tell me what you know about dreaming <roslyn>

"Fuck." The sound of the bottle smashing sounded dull and muted to his ears, but the amber-gold liquid that was now seeping into the gutter hadn't escaped his notice. Pausing in his slow and rather haphazard way down the dark street, he bent over to pick up the remaining part of the bottle, lost his balance and threw out his extended hand to save himself. It was only once he had straightened up that he noticed some smaller shards of glass had gotten stuck in his hand and drops of blood were leaking out on to the snow. He surveyed it blearily for a moment before pulling them out and wiping his hand on his jeans. He couldn't even feel it. He couldn't feel much though, not the cold, not the few flakes of snow that were falling, not anything. Looking up, he squinted down the street, his field of view swaying ever so slightly. Or perhaps that was him swaying? He moved forward, aware even in his drunken state that if the police chose to venture down this street he would be in trouble. It was far passed midnight he knew, but what exact time it was was lost to him.

Nirrimi had, not completely by accident, found out where Roslyn was living some weeks ago. Up until now he had chosen to ignore the fact. Tonight had began in a way most of his days during the summer holidays and the Christmas ones had been no different, if not a little sadder. Several steady hours of drinking and laughing with strangers in a house he didn't know, then the usual desire to get away from them and breathe some air. He had stepped out into the London streets, despite being much less capable than usual of traversing them. Still, a couple hours and some three-quatres of a bottle of Jack Daniels later he had managed to locate the bookshop. It might've taken him less than half an hour under normal circumstances, but then again this was fast becoming is normal. Apparently his resolution to stop bending after the summer holidays had had no effect on his decision making.

He wasn't even sure why he had decided to come here, of if indeed he had decided and not simply let his feet take him there. And as he stood in front the bookstore looking upwards at the windows above he wondered if it might not be better to simply leave. But the thought was blurred and passing in his thoughts and after some ten minutes of staring unsteadily at the building, he finally walked up to the darkened front of the bookshop and raised a hand to hammer on the wooden doorframe. "ROSLYN? ROSLYN, ARE YOU AWAKE?" It hadn't even occurred to him that Roslyn might be asleep, or with someone else. "ROSLYN, ARE YOU THERE?"

He stepped back to stare up at the windows above. If she didn't come soon he was going to get arrested. There was no one else in sight, but simply the type of street he was in meant that it was dangerous territory. He stumbled on the curb and nearly fell backwards again, but instead managed to stay upright. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again. "ROSLYN." He wanted another drink. Or a smoke. He rummaged through the pockets of his coat which was hanging open, looking for his cigarettes but could't find them, they had disappeared along with his scarf and he was almost certain that wasn't his shirt. And it was beginning to snow. Shit.

It was a particularly chilly winter night and she was uncommonly thoughtful. She knew, in the back of her mind, that she should have been celebrating and taking in the festive cheer back at the manor with her family but right now she just couldn't be bothered with it all. Her mother wouldn’t approve of the amount of hours she’d been spending in basic doing drills and mock ambushes - going through piles and piles of cases and building up a certain familiarity that came with studying various scenarios.

Not to mention all the extra work she was still putting into the bookshop and her own flat. It was with a wistful sigh that the brunette made her way out of the kitchen with a little mug of cocoa in her hand fuzzy creature slippers and all. She rested comfortably and settled against her warm sheets with a sigh as she gazed out her window and sipped her drink in silence.

She’d been trying to put most things in the back of her mind, somethings even further back than others. It was a bad habit of hers, ignoring things she really should not in the hopes it would stop being an issue. Some Gryffindor she’s turned out to be. Running away from unpleasant truths. Not that she wasn’t aware of set truths but she’d try her hardest to simply not think about it. Particularly in nights like this. It was late, and she was tired and after she drank the latest guilty pleasure she was going to pray that morpheus sent her into oblivion so she’d not have to think about what snowy christmas nights like this reminded her of.

Who Christmas reminded her of.

Not that fate would abide by her wishes. Sounds from outside startled her from her thoughts and her gaze was broken away from the starry sky filled with cold snow flakes. Her heart jumped into her throat unpleasantly as she heard her name and a familiar voice echo into her empty apartment. She settled her warm mug down on her bedside table before she broke the fragile porcelain and tried to steady her shaking hands. Clearly she had to be imagining things. It was the only explanation for the voice she seemed to be hearing because there was no way Nirrimi Hunt was yelling for her in the freezing cold this late at night.

Or at all really. That didn’t stop her from making her way towards her bedside window and taking a peek outside completely unprepared for what she was looking at once she’d spotted the familiar figure. She grabbed her want tightly as she thought about what to do. No one would notice if she apparated downstairs - the streets were rather deserted after all - the question was...did she even want to? A silly question to be sure all things considered. There was no way she could ignore him even if she really wanted to. And she didn’t. With a swift ‘pop’ of apparition she was gingerly standing in front of him mouth set and ready to let out a particularly angry rapport before she took in the state he was in.

