He is sunlight and warmth on the leaves, he is flight and wind and gently dimpled cheeks, he is a soft Scottish accent in a world of harsh English ones, he is laughter and sometimes even tears, and I love him. Oh, God, I love him. Everything I have ever wanted to be, he is. Everything I hate, he isn't. He's quiet and softly-spoken, and I've seen him collapsed in abject despair and I've seen him glowing with absolute joy but I've never, never seen him looking at me like that.
Oh, God. Why am I crying? I'm Percy Weasley, I don't cry. I'm Perfect Percy, prefect-in-waiting, I'm the big brother who needs nobody and nothing. I don't hide under the bed and cry his bed, and that just makes it worse. I can smell his shoes, worn leather and shoe-polish and the faintest hint of sweaty feet. If it was anyone else I'd be disgusted, I know. But it's Oliver, and I'd lick those sweaty feet if I could. This is so ridiculous. Merlin, this is ridiculous. I'm almost fifteen now, I'm not a crybaby! It makes my eyes go all red and my cheeks splotchy, and I know he'll come looking for me, because he's like that. He'd come looking for anyone, even his worst enemy, if they ran out of the room in tears.
How can I care so much? He's a guy, I'm a guy. Weasleys aren't gay! My brothers would laugh at me. Mum would disown me. Why is it that I've never realised I loved him till now? Why is it that the second he looks at me with those endless brown eyes I fall so madly and deeply in love with him that I can't breathe? I can't this can't be happening!Oh, God. I can hear footsteps on the stairs. Okay. Breathe breathe now shut up and don't let him find you! The door's creaking open hold your breath, Percy!
"Perce? Perce, you in here?"
I can just imagine the way he'll be looking around the door, scanning the room, long calloused fingers wrapped around the doorframe. I can see him so vividly I'm almost forgetting that my eyes are squeezed shut.
"Percy? Listen, if you're in here, come out. I'm not going to eat you."
His voice is beautiful. I could listen to him say my name all day. Percy, slight accent on the 'er', like he's singing it. So beautiful."You're not coming out, Perce." He's pacing the room now. If I open my eyes I can see his feet between the fringes of the bedspread he's wearing sneakers, and the laces on the left one are tangled and knotty. No socks, and I can see a flicker of skin between the hems of his jeans and the tops of the shoes.
Oh, God! This is crazy!He walks towards the door, and I can't help letting out a tiny moan of relief. It's my undoing. He pauses, one foot in the air, and then turns around and comes directly towards me. The next second, I'm looking right into those eyes, and the quizzical smile on his lips is close enough to kiss.
"Percy! What's going on? Listen, are you okay?"
I turn away, feeling very stupid and very covered in dust-bunnies. "Bet you haven't swept under here for ages."
"What is it, Perce?" He reaches under the bed to take my arm and pull me out and any resistance I might have offered melts utterly at the touch of his hand on my arm, skin to skin, his warmth on my cold, clammy, freckliness. It almost seems horrible that he should have to put his perfect hands on my flawed self, and so I scramble out hurriedly and shake off his arm. He steps away, looking a little taken aback by my reluctance to touch him, and I want to scream No, I didn't mean it that way!
"Percy you never told me before that you had a problem with my being gay," he says, slowly, sounding rather hurt. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and I just want to run my fingers over it and soothe the tension away I can hardly concentrate on what he's saying. Disconcerted by my lack of reaction, he drops his eyes and half-turns away. "Listen, it's just a stupid game of spin-the-bottle. You don't really have to kiss me. It was a stupid idea I shouldn't have played."
I stare at him, at his lanky frame yet to fill out with muscle, at the dejected line of his neck and the tiny scar on the tip of his left ear, and I can't understand how he could have it so wrong. "Oliver " And saying his name makes my heart pound, faster and faster, till I feel like I'm going to explode. So I say it again. It's so perfect. "Oliver, that's not it. I don't have a problem with you being gay. I would have told you so when you first came out if I did."
His eyebrows pull his forehead down into a frown. How could I not have noticed that before, the gorgeous way his skin crinkles when he frowns? And the tiny creases at the corners of those wonderful, wonderful eyes, and oh, God!"Then what is it? Because, you know, running like hell when you're dared to kiss me isn't real reassuring to me!"
I almost dare to put one hand on his shoulder, just where the edge of his tank top folds up over tanned skin, but I suppress the urge and instead I fold my arms over my chest and huddle in on myself. "It's nothing.""Percy you can't say that. You can't just run away from me and pretend nothing's wrong." He's looking at me again, and I nearly melt under the intensity of his gaze. I slump down on his bed before my legs give way. "We've been friends for too long for that to wash," he continues. "Forget about the stupid game, it was only a game. You don't have to kiss me. Now, tell me why you ran away." And then and then he sits down next to me, and our thighs are almost touching, just a few centimetres apart, and why can't I concentrate on anything except how inhumanly beautiful he is?
