|
Post by tristramblake on Dec 10, 2008 7:01:46 GMT 1
Tristram Blake thought he might be dead. Certainly, he couldn’t still be alive, because what he was doing was something that the Tristram Blake who had been alive a few scant hours ago would never be doing. It felt like hell, but there was something good about it, something that tinged it with hope and happiness the like of which Tristram had never felt before. Perhaps this was purgatory, then, and he was being tested. And he didn’t know if what he was about to do would meant he passed or failed.
Things had started out badly as it was. It was the Hallowe’en ball, and as much as he’d wanted to stay hidden in his office, deep in his research, he knew, partially because Professor Grey had constantly reminded him, that it was his duty as a Hogwarts professor to attend the ball and supervise the students. And it was also Professor Grey that had insisted he wear a costume, as it was a masquerade ball. And so, he had ended up stood at the edge of the great hall in an artistic red costume, a bone coloured mask covering the top of his face - not before he has thoroughly scourgifyed the whole outfit, of course - feeling distinctly uncomfortable and wishing he could leave.
His social phobia was under control, however, as no one had approached him. That was, until he’d caught sight of Ryan Robins. The memories of his ordeal with Ryan - both of them - flared up painfully in his mind, making his chest tight. He could barely remember either of them, partially because of the circumstances they’d occurred under, partially because his brain was desperately trying to repress them, he guessed, but what he could remember was enough to have him crying himself to sleep and constantly casting scourgify charms on himself, till his skin was almost electric from the magic. And then when that wasn’t enough, he resorted to hard soap and cold water, scrubbing himself all over, his skin row and still buzzing with leftover magic, keeping him up at night, as if thoughts of Ryan weren’t hard enough.
Tristram had wished he were dead so many times over the past few days. The pain of the memories, and the way they made him feel was almost too much to bear. But the more he threw himself into his research, the more he blocked it out, the number he became, until the only time they haunted him was at night.
That was, up until he’d seen Ryan again at the ball. He’d only caught a glimpse of him, but that had been enough. And the worst part was the shirt he was wearing - a wide collar, showing off his pale collarbones. Which were sporting several dark purplish bruises. And Tristram was all to aware of how they’d come to be there. His reflexes kicked in, and he’d almost had a panic attack on the spot. But then Ryan was gone from his sight again, and he was able to pull his chaotic mind together - enough to stop himself form fainting, at least.
But after that he’d been on edge, constantly worrying, twitching at the slightest noise. And he’d been right to be worried, because it hadn’t been long before something even more disastrous, more terrible than he could possibly imagine happened.
Ryan kissed him.
He hadn’t even noticed the boy creep up on him, but the next thing he knew he was being spun round be the shoulder and hot lips were pressed fervently against his own. It was over in a few seconds, and Tristram was almost too dazed to recognise the smirking face in front of him before the boy sauntered away. The next moment he was half collapsed, lent against the wall for support as waves of panic and nausea washed over him. He could feel his vision blurring and his breaths getting shallower and shallower, but his mind was abuzz with thoughts of Ryan, and he couldn’t tell if that was making his state better or worse. It was a small consolation that he was in fairly dark corner of the room, away from the prying eyes of the students and other teachers. At least he could be fairly sure they hadn’t seen what had happened, and wouldn’t see him now, but he couldn’t be sure, and it did little to abate his paranoia.
He didn’t know how long he’d been like that, half conscious, clutching the wooden panels for the wall for dear life, but eventually his terror abated, and he was left with only one thought - He needed to see Ryan. He didn’t understand it, why he felt the need to be near the object that terrified him so much, but no matter how much he fought against it or tired to comprehend it, it was still the truth. He needed to see Ryan, to talk to him. Not to touch him or hold him or kiss him, or anything that might be running through a normal person head, but he just wanted - no, needed - to be around Ryan.
Steadying himself, Tristram searched the great hall. He couldn’t see the boy, though the light was dim, and he couldn’t be sure that Ryan wasn’t there somewhere, just hidden out of view somehow. As fast as eh dared, he began moving, starting to circulate the room, looking for the boy. His eyes darted to the door just as someone passed through it, and in an instant he was sure it was Ryan. Hurrying over, he left the room, chasing after the boy who was already disappearing down a corridor from the Entrance Hall. “Ryan!” He called, amazed that his voice worked at all, and wondering desperately what he was going to say.