Her anger was swiftly flushed away as she took in his bleeding hand and the obvious smell of alcohol coming off him. Faster than she’d like to admit - even to herself - the anger that had been churning like acid in her stomach was stemmed by the concern she could feel pulsing like a deranged animal in her system. “Nim?” she asked softly, her voice catching and dying in her throat. “Are - are you alright?” clearly he wasn’t but she had always managed to ask the stupidest things when he was concerned. Even the most obvious.

Nirrimi was still squinting up into the dark windows, getting ready to start shouting again. He wasn't even sure what he was going to do if she did come? But maybe she wouldn't, maybe she didn't want to see him? When this thought occurred he swallowed hard, kicking at the curb with his foot but missing. What did he really have to say to her anyway? Plenty of things he had thought of since they had split. Angry, bitter feelings mostly, but he had never really meant on saying them allowed. Perhaps he just wanted to see her? Maybe she would open the window, look out and he'd be content and go home? A small part of him wanted to make sure she was as miserable as he was. He hadn't yet managed to find that selfless stage yet where he simply wanted her to be happy without him. At that moment sharp popping sound from next to him startled him out of his wits at and he jumped back, swearing.

"JESUS--!" he yelled, holding a hand out to nothing in an attempt to steady himself and falling over backwards again only to realise that the cracking sound had not been a gun as he had foolishly assumed at first, but that of his ex-girlfriend materialising out of thin air next to him. He was so not used to that, even considering he now had his own license. The one thread of sense he had managed to keep told him that apparating drunk was just as stupid as keeping behind the wheel of a car drunk. Or stepping in front of one, something he'd managed to learn the hard way this year. But somehow driving drunk seemed a little less reckless than what he was doing right now. "Shit." he said, painstakingly pulling himself up off the ground and out of the snow. "See? That's why you shouldn't ap-par-ate on top of people," he slurred, "my jacket is wet." he pulled it off his shoulders and dumped it on the ground. Couldn't wear it anymore. It was wet.

It took him longer than usual to register what she was saying and after a few moments of shifting around on the spot, trying to figure out why he wasn't wearing his jacket anymore, he looked up at her. "I'm fine." he said, waving a hand. "I'm fact, I'm brilliant. Fucking brilliant." Without noticing a certain amount of bitterness had crept into those last few words and his eyes darkened slightly. "Never been better." He was going to ache in the morning. He'd fallen over a good few many times already tonight and he always seemed to ache in the mornings now. He balled his hand, only now beginning to register an uncomfortable tingling in it. His entire left arm was starting to feel cold. He paused suddenly, having just noticed that Roslyn was standing in front of him dressed... Well. "You look--" he began, eyes moving slowly downward from the night dress that she was wearing too-- "Are you wearing animal feet?" he asked with a mixed of confusion and hilarity. This small instance of humour served mostly to distract, but it didn't last long.

"This isn't my shirt either." he said, reaching up clumsily to pull a few of the buttons apart. His fingers were too uncoordinated through cold and intoxication to unbutton the rest though, so he set about trying to pull them apart. He was distracted again however when he raised a hand to brush snow off his shoulder. "I hate snow." he stated, glaring up at the sky. "Hate Christmas."

Entirely unprepared. What a decidedly apt description. There were various feelings thrumming through her quite rapidly - each too fast to really grasp long enough to make sense of what was going on. She knew she was angry. How could she not be right? Not only had he shown up completely out of it in the middle of the night shouting at her but he was also in a horrible mood as well.

She realized just then how she’d never dealt with an angry Nirrimi Hunt before. Or a drunk one. She bit her lip to keep from shouting at him or saying something crude and in bad taste. Despite her current fluctuating feelings she loved the moron. And her concern for him washed away all the other feelings just like it always did when she caught a whiff of his distress. Not that he deserved it really. What with him ignoring her for months.

“Don’t take it off!” she just about shouted, her eyes wide and panicky. What was he thinking anyway? Stripping in the middle of the street? In the snow? In the cold? Did he want to catch something? She fretted for a moment in silence before his next words registered. Urk. She hadn't even noticed she was wearing them actually. “They’re slippers.” she defended hotly, her eyes flashing as her face gained faint red splotches of embarrassment. Hopefully he’d assume she was just flushing in anger.

Because really she should not be the one embarrassed at her state of undress. Not when he seemed to be...stripping all his clothes off in front of her and revealing lovely skin like that- Right. He was totally gone. And she was getting more worried by the second. Oy. “What do you mean thats not your shirt?” she asked completely bewildered. It came - as a jolt - that she probably had a shirt to two that belonged to him back upstairs. And y’know she might - on occasion - have slept with said shirts. Possibly. Not that he really needed to know that.

