There was something different about Theo. Not just the surface level differences that everybody had, like hair colour or height. Not even the bigger ones, like how he didn't have a mother any more, or how he was at least a month older than every other kid his age. He didn't know why, or even what it was that made him different, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tell. Everyone else could tell, sometimes even better than he did.
He didn't like the parties his father made him go to, and had to run from the crowd or his head would feel all fuzzy and his skin would start to prickle. His ears would pop at the noise from the pianists, and he needed to cover them or it felt like his head would split open. Nobody else covered their ears, and when people stared at him or asked why he kept pressing them, his father sighed and told them that Theo was just different before trying to move him to a space further from the people and the music.
People said that about him a lot, like when he would talk about insects too much, or look at people wrong, or held back when his friends wanted to play tag because their hands felt too strange. Only he seemed to do these things, something he learned through observing the other children when he had to go on 'play dates' to socialize. In his nine long years on this planet, he'd realized that this was an irrefutable fact of life.
Theodore Nott was simply different.
He didn't really mind it. He was allowed to sit outside or go to the quieter rooms when the music picked up or the ballroom was too crowded, even if he still had to go to the parties. He didn't need people to listen about his insects to study them, and nobody tried to touch him enough for it to be an issue. He could work around it, mostly, and he spent the majority of his time in his house, anyway, where he didn't have much to work around. Even the things he did were much easier to deal with at home.
Honestly, he was fine with being different. He didn't give it much thought until he went over to Malfoy Manor one Friday afternoon.
There were five of them in the gardens: him, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Daphne. Her sister was sick, so she had to stay home with her mother. The adults were all talking in the sitting area, far enough not to really hear them, but close enough that if anything really happened, they would know. Draco had started a game closer to the forest that lined the estate than the adults, but Theo wasn't really listening to what it was. All he knew was that it involved teams of some kind, and a lot of running and tagging each other. A beetle crawled onto him a few minutes ago, and he was busy keeping still on that side so he wouldn't frighten it. His other hand was tapping the ground, so he wouldn't have to move the hand with the beetle. It was long and pretty and dark, and it was bigger than his fingernail, but it moved really quickly and it’s legs tickled as it scuttled up and down his flat palm. He ignored his name being called as he observed the beetle; if it were something important, they would have used his full first name, not just Theo.
It flew away when Draco came over to him, and he watched it go back to the forest with a deep fascination. Maybe it would find another beetle to befriend or find a home under a log, he hoped so. He turned back to Draco when he felt his shadow, and shuffled back slightly. The boy’s eyes were a really light blue, almost gray, like the sky before a mild thunderstorm, but he blinked too much to tell any more than that.
"Come on, you never play with us properly! All you do is sit at the side messing around with the bugs, and that's boring," the blonde crossed his arms and stared expectantly, as Theo put his clasped his together in front of him.
"But beetles aren't bugs, they're just insects. True bugs are in the order Hemiptera, but beetles are Coleoptera. They have different mouth parts and-" he spoke, prepared to explain more thoroughly before he was cut off, wincing at the yell so close to his ears.
"You know what I meant! Anyway, it's my house, which means that it's my rules, and I say you have to play with us," he told him. Draco moved too quickly for him to notice, and began tugging at his wrist to pull him closer to the group. It was uncomfortable, and when he wouldn't let go, it was unbearable.
Every inch of skin that he held felt like it was on fire, a small armada of hot coals firing themselves at him from Draco's hands. It was warm and crushing and he needed it off of him (he needed it off, now, please, it was so much it was starting to hurt let go let him go-)
He pulled and pulled but he couldn't get out, he was stuck. He could barely hear everyone's voices over the heartbeat in his ears or the burning in his wrist, but they were still there, a terrible undercurrent of constant static to drown him in. He wanted to tell him to go away, get off, but his tongue felt like lead and no words would come out. A low humming noise was coming from somewhere, and he realized it was coming from his throat about two seconds before he realized that he couldn't stop.
"Hey, he doesn't look so good, maybe you should just leave him," Blaise suggested, looking over to him, and those were his new favourite words the other boy had ever spoken.
"Yeah, he seems upset. He doesn't have to play with us if he doesn't want to, Draco," he could see Daphne's eyes as she looked back at him, the comfort of deep sapphire irises unable to slow the tidal wave of feeling crashing into him.
"Yes he does, I said so," He still wasn't letting go, and by now he was almost at the centre of the group.
