in a rush. It's perfect. It's gorgeous. You're gorgeous. "It's just, you know, technically speaking, not...totally...compliant...with the dress code." You gestured uselessly. "That's, what, an inch and a half past your ear?"
You sealed your mouth shut again. That was enough talking for now.
Theo looked at you curiously. He tilted his head.
"Are you writing me up, L/N?"
Your eyes widened.
"No. No. No, of course not. Forget I said anything, really."
"Are you sure? But my hair's past my ear by - how many inches did you say that was?"
You mumbled some inconsequential number under your breath. You could feel your face burning. Merlin, you had to be going insane. What was so ridiculously attractive about the way Theo gave you a hard time?
You smiled nervously. Instantly, Theo's expression softened. He dropped the act.
"Nah, I'm just messing with you. What were you in for?" He glanced at the vial you had clenched in your fist. "Nothing serious, I hope."
You followed his gaze. You tightened your grip. "It's nothing," you said automatically, in that same clipped voice you had been using with your roommates all week. "I'm fine."
If Theo picked up on you suddenly clamming up, he didn't let on.
"Well," he said, softly, "I hope your nothing gets better soon."
He gave you a parting wink as he walked past you, towards the Hospital Wing's waiting area. You watched him sit, adjusting into a position comfortable enough for his overly long legs. He really did fill out his uniform beautifully.
Only, you thought as you walked away, you weren't the only girl who noticed how well he filled out his uniform. You had noticed every girl who slipped in and out of his arms. You had watched, but not because he was particularly captivating, exactly.
Still. He captivated you, all the same.
You remembered the first day you had picked up on this metallic quality to your life. If anything, you were starting to forget what life was like before that. You were in the library with your friends, and Ivy's boyfriend had the brilliant idea to sneak an exploding quill into Melissa's bag. Needless to say, he was laughing for all of 30 seconds before she started trying to reach over Ivy to strangle him.
You were there and, sure, it tickled you to see anyone with a face coated in ink, but today...it didn't. Inches from you was mirth, suppressed glee, and vaguely homicidal tendencies. But you didn't feel a thing. It felt as though you weren't really sitting next to them, that you weren't really in the library. Everything felt miles and miles away from you, like you were too distant to understand it, or worse, be a part of it.
You fixed a faint smile on your face as Ivy settled the two of them down with decreasingly hushed scoldings. You tried to ignore the way your heart was racing, the overwhelming sense of dread, a nervousness you could not shake.
Days passed. Then weeks. All the while, your world held you at arm's length. Everything was muffled, like you were underwater. Colours didn't look right to you. The Dreamless Sleep potion was no help. Day by day, with a growing unease, a terrible idea of what would help began to creep into your mind, even as your skin grew greyer.
You'd thought about it, of course. You thought about it every time you were in the Great Hall, alone, and Theo was sitting just a little too far from his friends. You'd dream about picking up your food and walking over to him, closing the gap that stretched between the two of you. You'd talk, touch his arm a bit. He'd make you laugh the way nobody else could. And maybe he'd like the way you touched his arm the same way you liked the crook in his smile.
But with so many girls hanging off of him, what would he want with a plain, mousy thing like you?
So that couldn't be it. As much as it pained you to admit, Theo could not be the answer. And when you didn't know the answer to something, you researched.
Oh, the research you did. You read like a woman possessed, by candlelight, night after night, until your eyes gave out. You traded sleep, you traded food, and when yet another night passed with you none the wiser, you didn't feel like eating or sleeping anyway. It kept you up at night, fraying at your nerves. You had to find it, you had to find the cure, the bitter pill to satisfy your craving.
The cure never came.
So the next step was distraction. You had to keep your mind busy, jumping from one thing to the next. Depression couldn't hit a moving target, or something like that. You dosed yourself with healthy amounts of Muggle movies while your roommates went out, even though they all left you crying and somehow even more miserable than before you started.
