ataraxia, lorenzo berkshire

"forty one"

"you're such a slut now that i'm thinking about it." i grumbled, the once drug-fuelled alcohol consumption alter-ego emergence session concluded a few hours ago, it was passed lights out, however no professor had come to make sure everyone was where they were meant to be.

which was why lorenzo berkshire was sat at the opposite end of my poster bed, having a two in the morning sleepover conversation with me.

oh boy, that's how you know it's going to get interesting.

"i think you're like.. one of the last people to come to that conclusion." he rolled his eyes, "that label was made by the start of fourth year."

he drew his knee upwards towards his chest as he laid back against the wooden pillar at the foot of my bed.

i scoffed at his snarky reply, sinking down into the cushy embrace of my pillow as the room was silent apart from our being, with everyone drunkenly passed out entangled within one another.

"what a mess." i mumbled, squinting my eyes so i could vaguely confirm that the contorted figure in a starfish-like position sprawled across the floor was in fact blaise, having been physically tackled off the bed by onyx, as she desired her own space when it came to slumber, and blaise was a pretty space-consuming guy.

being six three and all.

theo was only a few feet away from him, with magnora and mattheo asleep on the armchair, magnora slumped across his lap.

xander had left, however.
probably had an assessment the following day.

i couldn't help but leave my mind unattended and incoherent enough to wander across to the one girl who'd had her foot up my ass since she returned.

technically, it was for a valid reason.

i was fucking her fiancé.

i thought about what my next encounter with her would be.

would she trip me up in the halls like we were in third year all over again? or hex my morning tea so i'd morph into a wart-riddled abomination?

or would it be catching her weary eye on the second row of a chapel pew as she spoke soul-bonding vowels adorned in a white lace dress to sickeningly sweet hymns in the background that was the audible equivalent for their guarantee of a loving, inseparable existence? til death do us part.

no. that isn't fair.
this isn't right to lorenzo.

"what are you thinking about?," he tilted his head down at me, curiously.

"irrelevant to you." i replied shortly, yawning.

he huffed a laugh, his shoulders shrugging along with this as he looked off to my right, like he was falling into a abyss of estranged thought himself.

"i'm seeing saskia tomorrow evening," he muttered, knotting his fingers together amongst themselves in an uncomfortable, anxious manner, "over dinner. to discuss our future.. plans."

i swallowed. hard.
i knew this because i felt my mouth run dry as i'd drained it of saliva with this singular action, my throat jolting back as i felt my mouth began to salivate again as if i hadn't just almost basically lightly choked.

"plans?,"

silence.

i could make out his head resting against the pillar of my bed, lifted to the ceiling.

i could feel the dainty, careful rhythm of his fingers gently drumming against the mattress, sending timid ripples like raindrops against a melancholy garden pond.