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 help me piece it all together now, solzy <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
evan177th year馃毈pureblood5'10"
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Jun 9 2018, 03:37 PM   Link Quote
    If Sol was an idiot before, he had evolved into a total moron after that Quidditch match.

    What had he been thinking? Well, the truth of the matter was more that he hadn't been thinking at all. He'd assumed Mars was a pretty boy - a very pretty boy, but altogether just another handsome, stupid, beautiful boy who would pout when treated like shit, then go and whine about it to someone else. Apparently, Sol was too blind to see the fire behind the Gryffindor's eyes or his damn muscles - he had to be able to use them, surely, and they answer Sol had quickly found out was yes, Mars uses those muscles for beating people to a damn pulp. Had he expected to get a slap for his comments? Perhaps, once he realised how much they were getting to the Spaniard. Had he expected a punch? Ooh, maybe... It would've made things a little exciting, especially considering it would be following suit to the tiny Hufflepuff that had also punched Sol: the one that Mars liked to buzz around with. Had Sol expected to have his face rung like a gong against the hoop post and then to fall from the air onto the stadium floor? Not... he can''t say he expected that at all.

    He remembered the crunch his face made against the goalpost, and how even now the ringing sensation and the dull ache took over the left side of his face under his eye. He remembered the dizziness and how it felt like he was falling, the sudden realisation that he actually was falling... then Izzy was there, and Felton, then Felton was gone, and Sol was getting back up to fly. Was he insane? Perhaps. What kind of team expects someone to play with a broken arm? That was something he remembered suddenly: his damn arm! He tried to move it instinctively but found he could barely do so.
    "Shitty death..."
    Poetic words stemming from the pain that shot up his arm. Had he really fucked it up that badly? Jeeze...

    Sol paused. He looked around the room that he'd been waiting for the past handful of minutes. He was only here to check up on his arm, then go off again - there was an afterparty to worry about, after all! But despite his keen need to get the fuck out of here and back to drinking himself dead, he couldn't help but ponder... Izzy. He couldn't help but have her face when she ran over to him seared into his memory like the burn on his leg: she had been crying. Hadn't he been crying too? Well, there was no need to think about that: after all, Sol Flowers didn't cry... even when he'd literally broken a handful of bones. But Izzy? I mean... shit. Izzy's not supposed to cry, and especially not because of him. Even though they hadn't been speaking recently... or hell, even looking at one another. He'd tried to catch her eye in the classes he attended, tried to make jokes as loudly as possible so she might look over or even crack a smile... nothing. Sure, maybe it was his fault for being so shitty to her, but... hey, who had the time or the moral compass to think about how they treated others?

    He turned and caught a glance at her. That same mouse-brown messy plait, even from behind, was always so instantly recognisable to Sol. He shot up straight, about to call over for her attention when his whole body seized, defiant at te fact that Sol seemed to refuse the fact that he'd injured himself. "Ah, fuck!", a sudden wince and his hand going to his arm that still stung anytime it so much as moved. Nobody had pinned him down to "splint" or "bandage" or whatever the fuck people did to broken arms, and so somewhere inside Sol had the slight thought that maybe he should actually let people help him for once. Crazy, right? But with that came an unfamiliar closeness that Sol had tried his hardest to avoid... even when he craved it with someone like Izzy.

    If his cry of pain hadn't been enough to alert her, he raised his head - still gritting his teeth from the shot of pain - and called for her.

    "Hey, uh... Izzy? C'mere?" And what was he going to do - apologise? Thank her? Kiss her again? All three would've been nice, but he didn't want to risk being slapped again. Not when he was already so owchies.

@Isidora Argyris

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(permanent language & substances warning)

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