Even tonight, buried deep in your bed and your misery, you fixed your eyes unseeingly on the pixels of John Cusack holding up a boombox. You took another swig from the bottle you were holding tightly onto. You felt a stabbing in your heart, like you could feel the love warped in the film through the screen.
You touched the screen uselessly, trying to free the agony bubbling in your chest, when the door opened.
"Y/N."
You scrambled to shove your tissues under your blanket, but you were too slow. Melissa flicked on a light switch and walked in, her lips tight around the corners.
"Y/N, come outside."
"No."
Melissa's eyes swept over the scene, from your tissues to the sappy romcom playing.
"Do you think this is healthy?" she snapped. "Do you think it's worth being Head Girl this way? Overworked to the bone? Crying over 80's movies? Not talking to another human being for days on end? Honestly, Y/N, what would Flitwick say?"
"Don't." You sat up urgently, grabbing her arm. "Missy, promise me you won't tell Flitwick. I swear, I will take it out on one of your Sylvanian Families if you do."
"You're wasting away," she hissed. "Look at you. Don't make me get Ivy. She's not going to be as understanding as me."
"Being Head Girl is all I have right now, okay?" You were begging, you were grovelling at her feet, but you didn't care. "Please don't take it away from me. Merlin, I beg of you, Missy, if you tell Flitwick, he's only going to take this away, and it's my lifeline right now. You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
You mouthed wordlessly, your chest heaving.
"I can't." Your voice quivered; you didn't have enough of it for both words. The impatience in Melissa's eyes softened a little. She perched on your bed next to you, trying to rub your back soothingly.
"I can help, Y/N. We can help."
You shook your head. "You can't." You suppressed a sob. "No one can. Not with this."
Melissa looked pensive.
"Is it Theo?"
You stayed quiet. It was all the confirmation she needed.
"Just talk to him."
You scoffed weakly, fiddling with a tissue.
"And say what? 'Theo, I miss you like crazy. Theo, why don't you talk to me anymore? Theo, I've got this weight on my chest, and it hurts every time I think about you. Theo, Theodore, oh, please won't you come fix me up?'"
You could feel Melissa uncomfortably still next to you. You closed your eyes, unwilling to face it. This was a low point, you were aware.
"At least come down to the common room," she finally coaxed gently. "You've been in bed all day."
Now that your mind had fixed on Theo, it refused to budge. You shook your head again, slower this time.
Melissa seemed to realise this wasn't a stupor she could scold you out of. You wished it were. Tentatively, she pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you sniffled. She turned the lights off on her way out, once again leaving you to your wine, your movies and your tears.
You were having lunch in the Great Hall one afternoon. Or, more precisely, your lunch was in front of you, but you weren't much interested in it. Even when Mattheo Riddle had come running in, stumbling up and down the tables, shaking anyone that looked remotely like Theo, you hadn't looked up from your plate. You pushed your peas to one side, and then the other, a sleepy type of boredom settling over you.
You felt a shadow over your plate. You looked up, blinking against the harsh lights.
"Theodore?"
Once your eyes had adjusted, they rested on a pretty sick-looking Theodore Nott. Whatever bug he had that day in the Hospital Wing seemed miles milder than whatever he had now. His eyes were too bright, his nose was dripping like a faucet, and, you were noticing, he was wearing his pajamas.
"Are you alright?" you asked, trying and failing to keep the concern out of your voice. "Is everything okay?"
Theo opened his mouth, and for a second, he had this look in his eye that made you think he was going to give you a straight answer. But it was only a coughing fit - a raspy, phlegmy fit that sounded more painful than bothersome.
"Oh, you poor thing," you cooed sympathetically, comfortingly rubbing his arm. You glanced around. Mattheo was just here a minute ago. He'd take Theo under his wing.
But before you could find him, Theo was holding your wrist in his burning fist, looking like he needed to tell you something or he'd burst.
"Y/N," he said, voice scratchy from disuse, giving you a meaningful look. "Life's short."
Your curiosity quelled, you patted his hand, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.