"Why is he making that noise? Is his hand okay?" Pansy asked, stepping closer - even closer, why wouldn't they just leave him alone - and staring down at his twitching fingers frantically tapping his sides.
He couldn't take this, he had to get away, so he pushed instead of pulled and toppled Draco over. The second the blonde's hand left his wrist he ran for the forest as hard and fast as he could, diving behind a tree and collapsing to the floor.
He still felt the burning touch no matter how hard he rubbed his wrist, and by now the horrid sensation was beginning to spread. It was everywhere, pulling at him from all angles and he couldn't curl tightly enough to shield himself from any of it, even with his head pressed to his knees. No amount of rubbing his arms or rocking would relieve it or rebalance it, and despite his efforts it was still bordering unbearable. The voices were still there, running in the background, smashing into his skull, and the humming wouldn't drown them out. Pressing his ears was almost automatic, but that didn't help when the voices came closer. The pressure was starting to ache, but it felt better than the noise, so he kept pushing and pushing until he felt his hands being pulled away by some formless force.
He panicked before a soothing pressure covered his ears again, shoulders untensing at the familiar feeling of magic blotting out the sound until he was left alone with his thoughts. The last time he felt this spell was two months ago, when he couldn't escape the music in time and his father had to cast it to keep him from breaking down in the middle of the ballroom. The only problem with it was the threat of damage to his ears if it was cast wrong or pushed too hard against his eardrums, so it was used sparingly.
Slowly, he dropped his hands until they were back tapping at the ground next to him, the grass nice and soft beneath his fingertips. His breathing began to even out, and Theo felt his throat stop vibrating, which meant that the humming had probably stopped. The quiet helped him refocus and the grass gave him a sensation to hone in on that wasn't his wrist until it faded, and he managed to uncurl himself after a few minutes. His father was knelt in front of him, about a metre or so away, and appeared to be waiting for something. Theo stared at him, waiting in turn, before his father gestured towards his ears. Reluctantly, he nodded, and braced himself for the influx of noise. It was calmer than before because the voices were gone, and took him less time to adjust.
Blinking, he rose, steadying himself against the tree, and his father stood as well. All of his energy seemed to have dissipated into the atmosphere, but unfortunately, he knew the aftermath of these events too well to assume he could go home immediately. They would need to discuss with the Malfoys before leaving out of politeness and to try and avoid situations like this in the future. Quite frankly, he thought the solution was quite simple: stop grabbing at him. But, he did push Draco, so that was something he had to deal with now.
Walking back over to the group, he noted that Draco appeared to have been crying, which was an admittedly unwanted consequence. He didn't regret pushing him over, but he did regret making him cry. If he was crying, then he was upset, which wasn't his intention at all. The rest of the children were in a group next to their parents, who were at the edge of the sitting area, presumably informing them about what happened. Pansy was staring at him for some reason, but turned away when he looked back. Draco was staring at him as well, furrowing his eyebrows as he and his father walked over to Lady Malfoy and her son.
"My apologies, Narcissa, but we will need to leave early. Thank you for the pleasant reception during the lunch," his father started, nodding to Lady Malfoy, who smiled lightly back.
"I understand, and I'm glad we could make you feel welcome. I hope to still see you at the dinner on the 20th," she responded. This was the part where he and Draco were meant to talk, so he looked towards him and began to speak before there could be any unnecessary prompting. Luckily, his voice was still intact despite his throat aching from the humming.
"I'm sorry for pushing you, it wasn't my intention to make you upset, just to make you let go," he said, tilting his head down slightly in remorse. It wasn't feigned, unlike in most of these apologies, because this time he seemed to have genuinely hurt Draco. Most of the time, people were just agitated that he ran off or that he shut down at all.
"I should hope so. You were being completely unreasonable, as usual. You're lucky I even tried, with how little effort you put in," the boy huffed, causing his mother to look down at him. Theo tilted his head. He wasn’t unreasonable, and he did put some effort in, just not all the time. The beetle was more interesting that day, and they were getting along fine without him. How would he even fit into the teams? They had an even number of players when he was absent, but not when he participated. Besides, getting involved in such a touch-based game would likely just have resulted in this outcome a lot sooner.
"There's no need to be rude, Draco. He's apologized to you, it would be fitting to do the same for your actions earlier," she scolded, but the boy didn't seem to care. Theo himself was too tired to care about any apology, he just wanted to go home, but they'd be stuck here until the blonde complied.