A surge of affection swept through her as she let out a sigh at his exclamation. Of course he hated Christmas. Why was that not surprising? “What am I going to do with you?” she muttered absently eyeing the boy critically before making up her mind. “Come on you big idiot.” she told him as she picked up his discarded jacket and still his hands. “Lets get you upstairs where its warm, yea?” she told him her arms slinking on his and sending a little tingle through her despite how cold he was.

With another little pop they’d apparated back onto her room. She tried to steady him as best she could and hoped the ride hadn’t upset his stomach too much. She knew how unpleasant the feeling was having gone through much the same thing last New Years. But then she didn’t have a very high tolerance for alcohol. A light weight she was in that respect.

The wet clothes needed to be off though didn’t they? She placed the sodden jacket on her window sill trying to buy some time. She knew this was probably a bad idea. Undressing him that is. Because then she’d have to throw him on her bed. Was this Karma or something? She didn’t need to deal with this right now! Because its not like she could leave him by himself either. Oy. The feast of flesh wasn’t going to help her any. Flashing things she could not have. Grand. “We need to get you out of these.” she muttered her fingers gently working buttons and gently peeling off wet fabric from all too tempting skin. Double grand.

She tried not to lean closer, truly she did, but she couldn’t quite help herself. She’d missed him. Obviously. She missed talking to him even. Just spending time with him. Kissing. Argh. Right. She needed to concentrate - abstractly - on the clothes in front of her. Not the warm skin that despite the alcohol was still unbearably appealing. Once the wet clothes were off she felt the tell-tale sign of her flushing as she tried not to look at him too much. She should have just dried the bloody clothes! But then she’d feel guilty if he woke up with stiff uncomfortable clothes.
Its not like she was sending him back to his house in the state he was in. Didn’t want to? Damn. This was so not a good idea. Her eyes caught sight of navy blue boxers before she looked up at him with a stern face. “Your going to get in bed, Nim.” Merlin that sounded, re, not as innocent as she’d hoped. She could feel the flush spreading quicker by the second. “I mean its, uh, warm and erm. Right.” failure to form coherent sentences. Gah. She gave up on trying to form something that sounded alright and just sorta pushed him towards the large bed, discarding her robe and thinking - for the billionth time - that this was so NOT a good idea before following in after him.

And then. Silence. Because she couldn't really say anything at the moment. Or in general. And it annoyed her that part of her was pleased he was here and no where else. How messed up was that?

Nirrimi was taking no notice of Roslyn, at least up until the tone of her voice adjusted slightly. He looked up at her blearily. He was having trouble focussing on her face, but she looked pissed. Apparently the furry things on her feet were slippers. Well, if he hadn't just walked halfway across London to find that out. He withheld a laugh, figuring she might just hit him if he made her any angrier. "I mean," he began, in answer to her question, "that this shirt was not the one I was originally wearing and is not one I remember purchasing." he said slowly, stumbling back a few steps. Apart from the slurring, he was quite impressed at having been able to phrase the sentence. "In fact, I might go so far as to assume, it belongs to someone else." This last bit was almost lost to anyone but him, as he was talking mainly to himself now.

Neither was he really listening much to what Roslyn was saying, he was much to involved in that moment with wishing simultaneously that he could both stand up right without wobbling and that he hadn't dropped his bottle of whiskey. He was feeling in need of another drink. So it came as a slight surprise when her arm landed on his. He looked up and her confusedly. "Where are we--" Oh. That hadn't felt good at all. Despite Roslyn's efforts to hold him upright, he was in the end nearly six feet of male whereas she was slighter and smaller. He landed on the floor and immediately curled up for a moment. Both his head and his stomach was churning around in circles. It took him a further minutes to gather himself up and stand again, by which time he began to notice that his clothes to beginning to disappear. Standing obediently still like a child as Roslyn divested him of his wet clothing, he watched her closely, wondering at this moment what she was thinking of. She probably thought he was a complete idiot. Some part of him want to tell her that this was all because of her. He had gone into a tail spin and she was the cause. But he didn't want to make her cry either.

When she directed him into the bed, he felt a small wave of something that didn't have much to do with the alcohol that was sitting heavily in his stomach. "Are you coming?" he said, seemingly unabashed at being very nearly naked in front of her. He wasn't really, even had he been sober. Too many people had seen him undressed in the past for him to really care that much anymore. He received his answer soon enough when she followed him in, albeit in a more coordinated fashion than him. As soon as he lay down his head began to swirl, as it usually did. "Fuck this." he said, sitting up turning towards her. He had only really just registered--he was in her apartment, in her bed, half-naked. Almost immediately, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and made to stand up.

