(Untitled)

[homely_illiad]

Week Name/Date/Time: 'This is Rather Not Good"/Weds. September 27th/ 8:27 am
Location: 6th Year Slytherin Boys Dorm
Open to: Brinley
Currently Involving: His boo.

He didn't know what to do. Utter shock failed him.

Brinley couldn't kill someone. Never. Never in a million years would Illiad believe it. Brinley was warm and tender and loving! Well. When he

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[brinley_watson]

Bloody fucking... oh, this was not happening. But then again, what had he expected? A little note on a table saying 'Just so you all know, we killed a few people. Love, the FUKD'?! They had dragged the victims into that room. He had heard quite a commotion, too.. well, that was, until he charmed the door for silence in every way possible. But it was just... so much worse. It seemed like they had not only enjoyed themselves and delighted in what they did, but they really went overboard!

So much blood.

He stayed right there at the door where Illiad left him and his gaze dropped momentarily to the floor. Illiad's voice, however, snapped him out of it immediately. Oh, he didn't know what to do. This was so beyond him.. it was on such a higher scale! He felt like throwing up and punching something at the same time. Maybe punching something, then throwing up on it to show it who was boss. Ew. Nevermind. But regardless, the entire walk down the dungeons gave him plenty of time to fear and reflect.

Was everyone going to think that he did it?

Immediately, he rushed forward and fell to his knees in front of Illiad, grabbing the front of his lover's shirt with both hands. "You have to believe me," he replied hoarsely, turning his head in hopes of catching his eyes. Panic was written all over his face and... well, surprise to all, his eyes were even burning him, filling with what could only be seen as hot tears. "You.. you have to, Illiad. I didn't kill them. I didn't! It wasn't me! I was.. I..." Could he tell him? Sure, Illiad could be trusted. He knew that Brinley was part of FUKD, didn't he? And he hadn't ever told a soul. He could trust Illiad. That was the benefit of the younger boy loving him. "...I was there, but you've got to believe me. I didn't kill them! I couldn't!"

[homely_illiad]

((OOC: I rewrote this in effort to make it NOT look like I posted it after midnight last night, while on crack xD))

"I...I know!" Illiad's voice cracked on the final word. He did know. He DID believe Brinley. He just didn't know what to do about it. He lept back as Brinley grabbed him, fear and pain in his eyes. But once he realized he was only begging, he set his hands to Brinley's chin and cupped it, caressing it with the edges of his thumbs. The former reaction had been merely impulse-- he wasn't actually scared of Brinley, but at the moment, his mind was so pre-exposed to violence and fear, he couldn't help but to let sudden movements scare him. No, no. He knew Brinley wasn't a murderer. He could be mean, but killing someone?

Not his Brinley.

Yet he had been there. He'd known this happened. But he hadn't done a thing to stop them. He had just let them go about it. One of those girls-- she was Louvika's dormmate. Had he looked in on Illiad's sleeping cousin and fantisized about killing her, too? Of course, Illiad didn't know Lou wasn't sleeping in her dorm anymore, but the thought terrorized him, still.

But would Illiad have done the same thing? He certianly wouldn't have dreamed of killing his cousin, but would he have stepped in if they'd tried? He was not that brave. How could he blame Brinley?

Seized with inspiration, he leaned forward and clasped Brinley's hand. He kissed him on the neck, then on the cheek, then on the lips. Poor Brinley's tortured soul! But how Illiad loved him even more for it. Here was proof-- Brinley needed him! Only Illiad could forgive such a deed. Because only Illiad truly, deeply loved Brinley.

"Brinley... ohh, my Brinley..." he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "...you mustn't tell anyone! You can't! They'll send you to Azkaban, even if you didn't hurt anyone!" his voice shook as he spoke. "That fool Frazer was right, though... they're going to be combing through our house, you know? You must be careful! They wouldn't...they won't even give you a trial if they find something out..."

If Brinley went to Azkaban... Illiad felt as if his own soul was being sucked out by the Dementors. He didn't think he could bare it-- it would be worse than Brinley leaving him for another boy. Well. Actually, no, that might be worse. But at least if he had left him, he'd be happy.

