Don't Give The Ghost Up [Ball] [Ryan]

[tristramblake]

After his sudden moment of bravery, Tristram was trying incredibly hard not to hyperventilate. He needed to do this, get everything sorted out, or it would haunt him for the rest of his life. Still, his nice little collection of anxiety disorders weren’t keen on him doing that. Tristram could feel himself shaking, his whole body trembling like a leaf, as if at any moment me might just blow away. But he needed to do this - never before in his life had he fought against the disorders that ruled him so fiercely.

He liked Ryan. Ryan was a good person, a wonderful person, someone he cared about more than he’d cared about anyone before, and he needed to protect him. Yes, that was it, he thought, his mind latching onto the idea in an instant. He needed to take care of Ryan, make sure the boy was alright, always, and he couldn’t allow anything- anything like that to happen between them again, for Ryan’s sake as much as his own.

It was that resolve that made him speak out when Ryan lit up a cigarette. “You shouldn’t smoke” He murmured, not quite able to look at the boy in front of him. Ryan still hadn’t made any response to his comment about kissing, and Tristram was feeling more that a little worried. What if-? His mind raced through the possibility, each one less likely and more terrifying than the last, so that when Ryan finally spoke Tristram’s head was already a mess. “W-what?” He asked, confused a little dizzy. Of course Ryan had kissed him? Unless… and his mind was off chasing through the possibilities again as his heart rate thundered to keep up.

[ryan]

Ryan disregarded the comment about smoking. Tristram wasn’t in any position to tell him what to do. He was sixteen, could legally get cigarettes anywhere in Britain, and they were outside on Hogwarts grounds. Had he been in a classroom, it would be different, but they weren’t and he was allowed to smoke. And Merlin, he needed to.

The man stayed quiet for a moment after his words, then choking out a w-what that almost made him want to smile wryly. Why did every conversation have to be this difficult? It wasn’t like they were touching upon topics that needed to be discussed. Both of them knew the kiss couldn’t have happened, shouldn’t have, but it had. And it was as much Tristrams fault as it was his.

With a sigh, Ryan took another drag from the cigarette, glancing at the trembling man for a moment. ”That wasn’t me” He repeated softly, looking at the embers that slowly fell from the fag in his hand. ”I’m not the kind of student who goes around kissing everyone for a better grade.” It sounded almost defensive, which was stupid considering the fact that Professor Blake didn’t even teach a subject. ”It means...meant something to me.”

Looking up at the man properly, Ryan dropped the cigarette, killing the fire with his shoe. ”And I don’t see why you would ask me not to do it again when you were the one initiating it. I haven’t done anything since.” He ran fingers through his hair, the smoke slowly dissolving into the crisp October air. He honestly didn’t understand why Tristram would bring this up like he was the one being a whore. It was so ironic, when the older male was about the only one that didn’t make him feel like that.

[tristramblake]

Had he not been completely petrified, Tristram may have been a little riled that Ryan ignored his comment about the cigarette. He was a teacher, damn it, and his authority should be respected. He doubted, however, that Ryan would ever respect him, not the way a student should respect a teacher. It should probably worry him more. At least smoking didn’t set off any of his disorders, he supposed, so it was just his lungs that were in danger.

Tristram’s brow crinkled as Ryan repeated the phrase he had just used, still not understanding, but the flew back up again in shock when the boy continued. Even the talk of kissing was making Triss feel weak, and he was already starting to shake, but when Ryan talked about meaning he felt totally lost. “It m-meant something to you?” He repeated, not comprehending at all. He felt so stupid, constantly having to ask Ryan to explain himself, and a warm blush spread across his cheek despite the cold air. To say he wasn’t exactly experienced in this aria was putting it mildly, but for some inexplicable reason, some part of him suddenly wanted to be.

His feeling of inexperience only intensified when Ryan spoke next. Initiating? Of course, he knew what the word meant in the traditional sense, but in terms of - he blushed harder as he thought of it - physical relationships, did it still have the same meaning? Ryan was the one who’s just walked over and kissed him, so maybe he’d given off some unconscious ‘initiation’ signal. He blanched, wondering what on earth he could have done, whether he might do it again without realising.