[OOC - I know it technically takes place in a corridor, not the entrance hall, but I didn't know where else to put it XD]
|
|
|
Post by ryan on Dec 12, 2008 2:36:08 GMT 1
Ryan had shown up at the ball with Toby. They had jokingly called it a date though they both knew that they weren't each others perfect date. That..if they had their way, they'd both be ending the night in someone else's arms. The Slytherin had grudgingly admitted that yes, he did have feelings for Tristram Blake. He'd tried hitting Toby when the boy had suggested it, claiming that it wasn't true, that it couldn't be, look at him, he was old and a teacher and...But when push came to shove, yes, he did care. No matter how hard he tried to tell himself and others that it wasn't true, it was. Ryan had fallen for the worst person imagineable.
And in a way, the best person. Because even though he didn't like to admit it, Ryan was scared of love. His experiences hadn't been the best and he was more used to shallow things than this one thing that people claimed was so good. Sure, he knew love, love for his friends, love for his parents, but he'd never trusted anyone enough to take that final step, that leap that others promised wasn't so scary at all. Ryan also knew, at this moment in time, that that was just another load of bullshit. It was fucking terrifying. Suddenly he found himself wondering what to wear, how to act, whether to say hi or ignore him in public. He found himself wanting to know what the other thought of him, whether or not he was thinking of him when they were apart. It wasn't just scary, it was time-consuming and frustrating. It was messing with his already messed up sleeping rhythm, leaving him to stare at his ceiling for hours, replaying every memory of their last time together. It made him want to search him out inbetween classes, casually pass by his office. He even had tried failing another essay so he'd see him again.
All in all it was a very tiring process and he was thankful that the ball meant being able to hide those bags under his eyes. When he was getting dressed he'd decided in his own royal way to not give a shit about the marks on his collar bone. Some people would know that Dominique hadn't left them, but what did he care? They had nothing on him to prove that it had been Tristram Blake. Nothing.
That was, until Iris waltzed in and snogged his man on the dance floor. By that time, Ryan had been near the exit, on the look-out for Toby who had decided that some frisky action with Josh was in order. He felt jealous and frustrated at the fact that Tristram hadn't paid him a single glance. He was arguing with himself, telling himself that he really should have known. The only reason the man had even talked to him, touched him, was because Ry had once again made a mistake. Both their encounters were because he was a fucked up teenager. They had nothing to do with love, he'd only been fooling himself into believing that. That he was worth it. That maybe, he could finally have something real. This wasn't real. It was anything but real and he was delusional if he thought it would ever be different.
His thoughts weren't doing anything to brighten his mood and after a short glance at the dance floor, he decided to head back to his Common Room. The Slytherin was in a foul mood, too sober and too upset to be of any use tonight. What he wanted right now was to be alone, to smoke a cigarette and pretend that he was too good for such frivolity, that he wouldn't spend his valuable time dancing and laughing and trying to find someone to bed for the night. He was above that now. What good would it do to find some unnamed boy or girl, taking pleasure in their body and knowing that nothing would even come close to what those little kisses had done?
It was so ironic that the one man who made Ryan Robins want to be faithful was the one man that didn't want to be his lover in the first place.
When he slipped out of the Great Hall, pleased by the fact that nobody had apparently noticed his disappearance, he was unaware of the little stunt Iris had just pulled. Unaware of what turmoil it caused, both with the students and with the man his thoughts circled around. He was unaware of anything up until his name was called, in a voice that made him shiver. A voice that had been haunting his sleepless nights every night. It made him groan in frustration, turning around with narrowed eyes. "What?" He was in no mood to play tonight.
|
|
|
Post by tristramblake on Dec 12, 2008 19:29:45 GMT 1
Tristram practically quailed when Ryan turned to look at him with hard eyes. Would it have been different if the boy had smiled at him? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything any more. Why was he standing there, chasing his student, with pretensions of- what, exactly? Why had he done it, why had he hunted Ryan down? When he’d been caught up in looking for the boy he hadn’t have to give a second thought as to what he was going to do when he actually found him, but now he was at a complete loss.
But the “what” wasn’t really what was bothering him - it was the “why”. Ryan was his student, but they’d now shared three entirely inappropriate encounters, that had left Triss sweating and shaking and loathing himself, unable to sleep or eat or even think properly. Ryan had done that to him, so why was he now seeking him out?
“I-” He stammered, one hand shooting out to clutch at the wall as he was hit with a sudden shock of dizziness and nausea. It was amazing, really, that his anxiety responses hadn’t kicked in earlier, but now he was fighting with them, as every atom of his being wanted to flee, get away from that situation, and tare him apart in the process.
[OOC - argh, I don’t know how this post ended up so short and crap >.< sorry!]
|
|
|
Post by ryan on Dec 12, 2008 20:10:44 GMT 1
As much as Ryan was trying to be cold and careless, he couldn’t. Not when the man looked so positively dishevelled. Three encounters, though he only knew of two. If he’d known, maybe he would have responded differently, maybe he would have run off, but he didn’t. Because he figured, perhaps Tristram really wanted to see him too. Maybe...He shook his head quickly, albeit almost unnoticeably. Two encounters, and both times Professor Blake had fainted or slipped out of consciousness. He would take it as a compliment if he wasn’t so damn sure it was meant to be insulting.