"Okay, you're delirious."
"No." Theo's hold tightened enough to alarm you. Your eyes flicked from his passionate grip to his face flushed from fever. You hesitated, not wanting to break free just yet.
Oh, you were an awful, awful person. Taking advantage of a sick, vulnerable thing like Theo with a bad case of hay fever? This was a new low, even for you. What he needed was some hot tea and bed rest, and here you were, touch-starved enough to let him exert himself, to what? To talk to him? To flirt with him without any stakes? To feel his rough, calloused hand wrap around yours, insistent and demanding?
Crap. What had he been saying? It must have been something important, if the way he was searching ur eyes was any indication. You gave an awkward smile.
"Theo, how sick are you?"
He scowled, though it seemed to be with little venom. He started muttering something about Mattheo under his breath. Uncertainly, you raised a hand and pressed it to his scorching forehead. You hurriedly removed your hand. You could feel his head practically pulsing with the fever.
With a little cajoling and sweet-talking, you helped Theo back to his room. He wasn't particularly steady - it was a miracle he had reached the Great Hall without bumping himself black and blue all over - but you didn't mind rushing to his side, propping him up the best you could, swaying forward dangerously.
When you reached, you took one look at the state of his room and made a face. It was as though a pack of wild animals lived here. Books, records, and half-finished board games were strewn across the room. In the middle was some glass sculpture, modelled after a fish tank, you assumed, filled with strangely realistic fish with piercing stares. You swept away the hot water bottles and smoothed the rumpled sheets as you lowered Theo into his bed. He flopped down, spineless, mumbling something unintelligible.
As you perched on his bed next to him, you were distinctly aware of him staring at you. You put it down to delirium. You looked back at Theo's lidded eyes, which tried to shut, probably from the drowsiness from his laundry list of medications. You decided his bedroom eyes were an addictive thing. It wasn't fair, the effect he had on you, and how he was immune to you. You looked away after a minute. You didn't like how laser sharp his focus was, not the least bit dulled by his flu.
You smoothed your skirt over your knees as unwelcome memories surfaced. You didn't like to think about when you were friends, because it only further depressed you.
Just as you were about to break the unbearable silence, Theo did.
"Are you okay?"
You looked up, confused. Between the two of you, you weren't exactly the one bedridden, hacking away like they were going to cough up a lung.
"Me?" You frowned. "Yes, I'm fine. Of course I'm fine."
His trip down to the Great Hall must have taken more energy than Theo had, because you were beginning to notice the exhaustion knitted into the bags under his eyes. Theo's eyebrows contracted a fraction, as if you had given him a wrong answer. As if you could give him a wrong answer, you thought derisively. Who knew how you were feeling better than yourself?
"I dunno," he said, still unconvinced. "You look a little pale."
You scoffed softly, trying to brush it off.
"Oh, you know. The weather."
"It's summer."
You winced. "I've just been so busy with Head Girl work."
"Oh." Nervously, your eyes flicked towards Theo's face. He looked put off by the conversation. "Okay." He ran a hand along his sheets, the sound filling the tense silence. But your eyes hadn't left the tick in his jaw, and you couldn't ignore the way he wasn't meeting your eyes anymore. So much had changed over the years, but his sulking mannerisms had not.
Stupidly, you found yourself blinking back hot tears. You trained your eyes on your hands clasped in your lap. Your trembling hands. Nervous hands connected to a nervous girl. You were hurting for an ounce of self-confidence. You stared at your hands and decided that trying to open up to one more person might not be the worst thing in the world. Hell, you had tried nearly everything else. And so, you caved.
"Is it that obvious?" you whispered, as if saying it too loud would make it true, irrefutable. Did you not hide it well enough?
"Kind of."
Your lips thinned. Theo paused. Then, as if thinking better of his callousness, he gently added, "To me, it is."
You brushed his hand with yours, a silent thank you. The surge of bravery, or perhaps recklessness, was waning. You retreated back into your shell, your voice taking on a distant, unconcerned quality.