"But Mother, that's unfair! Why do I have to apologize because there's something wrong with him? It isn't my fault he reacted like that!" he refuted, which seemed to agitate the older woman.
She seemed to say something else, but at that point Theo wasn't listening to her words. Draco's reaction wasn't entirely unexpected, but his phrasing was. He wasn't wrong, he would know if he was. His reaction made perfect sense; Draco grabbed him and wasn't releasing him, so he removed his grip through force. If he was wrong, somebody would have told him earlier, and this would be an entirely different conversation.
He was still thinking when his father finished talking with the Malfoys, and he held out a large key which he grabbed readily. Portkey travel wasn't completely pleasant, but it wasn't that bad either, and the sitting room they arrived in wasn't too far from his bedroom. He didn't have the energy to reflect right now, he could do that later, so he stopped thinking and went to his bed. Sleep was hard because it was still bright outside, but rest was easy, and he was almost completely recharged by dinner with his father. They were both quiet people, so it didn't take much effort, and there wasn't much noise at all (aside from the clinking of cutlery) before he spoke up.
"Father, what did Draco mean earlier? I don't understand how my actions were incorrect, aside from making him upset," the boy asked, and his father paused in the middle of cutting his steak. There was silence for a second as the older man thought of a way to explain what had happened to his son.
"Theodore, he wasn't calling your actions wrong. He doesn't understand why you reacted the way you did, so he thinks that it must be something to do with you being at fault, rather than it being a response to what happened," he told him after a brief pause. It took a few moments to process the answer, but he reached an unwanted conclusion soon after.
"So... he thinks that there is something wrong in how I am, rather than in what I did?" he said slowly. It lined up with what Draco said better than his other theory, he supposed, but it made his chest heavy and his spine feel cold.
"He does, but that doesn't mean that it's true. There's a difference between being wrong and being abnormal," his father told him. He watched carefully as his son took in his words, looking for any sign of distress or confusion, but the boy seemed oddly still. He nodded once, and the man relaxed at the lack of dismay on his face.
"I see. That makes sense," But that didn't make him feel better.
The next time that he saw Draco, the blonde didn't try to speak to him at all. His responses to any of Theo's attempts were clipped short, as were Pansy's. He tried asking about the game they were playing, as it seemed a lot less contact-heavy than the previous one, but they told him that he wouldn't like it. They didn't explain when he asked why they thought that, but it was easier not to try and argue with them, especially if it turned out that they were right and it would end up being something he didn't enjoy. Maybe this was their way of trying, so he wouldn't complain about it. Watching them play was almost entertaining, but he still ended up wandering off and searching for something more stimulating.
They didn't think he'd like any of the games they played after that. Blaise did, but it was easier not to get involved, so they mostly talked or played privately. By 11, he hadn't properly talked to Draco in almost a year.
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When he got to Hogwarts, Theo realized that there was a distinction between being different and being wrong. He also realized that the two were rarely separate, and that both applied to him. People stopped labelling him as different at 11, and started leaning towards alternatives. Suddenly, he wasn't different, he was weird. Creepy. Difficult. One student asked if he was special, and looked at him funny when Theo asked for an explanation. He realized fairly quick that it wasn't a positive descriptor. Out of all the labels, that one was his least favourite. They were talking about him like he couldn't see their intentions, like dressing up their words with a 'less insulting' term would make him ignore the venom their words were laced with.
Nothing he did could make the words stop. He couldn’t explain to anyone the reasons why he hated the Great Hall during meal times, or why his hands were constantly moving, or why he couldn't touch the slimier ingredients during Potions lessons. Any type of negative reaction or – in certain cases – breakdowns were watched with a sense of disgust, everyone assumed that it was a purposeful decision on his part. Not something that he couldn't handle, but something that he wouldn't handle. He stopped trying to explain when it was clear nobody would listen.
Fortunately, Blaise was willing to partner with him, so he could avoid the less pleasant ingredients, and in return he did most of the boring parts like stirring or writing the evaluations afterwards, or dealing with the less pleasant smelling ingredients. His nose was surprisingly poor, which he saw as a large positive, considering some descriptions he’d heard of certain things. The Great Hall was bearable after a Muffliato, but he couldn't hear anything at all, so he couldn't listen to anyone either, unless he brought a quill and some paper and they were willing to write. He was avoided or ignored for the most part, which made crowds less of a problem, because they were rarely near him. He didn't hate that, he supposed. It made some things easier, like walking through the hallways, and if they were too far for him to hear them, then he never had to hear them talk about him. It also made quite a few things more difficult.
