Daze
"How much of this is in my head, how much is real? Is it all just my imagination?"
“Hey, Handsome,” says Score, grinning. I laugh, pull him into a hug. It lasts longer than it needs to. But it’s okay. Score’s my constant, in this world. These worlds of demons and humans and nimirre. The only constant.
I’m still detached, from it all. Still stuck in time. A minute feels like a year, then a term passes in a flash. Score is concerned. I don’t like worrying him. I don’t want to worry him. I don’t want to kill demons. But I do it, anyway. I don’t want to hurt. Hurt him, hurt me, hurt them, hurt us. To hurt, or be hurt. I don’t, anymore. Feel hurt. I cut, I bleed, but it doesn’t hurt. It is strange, not hurting. I rather like it.
I like him. His smell. His laugh. His eyes. His skin. His lips, oh, those lips. He’s my constant. This detachment; I don’t hurt. But with him, well, he can hurt. I’d do anything to stop Score hurting. My Score. Scorpius.
“Hey, Score," I pull him into a hug. Where are we? I don’t know. Somewhere inside. I think there are people around us, but I can’t hear them. Why can’t I hear them? It is all so confusing.
I lean our foreheads together, look into his eyes. Those beautiful beautiful stormy eyes. Eyes that hide so much. Hide smiles and tears. Fakes them. At least he feels them. I don’t feel much, anymore.
"You're beautiful," I whisper.
“I love you,” Score says. I smile.
“Love you, too.” Anything. I’d do anything to stop Scorpius hurting.
“I think I'm inlove with you."
I don’t feel much, anymore. What I do is with him. Always with him. In a dream, or awake. It doesn’t matter, whether its reality or not, just so long I’m with him. “Can we… Can we be more that friends?” I ask. Please say yes. I’m stuck in time. A minute feels like a year. But it’s not a minute. It’s not even a second. The words barely leave my lips, before—
“Yes, yes. Of course. Yes!” replies Score. Where are we? I don’t care. I kiss him. Quickly. A brief touch of the lips. When are we? I don’t really care. I’m with Score. My Scorpius.
~|~
They want to move me up to Red Rank. Both of us. I should be proud. I’m not. All it means is Score and I won’t share any lessons. Any. I’m stuck in time. Nothing makes sense, anymore. It is all so confusing. But somehow, I stop asking. I have questions… but in this world I don’t care about the answers. All I need is Score. My Score. My Scorpius.
They want us to see the demons, below the school. The ones in cages. It’s cruel to keep them locked up, like that. If you are going to kill them, kill them. It’s just so human to be cruel, and know we are. But I don’t want to fight demons. I don’t want to kill angels.
I don’t want, I don’t want, don’t want, don’twantdontwantIdontwant.
What do I want? What does he want? What do I want?
No. Questions. Too many questions.
I thought I’d blocked them out.
But I can’t help but feel with him.
It hurts. It hurts so much.
It is all so confusing.
Nothing makes sense, anymore.
Why can’t it just make sense?
Where’s reality?
I’m in a daze. I’m stuck in time. I can’t think anymore. Not with this infernal frequency humming in my ears. And not with that voice, at the back of my mind. The demon who’s an angel. The angel who’s not a demon. And people and people and dead eyes. I can’t get it out of my head, when I let myself feel. And I only let myself feel when I’m with Score. Because if I don’t, then he will hurt. And I’d do anything to stop Scorpius hurting. Anything. Everything.
I’m in this daze. This bliss. I’m stuck in time. A moment’s a decade. A year’s a minute. I let it wash over me. Because when I do, I don’t care about the answers to my questions. All of the questions. Any of the questions.
~|~
The demons beneath the school are like us, but aren’t. Fear in their eyes, I can see it. Fear in my eyes, maybe. But I don’t feel it. I don’t feel much, anymore. I wonder what they feel, locked up like that. Do demons feel? All the trainers say that anger and fear are all demons feel. And pleasure, of course. Allegedly they enjoy killing us. Like we enjoy killing them.
It is not inhuman, what we do. Because it is oh so very human. It is our nature to be cruel like this, to fight what we don’t understand. We don’t understand demons. We say, and think, that we do, but we don’t.
I think demons hurt. Hurt me, hurt them, hurt us, hurt themselves. They cause hurt and are hurt.
But do demons feel?
Or are they detached? Switched off? Somehow away from it all?
Have they stopped caring about the answers? Maybe even stopped asking?
It is all so confusing, in these worlds of demons and angels and humans and nimirre. In another lifetime, another world, perhaps it will all make sense.
But nothing makes sense anymore.
Do demons feel? Do they feel as humans feel, or more like me, detached. Does that mean I’m not human? What am I? Who am I?
I still have no fucking clue.