"It's just...the work can be a bit much sometimes. Sometimes it's all I have to fill my days with."
"You can fill it with me."
You opened your mouth to respond, but then closed it again. Your eyebrows contracted a fraction at the innuendo. He didn't mean...?
"Your days, I mean," Theo corrected, hurriedly. "Your life. You could fill your life with my company. Am I making sense?"
He sighed nasally as his head sank back into his pillow.
"I think I've had too much cough syrup," he said thickly.
You frowned at the near-empty bottle on his nightstand. Too much cough syrup, and then some.
"No more cough syrup for today," you ordered, a hint of authority creeping into your voice. "Maybe for the week."
"Yes, boss."
A smile flickered across your face reflexively. You were always bossing him around as kids, telling him to do this and that, and woe betide him if he did not acquiesce. Reluctantly, you darted a glance at his face, at the not-so-subtle smug look on his face. He thought himself a funny, funny man, didn't he? You bit the inside of your cheek to quell your smile. How unfortunate that he was so self-aware.
You sighed, your grasp on Theo's hand becoming a little bolder. "I miss this."
You felt Theo's hand go slack in your grip.
"Miss what?"
You grazed your thumb across the back of your hand. Was he really going to make you say it out loud?
"You know," you said slowly, "your company." You finally looked up, a teasing sort of expression on your face. "Just..." You mulled over the options rattling around in your head. Laughing with you? Fighting with you? Holding you hand?
"Talking to you," you finally decided. You dropped your gaze. You felt embarrassed just saying it. How pathetic was he going to think you were, obsessing over a years-old, once-upon-a-time acquaintance? "I mean, you probably don't remember, but we used to talk all the time."
The silence was deafening. You wished he would say something.
"I remember," Theo finally forced out, in a thin, choked sort of voice. You met his eyes apprehensively, not daring to believe him. He had to be saying that just to be nice. He was probably too much of a gentleman to reject you outright. You grimaced. Way to freak out a guy, Y/N.
Awkwardly, you cast your eyes around his room, desperate for a change in subject. You squinted at the glass sculpture that had caught your eye as you walked in, filled with fish gawping so rudely at you. You made a face.
"Is that...a real aquarium?"
"Why? Do you like it?"
Did you like it? Euch, it gave you the creeps.
But before you could open your mouth to gently let him down, the door swung open. You jumped up, as if caught in the middle of something private, something illicit. And as your hands slipped out of his clammy, fevered grip, you felt the loneliness rush back in, the fleeting warmth of Theo's smile and laugh already miles away.
You gave Theo's roommates a tight smile as they walked in, surreptitiously wiping your hands on the back of your skirt. The roaring in your ears muffled their chatter, paying little attention to you as they talked over one another. You gave them a quick wave, slipping past them to get to the door.
"Well," you said, "nice seeing you all."
You put your hand on the doorknob. You hesitated. You looked over your shoulder.
Theo was still watching you. He looked the least bit concerned about whatever his friends were yammering about. His eyes still looked a little watery, but there was a dull sheen to them now. The frantic brightness in them had been soothed.
You lingered at the threshold. You should go.
"Feel better soon, Theo," you said instead.
"You too." Theo's face pinched, as if he hadn't meant to say that. Your lips twitched.
"I already do," you said. It was the most honest thing you had said in weeks.
You turned and stepped out, trying to forget the look on Theo's face, and how you were desperate enough to read it as him asking you to stay.
It must be the fever, you decided. Hallucinations and...delusions. With that much cough syrup, he might not even remember you bringing him up. Tucking him in. Holding his desperate, trembling hand, and trying to act like the thought of letting it go wasn't breaking your heart.
Step by step, you walked back the long, winding, isolated path back to your dorm. This afternoon had all but confirmed your suspicions. Why you couldn't eat, and why you couldn't sleep. You thought back to the look on Theo's gaunt face. Your morose eyes. His pale lips. What a sickly pair you two made.
the one where theo's high on cough syrup (a Cough Syrup by Young the Giant inspired fic)
Theo gets high on his pining for you cough syrup.