[brinley_watson]

Oh god. Brinley "The Badass" Watson looked, and felt, on the verge of breakdown.

He didn't think it was possible.

It had to be actually seeing what he was semi-responsible for that did it to him. Yes, he had joined in the group and during the planning of it all, yes. He was all in. He had even said that he'd take a few of them out himself. But that night, lying in bed and trying to convince himself that he could do it, one big, startling realization hit:

He couldn't do it.

Brinley wasn't a murderer.

And then there was a horrible mind-spin as he realized that maybe just maybe, he wasn't the person he thought he was. Oh, how he would have easily pulled his wand out with cruel intentions on any of those mudbloods. Could he use an Unforgiveable? He hadn't yet. Maybe he didn't have the ability to. It wasn't that he was turning his back on his roots or upbringing or anything, no. It just took a certain type of person to pull the life from another and apparently he wasn't it. So instead, he chickened out. Wimped out at the last minute. with a shaking tone, declared that he'd stay out and stand watch. He didn't even go with them to catch their victims either. He was 'late'. 'Slept in.' No, not because he worried about the safety of his fellow FUKD-ers, no. Because he knew he couldn't do it.

And then he saw their lifeless faces. Those open eyes. They had been a person once, and now they were a display.

Terror-filled eyes turned to his boyfriend. They were going red, wetting at the corners. "I couldn't do it, Illiad. I'm weak. I'm disgusting, I am! My Grandmother.. she'd... she'd kill me, just because I've let them down! That is what I was suppose to do, killing them! And I couldn't! Merlin bloody fuck..." A hand dragged over his face as a harsh shiver shook his very bones. Life-filled bones. Not broken bones, some skin-bare. His hands suddenly moved up, pressing palms against Illiad's colder cheeks, pulling his eyes to meet with his own. "They'll send me to Azkaban. They will! They'll know! Fuck, Illiad, I'm doomed. I can't believe I did that. I c-can't.. I.."

And with that, away went his cool. Whatever he had left of it, that was.

[homely_illiad]

Illiad dropped off the bed to his knees-- he felt uncomfortable sitting above Brinley like that. The entire situation was making him more and more uncomfortable-- Brinley, in tears, pleading with Illiad, stuttering, calling himself weak! It wasn't right! It wasn't natural!

And yet, he felt compelled to comfort the boy-- comfort him as he'd never had to before. He wrapped his arms around him from his sitting position on his knees, in a mock-gesture to what Brinley had done to him in the Great Hall at the sight of the bodies. Arms slipped under Brinley's, to fold pointing upwards around the boy's back. He rubbed it, soothingly, with just the very edges of his fingernails and felt his stomach twinge. He'd never felt this way before-- this protective over Brinley. He'd be jealous, yes. But this was entirely different. He was fearful, too-- fearful that any minute Aurors would burst in through their doors, wands pointed and ready to lock Brinley up. Maybe even him too, but what did it matter if he was gone? No one would miss him. He would probably get off anyways, seeing as his entire family was very outspoken members of Dumbledore's little fanclub.

"Pleasepleaseplease...!" he pleaded with the other boy, resting his cheek on Brinley's proud forehead. "Shh, ma gra..." he almost purred the Gaelic words without realizing what he was doing-- his mother had been fond of the term after coming to Ireland and used it often on him when he was upset as a child. "...issokay," he whispered, his words slurring accidentally. "Listen, okay? Maybe... maybe it's better that you didn't...right? You're not weak, I promise, but...maybe it's okay that you didn't kill anyone."

He had logic behind this, he swore. He was just getting there.

"They were foolish to act before...before..." he couldn't say the name, but he didn't know an applicable replacement that would be okay, "...the D-Dark Lord has taken everything over! They were foolish to act with Dumbledore still in charge!"

And the whole killing people, too. But Illiad knew that wouldn't go over well with Brinley.