I wonder what Score feels. His eyes, those beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes. Eyes that hide so much. Fake so much. He hides his true emotions, the way I wish I could. But I can’t hide by emotions, because I don’t feel much, anymore.
I don’t want to fight demons. I don’t want to kill angels.
But I do it, anyway.
~|~
People. Hands. Blood everywhere. Mine. Theirs. Hands, the colour of death. Demon blood, on my hands. And people were people, and dead demon eyes.
I don’t want to fight demons.
I don’t want to kill angels.
I don’t want, I don’t want, don’t want, don’twantdontwantIdontwant.
But I do it, anyway.
A dead demon, on the floor. Blood, all over the floor. Blood. Wood. Stains.
Talking. So much talking. Make it stop.
Humming, in my ears. I can’t think, anymore. And not with that voice, at the back of my mind. Or those whispers, in my ear. Whispers.
Daggers, in my hands. Blood on my hands. Make it stop. Just make it stop.
I thought I’d blocked them out.
Shadows, around me. Hissing. “Demon-Slayer.” But I don’t want to kill Demons. “Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on your hands.” Eyes, the colour of death. Dead demon eyes. Hands, the colour of death. Blood, on my hands.
People, everywhere. Eyes, the colour of death, staring at me. Dead eyes. Dead demon eyes. Demons, in the shadows. Hissing from their cages.
It’s all so confusing. The voices, the talking. People, everywhere. Demons in cages. Fear in their eyes. Dead eyes. Dead demon eyes.
I don’t want to fight angels.
I don’t want to kill demons.
I don’t want, I don’t want, don’t want, don’twantdontwantIdontwant.
I want Score. Scorpius. My Scorpius. They want to split us up.
I don’t wan them to split us up.
So I’m running, running. Still stuck in time. How long has it been? Where am I? I’m in a daze. Where’s reality? Why does it even matter? I’ve stopped caring to wake up, if I’m asleep. It all is real, to me. It is all so confusing. Nothing makes sense, anymore.
Why can’t it all just make sense?
In another lifetime, in another, world, maybe all of it will.
Make sense.
Please.
~|~
I’m stuck in time. I’m in daze. A year is a minute, and a second a lifetime. I am somewhere surrounded by people. But I can’t hear them. Are they really there? I don’t care.
Because I’m with him. I’m with Score. Scorpius. My Scorpius. My knight in shining fairy armour.
Lily is here. Why is Lily here? Lily and her muggle fairy-tales.
And James. With mother. But where’s father? I don’t care.
They’re talking to me, my blood family. What are they saying? I don’t care. All I can think about is Score’s hand in mine.
I’m detached, in a daze. Switched off.
I cut, I bleed, but it doesn’t hurt.
Scars, on my hand, the colour of death. Scars and scars and people being people and dead eyes.
I scare myself, sometimes. With my thoughts. Score is concerned. I don’t like worrying him. I don’t want to worry him. Where are we?
“The carriages. The year’s over, Asp," says Score. How much of this is in my head, how much is real? Is it all just my imagination?
“Already?” I ask. I think I ask. Can anyone really hear what I’m saying?
I am stuck in time. In a daze.
But I can’t help but feel, when I’m with him. With Scorpius. My Scorpius.
~|~
There’s been another demon attack. Father was there. He lived. And people were people and dead eyes. The hospital is crowded. They always are. “I’m sorry, Al," father is saying. I zoned out again. I’m in a daze, still stuck in time. “I’m sorry for leaving things the way I did.”
“I’m not," I say bluntly. He was honest. I was honest. Terrible truths are better than lovely little lies. The truth hurts. But I don’t feel much, anymore. What I do is with him. But Score isn’t here. He’s somewhere else, miles away. They want to split us up.
I don’t want them to split us up.
So I’m running, running. But it’s all in my head. I’m stuck in time. A second feels like an eternity. I’m still in the hospital.
“Al," mother’s expression is pained. I stare at them with blank eyes. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands. Blood, seeping into the floor. “What happened?” their eyes are sad. Fear in their eyes.
“Morgana,” I sigh, to myself, “nothing’s happened.” Everything’s happened.
“Are you sure you’re okay? We care, you know,” mother is worried. I don’t mind worry her. It’s Score I care about. I don’t want to worry him. James snorts, from behind us. I can’t help but agree with the sentiment.
“I’m fine," I reply, anyway. Am I, though? Fine?
“We’re your family. You can tell us,” she doesn’t belive me. They never do. Lovely little lies can sometimes be better than terrible truths. They know it’s a lie. But who is lying? Am I really a Potter? Who am I? What am I? I still have no fucking clue.
~|~
Reitros Keai is here, at the hospital. He’s talking to James, but I can’t hear them. Why can’t I hear them? I’m in a daze, stuck in time. Keai is shaking my hand. Saying something.