Nobody was willing to partner with him in any subject when Blaise was absent or not in that class. Daphne was friendly, and he joined her group often when projects had more than two or three people, but she had her own friends, and he could get by with the assigned partners he was given. Often times, it seemed like they were the ones who couldn't, acting like it was a great, unjust punishment when they were placed with him. Even if they didn't, things were awkward and stilted, and every word out of his mouth only seemed to make it worse. Normally, he ended up trying to focus on his share of the work without being noticed too much. Surprisingly, Granger was one of the more desirable partners. She had a heavy focus on the actual project and couldn't care less about what he was like, as long as his portion was completed to a high enough degree of excellence and he wasn't hostile to her.
Outside of lessons, it was hard to find things to do. The library was often his first choice, and he consumed book after book on a vide variety of topics. He always found his way back to insects, but a recent addition was time magic. Very few people wanted to hear about it, but very few people wanted to hear him at all, so that was fine. He did have some friends, like Blaise, who he talked to quite frequently, and Daphne, who wasn't averse to his presence. Mostly, though, he was alone, and managed to find entertainment in wandering the borders of the Forbidden Forest and looking in, hoping to see something interesting. Even when he didn't (which was often), the walk itself was quite fulfilling, and the forest was beautiful, in a dark kind of way. Like an ornate dagger coated in rubies, or a crystal ocean before a tidal wave. Sometimes, he could see creatures behind the tree line, staring at him with beady eyes. Staring back at them was the highlight of his week.
He was in the library today, because it was Friday. Everybody was outside on Fridays to celebrate the end of the week, so there would be no comfort if he took his walk today. He never took his walks on Fridays because he always ran into someone when he did, drifting near the trees until his route was disturbed by someone (or, Merlin forbid, a group of them) unnervingly close to his path. Today, he was reading a book on different magical artefacts and the magic types involved in them. There was a chapter on time turners he found particularly intriguing, and he found his amusement in reading through the pages and making small notes in his pocketbook. Unfortunately, he was interrupted from his research by a small hand tapping the space in front of him.
Astoria Greengrass was in front of him, azure eyes sparkling in the candlelight. Her hair was a slightly golden blonde, barely lighter than her sisters, and it seemed to change shades as the flames danced on the strands. Her appearance at his table was strange, considering they barely talked. She was, much like her sister, pretty nice, but they were in separate years and he only ever saw her in the Common Room or at meal times. There was no reason he could think of for her being here.
"Hey, Theo. I haven't seen you in a while," she smiled, but didn't sit down. She probably wasn't aiming for a longer conversation, then.
"I saw you yesterday in the Common Room, but you were playing Exploding Snaps, so it's likely you didn't see me. Are you here to ask me something?" he asked, blinking. People tended to be more receptive if he blinked often, which was strange, but useful information. Astoria flinched back slightly, probably at the unexpected question, but didn't make a move to leave.
"How did - uh, never mind. But I do, actually. Would you be willing to take me to the Yule Ball?"
Well, that was unexpected. In all honesty, he'd forgotten about the Ball. The main thing he was dealing with at the moment was the Tournament, and there hadn’t been a moments peace. The Tri-Wizard Tournament as a whole didn't capture his interest, only his annoyance at having to deal with it. It wasn't necessarily compulsory to watch, but everything he liked was closed or inaccessible due to preparations for the tasks. The courtyards were blocked off for suspense purposes, the Forbidden Forest was being guarded closely so no students were allowed anywhere near it, and the champions often ended up in the library studying for the tasks, which brought in many curious bystanders and completely ruined his peace. It seemed like such a large fuss for such an unnecessary event. It wasn't even that interesting. Oh, they're making the champions fight a dragon by preying on its maternal instincts, how exciting it is to watch it try to set people on fire. Terrifying, obviously, but not something he enjoyed. The Ball was just another irritant he had to somehow cope with, luckily just this once. He’d be out of school for the next one.
"I wasn't actually planning on going, it sounds unbearable. Why are you asking me?" he questioned. For a brief moment, he entertained the idea that she actually wanted to go with him, specifically, but the notion was quickly discarded. They didn't know each other well enough for that.