"Look what it's doing to you, Brinley," he whispered, softly, to make the hidden point. "Just...just look."

[brinley_watson]

Oh Merlin, talk of uncomfortable! Brinley felt like he had become some stranger in his own skin. This wasn't him. This wasn't like him. He didn't doubt himself, worry, whine, or, worst of all of it, bloody cry. Illiad Hawkins was getting to him. He had caught his overly-sensitive bug.

They (whoever they were) always said that tragedy would change a person. For Brinley, it wasn't so much knowing the people or being sad for their deaths.. it was more internal than that. Perhaps he wasn't the person he thought he was. But all of his life, he had been him. How could he have been himself for so long, but hadn't been at all? Maybe he had more of his mother in him then he thought. Or maybe this was the time and the trigger that would undo all the damage done to a once-kind, helpful, and loving child by his Mum's family. Oh Merlin, who really knew what the bloody fuck was going on in his head.

Terror that he'd be caught. Remorse that he had helped. Worry that what he did was wrong.

Too much for someone just hardly an adult to handle.

Illiad wasn't helping either. Sure, he had always known that his boyfriend wasn't up to par with him on that very subject, but he was at least momentarily weak and easily ate up anything told to him. After all, that's how his grandparents got to him. They'd knock him down a few levels and, with faux love and reassurance, tell him everything they thought he needed to hear. He was weaker then and far, far more receptive. It took tearing down his walls to get into Brinley's head and then, he was so much like an empty, open book with a quill wafting about above it.

His lips moved wordlessly as he listened to each and every word Illiad said. "...how can it be good that I didn't kill anyone?" he finally asked. The look on his face.. brow furrowed, colour completely gone.. he looked like a child that had just been robbed of all of his candy. "I was meant to be in there. And I didn't... I didn't stop them. And I knew I should have, I knew, I knew just.. standing right there. They dragged a girl in and she looked at me. She looked terrified, and I could have done something. I-I didn't! But I'm so.. I'm so bloody fucked up, I wanted her to die. I couldn't do it myself, but I.. I wanted her to. Because she looked at me, and then she died, but I could have... saved her, but I didn't. She died because of me!"

[homely_illiad]

Illiad's bottom lip quivered-- no, it wibbled. He didn't like this Brinley-- not at all. Well-- okay. He liked the remorseful one. The one that took credit for what he did, even when it was bad. Just not the crying one. That scared him. That made his heart go "Erm. What the deuce?" in his chest and his brain echo the sentiments. It confused him. Illiad, being a scholarly boy, was not used to confusion.

"I..." his words failed him a second time, so he looked from Brinley's eyes to the floor. "...Brinley, you're not a killer-- you're not!" he confirmed, his voice now demanding more than pleading. He felt oddly authoritive in the issue-- for it was only him after all that knew Brinley's heart, right? Or at least, that was what he'd always reckoned. "Listen to yourself! You...you shouldn't feel you must do something that upsets you this badly... even if... even if it's what you were raised to do..."

His own color remained a startling pale. He wasn't sure he liked this new Illiad-- this one that told Brinley what to do and what to think. "But... but I saw your face in there!" he was pleading again. There. That was much better. "You're...you're not a killer..." he didn't want to say it, but his words seemed to scream themselves without his help, merely from his phrasing.

So stop pretending you are! Stop hanging around them! Leave them! You won't be of any worth to Lord Voldemort like this, but you're of all worth to me!

"You... you couldn't have fought them..." he didn't know who 'them' was, but he figured they were probably dark and scary, and there was probably a lot of them if they were killing eight people in one night. "...don't... don't feel like that..."

What he wouldn't have given for it to be last night! He'd figured when Brinley had hoped into his bed that the other boy had just gotten bored or couldn't sleep. Not that he'd been out murdering! Well. Hanging around with murderers.

[brinley_watson]

Cue oddest statement of the evening. "You're not required to still love me," he said quietly, oh so quietly as he pulled away from Illiad and instead, moved to sit beside him. "I'm a monster. They've always said that I'm one, and I am. Who.. who does that, Illiad? Who lets classmates and even housemates die like that? Or people in general? Who does that?" Pausing, he let his head fall back against the bed. "Monsters. That's who. I'm a monster. I'm not a murderer, no.. but I'm a monster still."