"No." he began in an angry tone. "No--shit" he had tripped over the bed sheet. "This isn't fair, you--I had things to say and--I can't say it in my fucking underwear. I can't say it if you're.." he paused, staring at her. He was getting himself worked up again. It was in this state that he had decided to come to her apartment in the first place. He began visibly trying to calm himself down, taking deep breathes and trying to think straight through the whiskey-induced haze. "You don't understand-" he said, rubbing his eyes with both hands. "-what you did, do you?"

She resisted the childish urge to ask just who's shirt it was if it wasn't his. The worked up irritation was once again churning violently before she tried to stifle it. In all honesty she didn't know what to think about this whole thing. She'd wrapped everything Nirrimi-retaled and wrapped it all in a figurative box were he wouldn't be able to make her suffer. Well, mostly anyway. She felt a nagging sense of Whitney being in the right about saying she wasn't over Nirrimi. Not that she'd denied the claim at the time. Not really. She'd said she had managed to get over the breakup itself. Which wasn't a lie. She'd managed to come face to face with the reality that they couldn't be together. That Nim didn't want to be together.

What she hadn't managed to get over were the stifling type of feelings Nirrimi inspired in her. Her skin would be set ablaze, her heart would lash out from her chest like some wild trapped thing searching for escape and her stomach would churn in a sort of passionate violence. She always felt so - out for control with Nim. Every single emotion so magnified she didn't even know what to do with herself. Scream or cry, well, shit she couldn't quite recognize the difference when he was around her. Its what had made the days they were together so blissfully happy in the first place. Its why his very presence now filled her with complete blistering agony.

A misery that swept her and consumed her so thoroughly that what was left was the urge to scream - as if the chained up emotions would find some escape through her lips with that instance of savagery.

But then she'd look at him in such complete disarray. Vulnerable, even and all the violence would extinguish like some kind of light had gone out in her soul. And all she really wanted to do was curl up at his side and have him hold her - as if everything raw that was making her hurt could be soothed away by a cold cress. But then he was working himself up again and the violence sparked up again effortlessly - as if it had never left. She kneeled on her bed - her eyes sparkling dangerously as she spoke - "I don't care your in your bloody underwear! Actually I couldn't care less if you were completely bare-arsed in front of me! Talk if your going to but get in the damn bed now before you hurt yourself!" the words came out feverish and part of her vehemence stemmed with how completely worried she was for him.

But then he spoke and she was sent into a void of confusion as she breathed harshly. "What?" she started - her voice quiet now - "I didn't-" she added weakly before she cut herself off. She needed to gather her thoughts but his appearance wasn't helping. Nor his fluctuating mood, really. "I didn't do anything." she finally managed to get out defensively her eyes a bit wild. "Just- just can you please? Get in bed? It warm and you'll catch a cold and really I just - please?" her words were strong together as she fretted, her cold fingers gripping her warm sheets tightly with the strain that was keeping her from flying at him like an avenging angel.

Nirrimi flexed his arm. His shoulder was beginning to ache, and so was his left leg. They always did now in cold or wet weather, it was just that until now, he hadn't been able to feel the cold. But the cold draft that was creeping up his back on over his shoulders was not nearly as uncomfortable as the heat Roslyn was throwing out. Still, most things rolled off his back these days and he stood in front of her, face defiant at her order to shut up and get back into the bed. He wasn't quite sure whether he felt patronised or simply bossed around. But she had a fair point, he still wasn't managing to stand up straight without overbalancing. But that didn't mean he was going to do what she said. He shook his head at her more pleading request, eyes catching alight at 'I didn't do anything'.

"No?" he responded, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "You didn't do anything wrong. But you did do something." She didn't really understand. Breakups, separations... They were inevitable in relationships. And the more you loved someone the harder it was in the end. And he'd never really done things half way, had he? He had either treated girls like shiny toys without feelings or he had fallen so hard for them his head still reeled thinking about it. He'd only ever cared about twos girls in that way and it had taken him an entire year to come to terms with the last, had he hadn't even been in any sort of relationship with her. How long was it going to take for him to get passed this? He supposed in some twisted way he blamed Roslyn for drawing him into this relationship, against his better judgement. Or at least thats where his anger was directed, but he knew really that it wasn't her fault. He couldn't blame her for it. He had chosen to be a part of this with her and was suffering the repercussions. And yet, when he had asked himself over the summer if he would do the same all over again, with her or the next girl he unwittingly fell in love with, he had had to admit her would, because at the time it never felt like a choice, a conscious decision.

After that, any of the desire he had felt to yell at her, to tell her exactly why he resented her collapsed. Because really, what would it change? He would release all his anger onto her, and then go away in the morning feeling like an arsehole. Because in the end it didn't change what had happened, or the fact that he had let himself crash and burn. "You know, I went to a house in Surrey last summer. I woke up two days later in Brighton and I couldn't remember what I'd been doing or how I'd gotten there. I was so out of it, I just walked out the house and into the road." Slowly, he crawled back into the bed next to her. His whole body felt beaten up and exhausted. "I can't really remember much after that either, but I do remember thinking if one day of happiness is worth a year of pain... Maybe we've just had our day. And that's all there is to it."

