Conversations With Friends Pt.2
Marlene McKinnon POV: Part Three
Pain.
Marlene thought once her parents told her she wasn’t allowed to get her ice cream from her favourite ice cream shop because they were ice blocks at home.
Pain.
Marlene would think whenever she fell over, and grazed her knee on the park cement whilst running.
Pain.
Marlene thought as her brother, Micheal, moved out of their house for the first time when she was 10; moving in with his girlfriend.
Pain.
Marlene thought when her brother, Jamie, said that she wasn’t his favourite sibling.
Pain.
Marlene felt as if daggers were stabbing into her skin the second Dane insulted her. She stepped back, her hands balled in fists, and her jaw clenched, begging not to cry. She stared at him, using everything to hold back her tears.
Pain.
She felt as she watched Dorcas rushing out of the hall to get away from her after they had shared a kiss the night before.
Dorcas Meadowes had never hurt Marlene the way she did that morning and night. She’d never truly harmed Marlene to the point she felt as if she wanted her own body to swallow her, and to never be seen on the face of earth again.
And never more than right now did Marlene want to run to Dorcas and confess every single thing she’d thought about her since the first day they’d met at the playground. Knowing they were neighbours for almost their entire life, and only meeting on the swing.
Because she knew Dorcas Meadowes. She really knew her—she knew how she has nutella on her two pieces of toast, and then sneakily has strawberry jam on the third pierce she has; finds it embarrassing or something to have strawberry jam, because Marlene also has jam on hers.
She knows the side eye, subtle look Dorcas gives when she’s competing, that not even she, herself, notices. It’s a part of her subconscious, and Marlene had picked this up in their third year.
She knew how, when they were younger, Dorcas convinced herself she liked being alone; and she really did at first. Marlene saw how Dorcas’ face only lit up when she was reading a book; how she got lost in the world of pages. But when her brother came along, she seemed as if she’d finally stepped onto earth, and felt as if she belonged. She hated Dane for having Dorcas first, but that’s exactly what Dorcas needed to become a human being—and then Marlene had never found herself so happy.
And she especially knew the stares Dorcas had given her in the hall before Marlene had noticed her sitting there, and out of fight or flight, she’d choose flight, because she and Marlene are polar opposites. May as well have been born on different planets because of how different they were.
But then, Marlene knew the one thing they shared were their feelings towards each other—she knew Dorcas cared for her as much as Marlene cared for Dorcas. She’d never really admitted to herself that somebody could care the way she did, but as Dorcas ran her hands along Marlene’s body, and as Marlene ran her hands along Dorcas’ body, she knew that Dorcas Meadowes was the first person to really share those feelings.
She sat herself up in the Astronomy Tower; the place she’d always go when she needed to think. Today it was Dorcas. But then again, it had always been Dorcas. It always will be Dorcas—Marlene knows she’s met her soulmate. She’s just waiting for her soulmate to realise, too.
She heard footsteps behind her. But she didn’t care. She wouldn’t even care if they’d pushed her off the Astronomy Tower for a laugh. But she was standing there; Christmas eve, watching the snow fall down. Watching the world. And oh, how peaceful it really was.
The person leaned on the railing, watching as well, almost mirroring Marlene’s body. They spoke.
“Merry fucking Christmas Eve,” they said.
“Ah, Benjy, Merry fucking Christmas Eve indeed,” she nodded, sighing as he moved closer to her, mirroring her once his arm brushed against hers. “I kissed her. The other night,” she told him. And there was no reason to elaborate.
“Thought you would,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Surprise, surprise, I didn’t kiss Crouch—but—well we haven’t really been friends, have we? Only started talking to him in a less malicious way that night.”
“I think he fancies you…If I’m being honest.”
“I don’t think he’s queer, honestly,” he tucked his lips in, dropping his head on his arms. He sighs, groaning as he lifts his head back up. “But I don’t remember him and Lupin ever being friends either, do you think they went as friends?”
“I’m—I’m not entirely sure, but I was there when Barty asked him, and it didn’t seem like the way you’d ask a friend,” she told him, knowing full well the reason they went together; Lily and Remus had told her a few days ago, after they actually went together that night.