It was all too much. He wanted to go and lay down on the tables with them, dead to escape the thoughts and guilt. Everyone probably thought he deserved to be up there anyway. In his mind, the entire school was gathering outside of their doorway to attack him the minute he thought to leave it. Surely everyone, even the ones that didn't know him suspected him of doing it all himself. So what if it wasn't even logical. He thought it.

"I should have fought them. I knew it wasn't right. I was right there, and something in me knew it was wrong... but who's worse? The ones that do wrong knowing that it's wrong, or the ones that don't stop wrong?" At least the tears were leaving him. He could actually talk now, stuttering having run off. As he spoke, it seemed like every bit of him was slowly draining off. He was slumped there, eyes vacant and pointed towards the ceiling. His voice was even dying out, having been reduced to little more than a quiet murmur. "I... I had thought all along that what I was doing was right. Now, it hardly feels like it."

[homely_illiad]

Brinley's first statement surprised him so much that Illiad barely caught a word of his monster rant. He wanted to interrupt him then and there, throw his arms around him and tell him that he was being foolish and silly! Because he waaaas!

But he let Brinley talk and he listened with a full heart, his hands somehow manurvering themselves into the older boy's. Gently and carefully, he was rubbing them, his eyes focused on his work. Using his forefinger and thumb, he made his way up the curve of Brinley's palm, then deeper and deeper into the forest of tendons that linked his fingers together, rubbing them all so lovingly.

"I should have fought them. I knew it wasn't right. I was right there, and something in me knew it was wrong... but who's worse? The ones that do wrong knowing that it's wrong, or the ones that don't stop wrong?"

His words made Illiad shiver again and he stopped his rubbing to link their fingers together, in a very slow and strange fashion, as if he were inacting a strange dance. His grey eyes-- looking unusually stormy instead of stoney-- continued to watch each and everyone of their fingers sliding together. A strange look of contentment crossed his features, as if he were falling into a deep and pleasent sleep.

"You're not perfect," his voice, just as it had when they made love, came in a breath above a hiss. But it was loving and affectionate, full of warmth. "I wouldn't love you if you were." his voice cracked again.

"And by the way...I still do." Summoning all his courage, he turned his grey eyes to meet Brinley's, hoping this deliberate disobedience wouldn't cost him. His lip quivered again. But his eyes held no lies.

[brinley_watson]

The fact that only Illiad and Brinley could come closer at a moment like that had to be noted. Yes, while most screamed in fear or ran off to dormitories to cry and write their Mums, they worked on repairing their broken 'relationship'?

They really were quite odd.

But Brinley could hardly complain. For once, Illiad really was hitting the spot. Everything he said was perfect and did exactly what he needed it to do. He hadn't even realized that he had been apparently clenching his hands for the most part until they got into the dormitory, so his hand-rubbing? Oh Merlin, it felt so good. It was like every ounce of the stress was being drawn right out of him. And sitting there, blabbering on and on about how terrible he was, he felt oddly relieved. Loved, even.

He wasn't perfect. Part of him wanted a sarcastic 'Thanks' to the younger boy, but.. he was right. Brinley had always thought himself to be as close to perfection as possible. The right people were happy with him and that alone made him feel like he was bloody terrific! Yet another thing that bothered him about the entire ordeal was the fact that yes, he had to recognize his own imperfections. He was human. Human. The very thing he didn't feel like.

"How?" he asked in return as he turned his head, rolling it against the sheets to sweep eyes over his lover's face. "How can you, Illiad? Why would you want to? I'm nothing. I'm a failure. Oh, right, and I'm slightly doomed." Reassurance. He craved it. He actually needed something strong from Illiad, a drastic change from the past.

[homely_illiad]

How? The question was asked so simply, Illiad knew he had an answer right away. But after a moment, he blinked and bit his lip.