Sister fic: the one where you're not feeling like yourself
a/n: I am NOT. a doctor. I think it goes without saying do NOT overdose on medication :) also im soooo excited for the sister fic UGHH they're going to complement each other so well im so excited!!!! anyways enjoyyy and thank u for reading <33
tropes/warnings: sick!Theo, slight hurt/comfort, mild descriptions of a bad case of the flu, comedy (I try to be funny pls be nice đđ)
Common symptoms of suburbia-itis include, but are not limited to, headaches, boredom, aversion to homogeneity, and a funny feeling in the back of your throat. Refer to your local physician for more information.
Theo woke up feeling horrible.
Not that this was a new development of late - he had spent the past couple of days walking around with a raw, scratchy throat and a hacking cough that did nothing to help it. Madam Pomfrey diagnosed him with hay fever, but as the only person privy to the thoughts that kept drifting towards a certain Head Girl, Theo felt he knew better.
Theo's cough wasn't the only irritating thing choking him this week, though. On this particular morning, he woke to an insistent tapping on his face.
"You got to take your - hello. Hello.â Blaise tried pulling one of Theo's eyes open. Theo rolled over, pulling the covers over his head, grumbling underneath his breath. Blaise gave the covers a solid yank.
âGood morning, sunshine. Time to take your cough syrup.â
Theo groaned into his pillow as Blaise disappeared into the bathroom to fix his tie. Ugh. The blasted thing. Sticky, saccharine, neon pink syrup. It had to be his least favourite part about falling sick.
Half-asleep, Theo fumbled for the bottle on his nightstand, pouring out what he guessed to be a reasonable dose - that is, as good a guess one could make with their eyes still glued shut.
Stupid cough syrup. Bitter and viscous and yucky. Just thinking about it made him nauseous. Euch, it was like he could feel its awful, honey-thick texture on his tongue right this second.
Theo settled back into his pillows comfortably. Hmm, this was nice. Bed cosy, thoughts foggy enough to be comforting, regret just out of focus. Maybe he could rest his eyes for a lit -
Theo felt his keys to the dorm hit him squarely in the cheek.
"Wha - "
His eyes flew open. In front of him, Mattheo was dressed in his Quidditch robes, making a mess of his nightstand, talking a mile a minute. It made Theo's head spin. He could barely keep up when his senses were at their best, let alone when dulled by antibiotics.
"Your meds," Mattheo enunciated, when Theo's expression remained clueless. "Take them. What is - it's the syrup, right?"
The cough syrup. Right. He was just about to take it.
"Snape's been on my ass to get you back on the pitch this week. Now drink."
Theo protested weakly as Mattheo forced the flimsy, plastic cup to his lips. Thankfully, taking the dose was enough to shut Mattheo up, and he was one foot out the door the next minute. Theo settled into his bed once again, eyes drooping shut.
Unfortunately, his shut-eye only lasted for what felt like a few minutes, before he was shaken awake once again.
"Theo - hey, buddy." Enzo was waving his cough syrup bottle in front of him. "It's time for your next dose."
Theo blinked blearily, dizzy with codeine. Again? So soon? How long had he been knocked out for?
He popped the bottle open for the third time in as many minutes. Man, at this rate, he'd better be spinning like a top by lunch, in the pink of health.
No amount of fight would keep his eyes open at this point. Theo barely managed to set the bottle down before sleep overtook him, dragging him down into a much-needed slumber.
Theodore Nott had a tendency to get sick thinking about you. That is to say, he made himself sick with his longing for you, whether it be through self-medication via alcohol or unadulterated nausea at the very thought of it. Many a night Theo spent trying to drown his sorrows in a bottle of firewhiskey.
"I'm never going to tell her,â Theo would bemoan to his long - long-suffering friends, âso she'll never find out, and she'll die never knowing, and nobody will ever compare to her, so I'll die alone. Oh, Salazar, I'm going to be sick."