“I hope to see you them, Albus," I nod absentmindedly. What is he talking about? Keai has left. I didn’t notice him leaving.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Al?” asks Lily. I nod again, not sparing her a glance.
“We’re so proud of you, James," mother is telling her eldest son.
“Captain and Blue! Think you’ll go for Senior Rank?” father is also proud. Of course he is. Trust James to be the perfect son. Gryffindor, Head Boy, Blue Rank, and now Captain. Lily’s a prefect, at Hogwarts. I hope she doesn’t talk to me, when she joins Beauxbatons. Or, Morgana forbid, befriend me. Lily can bother James all she wants. She better stay away from Score and me. Score was a prefect. I wasn’t. Father is still bitter about it.
“Of course I’m going for Silver!” James smirks, “maybe even do 3rd Form at Illvermorny, if I can get in.”
“That would be wonderful, son," father only ever calls James ‘son’.
“I’m going back to Hogwarts, for 3rd Form," I hear myself say. All eyes turn to me. I haven’t said much all day. Week. I’m stuck in time. How long has it been?
“Back to Hogwarts?” Lily is surprised. She shouldn’t be. I can’t stand America. The way they treat demons – it’s more human than here. It’s just so human to be cruel like this. Demons in cages. It’s cruel, to keep them locked up, like that. If you’re going to kill them, kill them.
But I don’t want to fight demons. I don’t want to kill angels.
How long has it been? I don’t care. I just need to get back to Score. Scorpius. My Scorpius.
They want to split us up.
I don’t want them to split us up.
Why do they want to split us up? Why does Score need to be away? Away from me? Scorpius Malfoy, the shining fairy knight. My knight.
Why can’t we just be?
Be what? Who am I? What am I?
Still no fucking clue.
~|~
I’m running, running. Is it in my head? I don’t care. To me, it all is. Real. I’m stuck in time. How long has it been? I’m too tired to care. I’m tired of it all. Nothing makes sense, anymore. People, everywhere. Eyes, the colour of death, staring at me. Dead eyes. Dead demon eyes. People. Hands. Blood everywhere. Screams. Swords.
People are people and dead eyes. And blood. And scars, so many scars. Mine. Theirs. Hands, the colour of death. Blood everywhere. Wood. Stains. It shouldn’t come out. But we’re wizards, so it does.
Talking. So much talking. So so much talking. Make it stop. Just make it stop.
And that humming, in my ears. I can’t think, anymore. Not with those whispers in my head. At the back of my mind.
“Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on your hands.”
Daggers, in my hands. Blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. So, so many scars.
“Demon-Slayer. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on your hands. Cursed. Evil. Evil and a Slytherin.”
Whispers. So many whispers.
I thought I’d blocked them out.
But I can’t help but feel, when I’m with him. With Scorpius.
My Scorpius.
Where is he? Where am I? Where are we?
He’s with me. Concern in his eyes. His beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes. Eyes that hide so much. Fake so much The way I wish I could. But I don’t feel much, anymore.
“Asp, Asp. Albus.” Score is shaking me. I’m in a daze. How long have I been here? Where even is here?
“Hey,” I say. Hear a sigh of relief.
“Hey, Handsome. What happened?” his eyes are sad. Fear in his eyes.
Dead eyes.
Dead demon eyes. Dead human eyes.
Blood, so much blood. Everywhere. People and people and dead eyes. Scars, so many scars. Hands, the colour of death. Evil eyes, cunning eyes. Blood on my hands. Grey eyes. Beautiful, beautiful stormy grey eyes.
“Hey, Handsome,” Score says softly. "Hey. We lost you for a bit, there.” I’m in a daze. Stuck in time. How long has it been? Wait. We.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.” I don’t like worrying him. I don’t want to worry him.
“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about, Albus.”
“Who else is here?” I ask. Can they hear me?
“My Dad, Draco. You know him. He’s always going on about books or Quidditch.” I nod, absentmindedly. My hands are shaking. Why are they shaking? When did it start? When will it end? Will it end?
Blood, on my hands. Scars on my hands. So, so many scars. I’m trembling all over.
“It’s not real, Albus. Handsome, come back to me.” But it is real. To me, it all is. I’m in a daze. Where’s reality? I’m stuck in time. “Come back to me, Handsome.” Beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes. Fear in those eyes. Dead eyes. Dead demon eyes. Dead human eyes.
Demon eyes, human eyes. So, so similar. Demons are shapeshifters. Demon blood on my hands. Human blood on my hands. Demon-Slayer. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes.
But the scars, the scars. So many scars.
“Come back to me. Please.” fear in his voice. Pleading, almost. I don’t like worrying him. I don’t want to worry him. I’d do anything, for my Scorpius. So I come back, from wherever I was. If I was even somewhere.
Where’s reality?