"Well, you're nice enough, and you're a Fourth Year, so you'll be allowed in without being so old it's weird to ask. They won't actually let me in because I'm 'too young', but it's not like it's an annual event. I won't be able to go until Seventh Year if I don't go now," the blonde responded, rolling her eyes at the injustices of the age limit, pausing slightly before adding, "Also, and I don't mean to be rude, but you don't really… have that many people asking? So you seemed like a more reliable option. Most of the other Fourth Years I know were already taking someone, anyway."
It was a logical assumption, but that didn't tamper the slight hurt in the back of his mind. If people didn't talk to him, then they wouldn't ask him, it was a simple concept. That would be true regardless if she picked up on it or not. The swirling storm cloud rapidly forming around him had no basis. That storm cloud was also irrelevant to the conversation at hand, so he ignored it - he could deal with it later.
"I can take you, but I doubt I'll stay longer than is necessary to get you in," Theo told her, and she nodded, smiling one last time before beginning to walk away.
"That's fine, I don't mind. I'll see you next week!" her volume caused Madam Pince to direct her glare towards the girl, but she took no notice. Shaking his head, Theo turned back to his pages. Now he'd have to get a decent set of robes. Damn it.
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The storm cloud wouldn't go away, even after he'd resolved to get rid of it. Except, now it felt like less of a cloud and more of a thick smog, clogging his airways and restricting his ability to breathe. It made everything else ten times worse than usual. He ended up skipping dinner in the Great Hall and decided on going to the kitchens slightly beforehand so he could collect a meal to take to the dormitories. Trying to brave the Slytherin Table had no benefits and would only end in disaster, so he avoided it.
The worst part was the confusion - he had no idea why the smog was there. Obviously, what Astoria had said affected him, but he couldn't conceptualize why. It wasn't an unusual thought, he'd had similar ones himself many times, it wasn't even an opinion. It was an objective fact. He knew this, but it never upset him before. There must have been something else, but he couldn't find anything, and he couldn't let it go.
The smog stuck with him for a few days, weighing him down and draining his energy, but he got over it by Monday evening. Nice robes were fairly easy to come by: he wrote to his father asking him to send some over. The man seemed surprised he was going but didn't refuse his request. Before he knew it, it was the day of the Ball, and it was the only thing anybody was talking about. Everything he overheard was about what music would be playing or who was taking who, there was no end to it. It seemed like everyone who could go was going, and those who couldn't had tried to get themselves in through connections to older students. Safe to say, it would be a very popular event.
The Great Hall had been closed for the whole day in preparation, and it only increased the buzzing anticipation running through the student body. He could feel it in the Common Room as he waited for Astoria, the screaming tension of his peers transferring to him and setting his nerves alight. He really shouldn't have done this. It's not like he's the only Fourth Year that could've taken her, surely there was someone else that would've been willing. It was too late for that now, though, and no amount of regret could stop him from going through with this. He made a commitment, damn it, and these robes were too uncomfortable to wear for no reason. Besides, Astoria was coming down the stairs already, he couldn't run if he tried.
She looked quite nice in her powder blue dress, it matched her eyes nicely. There was a small bunch of flowers braided into her hair, slightly more saturated as to draw focus to her face. The blonde was talking to another Third Year who managed to get an invitation to the ball as someone's plus one, but she turned quickly when she felt his eyes on her.
Theo wasn't quite sure what he was meant to do. Of course, he knew all the proper formal procedures of escorting a date (he had to, due to his family's status), but they weren't actually going together in anything more than technicality. The most intimate it got would be going as friends, in which he knew none of the procedures. Was he meant to hold her arm? Make casual conversation? Would he have to act like this was a date for authenticity so the professors would let her in? No, that was stupid. They couldn't prove anything, and besides, there were far bigger things to deal with than them. Maybe she would have to leave when he did because they entered together. Merlin, he hoped not. Oh, god, what if Daphne didn't want her to go? What if doing this ruined the precious tolerance she offered him? What if-
His thoughts were cut short when he heard her voice directly in front of him. She held out her arm, so Theo held it the way he was taught in the formal classes everyone in his social circle had been to at age seven. It was strange, and it took everything in him not to move away as they walked towards the Great Hall. He'd got better with touch over the years, something he took a fair bit of pride in, but it was still uncomfortable in most cases. He could deal with this, though. At least until they got into the Ball.
