"Why don't you just leave me alone?" I spit at him, the anger laced in my voice angered him and I loved it. I watched as he clenched his jaw, staring at me as his eyes darkened; walking up to me, soon towering over me making me realize how small I w...
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─── ･ ｡ ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
F I F T Y T H R E E
MATTHEW
"HOW much have you gotten done?"
Bodhi looked up at me, his eyes leaving his outlined parchment for the first time since I'd approached him. For hours, I'd searched for him, passed through corridors and forced my way into other common rooms to see if he was there. When finally I had found him, he was leaving a passageway which would open into a tunnel leading to Hogsmeade.
Now, he sat in the back end of the library, right in front of a grand window. I recognized the table immediately, having seen Calantha sit at it numerous times over the last four years. The library was dark, for it was far past curfew, but Bodhi said he'd needed a dark place to study, somewhere quiet where he could be alone, but not necessarily feel so much that he was.
He reminded me of Calantha, and I knew that Calantha's favorite place was the library. So, I brought him here after convincing him that he wouldn't be in trouble, though it was after curfew. He chose to work in the darkness, using only the light sacrificed by the moon and a small lamp, which was dimming in the corner of the table, occupying the last bit of seeable table space.
"Er," he brushed the feather of his quill against his cheek, shivering as it drew across his tanned skin. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking back to his parchment, which had lines and scribbles scattered all across it. "Well, it's-it's far from being, you know, finished, you know, but I'm getting there, I guess."
I walked behind his chair, stepping over the books laid around the table legs, and leaned over his shoulder as I peered down at his shaking hands, which traced across the various lines and pictures.
Leaning over him, weighing against the back of his chair, I pointed to a narrow passageway that he'd drawn. "How do you do all of this? You can't just be walking around the corridors and scaling them."
Without looking up at me, he mumbled, "I have a map."
My brows turned as I grew more curious, bending down to rest a chin on his shoulder. There was something about him, something that I resonated with. When I looked at him, when I searched his brown eyes, all I found was pain. He was calm, always, never raising his voice, and I never understood it when I spoke with him. But our conversations always held competence, and generosity, just as he did; they were always real, always genuine, and a part of me appreciated that.
"A map?" I questioned.
He nodded, his brown hair brushing against my ear. "Yes. A map that I use to get around the castle. It helps me."