"I... I don't know how to say it," he whispered, his hand still clinging on to Brinley's. Squeeze mine, not yours. You'll hurt your own. And mine don't matter so much. If his words at that moment couldn't be strong, at least his body language should be. He dropped his eyes again-- but only for a moment.

"You might not be a perfect person, but..." there was an odd pause, as if he was daring himself to say the next words. Which, in actuality, he was. "...you're perfect for me. And-and!" his red-rimmed eyes had filled up with tears once again and he seemed to be fighting back his sobs as he stumbled over his words. "If y-you won't love yourself," his voice picked up tempo, as if he was in a rush to say this before someone came and captured Brinley and took him away from him for forever, "then I'll...I'll just have to l-love you enough for the two of us!" his teeth chattered at the end of his words and his entire person seemed to be shaking now as if he feared some volitile reaction from Brinley.

"It...it..." the speed slowed down a bit and he dropped his eyes to stare at Brinley's chest. "...it won't be hard for me, Brinley..."

Never did he know exactly WHY he loved Brinley so. There was no big thing that the other boy just DID that drove him wild-- it was all in the little, unexpected things. Like, for example, the way he had stood up to Andrew Frazer for him. Sure, there might've been a selfish motive there. But it had stuck to Illiad, made him feel so warm and loved. Even the way that Brinley had come to HIM the night after the murders-- he felt he had been at least some comfort to him. it was other silly things, too-- like the scent of his breath, or the way he wasn't afraid to wear that obnoxiously pink tie. Or the way he seemed to think that Illiad needed to be ordered when to love him and when to not.

Seeming to recovering his voice a little, he spoke, "It's just... you were the only... the first person who ever really... really looked out for me, Brinley..." he started, his eyes seeming to shake in their sockets.

"I...I haven't stopped caring for you since..." since the first 'hello-why-are-you-crying-this-is-the-sorting-feast-and-you're-in-the-very-best-house-you-know-so-cut-it-out'. Since the first kiss. Since the first time he'd come back after cheating on Illiad. Since the first time he'd stuck up for him.

"...since forever." It sounded so childish, but it was really the only thing that fit. "Brinley..." his voice was in a whisper again. "...no matter what happens...I'll stick up for you. I'll be with you, okay? Is that... is that okay?"

[brinley_watson]

Why did Illiad love him? All the listed above.

The only other people that had ever 'loved' him had been his parents, who loved him out of hope that he'd one day change, and his Grandparents, who loved him for being the malliable hunk of clay that he had been. No one loved him for him, who he was that very moment, inperfections and all taken into consideration. By far, none had ever loved him because of them. Illiad really was a different sort. As he went on, throwing his heart right there on the sliver of floor between the two of them, Brinley was impressed.

Touched, even.

Sure, he had heard the phrase from Illiad a million times over. Generally speaking he'd ignore it, continue on as if it was never said. It was easier that way. He had hardly wanted to deal with that sort of emotion. Part of him, that tiny part that had warm feelings back, even thought that he hadn't deserved it. He was just plain nasty to his boyfriend. He didn't deserve his love in return.

It really just was weird, all of it! He had chosen the right person to go to and because of it, they would grow stronger. Illiad would help him. He said he would. He had someone. Now, it wasn't that he hadn't ever felt it in return. He honestly had! It was just.. all settled into this abandoned and ignored sector of his heart with a huge padlock upon it and a note reading 'Don't touch'. Bloody blast that damn lock, though. It came undone and it's contents swelled with Illiad's every word. It grew and grew and grew until it fought against the very boundaries.

And then it burst.

Like a switch had been hit, Illiad's very last word brought on a look of complete pain. It hadn't been there, but then it suddenly was.. worried and weak. And with desperation, he tugged Illiad to him and smashed his lips against the other boy's. Words had come out just seconds before, but they were quickly smothered. Sounded something like...

..well, something like I, love, you, and too.

It was a terribly brilliant sign, the fact that the one he had abused and kicked about for so long could handle him now, what with everything literally tossed upon the table for examination.