And Theo would lurch towards the toilet bowl once again.
When you were together, there was a music only Theo could hear. Simply being in your orbit was enough. Even from opposite ends of the Great Hall, when your eyes met, there would be a warm, buttery feeling meting in his chest, pooling in his fingers and toes. Something about your smile - the one meant for him, and no one else - made him feel like you were the only two people in the world.
When Theo had first noticed it, he hadnât thought much of it. You had to be just one of the many girls he could build this comfortable type of rapport with. The years passed. Your classes changed. Theo met a whole bunch of girls since then. And yet, when your paths crossed, Theo was unpleasantly reminded that he had yet to meet anyone half as magnetic as you. It was jarring, really, the way a split second meeting in the corridor could send his head reeling with adrenaline, and then the crushing dissatisfaction.
So, all things considered, it wasnât like Theo hadnât thought about it. Why, every now and then heâd be struck by a longing so intense that his heads would be filled with nothing but thoughts about it. About you. About you, and him, living out your days together, in some place that didnât yet exist.
But every time heâd daydream, heâd arrive at the same conclusion. There were just too many obstacles. Too many things that could go wrong. And if he did tell her, then what? What if she didn't feel the same? Even if she did, his family would never accept her. You would always be considered beneath, less than, and he could never condemn you to that sort of life.
But there was a burning underneath Theo's eyelids every time he closed his eyes. He didn't like the life he would be walking into. He missed the life he was leaving behind, however terrible it would be.
"Theo? Are you - "
Mattheo stuck his head into their dorm, his voice dying at his lips. In the center of the room was his best friend with his face glued to a...a fish tank? He shuffled in uncertainly, balancing Theo's lunch tray carefully.
"What d'you got there, mate?"
Theo stepped back, but his eyes still followed a stream of bubbles emanating from one of their mouths, mesmerised. "Fish."
"I see that." Mattheo hesitated. "Where'd you get the fish tank from?"
Theo waved, annoyed, like it hardly mattered.
"Look at the fish, Mattheo. They're staring at me." He stepped close once again, his nose flush with the glass. "Why are the fish staring at me? Do they always do that?"
Mattheo was at a loss for words.
ââŚwhere did the fish come from?â
Theo stepped back and gave Mattheo the dirtiest look he could manage with his sinuses this stopped up.
âOh, I see how it is. It's always, 'why is there a fish tank in our room' and 'did you steal fish from the Black Lake' and never 'wow, Theo, I really like what you've done with the room.'"
âYou stole fish from the Black Lake?â
Theo huffed irritably, as if that piece of information was of little consequence. He looked back at the tank, tracing the fish's path longingly.
"Do you think Y/N likes fish?" he wondered. Mattheo perked up, somehow even more alarmed now.
"Uh, I don't think Y/N would want this aquarium," he
Theo scoffed as he scooped up the tank with surprising strength. Mattheo raised his eyebrows. Just this morning, he was practically bedridden.
"Well," sniffled Theo indignantly, "shows what you know."
Mattheo watched Theo with a strained patience. Theo sniffled.
"It's nothing."
"Okay, Th-"
"You know nothing."
"Yeah, I got that."
Mildly peeved, he gently pried Theo's fingers off the aquarium. Mattheo glanced at the door helplessly, and then at the tank, and then at Theo's red, runny nose. He ran a hand through his hair distractedly.
"Fine. We'll give it to her. You...wait here. I'm going to go look for Blaise to, er, help us move it."
Blaise walked into the dorm, ready to toss his book bag away and knock out for the next three to four hours. Instead, he paused at the sight of Enzo standing thoughtfully at Theo's nightstand, a short distance away from a suspiciously well-maintained aquarium.
"What did you do now?" he asked wearily.
Enzo lifted an empty plastic bottle, the edges still rimmed with a tinge of pink.
"Theoâs cough syrup. Itâs almost finished."
Blaise frowned.