When the older male reached out to lean against the wall, Ryan bit at his bottom lip, taking a few careful steps in his direction. He was once again focused on the proper façade, not wanting anyone to see what was going on between them. What if Tristram got fired because of him? What if they thought he was a paedophile? He was only sixteen after all, and the other was officially in a place of power. Hah. They would see what they wanted to see, and Ryan couldn’t risk that. Couldn’t risk leaving him, him leaving. He’d be miserable, no matter how hard he tried not to think about that.
”Professor?” His voice was a bit too timid, a little too soft as he crossed the distance in a few hesitant strides. ”Are you alright, sir?” There was a part of him, a rather large part that begged to be kissed again, to be held and touched the way he had been held and touched that evening. To have that feeling of calm again. When Tristram had kissed him, everything went quiet, and he longed for that feeling back. ”Do you want to go outside for a bit of fresh air?” Being so close did funny things to his brain, but he tried to remind himself that it wasn’t supposed to be. That he’d made up someone who didn’t exist. That the real truth, the real Professor Blake, didn’t want him.
|
|
|
Post by tristramblake on Dec 15, 2008 2:42:10 GMT 1
Tristrams mind was all but collapsing in on itself, and yet that was better than it actually functioning properly. Every time he thought about the situation he was in, about Ryan, it just made it worse, like a giant hand was tightening around his chest, crushing his ribs and stopping him from breathing. It hurt, it actually hurt to think about the boy who was even that that very moment waking towards him. His OCD and social phobia where still there, whish Ryan wasn’t quite so close, but that was nothing compared to what just thinking about him did.
“I-” He stammered again, his eyelids fluttering, almost completely shut. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying, but talking was better than thinking. But Ryan calling him Professor cut through all that like ice. That was normal, ordinary, the way it was supposed to be. Ryan was the student, he was the teacher. It was fine. He nodded his assent, trying to be aloof, detached, the way a teacher should be with his student, and failing miserably, given how he was still half collapsed against a wall with his eyes shut.
As slowly and steadily as he could, he attempted to push himself to standing. Fresh air was defiantly a good idea, even if Ryan was going to be there. He was steadily convincing himself that they had a normal student/teacher relationship, though, and was concentrating on trying to stop himself sinking deeper into panic. If he got outside, cleared his head, then maybe everything would be fine.
|
|
|
Post by ryan on Dec 15, 2008 21:52:43 GMT 1
Ryan followed Tristram, making sure not to touch him as he let the other lead the way. His eyes were focused on the floor, on his feet that dragged him to something he wasn’t sure he wanted to face. The man, his Professor, looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, with anyone as long as it wasn’t him. He doubted for a moment, torn between getting someone else, some other teacher to help him out, but he had specifically called out for him.
Closing the door behind them, he walked down the few steps, sitting down on the bottom one. It was cold out, the wind whipping harshly at his costume, but it helped. Feeling cold on the outside helped ignoring how he felt inwardly. Ryan tore off the mask, rubbing at his face furiously. Merlin, he could be such a fool. The fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about Tristram didn’t mean that it was the other way around. And if it was, the older male was most likely wondering how to address this awkward situation that he’d been responsible for.
”Do you...want me to find someone to stay with you for a while?” His voice was unsure, fingers fumbling to play with a cigarette. It was stupid that he reconsidered smoking it, because there was no way in hell that Professor Tristram Blake was going to kiss him. Ever. The man wasn’t drugged now, he wasn’t panicking (though he looked close), nor was he thrust into a situation that he couldn’t walk away from. So really, there was no reason for him to expect anything. As much as it hurt Ryan to admit that to himself, it was the best thing to do. Kill his emotions before they really evolved into anything substantial.
|
|
|
Post by tristramblake on Dec 19, 2008 15:02:20 GMT 1
The cold air hit Tristram like a smack to the face. It was just what he needed, a shock, to snap him out of his negative spiral. It didn’t quite alleviate the panic, but it was helping him to rationalise. He walked quickly down the stone steps outside the school and out a little way onto the lawn, stopping and taking a few deep breaths. He could do this. He could cope, even if Ryan was just there. In fact, it was a good thing Ryan was just there. This was a controlled situation, and he was the one in control. And Ryan was, somehow, part of that control.
But he couldn’t talk, not quite yet. He needed too, that was for sure. He needed to tell Ryan- he didn’t know, something. That he cared for him, at least. It scared him more than he could imagine, caring for the boy, and being prepared to admit it. But that was okay, wasn’t it? As a teacher, he was allowed to care for a student, wasn’t he? That could be professional, couldn’t it? If he had no compassion for his students, why, how would he teach them then? This was fine, this was normal.