She felt the beginnings of understanding prickle unpleasantly through her system. The dawning conclusion making her feel exposed in a way she wasn't entirely prepared for. With a mixture of shame and morbid fascination her eyes glued to the boys face in silence. Her eyes roved over his figure instantly catching the tell-tale signs of abuse in his hand. Her mind raced with an absurd amount of clarity the first time this night. She needed to think about the facts. It wasn't like Nirrimi was in any coherent state to explain things to her in a way she'd actually understand.

Fact one, he was drunk. Fact two, he was in distress. Fact three, it all had something to do with her. Scratch that it had everything to do with her. Her heart hammered away in her chest as he spoke - the familiar churning of misery twisting her gut and squeezing so hard she couldn't see any end in sight. The complete picture burned into her retinas as she put the last piece in place. He'd been hurt like this before hadn't he? He'd told her as much. And how he'd never gotten close to another girl like that again. Not until...her. She swallowed hard as she listened closely trying to make sense of his drunken mutterings. Or what she assumed were drunken mutterings. Not that they were any less true, though.

Nirrimi usually had a better grasp at the english vocabulary. And his surroundings. The tightening feeling in her chest eased up a bit as he made his way onto the bed though it wouldn't release her entirely. And how could it? She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat as she cast a healing charm on his hand before placing her wand on her bedside and listening to his story quietly. He was...suffering. Hurting himself. This was so much worse than she'd imagined - it went beyond what she'd been expecting. She knew he'd had a rough summer - they both had - but she would have never guessed it was this bad for him. That he cared so much about her for this to happen. The ache in her chest expanded as she looked up at him. "I never wanted this to happen." she said softly her fingers slowly drawing closer to his arm and drawing slow circles there - the contact making her lungs expand in a mixture of things pleasant.

"Your hurting. I didn't know you had been. I'm so sorry." she said at last her eyes wide as she inched closer to him, the proximity making it easier to admit her failures. To admit to everything. She reached for him slowly. Her fingers twining into his hair and smoothing the darker tresses out. As if her hands were trying to erase the tension she could feel wound up in his body with such a simple caress. Her head made to rest on his breast bone and she took a deep inhale. As always it felt like she was coming home. She couldn't bear to look at him in the eye right now for she'd surely break. Feeling the moisture gathering in her eyes she knew she shouldn't look up. "I thought you wanted to break up with me." she admitted as one of her hands wrapped more securely around his torso. "I thought you didn't want me anymore." at this she closed her eyes feeling quite retched right then. She wasn't sure what to think right now. All she knew was that maybe it was something he needed to hear if for no other reason than to let his anger and bitterness fade away.

It didn't matter if her got over her. Didn't matter if he had stopped loving her. It pained her to think about. And she knew devastation awaited her. But she also knew that she needed to fix this lovely broken boy by any means necessary. Even if it meant laying it all out like she was doing right now. Even if it obliterated the part of the heart she tried to seal away. "Please don't do this to me. When I think about what you could have been doing to yourself - do you know how much that hurts me? I love you." her voice hadn't risen from its fragile whispering. "I'll do whatever you need me to do - just let me fix you. You...deserve to be happy." she finally managed.

She just... didn't know what to do anymore.

"I never wanted this to happen."

Nirrimi let out a small sound, finally giving in to the swirling and reeling feeling in his head. Of course she had never wanted it to happen. Who wanted this? Who wanted to feel like the only time they could get away from the heaviness of their own thoughts was finding their way to the bottom of several bottles every other night, and other things besides? Suppose he even knew what she had been dealing with over the last few months, he thought perhaps it wasn't exceptionally great either. He didn't answer her at that point, preferring to lay down with his face not turned towards her, but towards the edge of the bed. It was hard to look at her at the moment. Especially when she began talking again. A large part of him wanted to stop her from talking, mostly because he didn't really want to hear about himself spoken through a mirror. He had never been one to talk openly and honestly about what he felt. Truth and honestly in his feelings was almost a foreign language, of one he only knew a few phrases.

An almost angry expression crossed his face at the thought that Roslyn could not possibly have considered he might have suffered something over the breakup. How could she ever have thought that? Even if he hadn't wanted to be with her anymore? Did she think he was as unfeeling as that? But of course, he'd never displayed his feelings openly had he? Except once. He had told her. Told her exactly just how much he had been hurt by the last girl he'd fallen for.