"How? He hates the thing."
They were interrupted by the muffled sound of rapid footsteps approaching. Mattheo burst in, chest heaving, hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Guys, guys, there you are. I...I think....Theo drank all of his cough syrup."
Mattheo straightened, his face still lightly flushed.
"As in, the entire bottle."
Enzo held up the empty bottle. "You mean this bottle?"
"Yes, yes, that's the one. And he got this aquarium from Merlin know where - "
"This aquarium?"
"Yes, exactly. And he was acting all loopy and - "
Mattheo paused and looked around the dorm room.
"Where's Theo?"
Blaise and Enzo gave him a look. Mattheo deflated.
"...he's gone, isn't he?"
"Yep."
Theo was sitting in the Great Hall, oblivious to the wide berth the other Slytherins were giving him - one of them was even glaring at him with his shirt pulled over his nose. No, he was occupied by a certain witch, listlessly pushing her rice and beans around with a fork. He hadn't seen you around lately, so he wasn't expecting to see you around today, but now he was glad of the whim that possessed him to drag himself down for lunch.
Unless, of course, he was dreaming. Theo watched you take a deep breath as you stared morosely at your plate. He frowned. Maybe it was the harsh lights of the hall washing you out, but your face looked a little pinched, and your movements were a little more sluggish than they typically were. Theo didn't think he would imagine you like that.
Before he realised what he was doing, Theo was climbing out of his seat and walking towards yours. As he neared, you glanced up and put your fork down.
"Theodore," you said, confused. Theo winced internally. It stung to hear you use his full name, so distant, so impersonal. Still, he was a little soothed by the worried crease between your eyebrows.
"Are you alright? Is everything okay?"
Theo opened his mouth to insist he was fine, never been better, when a terrible, inopportune coughing fit crawled up his throat. You winced as Theo hacked away, patting his arm, looking around over the top of his head.
"Oh, you poor thing. I think I saw Mattheo somewhere - "
"No." Theo grabbed your wrist with a feverish urgency.
"There's something I got to tell you, Y/N. I've got to tell you or I'm going to burst."
You looked alarmed.
"What?"
Theo licked his dry, cracked lips, searching for the right words.
"Life's short."
You sympathetically patted Theo's hand. "Okay, you're delirious." You craned your neck again. "Where is Mattheo? I swear, he was running around here just a second ago."
"No," Theo insisted. Your eyes snapped back to his.
"I have a point, I promise." Theo closed his eyes and thought hard.
"I meant, life's too short...to care about things that aren't worth caring about."
He opened his eyes and looked at you meaningfully. Unfortunately, you were still completely lost.
"Theo, how sick are you?"
Theo scowled.
"Who told you I was sick? Was it Mattheo? It was Mattheo, wasnât it? No, itâs okay, you donât have to protect him, just tell me. Or donât tell me. Just - just nod.â
Your gaze drifted from Theo's pajamas back to his face. You pressed the back of your hand to his clammy forehead. It took everything in his willpower not to lean into your touch. You pulled your hand away, concerned.
"Theo, youâre sick as a dog. Will you go to bed if I tuck you in?"
Theo gave a long exhale, trying to slow his hammering heart, which threatened to burst out of his chest.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," he said, after a too-long pause. "That's cool with me, I guess."
The corner of your mouth twitched. You abandoned your lunch and helped Theo back up the stairs. Whatever high that had possessed Theo to go up all those spinning, spiralling staircases was starting to come down. As you gently helped him back into bed, his weak muscles protesting the unexpected excursion, his head swam dangerously.
As Theo settled in, you pulled his covers up, taking a seat on his bed next to him. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, sneaking glances at each other as the weight of old memories pressed in on you. Up close, Theo could see the dark circles under your eyes, and the gaunt pallor to your face.
"Are you okay?"
You looked stunned.
"Wh - me? Yeah, I'm - of course I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
Theo's brow furrowed.
"I dunno. Just...you look a little pale."
You nervously laced your fingers together.