“There’s hardly been any time since” He mumbled, his mind still on the kiss, but as he said it, it struck him. Ryan just said he hadn’t done anything since, the ‘since’ only amounting to about 10 minutes - did that mean he was about to do it again? Tristram shook harder, horrified - not only at the thought of it happening again, but that part of him; a tiny, almost inaudible part of him, that was being smothered by his already panicking disorders and that strong, nearly unbreakable sense of teacherly duty - one tiny part of him was pleased by the thought that Ryan might kiss him again.

[ryan]

Ryan bit his bottom lip when Tristram repeated his statement about it meaning something. He felt stupid having said it and even worse that the man wanted him to elaborate on it. What was there to say? It had been special. He had never been kissed in that way, by someone who didn’t want anything but that simple kiss. There hadn’t been any expectations, The Slytherin hadn’t felt forced to be anyone other than who he was. Running fingers through his hair, he sighed, looking pointedly at anything but the older male. ”I’m not a whore” His voice sounded slightly higher than usual, a sure sign that he was upset by the thought that even Professor Blake saw him the way he saw himself.

”I wouldn’t..I don’t...” Merlin, what should he say? The truth was so painful, so humiliating. And yet he knew that if he didn’t say it now, he never would. It’d be back to avoiding each other, being awkward and never getting to anything. ”It might not have meant a whole lot to you, considering that you were drugged, but it did to me. I know that it shouldn’t, but it did. That kiss...it was nice, and it made me feel...” He had to take a deep breath, voice quiet as he finished the sentence. ”happy”.

His brain was racing at all the sensations, all the feelings that soared through him. It was too much. He wanted it to go away. He wanted Tristram to go away, though at the same time he was dead afraid of being left alone again. Ryan buried his face in his hands, though it was lifted soon enough when he actually registered what the man had said. Not a whole lot of time had passed since the kiss? His eyebrows knitted together in confusion, the boy looking up at his Professor. ”What do you mean? It’s been two weeks!” That might not be a hell of a lot of time for someone who was twenty four, but it was a whole damn lot for the sixteen year old.

[tristramblake]

Tristram’s expression was wavering between confusion and shock as Ryan started talking again. He didn’t understand why the boy felt the need to tell him he wasn’t a, well, a whore - but just hearing the word made Tristram’s eyes open wider, scandalised not only by the implications, but by the way Ryan was running his hand through his hair - it was making him feel- well, he wasn’t sure how it was making him feel. It was like nervousness, but it a warm, juddery way.

Thankfully, he wasn’t given any more time to contemplate what on earth this new feeling might be, because Ryan was still talking, stumbling over his words. In that instant, Tristram’s heart went out to his student. He recognised in that split second his own ineptitude at expressing what he himself couldn’t even work out, and he ached all over with sympathy for the boy in front of him. Why couldn’t the world still centre around those ancient symbols he was so familiar with? Simple curving lines - pure meaning, fact, truth. They were so much easier to understand than the complicated, fickle words of the English language.

However, it didn’t look like Tristram as going to get the chance to reduce himself down to a series of simple shapes, not after what Ryan had just said to him “I make you happy?” Tristram breathed, before he’d even thought about what he was saying. He hadn’t thought about it before, what with how hard he’d been trying to force Ryan from his mind, but that was it, wasn’t it? Ryan made him happy. Unfortunately, he had other side effects, like causing every inch of his skin to be overcome by his anxiety disorders, but a tiny part of Tristram’s mind was beginning to wonder if that mattered. He’d never been happy, not truly, not in this way, at least. He got most of his pleasure from his research, but that was different. It was less …human.

The revelation was making Tristram’s head spin, and he felt a curious numbness come over him, as if for the tiniest faction of a moment he’d been allowed to escape his body, escape the constraints his phobias and his OCD put on him - as if for a faction of a second, he was allowed to be free.

And at that point, Tristram Blake smiled.

It wasn’t a huge grin, it didn’t need to be, just a simple smile of a man who for once in his life had found contentment.

Then, of course, he came back down to earth with a resounding bang. Two weeks? He thought, as the sound of Ryan’s voice ripped his fragile happiness into pieces. It certainly hadn’t been two weeks, that was for sure, but why on earth was Ryan saying it had been? Paranoia washed over Tristram like a tsunami. What was going on? Was this some kind of joke, some trick? He suddenly felt very unwell, and he was shaking all over within seconds. Was it possible that Ryan just didn’t remember the kiss they’d just shared? Perhaps- Tristram’s brow creased unconsciously un pain as he thought of it - perhaps Ryan was drunk. He knew that there had been alcohol at the ball; it had been a specific order of Professor McGonagall’s that they try and root it out, but had Ryan had so much that he couldn’t remember what had transpired less than 20 minutes ago? And hadn’t he just said something about drugs? Tristram blanched. He’d been too busy floating away on his personal cloud to properly process the things that Ryan had said, and now it was costing him.