“But—but he said he wanted a girlfriend—why would he lie?” Benjy says, but doesn’t really ask. He says it as a statement as he looks towards Marlene. He groans in his hands, as he sits as he did a few days ago. “Do you think he thinks that I fancy him, and he’s just trying to act as if he’s not queer because he doesn’t want me?”
“No!” Marlene stares at him for a moment, before dropping beside him, sitting on her legs. “No! Mate, how did you even come to that conclusion? Merlin’s balls!”
He laughed, “Merlin’s balls? Are you serious?”
“No, I’m Marlene, Jesus,” she rolled her eyes, jokingly,
“I’m not Jesus, I’m Benjy.”
“You’re a knob.”
“But you love me anyways, don’t you?” He grinned, as she stretched her arm around him, pulling him closer to her body; she had become good friends with Benjy, especially after she’d lost Dane as her friend, and when she’d found Benjy snogging Amycus Carrow. Merlin, Benjy Fenwick has a way with choosing the wrong boys.
“Eugh, unfortunately,” she rests her head on his shoulder.
“Oh yeah, my new make out buddy is Lockhart, don’t tell anyone—he doesn’t want anybody to find out.”
“Why do you always settle for the wrong things?” Marlene asks, turning her entire body to look at him. To study him properly. Trying to understand why the fuck someone as good as Benjy never picks the right person—why he refuses to pick the right person.
He doesn’t answer. But he sits; his eyes become watery.
Her shoulders sunk, “you know he likes you,” she says, saying her thoughts aloud. He knows. And now she knows that he knows that Barty fancies him. “You know he does, so why—“
“Because it’ll hurt a lot more when he leaves,” Benjy raises his voice, slightly; more than usual. He usually speaks in a consistent voice. But this time. It was different. “When it ended with Carrow, I didn’t give a shit. I didn’t like him. Thinking about Lockhart leaving, I don’t really care. But when I think about Barty, in general, my stomach lurches, and when he touches me, my stomach fills with butterflies. I want Barty, which is precisely the reason I cannot have him. I just can’t.”
“You can’t, or you refuse?”
“I can’t,” he confirms, but she doesn’t agree. She watches him, as his gaze alters, away from her direction. And now he’s staring down, and she’d give anything to know what he’s thinking. “Maybe I refuse. But why does it matter?! It’s not like we’ll end up together for the rest of our lives. It’s just fucking bullocks, and there’s nothing more I can do.”
“You can tell him.”
She insists, only because all love deserves to be heard—every single type. No one should hold back, put in pain, hidden away, heartbroken because the world tells them that’s what they need to be to be pure. Marlene would go through hell just to prove to another queer person that they should be able to love the loudest.
Even if it means sitting with a boy who refuses to be happy, because he’s scared pain will follow. And she knows that can be a path. Happiness to pain. But she knows he shouldn’t have to spend his life in numbness to protect himself from pain.
“No I can’t,” he snaps. “We’re not all like you, and we don’t all pull people into kisses, and blow up their entire life, Marlene.”
“Benjy,” is all she could reply with—she didn’t. She can’t blow up everybody’s life. She can’t be what Dane told her she was—a bomb. A person who blows up people's lives for their own enjoyment. She didn’t.
“Yes, I’m sorry, Marls, I didn’t mean that,” he hugged her. “What I meant was, we’re not all as brave as you. You’re a Gryffindor if I ever saw one, and I—I’m just here. At Hogwarts. And who knows why.”
Marlene felt a tear rolling down her face, “I wouldn’t have survived with you, Benjy,” she told him. And he knew. He knew what she meant, because he knew her. Because sometimes she felt as if he was the only person, besides Mary, who truly knew her. “Please tell him,” she whispers, finally.
“I—I can’t ruin something because of my feelings,” he shook his hand, crossing his arms over his chest. “I won’t do it. I can’t do it when he’s the only person who didn’t treat me differently after I started getting bullied.”
She let go finally, “what if something better comes because of it? You know he feels the same.”
“I don’t know why you care so much,” he shrugs his shoulders, turning his gaze away from her. “It doesn’t affect you either way.”