"I never wanted to." he said, a slight edge to his voice despite the haziness of his thinking. "I did it because I thought our lives were going in directions too far away from each other. I thought it would be too hard. That never meant I didn't want you." Now he did turn to look at her, an almost harsh look in his eyes. "It's still to hard." He was struggling now to hold himself up, and fell back against the blankets to stare at the ceiling. Some of the feeling was starting to return to his body now, and though he was still quite intoxicated, his head was beginning to throb. The dull beat in his chest moved up to his throat when, again, she began to speak. But this time it wasn't the effect of drink that was sending numbing waves through his body. It was amazing how simple words could produce such paralysing effects on a person.

Nirrimi didn't move for a long time, didn't say anything. He couldn't even think anything. All he knew was that it was intensely painful to hear Roslyn say that to him, now of all times. He might have even been able to say it back, if he hadn't known how dangerous that would be. Telling each other they loved each other would not help either of them get passed this. And how cruel would it be, to tell her that perhaps what he needed most in this was to forget her? At least until he was further enough away from these feelings that he could move passed them. He'd been trying to get away from them for months, but he'd been going about it the wrong way. You didn't get away from them through drink, because they were always there when you woke up.

"You don't need to do anything." he said eventually, still staring at the ceiling. After a minute of silence, he sighed inwardly. "Maybe it's a good thing I'm going back to school. I won't have to think about much aside from work. Maybe that's just what I need." He turned slightly again, reaching out a newly healed hand to curl his fingers around a stray lock of hair. "I'm sorry I woke you up." he said at last, now looking intently at her for the first time in long minutes.

And this was why she'd boxed everything up that reminded her of the boy and ran away from it. This crushing feeling in her body that made the simple act of breathing hurt. She'd done soon after they'd seen each-other last. After she realized he didn't want her around. But why was here here? Her thoughts were swirling desperately. She had so many things going on - so many other things she was running away from. It had taken such a long time for her to get to where she was at.For the constant aching for him to just go away. Well for her to be strong enough to push it back. Micah and Elliot. It had taken the joint effort of her best friend and her ex to distract her. And Whitney, Merlin. She could feel the guilt bubbling in her chest, too. The whole problem was she couldn't understand why. Who was that guilt directed towards? Whitney or Nirrimi? Both?

Thethought left her helpless. There was no reason she should feel guilty for either of them. There was nothing going on after-all. Neither of them wanted anything with her. Not really. So why did things like this happen? She felt so bloody unhinged. She couldn't deal with Nirrimi like this. He was bitter, angry - at her. She could feel it. She supposed he was here to hurt her. There could be no other explanation. But then - didn't he already know? There was nothing left for him to hurt. Just a ping of pain in the overall torture. She curled further in, willing the tears to just go away. It would be so easy to give in. Her bed was familiar and she felt so exhausted - out of place. Her throat felt hot and strained - she couldn't even speak any longer. She knew he wouldn't return the words she'd spoken. He never had, really. She looked up in time to see the harshness set into his face. She tears shimmered in her eyes and all she wanted to do was hide. Hide away from the look he was giving her. Did he even know he was hurting her?

"Why are you here?" her tone was anguished almost desperate, her eyelashes wet and she felt sting that meant she was holding back tears that seemed inevitable. "I wasn't asleep." her breathing was harsh and she vaguely pointed at the cup of cocoa sitting innocently on the windowsill as she gulped. She - she needed to get away before she started crying in front of him. "I-I'll get out some cocoa or maybe tea? Actually I might have that coffee you like? Maybe that'd be better?" she chocked out, ready for an escape as she fumbled with the sheets that had tangled like ruthless snakes against her legs and disentangled herself from the warm body beside her. "Your probably cold." she continued the slow set of tears burning her vision as she finally managed to untangle herself. She could barely breath any longer. She was only vaguely aware her face was red and blotchy and that her tone sounded just a tad unhinged. "I-I have a few of your shirts -" she cut herself off, her throat closing in on and squeezing all sound savagely before it escaped. She rummaged through her top drawer hands shaking as she willed her breakdown to disappear.

Or at the very least wait until he was gone before she turned into a blithering mess. It seemed today wouldn't even be filled with small mercies.

"I don't know." he replied, frowning slightly. Why had he come? "I guess because I was angry." He paused for a moment, still thinking. "It's easier to be angry with someone when they aren't there." If he truly thought about it, he had come here tonight to vent. To yell a little and release all the frustrations of a failed relationship and a truly horrific aftermath. But then, it hadn't really been a failed relationship had it? They had had to move in separate directions and how sustainable would it had been then? He supposed he was glad to think he could remember nearly all their time as a couple as good time. Or maybe that simply made it worse? In the end, not even a perfect relationship was strong enough to hold people together.