"Stupid panic reaction," I mumble, and prop my elbows on my knees. I'm so pale and freckly, it's hideous, really. He should just go away he doesn't need this. "It was a stupid thing to do."
He raises one eyebrow, and I shiver. "Yeah, well, panic reactions hide deeper causes. You can tell me, Percy."
I find a solution, miraculously, and then find my tongue as well. "It's a little embarrassing ""Percy, we're beyond embarassment." He's half-laughing now, frustrated and concerned and amused, and I just want to kiss him. But isn't that how this whole damn mess came about?
"I haven't kissed anyone before," I mumble, hoping it sounds sincere. I haven't, but that's not the point the point is that he should accept the explanation and leave, go back to shagging Terence Higgs or whoever it was this week, and leave me alone.
"So?" Now he is amused. "You're telling me you ran away because you haven't kissed anyone before? Why were you playing in the first place, then?"
"Don't know." I stare determinedly at the floor. I don't think I can take much more of having him sitting so close to me, smelling of soap and deodorant and sweat. "I wouldn't have minded kissing someone in a silly game, if it wasn't you," I say, and that is the truth, so he better accept it. I only realise what I've said, what he must have heard me say, when the words are out of my mouth and it's too late to take them back.
"So it is that, then," he says, and his whole body language changes he doesn't move, but suddenly he's tense and hostile, and I can't stand it. I can't stand it. Oh, God, I'd grovel at his feet for one more smile, but but what can I do? "Maybe you shouldn't get involved in games like that if you're not willing to take the consequences," he says icily, and he gets up to leave.
I can't stand to sit here and watch him leave. I'm hardly conscious that I'm moving, but suddenly I'm standing behind him and I've got my hand on his arm, and he's staring over his shoulder at me, angry and hurt. "What, Percy? If you think you being a fucking homophobe isn't going to change our friendship, you'd better bloody think again "
And I can't think of any other way to shut him up than to lean forward, very quickly, and kiss him.
I didn't mean it I could swear on anything that it wasn't a conscious decision. How could it have been? I don't do things like that I'm Percy, perfect Percy, who never does anything on impulse and researches everything three times over. I had absolutely no intention of kissing him.
But however it happened, it happened, and now I'm standing here with one hand cold on his smooth, warm arm, and his shoulder digging into my neck, and his warm, sweet lips covering mine. He's shocked, frozen, and then suddenly he responds with such warmth that it knocks me backwards he falls with me, and we land on his bed, limbs in a tangle and hips and chests pressed together, and we're both awkward and uncomfortable but neither of us is willing to let the other go for long enough to rearrange ourselves. He closes his eyes, and I'm breathing his breath and tasting his spit and my nose is pressing into his cheek, and I cannot believe how good it feels. I feel like I'm smoke and ashes, only solid where he's touching me, and I roll over until he's on top and squishing the breath out of my lungs, if it weren't already all gone. His hand comes up to hold my jaw, and I take that as my cue to run my hands up and down his back his tank top is thin cotton, and I can feel his muscles moving beneath it, feel the strength in his shoulders as he slips one hand under my t-shirt and runs his fingers along my lower back.
And then, outside the door, someone yells "Hey, Oliver, is he in there?" We break apart, panting, and he pushes himself up on his arms and stares down at me, looking rather stunned. I feel a bit the same way.
"I guess it wasn't homophobia, then," he says dazedly, and runs one finger along my still tear-stained cheek. "You're full of surprises, Perce."
I shake my head, knowing he must still be tasting me as I can taste him. "If if I kissed you, I didn't want it to be for some silly game," I say, and then I'm surprised that I can even find the words.He's still staring at me, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and he's so very sexy that I just want to kiss him again. But the knock on the door is repeated, and whoever it is yells again "Is he okay? Want me to come in?"
He rolls off me (I miss his warmth instantly) and yells "He's okay. We'll be out in a second. Go on back to the game."
I sit up, and press incredulous fingers to my lips. He turns back to me, his every move as graceful, as full of contained energy as ever, and I can't help gazing admiringly. "So, that was your first kiss, huh?""Er, yeah." I sit up, and realise that I'm half off the bed mid-way through the action, resulting in a rather inelegant fall on my butt. He tries to catch me, but is only in time to land on his knees beside me, our faces inches apart again. I'm breathless. I wish he'd stop doing that to me. I'm sure I'll be suffering from oxygen deprivation. Oh, God, those eyes
"So you'll be wanting to get a bit of practise in, then?"
I answer his mischievous grin with disbelieving hope, and a sudden wild happiness. "How good are you at making sure the bottle points where you want?"
"Oh, you wouldn't believe how good. Want to come see? Oh, wait, you just saw "
And, both laughing, we walk out of the dormitory together and he holds my hand, just for a little bit, and I'm in heaven.