Astoria was definitely saying something, but there was no way to focus on her words and her arm and walking at the same time, so he didn't even try to understand what she was saying. Luckily, she was turned to face the duo next to them, so it was unlikely she was talking to him. There were so many voices in the hallways it was a miracle they could hold a conversation, and it made it so much harder to reach their destination. Professor McGonagall was manning the entry to be sure no stray students snuck in, but he and Astoria were simply nodded at before being allowed inside.
Sometimes, he wished he could time travel. Often times this was just a sentiment built from his admiration of the subject, other times it was a wish to return to a time without whatever stresses he was currently being dealt. This experience was firmly situated in the latter.
Candles were everywhere, shining beams of light across every bejewelled dress on the floor, which was most of them. It was like a rainbow sharp enough to draw blood. Everyone on the dance floor was spinning so fast they were unrecognizable, the Weird Sisters' upbeat tune somehow managing to come from every direction all at once. The only reason Theo didn't freeze there and then was the arm interlocked with his pulling him along. Towards the middle of the room.
He let go immediately, shaking his arm to rid himself of the feeling. Astoria turned around to meet him, or question him, or something else entirely, but he didn't give her the chance to speak.
"I- I got you in, I need- I'm gonna go, have - have fun," he managed to stutter out, broken sentences barely more than a whisper, quickly backing away from the blonde.
He couldn't make her voice out, but he saw her wave at him as he left, quickly weaving through the stray party goers and moving past the edges of large groups. He needed air, he couldn't breathe in there, it was so much all at once it felt like the very Earth would collapse in on itself at such a force. The hallways were clearer now, which was good. He doubted his ability to make it all the way back to the dorms as it was, he wouldn't be able to hold himself at bay if he had to focus on anything but running.
The dungeons weren't too far from the Great Hall, and he almost fell down the stairs, leaping as he did. His bed was right there, right there, past the cold gazes of the few stragglers still left in the Common Room. He jumped so hard into his four-poster it's a miracle it didn't break, quickly curling himself into the wall and pulling the curtains closed behind him.
Theo charmed them a few years ago to block out everything - not the safest, surely, but the most comfortable. It was dark, it was quiet, and it was secluded, nothing could reach him here. If he were in the right state, he'd change into something more comfortable, but ragging off the outer layer of his formal wear would do. His hands wouldn't stop shaking, so the buttons were tricky, causing more frustration than was warranted. He gave up, hitting his hands hard against his thighs a few times before forcing the robe over his head, leaving him in a flowy white shirt. His breathing was ragged and his wall would have cracks in it tomorrow from all his crashing into it, but by all known logic, he should be calming down soon.
Instead, he felt tears in his eyes, quickly shaking his head to force them away. No, not now. He would not cry over this, he wouldn't. The repetition didn't make it true. The mantra was useless. He hated it, he hated it. He felt like a child again, trying to calm himself in his bedroom after yet another formal event gone awry. Wasn't he meant to be getting better? That's what everybody told him. People mature, they get older, they grow out of annoying childhood habits they never should've had to begin with. Except for him, because of course, he couldn't do anything right. No matter his age, he always reacted the exact same way. Thick, warm tears tried to make their way down his cheeks, but he pressed his eyes shut to keep them in.
Maybe that was why he was weird, now, instead of different. He was a different child, but children were meant to be odd, before growing up into conforming teenagers, who grow into functional adults. The further you get down that line, the less leeway you're allowed. By now, he had no leeway, and no way to cope. How long was he in there? Two minutes? No, less than that. And it sent him into this. A single crowded ballroom and it felt like a heart attack, except worse, because at least heart attacks were confined to the chest.
The sensations faded slowly, very slowly, as he kept cycling through frustration, then despair, then nothing. He felt like a husk, a corpse with its organs already removed. It was better than before. It still sucked. He felt like he was floating, unable to do anything but sit there and breathe, after having expended all his energy already. There was no indication of how much time had passed, probably centuries, judging by his weary bones. He should really be changing into some suitable nightwear, because all he wanted to do was sleep until his mind rebooted itself. As there was no chance of that happening, he'd probably sleep in his current clothes and suffer the consequences tomorrow. When he could move, that is. He did end up falling asleep fairly quickly, sinking into the mattress, incredibly thankful that he didn't have any classes tomorrow.