Nirrimi didn't answer her invitation for drink. He knew perfectly well that she only wanted to get away from him and he knew why. His ability to say how he felt, just to return a small part of what she always gave willingly. But what good would it do? Neither of them would be able to move on if they kept looking back, kept reaffirming their dependance on each other. He had made her cry, he knew it. But it was better in the end. Cruel, now, yes. But it would be better for her in the long run, even he felt like an arsehole now.

"You'll do fine without me, you know." he said, sitting up to watch her as she rummaged through one of her draws. "It's shit now, but this is the worst part, I think." The alcohol was finally started to recede slowly. His head still hurt like hell, but at least it wasn't so foggy anymore. He watched her closely for a moment, feeling that perhaps he should at least put a shirt on, and wondering briefly why she had so many of them. He hadn't even really noticed their absence. It struck him that whilst tonight had, against all odds, done him some good, it probably hadn't done Roslyn any favours. Perhaps she had been getting along okay until he had come stumbling in to bring it all back up again?

"I can go if you want me to." he said. It seemed he had exhausted his anger. Any anger he felt towards Roslyn had simply crumbled into self-hate. "I'm probably the last person you should be seeing at the moment." He hadn't been able to bring himself to tell her he was sorry for the pain he was causing her. He really was pathetic.

Of course he was angry. She'd gotten that much at least. She didn't say anything. She figured he was the one venting, not her. And what did she have left t say, really? That she'd missed him? That was pretty obvious. That she loved him? Done. That she was pretty sure the only thing she wanted was to be close to him? Words that weren't leaving her mouth. She'd done enough damage already - she wasn't going to go there. For once she truly had nothing left to say.

As she shuffled through her drawers she found a jacket of his. Her fingers roved over the material for a second before she closed the drawer abruptly. "Right. I must have misplaced them." liar, liar. "I have jersey that'll fit you though." she went into her closet and ruffled through looking for the worn Ravenclaw jersey. It was one of the one she's stolen from Whitney and - unlike a shirt of his - she was pretty certain Nim wouldn't take it with him.

She knew it was stupid - and sentimental - for her to want to keep his things but argh. Whatever. She could do what she wanted. Would do what she wanted. She was using this time to compose herself before she had to face him again. The easiest way to deal with this would be the blankness. Just let him say what he needed to and not react. Just let him get everything off his chest. And then she'd go back to the life she'd been living. That was what he wanted right? So she'd give him that as she always had.

"I-I know." she told him a wan smile on her face. That wasn't the point though. It was the way she felt when he wasn't around versus the way she felt when he was. It wasn't about getting over it. She'd gotten past that. It was all about the loss she felt in his absence. How she was still able to miss him as she suspected she always would.

She shot him a look. "Your not going anywhere, actually even if I did have the inclination to throw your sorry arse out. You'll splint yourself if you apparate or do something stupid if I let you leave." she said wryly and affectionate sort of smile on her lips. She gave him a graceless shrug of her shoulders. "Your n't so bad." she told him trying to cement the nonchalance in her tone as she pretended to search for the jersey even though she knew excatly where it was. In front of her. Hanging neatly on the hanger. It was a jersey she often used. One of her favorites, too, on cold nights like these.

She finally grabbed it feeling the faded bronze lettering on her fingertips as she threw blue Quidditch jersey at the boy. "You can wear that for now. Your clothes should be dry in the morning, yea?" she told him. Its not like she was overlooking him comfort or anything. Just refusing to give him his clothes back. So what. Its not like he knew that. "You sure you don't want anything warm? I don't mind putting a fresh pot out for you." she asked him, concern shinning on her features. "I can whip you up something to eat if your hungry. I have a full pantry. Chocolate even." she told him a small smile on her face.

"Its no trouble. I'm not expected at the ministry tomorrow and I can open the shop at whatever time I want." or not at all. It was definitely looking like not at all really. She'd probably spend all day in bed trying to drown herself in her sheets and wondering why it still smelled like- Right. Backtrack backtrack backtrack. She needed to keep her thoughts in check. She had all day to break down tomorrow. Right now she needed to present a strong, unafected front. For the both of them. Nir didn't need a babbling mass of ex-girfriend right now. Or ever, really. "You can crash here for as long as you need." she told him. She knew he wouldn't take that offer but she wanted him to know that her door was open.

She loved the moron and wanted him to be alright.

And it would be a polite thing to do to y'know not look at the exposed chest sitting deliciously before her. Ugh. This was going to be a long long night. She didn't know how she'd be able to fall asleep with him in the bed next to her. Ordinarilly she'd just let him have the bed and sleep in the couch or something but she wanted to keep and eye on him. Make sure he was alright. At least for tonight. It was just in her nature to worry about him. Frett. Stupid boy. Not taking proper care of himself.