He spun round when Ryan spoke, half surprised at the noise, half in horror at what the boy had said “no, no” He said hurriedly, not wanting to upset the balance of the control he was just beginning to establish. “No, stay” He gestured with his hand, as if that would some how give his command more effect. Ryan couldn’t leave, he needed him there. It was a shock, the realisation, and his eyed widened slightly as it dawned on him. He needed Ryan, needed to be around him. Needed him to keep his distance, too, but there was no change there. He whimpered a little - it was all too much to bare - but he couldn’t tear his eyes way from the boy he was, though he could bared admit it to himself, infatuated with.
|
|
|
Post by ryan on Dec 19, 2008 15:41:18 GMT 1
“No, stay”
The words sounded rushed, yet Ryan didn’t question them. He figured that, most likely, the man was afraid to be left alone, afraid that something would happen. He didn’t know what, though. Maybe he was on the verge of a panic attack. The Slytherin thought back on the quiet yet fearful voice Professor Blake had spoken in that one time in the broom closet. But they were outside now, he wasn’t locked up. Why would he need him here? What could possibly be so important that he needed to stay?
The boy didn’t want to think on it too much, afraid that he’d find something to rekindle hope. It would be stupid, to start hoping that anything could happen. Tristram wanted him to stay away – if he had wanted to be close, he wouldn’t have walked away from him, he would have sat down next to him. Something. Anything. There was no hope. Maybe in some weird way, Professor Blake cared about him, but that was just because he was his student. Because they had been working on Arithmancy together. He had been doing well lately. Getting good marks, not outstanding ones, but he wasn’t failing anymore.
Maybe...Maybe Professor Blake was going to tell him that he didn’t need tutoring any longer. That he had talked to Professor Grey and they had decided he would do just fine now. That regular classes should be enough to keep him at a passing grade. Ryan felt like curling up into a little ball at that thought, wrapping arms around his knees and staring at the ground. He didn’t want to see him anymore, was that it? After that kiss he had decided that Ryan was beyond helping? That it would never just be a student/teacher relationship and that it was best to keep him at a distance. He bit his lip, keeping tears at bay. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t make a big deal of it. He wouldn’t care.
|
|
|
Post by tristramblake on Dec 22, 2008 20:42:32 GMT 1
Tristram focused on taking slow, even breaths. It was the only thing he could focus on, really, if he didn’t want to spark off another panic attack. He was liable to have one anyway, he didn’t want to aggravate the situation - he’d managed to hold it off so far, which was, well, good, frankly. He’d never really been able to keep them at bay for more than a few seconds, but the strange sense of control he had over this situation was helping. He wondered briefly what was causing it, whey he’d never managed to cope like this before - perhaps he was getting better, finally managing to overcome his anxiety disorders. Or maybe it was just a fluke and would never happen again. Maybe it was only happening because some part of him knew that this was important.
Ryan hadn’t said anything, but he was still sat there, motionless. It was probably easier that way - Triss might actually be able to say what he wanted to - but it was going to get a whole lot harder when Ryan started talking, arguing back, which no doubt he would, or, worse, if he tried to leave. Tristram risked a glance at the boy, but he was still sat where he had been, on the stone steps, almost entirely motionless. He took a deep breath, preparing himself somehow, but he had to turn his eyes away, back to the ground by his feet before he could speak.
“You c-can’t k-k-kiss me any m-more”
|
|
|
Post by ryan on Dec 22, 2008 20:58:08 GMT 1
“You c-can’t k-k-kiss me any m-more”
Ryan had been taking slow, steady breaths, trying to remain calm and not freak out, or worse, leave before Tristram said anything else. But what was there to say? The man really had said it all in that quiet phrase and left the Slytherin with little to reply. Sure, he could argue that in all reality, the older male had kissed him, rather than the other way around. Yeah, it had been his fault, but still. He hadn’t initiated the kiss, he had even tried to leave and keep things simple.
And then he could ask why, but he knew the answer to that already. It was wrong, it was against the rules, it was stupid. And also, Professor Blake didn’t want him. That much was obvious. The boy, who really felt like nothing but a boy now, numbly took a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and taking a long drag. Though he made sure not to blow the smoke in the others direction, he tasted the bitter taste of rejection on his tongue. Ryan took a few drags from it, letting the smoke linger in his lungs until it became painful.
”That wasn’t me” His voice was calm, there was much more to his words than what was said. It hadn’t been him. He wasn’t that student that everyone thought he was. There was more to him, and that was exactly what scared him. That Tristram Blake brought it out in him.
|
|