“It affects you though,” she says quickly. “C’mon, do it when you’re ready, but promise you’ll eventually tell him.”
“I can’t make promises,” he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. He’s—he’s somebody that I can’t lose. I—“ his voice breaks. “I really—really like him.”
Her shoulders drop. She feels her shoulders do so. She feels them sink into her body of disappointment. She watches a tear roll down his cheek—and suddenly she doesn’t see him—suddenly Dane is standing there; he’s crying. He’s ashamed. And most of all, he’s scared. She never realised how alike Benjy and Dane are.
“I know you do. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I’m sorry, Benjy. It’s just—it’s just that—on Sunday night, when I kissed Dorcas, I did. I ruined everything. I blew up her life, and I just fucking ruined everything. If I could help with just this, I’d be helping somebody instead of ruining it. But I didn’t think of what could’ve been ruined. I’m sorry.”
“Marlene,” Benjy murmurs; his voice only coming out in a whisper. “You’re worth so much. More than the rest of the people in this world. You know—I could live a thousand lives, and I would still not be worth as much as you, the best thing I’ve ever done wouldn’t even be as good as your worst thing.”
“I’ve done bad things.”
“Like?”
“I called the girl I’m in love with a coward,” she sighed, as she again bent over, hiding her face between her arms. “I’ve said many things that I don’t mean about my brother, My brother. The guy who is 10 minutes older than me, and used to never shut up about it,” she smiled at the thought of it. “I’ve done so many bad things. But—but I know that doesn’t make me a bad person. Neither have all the things you’ve done in the past. We make mistakes, and in moments of anger, we don’t think. We can’t define ourselves, our worth, and who we are based on the words we’ve said in the past. You deserve love, fuck, I deserve it, too. We all do. Just know that.”
She says, thinking about him and Barty again.
“Romantic love isn’t the only type—I can find other types.”
“Yeah, I suppose you can,” she shrugged, “but you can’t replace him with someone you love as a friend. It doesn’t work that way.”
He smiles, sadly, rolling his shoulders around in a circle, “I know,” he admits. He approaches the stairs. He doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t look in her direction. He just speaks. “You can’t replace the love you have for your brother with the love you have for your friends. It can’t erase it,” is all he says before he walks down the stairs.
She thinks. And she thinks. And she continues to think, and she wonders why she can’t stop, wonders why she can’t stop repeating those words, why she couldn’t let go of something she thought she let go of long ago.
She sees Dane sitting by the lake, which is now frozen over; his body looks slightly bigger—not that it was that big anyways. She could probably work up more muscle than him. She smiles, thinking about their old competitions when they were younger, and she’d win them almost every single time,
He has a scarf wrapped around his neck, a beanie pulled over his ears, and obviously many layers of clothes over him—he’s never enjoyed the cold too much. Which makes her wonder why he decided to stand in the coldest weather of the month.
Instead, she turns away. She walks back up to the castle—for a split second, she considers it; going up to him, hugging him, telling him how much she’s missed him. All of it. But she doesn’t. She abandons the thought of all of it, rushing back up to the castle—the warm castle. And yet, she felt so cold. She felt lost. She felt empty in the spot that used to fill her brother.
She takes a seat next to a pillar, her face covered with her hands, and she cries. She cries. And cries. And cries, hoping she’ll drown in her own tears. She wished so deeply that she could just disappear—she missed her brother, and yet, he was still so far, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She could. She could pretend it never happened, but she tried that once—she tried sitting in a room with her brother, attempting to start a conversation, pretending he didn’t say the words, maybe trying to stop ruining everybody’s life would fix some of your issues. She would eat dinner across the table, playing with the food on her plate, repeating the sentence in her head. And eventually, she distanced herself from him.
She began going out every day with her father, helping him with work. She moved out of the room she once shared with Dane. But eventually, the part of her in which he filled faded away. All the memories—the happy ones—faded into time. All the inside jokes were to stay in her memories. And the brother she once loved was just a person she lived with that she knows everything, but nothing about.
“Hey—are you ok? Oh, it’s you.”