Catching the piece of clothing as she threw it to him, Nirrimi looked down suspiciously at the Ravenclaw quidditch jersey. There were only two people that this could have come from and he was hoping very much that whether this had come from Whitney or Elliot's closet, it was before they had started dating. He wasn't sure he could quite handle the possibility yet that Roslyn had moved on already... Especially with Whitney or Elliot. He looked up at her, trying not to visualise in his mind Roslyn and some strangely morphed version of both Whitney and Elliot. Of course, it wasn't like he had the right to be angry even if she had. He had had a reckless summer, one that had included many faceless and nameless people. Even now although he hadn't used his phone in the months he'd been at school, he occasionally received messages from people he neither recognised nor cared about.

And that was really the other thing that was tearing at his confidence these days. He wasn't sure of himself anymore, what he wanted, who he wanted and why. Things that would have terrified him a few short years ago were running up to meet him and even though he had woken up the next day, pale and terrified of what he'd done, he couldn't deny he had wanted it very much at the time. And there was no one to tell, even though it felt like a wall slowly but gradually expanding in front of his and blocking his way, he couldn't tell anyone because he was too scared of what they all might say. That was why Roslyn was such a comfort to him, as well as an incredible pain. She reminded him of everything he was and had when he was happy and sure of himself. Was it so wrong to want all of those feelings back, even for a second?

He smiled slightly when she told him he wasn't leaving that night and he was glad, because even had he left, he wouldn't have gone home. He never went home these days. He listened to her talk for a while, not really hearing her words but simply listening to the sound of her voice. The tone, the texture, the parts where it rose and where it dropped. It was like it's own kind of music. "No, I'm fine." he said, refusing the offer of food or drink. He wished she would come back onto the bed, he was feeling the familiar need to be closer to her, but somehow the intensity of it had increased with the need to feel normal again.

"Are you going to sleep next to me?" he asked, sounding almost childish. What would she do if he put an arm around her waist? Maybe curl a hand around hers when she was asleep. Was that too much? Or would that just hurt her even more. Not allow her to move past him? He wished she would just look at him, because she didn't seem able to at the moment. Was she perhaps angry with him now? Of course, he had a right to be. He had come banging on her door and yelling for her out of absolutely nowhere and in a state of complete physical and mental disarray, and then unloaded all his own demons onto her when all she probably needed to was forget about everything that had happened. And now as well as the drink sitting heavily in the bottom of his stomach, so was the guilt. He had never done right by her, when she had done everything right by him.

Roslyn caught the look he was giving the jersey and felt heat rise up to her cheeks in response. Perhaps it hadn't been a positively brilliant to give Nim Whitney's jersey to wear. Urk. Its not like one of her shirts would fit him anyway and it might honestly be a worse idea for him to sleep in the semi-nude. Because it would be bad for his health. Exactly. Not because she was liable of take advantage of him when he was in such a state of undress.

Because she wouldn't. Clearly. Crud. Okay maybe she would.

She raised an eyebrow in response to his hesitation, prompting the boy silently to bungle up. "Its cold." she reasoned as she blinked down at him. He couldn't really be opposed to a shirt of Whitney's right? Its not like he...knew what had happened recently. She bit her lip surreptitiously. She was feeling even worse for handing that blasted thing to him now. Still it wasn't as if she'd gotten that jersey from Whitney - er that day. No that shirt had been shoved into the bottom of her closet someplace after she'd gotten home from the last Quidditch match. Sigh. Why did her love life always have to be so complicated anyway?

"Its just Whitney's old jersey its not gonna bite you." she said wryly. She was trying to get him to put the blasted thing on before she made it to the bed but she was slowly running out of things to say. She knew something else was bothering him, though. Something simmering just beneath the surface. She wondered briefly when she had learnt to read his face. She figured it was too late to get into it now. She'd pester him in the morning and coax a valid confession out of him when she made him breakfast and gave him a hangover potion.

"Fine." she conceded eyeing him critically. "But your not getting out of eating breakfast in the morning. I make really good bacon." mmm insert yawn here. She hadn't yet realized she was so tired. Her eyes traveled up blearily at his at his question. His tone surprised her and she felt her heart warm a little more. Or was it just breaking a little more? Maybe both.

"Course'." she said slowly as she took off her robe and placed it across her vanity before making her way clumsily back into the bed. She crawled over the bed sneaking her body under the cover and the soft furry blanket beneath it and tumbled in, her face pressing against the softness of her sheets and sighing in bliss. She stretched like a cat and felt the satisfying crunch of her back before finally opening her eyes again and giving Nim a sleepy smile. "M' cold." she muttered, feeling her bones loosed and her emotions settle as she felt sleep beckoning. "Talk to me before I pass out." at these words she scooted closer to the boy, unconsciously seeking out his body warmth.

Or maybe she really just wanted to feel him next to her. "I don't wanna go to sleep yet." she added staring up at him with wide eyes, a rose colored face and plump, wet parted lips.