"Oh, you know. The weather."
"It's summer."
You hesitated.
"I've just been so busy with Head Girl work."
"Oh." Theo wondered why you were lying to him. "Okay."
He smoothed his sheets awkwardly, anything to fill the silence.
"Erm," he said after a while, "don't be too busy."
Maybe it was just a figment of his cough-syrup-addled imagination, but he could have sworn there was a fondness in the way you were looking at him.
"I try not to," you said quietly. You sighed.
"But sometimes it gets out of hand. Sometimes it's all I have to fill my days with."
"You can fill it with me."
You gave Theo a sidelong look.
"Your days, I mean," Theo hurriedly clarified. "Your life. You could fill your life with my company. Am I making sense?"
Theo shook his head.
"I think I've had too much cough syrup."
You eyed the near-empty syrup bottle on his nightstand worriedly.
"I'll say. Maybe lay off of it for today. Or the week."
"Yes, boss."
Your mouth pulled into a sudden smile, as if caught unawares. Making you laugh instantly made Theo feel lighter. That, and the way you were dragging your thumb across his knuckles. It soothed him.
"I miss this," you said after a beat.
"Miss what?"
Your head was bowed, hidden from Theo as you watched the patterns your thumb traced on the back of his hand.
"You know. Your company," you said, with a teasing smile. "JustâŚtalking to you." You rolled your eyes half heartedly.
"I mean, you probably donât remember, but we used to talk all the time."
It was a good thing Theo was already lying down. And that you didn't see the way he was gawking at you.
"I remember," he choked out with a forced casualness. I think about it all the time, Theo wanted to say. I think about how every second away from you is one less second I get to spend laughing, talking, and sitting with you.
Your eyes wandered around his dorm room, at the books and knick-knacks strewn all around, your eyes settling on its newest addition.
"That's some aquarium you got there."
"Do you like it?" Theo asked hopefully, in a strained voice. But before he could offer it to you, the door flew open. You jumped up, pulling your hands out of Theo's, much to his disappointment.
"Oh, look at that," Blaise said dryly, tossing his keys on the mantel, "Theo's here. Just like I said he would be."
Blaise glanced at you, as if having only just noticed you.
"Oh. Hi, Y/N," he said warmly. "How're you doing?"
"Good. Great. I was just - " You gestured towards the door awkwardly. You shuffled past the rest of Theo's roommates as they filed in. They mumbled a couple of greetings, and you waved them off. You put your hand on the doorknob, looking in one last time.
"Well, nice seeing you all," you said. Your eyes met Theo's.
"Feel better soon, Theo."
"You too," Theo said, somewhat stupidly. Your lips quirked at that.
"I already do."
You turned and left, the boys listening to your footsteps fade away. Blaise pulled his coat off.
âAnyway, Iâm not going to say I told you so, but - "
Blaise yelped as he got shoved down the dormitory stairs. Theo helpfully threw a pillow after him.
He turned to his roommates, clearing his throat.
"So, what'd I miss?"
bonus
Theo woke with a start to a knife-like pain searing his throat. He tried his best to stifle the coughing fit that was taking over.
Theo blinked, sobered, painfully aware of every ache, every pain in his body. Turning onto his side, his mind slowly sifted through the syrupy, unreal memories of the day. Of seeing you. Of meeting you. Of making an absolute fool of himself in front of you.
Of letting you slip through his fingers once again.
The misery was inescapable now in the dead of the night, alone, while the rest of his roommates were blissfully asleep. The desire, the want, the ache that the cough syrup had dulled returned in full force. He took in a shuddering breath, and there it was again - that tickle in his throat, forcing itself out. He coughed weakly, as if his body didn't have the strength to manage a proper one.
His eyes wandered to his nightstand, where his new bottle of cough syrup stood. With a considerable effort, Theo slowly sat himself up. He reached for the bottle and, with trembling hands, poured himself another dose.
Just one more spoon of cough syrup. One more spoon couldn't hurt.