Tristram could repress a shudder that wracked his entire body. What kind of a person- what kind of a teacher was he? If Ryan was drunk - or worse - he should be looking after him, trying to make sure he was alright, not being a- a- a pervert. Yes, that’s what he was, some sick, terrible, twisted person praying on his students. But he wouldn’t do that any more. He was going to be a good teacher.

“A-are you alright?” He asked cautiously, trying not to let the shivers that were going through his body appear in his voice. He tried to arrange his features into a mask of concern, instead of the twisted expression of self-loathing they’d taken on, but he wasn’t sure how well it worked. One thing he was sure of, though, was that he was going to do everything in his power to take care of Ryan Robins. After the terrible thoughts he’d just had, he owed the poor boy that much.

[ryan]

Ryan winced when Tristram repeated his sentence about making him happy. He really didn’t want to discuss this. Not when he was already sure where it was going to lead. He was going to hear things he didn’t want to, things that would make him miserable. Unless. He could just beat him to the punch. Make sure that the things Tristram wanted to say didn’t matter anymore. Then he wouldn’t feel so hurt. Or at least, the hurt would be predictable. Manageable.

”Dont. Okay? I know. You’re my teacher, I’m the student. This can never be anything, it will never be anything.” Ryan rattled it off quickly, not wanting to really give the words any time to sink in. He was looking at the ground again, even missing the smile that the other had given. He probably would have misinterpreted it anyway. He was prone to doing that, especially when his mind had already convinced him of what he was going to hear.

”Just...don’t.” He’d said those words, when Tristram was kissing him, and Ryan inwardly kicked himself when he remembered. He really shouldn’t...not when it was already obvious what was going on. He couldn’t kiss him, the man was being increasingly odd...what else would he get to hear? The boy tried to breathe through the hurt, wishing he still had his cigarette.

“A-are you alright?”

At this he glanced up, not looking directly at the mans face, rather at the way that he was shivering. Which...admittedly wasn’t good. Not entirely unexpected though. The Slytherin rubbed at his neck, looking away again and wishing that he could simply answer by shrugging one shoulder. He doubted it would be enough though, so he finally answered with a curt ”No”.

[tristramblake]

Tristram’s mind didn’t seem to be able to function properly, and his body wasn’t doing so well either. It was almost as if he was having another panic attack, but this was different some how, less real. If fact, at that point, nothing much seemed real, like it was just a play of lights in front of his eyes, disguising what was really happening. It was dark out side, and cold, and Tristram was shivering reflexively, though he was hardly aware he was doing it.

And Ryan was talking again, but even that didn’t quite seem real. His words failed to sink into Tristram’s cross firing brain as it raced about, bouncing from exultation to despair in matters of moments, headless of the world around it. One particular word got through, though. Don’t. Just hearing it made Triss shake even harder, and his mind raced back to a memory, a memory he didn’t even understand. The words “But I want to” were reflexively forming on his lips before he could even work out why he wanted to say them, but he bit them back.

A resigned kind of focus was setting over Tristram as he told himself that he was a teacher, a carer, a guardian. He was meant to be looking out for Ryan - that was what had prompted him to ask if the boy was alright. He seemed to have regained control of his electrified mind, for the moment at least, and he took in a deep breath, as that would set his responsibilities in place.

And then Ryan said no.

Tristram’s heart wrenched slightly in his chest, but with his newly enforced sense of duty, he interpreted it as a kind of fatherly compassion, on a conscious level, at least. He was Ryan’s teacher, for Christ’s sake, he was meant to look after him. He could feel his OCD flaring up even as he considered what he was about to do, but he tried his best to ignore it, and walked over to sit down on the steps next to Ryan. The stone was cold, and he could smell the cigarette smoke on the boy’s breath, and clinging to his hair and clothes. “I’m here for you” He said, not entirely sure what made him saying, but knowing the moment the words formed on his lips that they were true.

[OOC - Argh! I wrote this post like a week and a half ago D= I fail T_T]