It was a relief that there hadn’t been a formal quidditch practice the day after the worst quidditch match of Cal’s life. Cal didn’t think he could have dealt with facing everyone, though the lack of practice hadn’t stopped him from getting out on the pitch. He woke up earlier than normal, left a note for the kids, and took to the pitch at the crack of dawn, relieved he’d beaten any of him teammates out there. He felt a little more grounded after talking with Galvin and then talking to Mac again, reassuring him he wasn’t angry with him, that Mac could talk to him, that Cal was here to help however he could, even though it was clear there was very little he could actually do. Though it was still a little concerning how talking with Galvin had helped, he tried to remember his conversation with Mac, that he had Mac’s blessing, and he knew he had Ian’s too, given that he’d let Galvin into the house in the first place. Cal had no doubt that Ian had already known exactly who Galvin was.
Cal did his best to shake off all those thoughts as he flew after a practice snitch, determined not to leave the pitch until he’d caught it at least five times. Theo and Jamie showed up together about halfway through Cal’s practice, and he was beyond appreciative of the way they just greeted him like normal and took to one side of the pitch to practice together. The whole team, with Jamie and Theo taking the lead, had made a point yesterday of assuring him they weren’t angry, that they were behind him, and while it meant a lot it wasn’t a conversation Cal wanted to rehash. He just wanted to never play that shit again. Especially not with everything their team had gone through this season, between the opening match attack that nearly killed Freddie, Sturgis going missing and coming back with part of himself missing, and Cene’s injury that kept him out for too much of the season. What was Cal’s excuse for playing like shit? It was his brother, it was what happened with Galvin, it was the weight of everything on his shoulders—but none of that felt like a good enough reason compared to everything the team had been through. Cal just needed to get his damn head on straight and not play that shit again. He couldn’t afford to. The kids needed him. His team needed him.
And so he flew until he managed to forget all of that, until it was just him and the sky and the snitch and he caught it enough times that he felt like maybe, hopefully, he’d shaked off whatever shit was getting in his way. He hoped he had. At least he felt more ready to face the real practice with the whole team tomorrow. He waved to Jamie and Theo, and to Cene and Oli who’d shown up partway through Cal’s practice, which had been nice to give him some bludgers to dodge while practicing, and then cleaned up before disapparating not home, but to Al’s.
Cal was not looking forward to facing Al after that disaster of a match, but he’d made plans to join Al for tea a week ago and Cal wasn’t going to bail on them. Al had done too much for them for Cal to do that. If Al was disappointed, which he surely was because Cal had been the opposite of a good advertisement for the Comet yesterday morning, Cal would just have to go face it. Face it and hope one rubbish game wasn’t enough to make Al feel like he’d wasted years of investments into Cal’s playing, into making Cal his lead spokesperson. Rationally, Cal knew that probably wouldn’t be the case. But he still felt like he’d let Al down in a major way. Nothing to do for it now but face Al’s disappointment, so Cal braced himself as he arrived in front of Al’s front door and knocked.
Maybe Cal shouldn’t have been so surprised when Al greeted him as he always did, calling Cal his dear boy and giving him a warm handshake and a squeeze of the arm, acting as pleased to see Cal as he always seemed to be. Surely he wasn’t, though. Not today. Not after yesterday. Cal had let so many people down and it felt like maybe he’d let Al down more than anyone. At least when it came to quidditch. He was still very aware of all the ways he’d let Mac down, and Ian. “Hi, Al,” Cal greeted him with a tired voice and a strained smile. He wasn’t quite as good at faking it with Al as he used to be, or more likely he’d never been that good at it. But he took the opportunity to try to collect himself a little more when Al was distracted talking to his house elf. “Some water would be great, thanks,” he told Al with a slightly less strained smile when he turned back to Cal. Cal thanked the house elf when it brought him a nice glass of water and then followed Al out to his outdoor dining room. Cal still wasn’t used to how nice Al’s place was, or how huge it was. He probably never would be, even though he was pretty sure he knew his way around the entire place at this point.
It wasn’t a surprise when they sat down and Al immediately asked about the kids. Al always asked about the kids. But today the question felt heavier, weighted down by Cal’s performance the day before. Of course Al would know it was because of the kids. Cal’s whole body tensed as he looked around the garden, anywhere but at Al. “They’re fine,” he answered in a voice he knew was way too tense for Al to actually believe him. “It’s—…I’m dealing with it,” he added, even though there wasn’t much for him to deal with. Mac was stuck and Cal couldn’t help him and even if he told Al, Al couldn’t help him either. Not that it was Al’s problem. Al had taken on enough of the Fletchers’ problems as it was. Too many of them. Cal still didn’t see what Al got out of it, especially now Cal was fucking up quidditch. “What happened yesterday won’t happen again,” he added, because he still figured that was Al’s primary concern.
It was clear from the start that Cal was still reeling from yesterday’s game. Al wished, not for the first time with Cal, that he could offer some comfort. Ease Cal’s burdens a little. He carried far too much weight on his shoulders for someone his age. Al would love to see Cal do something for himself. Maybe even date a little. Hogwarts had given him some time to himself, and he’d gained a friend out of it. Wil seemed just the sort of mate Cal needed. A good head on his shoulders but carefree like boys of their age should be. Never mind that at Cal’s age Al had still been working away building what he had now. Al’s childhood might not have been comfortable after his father died but it had been much more of a childhood then Cal’s. For now all he could do was not comment on Cal’s clear strain. Usually it was best to let Cal open up, if you could call it that, to him.
Not that Al wasn’t going to attempt to nudge the conversation there though. Then again asking about the children was routine. And Al truly liked to hear how they were doing. It brought him nothing but joy the way the three youngest would tell him even the minute details of their lives. Bash with something interesting that had happened in class or on the quidditch pitch, Sadie always had plenty to say about her mates despite Al not having met any, and Rosie was the same. He’d have liked if the older three were like that but they were understandably more guarded. More of their childhood wasted. While he never got that level of detail about the kids’ lives from Cal he usually got something. Today’s answer let him know yesterday had been the result of something going on with the children. Cal’s follow up did not sound good. Al had to restrain his concern. Offer up far less than he would like to. “If you need anything…or just a friendly old man to listen, perhaps I could be of service.” Al hoped it had nothing to do with the children’s mother. She was so unfit to be a mother. Unfit at anything it seemed. His neutral face he’d forced when Cal answered about the children moved into a frown at the last thing Cal said. “My dear boy, you mustn’t let yesterday’s match bother you excessively. What happens off the pitch can alter what happens on, but it’s not the ending of the world. You think every broom I’ve ever made flew straight? If only! Yesterday was not so good. But you are still very good. Which will be true no matter how many not so good days you have. I am just thankful that you were unhurt.” Something that felt more substantial after the horribleness of opening day. Al had felt so thankful that none of the children had been injured that day. (x) (x)