[homely_illiad]

Before Illiad quite knew what was happening, he was either being throttled or kissed.

He decided to go with it, whatever it was.

Oh, good. It was the kissing. That was the one he would've preferred, if given the two options. The words that had been smothered, however, he didn't notice for a couple moments, too enveloped in such a fantastic kiss. His hands had somehow gone from Brinley's to his hair and the curve of his waist, fingers curling on either hand with delight.

And then-- naturally-- what had been said settled into his mind and was absorbed.

Illiad's grey eyes flew open and he drew away from the kiss in shock, his lips still a harsh pink. Those words! Those words that he had been waiting three years for...!! They had finally been said, been uttered-- and not only that, but he knew, just KNEW that they had been true! He could barely believe it! He gazed at Brinley for another moment, in apparent shock. And then he tackled his boyfriend with such an eager kiss, the bed behind them slid on the floorboards, subsequently hitting the lamp on the bedside table and knocking it to the floor with a crash.

It had only taken a million times of him saying it (or had it been a million and a half? Illiad had stopped counting) before Brinley got it, but that didn't matter-- the point was that he did. Sure, it'd taken the threat of life in Azkaban to get it through his head, but beggers could never be choosers. Especially when they were in love with Brinley Watson.

But what did this mean? Apart from the fact that the words had been uttered and that certian space in Brinley's chest that Illiad had been trying to climb into for three years had finally given way, what did it mean? Would they be all cuddly and cutesey, like the couples you often saw at Hogwarts, who would sit and hold hands at mess or during class? Illiad doubted that. He actually even feared it. Not that he didn't like cuddling Brinley, but that those couples generally disgusted him-- and he wasn't the only one.

Did it mean that Brinley would now be forever loyal to him and forget his attractions to other boys? Illiad also doubted this. past history showed that this wasn't likely to happen soon-- but he was optimistic. If he'd gotten Brinley to say that he loved him and MEAN it... he could very well raise the dead for all knew of these amazing, new discovered powers.

[brinley_watson]

He'd not want to take the words back, no. But the second they slipped out, little red flags went off in his head. He shouldn't have said it. Saying that.. well, there was a reason why he had avoided it for so long! Illiad would likely expect more from him and not only was Brinley completely unable to be devoted to anyone, he didn't exactly want to be settled like that. He was young! He figured that in two years or so, once both of them were out of school, that would be the time for monogamy. While he hadn't ever stopped himself from pulling the younger boy around and emotionally abusing him, part of him worried that with his teenie revelation, he'd have to. If you said that you loved someone, you at least had to act like it, right?

Oh Merlin. He was in unfamiliar territory.

Thankfully though, Illiad seemed to have not heard it one bit. His kissing was so soft and tender.. it aws like he understood exactly why Brinley needed it. He was a physical boy. Love, hate, anger, it all had to be shown through hands and lips and hips. Illiad knew that he needed comfort and to feel something besides self-hatred, frustration, and worry. Oh, how he knew his boyfriend well. Words didn't mean much (which would make the discounting of his words easier in the future) to him until they had a touch assigned to them. So it seemed as if Illiad had completely missed what he said and hey, smooth sailing! His mate kissed him back to make him feel better and that was all.

Or at least that's what he thought, until Illiad jerked back.

Oh, fuck.

He didn't even have time to react. His mouth hung slightly open and boy did he ever look like a deer in headlights! Then Illiad threw himself at him and.. Merlin, where did the mattress go? He could hardly kiss back, he was just so shocked by his reaction! Really, he thought he was in the clear there! But no, Illiad had to go on and actually hear him!

[homely_illiad]

Patience, Illiad. Patience is a virtue.

He'd realized something was wrong almost immediately, so he withdrew from the kiss in a flash. He knew it was going to be a while before Brinley was a good, loyal, hardworking husband and he was the faithful, little housewife. But he could wait-- Brinley's words had just showed him that progress was being made, given him hope when he'd jsut recently come very close to losing it again. And that had been what had gotten him excited.

