Mistakes
Neville had been planning to make a blueberry pie. He was quite an adept baker, although pie crusts seem to elude him, and Ronald was a near perfect taste tester with his insatiable sweet tooth. Although he wasn’t the best at critiquing Neville’s work, declaring each sweet to be “the best thing he’d ever eaten” with absolutely no room for improvement.
So Neville gathered his basket and trekked to the rows of bushes heavy with berries and began to pick. If he started his pie right away, it could probably be ready for this evening. Maybe Ronald could come for supper, if he wasn’t too busy. The weather was still balmy, but cool enough in the evenings that they could sit outside in the garden with dessert.
Neville shook his head.
His attraction to Ronald was becoming more difficult to deny. Although he considered the man to be one of his closest friends now, he could no longer lie to himself and say that his feelings did not go beyond that. The simple truth of the matter was that Neville liked Ronald far more than he should, and that it was becoming difficult for him to maintain a strictly platonic relationship. And Ronald was a comfortable man, comfortable with grazing touches that Neville indulged in far too often. It was far too easy each time it happened to fool himself into thinking that there could be something more between them, that they could cross that line from friendship into something romantic.
But Ronald was not like Neville.
Ronald had been engaged to Hermione, had been prepared to settle down with her. He dated women exclusively, had never shown the slightest bit of interest in a man. Not the way Neville had.
He sighed, plucking a berry from the bush and popping it into his mouth.
Ronald was a friend. Quite possibly his best friend, and he would not jeopardize that for anything.
Sweat trickled down the back of Neville’s neck. He straightened up, taking inventory of the berries in his basket. Nearly full, another couple handfuls would probably do the trick. He refused to acknowledge the thought that if he’d simply stop snacking on them he would’ve been done picking ages ago.
At this point, it’d probably be a well into the evening before the pie was done, but he doubted Ronald would mind. He’d owl him as soon as he headed into the house.
“Neville!”
Neville stood up and turned. Ronald was standing there, his freckled cheeks flushed and eyes shining. He was practically bouncing with excitement, and Neville smiled at the sight of the man so..
Happy.
“Ronald! What are you doing here?” Neville exclaimed. Ronald opened his mouth, but instead of speaking he took off, reaching Neville in mere seconds. Neville gasped as Ronald’s hands gripped his waist and he was pulled against the other man’s chest. His heart pounded as he looked up at the taller man, acutely aware of the hand resting on the exposed flesh of his lower back, of the fingers that had trailed up to cup his head, tangling in the sweaty tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Neville breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. Ronald’s eyes were fixed on his, his face a breath away from Neville’s own. His own hands rested on Ronald’s waist, and he fought the urge to slip them underneath the wool jumper he was wearing.
Ronald dipped his head closer to Neville’s, so close their noses were nearly touching.
Neville couldn’t breathe.
“You?” Ron murmured. “You owe me nothing. I, however, owe you everything.”
And then Ronald’s mouth slanted over his.
Neville could think of nothing, nothing, as Ronald’s mouth covered his own. He melted against the taller man, his hands gripping Ronald’s sides tightly as his mouth opened for him, as his tongue found Neville’s, as he tasted spearmint toothpaste, as he realized that he would give up everything to be able to do this again. Ronald’s hand traced up his back, underneath the damp t-shirt he wore, sending shivers rippling through Neville’s body as his kiss became hungry and desperate.
But then it stopped.
Ronald tore his mouth from Neville’s, his head jerking back and his eyes wide in shock and horror. Pain sliced through Neville as he saw the regret flicker in the other man’s eyes.
No.
No.
Fear, shame, and embarrassment settled in Neville’s stomach, heavy and aching as he realized that this thing he’d been so desperate to preserve, so desperate to keep was broken. He could see it in Ronald’s eyes.
“Ronald –“
“Don’t.”
The word was cold as it slipped out of Ronald’s mouth. His hands let go of Neville, falling to Ronald’s sides, but Neville didn’t let go, couldn’t let go, as though the hold he had on the wool jumper was the only thing tethering them together.
“Please, Ronald, let’s.. can we talk? Come inside and, and we can talk, yeah?” Neville hated the desperation in his voice, hated the way it wavered as though he were a fearful child again.
“Don’t, Neville, please don’t do that. Alright?” Ronald shook his head, taking a small step backwards, but Neville held on tighter. His eyes burned. He needed him not to leave, needed him not to run. He needed to explain himself, explain that nothing had to change, that he could put the lid on this, that he could hide it and everything would be okay again.
“Please.. It’s.. everything is okay, nothing has to change. Let’s just, let’s just talk about it?”
“I’ve got go.” Neville’s eyes burned. He fought back the tears that threatened to fall, fought back the panic that was rising in him, threatening to overtake him.
“Don’t,” He whispered. “It’s okay, I promise. Things.. it’s okay, please don’t go.” He stepped forward, tightening his hold on the sweater.
“Neville, please, just.. Just stop. Okay? Stop. I.. I’ve got to go. This was.. this was a mistake.”
A mistake.
The word burned through Neville. A mistake.
He knew it, of course. Knew that it was a mistake, knew that he was a mistake, but it still hurt hearing it come from Ronald’s mouth. Hurt more than it should’ve.
“Ronald –“
“Fuck, Neville!” The words exploded, shattering the peace of the garden, shattering any resolve Neville had left and a tear slipped down his cheek. “Just.. just fucking stop? Alright? Nothing is okay anymore, nothing is right, don’t you get that? Stop being so fucking forgiving!” Neville’s hands slackened as Ronald moved away from him, running his fingers through his red hair. “Look. I fucked up, mate, okay? I fucked up. I fucked up. I should’ve never.. fuck. I should’ve never even come here today.” Tears fell freely now. “I’m sorry, Neville. I’m so, so sorry for this. If I could take it back I would. Fuck, there’s so much I’d take back if I could.” He shook his head. “I can’t.. I just can’t be here, mate. I’m sorry. I’ve got to..”
He spun on his heel, disappearing from sight.
Neville stared at the spot Ronald had stood only seconds ago, as silent tears soaked his cheeks.
Everything was wrong.