#edgar003

[t-edwardtonks]

@edgxrbxnxs

Ted had been struggling through his classes, barely able to pay attention with his mind distracted by the prospect of dueling Joseph Mulciber. He knew this was going to be ugly, especially since Ted really had no clue what to do in a duel other than maybe some of the basics he had read about in theory. He was going to need help if he wanted to stand a chance of surviving this encounter. He was also going to need a second. Ted was fairly certain he would find both in Edgar. 

Once classes were finished, Ted rushed his way to the library where he had arranged to meet Edgar. He was sure his friend would know how urgent it was as Ted’s face probably gave him away. He was always terrible at keeping a straight face. He paced outside of the library anxiously, pondering how bad this could really be and feeling more and more discouraged by the moment. He was pulled out of his spiral of despair, however, when he saw Edgar approaching and breathed a sigh of relief. “Ed, I need your help. I think I did something stupid.” 

[surreptituant]

He was seventeen minutes late coming home yesterday. 

In the span of the universe seventeen minutes it a blip- nothing of consequence. However in my universe, Edgar being seventeen minutes late meant seventeen minutes of harrowing silence as i tapped my stirring rod against my cauldron until even I couldn’t bear to hear it any longer. I can set my watch to the moment he walks through the door, though not yesterday. 

I hate that I am eager for him, I hate that I miss him. Even when he leaves a room I am struck with the irrational fear that I am the one who sent him away. He would be too kind to ever tell me to my face, but one knows these sorts of things. Kindness. One could never accuse Edgar of being unkind. 

And yet it is this kindness that forces my heart to beat erratically and bring me to a cold sweat. Me, queen of the acid tongue, the seemingly most bitter person in the entirety of London, mooning over a boy with words like spun sugar. Mooning isn’t even the right term- how inconsequential. Imagine me, mooning around a boy like a sodding fifth year. This is so much more. 

And perhaps that is why it hurts so deeply, when he leaves or turns from me. If this were nothing but a crush I would’ve eventually moved on. I would’ve had a good cry after hearing him with Gwen and moved forward, eventually pushing myself towards Jude. But I didn’t, and if I had too I probably couldn’t. 

I love him. 

And I wonder every moment of every day if I actually do- I’ve got no prior experience with this sort of thing, and yet it feels instinctual. I wake up with him curled against me in bed, and though I know it is merely that I am a heat source for him in his unconscious state, I can’t help but bask in feeling of his skin before I move away so that he wakes up alone. The way his eyes crinkle when he laughs at something makes me feel as if my teeth are filled with cavities from its sweetness. He is radiant, radiant sunshine and I am hiding in my shadows, hoping that he doesn’t see me too clearly. 

It is the most wonderful feeling to be in love. 

It is also the most miserable. 

I am regretfully counting down the minutes until I can be free of this apartment, praying that he will keep me here forever but knowing that for my own sanity I need to breathe air that is clean of Edgar Bones. What a tragedy it is to be in love with someone who could never love you back.