But Brinley didn't seem to realize this, and it didn't take long for Illiad to figure out that he was scared-- scared that Illiad would be expecting him to make more of a commitment than he was ready to. And who could blame him? Brinley didn't understand love-- he hadn't had Illiad there to stick up for him and look after him like the younger boy had had him. And it seemed that his heart was already so blighted that he was confused. Of course-- this weak position of Brinley's just made Illiad adore him all the more.

His hands had somehow found their ways back to Brinley's so he squeezed them tight.

"I'm sorry," he said, quietly. All the tension and excitement from the tackled kiss seemed to be gone, replaced with sheer, fuzzy-wuzzy contentment and adoration. Not to mention, sincerity. Illiad felt he could understand at least part of Brinley's situation and he really did regret taking that physical and metaphorical leap.

But for some reason, he couldn't get his voice to go on with the rest of it. So he tried his best to say it with his eyes, with a look. Because Brinley really did respond better physically than verbally, and Illiad knew it.

I was excited... but you're still hurting... I promise you, we'll take this transition as slow as you need to. His grey eyes stared hard to Brinley's pale ones, drinking them up. I promise, I understand.

And who cared if Brinley still cheated on him for a bit? Now Illiad could say with confidence that Brinley really did love HIM more than them... the monogamy would come later. But if Brinley still felt the need to dip around now and again... well. As long as he wasn't giving them his heart.

Illiad gave him an honestly little peck on the lips, almost in both apology and to show he understood.

[brinley_watson]

Bloody hell yes, he was scared!

If Brinley did, in fact, love Illiad (which he apparently did), that would make him the first person that he had ever loved. The only person that had ever let Brinley love them, and the only person that deserved it at all. What a change. It was a drastic change, feeling something so strong for someone. Perhaps it was the moment. Maybe the next day, he'd rethink that entire emotion. But it actually meant something and was a good, honest, sincere feeling. It just took participating in a murder spree and getting called out on it in front of Merlin and all creation by his mudblood near-lover, then getting reassurance that he wasn't a terrible person for it by the only person that would think that of him at that moment.

What a day!

The only thing weirder than hearing himself say those words (and feeling them) was that feeling that filled him when Illiad gave him that look. It matched. For the first time ever, his own feelings completely and utterly matched what his boyfriend was feeling. God, it felt like something was jumping about and crawling all over his innards. That something was hot and tingly. Made his skin prick and his head go all woozy.

Great. Now he was losing his damn mind.

"No reason to be sorry," he replied, voice thick and odd. "I'm just.. no, I'm fine. Actually, I'm not fine. I think I might be dying."

He sounded so convinced, too.

Merlin, why would anyone want to feel like this?! Sure, it might have been.. comforting. Somewhat. But for the most part, it was odd and he felt slightly intoxicated. Thankfully he'd not have to go and load up on a broom anytime soon. He'd fly right into a bloody damn tree.

[homely_illiad]

Phew. Illiad was never sure how exactly Brinley would respond to what he said, even when he said it with the best intentions in mind. But that couldn't have gone any better, he didn't reckon! Brinley was okay with his apology... well.

Illiad laughed. He actually laughed at Brinley! Well. At Brinley's words.

I think I might be dying.

But it wasn't the mean sort of laugh, but a very silly, giggly sort. It seemed he, also, might be intoxicated with this mysterious ale. His eyes looked oddly both glazed over as well as intent in his listening to Brinley's words, and his mouth was just partly opened to reveal his straight, white teeth gritted together. But his lips were smiling, and that smile even seemed to reach his eyes.

"Ohh," he said, sweetly, "I think you'll be okay," he murmured. Without taking his hands from out of Brinley's, he got to his feet and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Come up here with me, won't you?" To be frank, his rear and his back were hurting severely, and the idea of sprawling with Brinley on the bed instead of huddling on the floor was far more appealing. He gave Brinley's hand an impatient little tug, then leaned forward to kiss the knuckles, looking down the boy's arm at him, his eyes seeming to be dancing rather than shaking now.