[Campfire Pit] Making Good on Promises Made

[Luke Anthony Torrington]

Evening

There'd been no mail from Ben.

Luke was particularly disappointed. He knew they were all planning Phillippa and James' wedding without him. He knew they'd stuff him into a tux and assign him the coordinated vest and bow tie too. Did he have any say in it? Knowing Phillippa, it'd be pink all around. Pink! At an October wedding?

He kicked some of the twigs lying near the fire, and rested his head in his hands. People talked. Did they talk about him? He hadn't seen Christian yet, and after the last owl post from school, he was dying (literally DYING) to gain some clarity from these promises Chris had made. Was it what he dared to only think in his dreams, rather than in real life? Was that supposed to come to fruition?

He looked around the pit. People talked. Did they talk about him? He thought he could see a shape in the smoke. George, his oldest brother, had taught him how to divine meanings from the patterns the smoke made. He wasn't too good at being a doom-of-the-world prophesier, so diviniation was less than a strong point for him. Nonetheless, this figure looked solid... not wispy. The thought flickered through his mind.

Chris?

Be still my beating heart... they'll HEAR you!

[Christian Nagle]

He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, wondering if the person who had just sat down was (and now after such a long examination period, determined that it indeed was) Luke. There were plenty of places to go, but none of them had anyone, really, to go with, and that especially considered Chris. Perhaps it was because the only person he wanted to go anywhere and do anything with was Luke. He tried hard not to break out into a grin the size of his face, because there were older and smarter people around him. They'd perceive, they'd know.

He made his way over to the boy, the marvelous boy who graced his dreams and haunted his waking visions, trying to be very nonchalant. He put a hand, discretely, on Luke's knee as he sat down next to him. He meant it for balance as the log was low enough on the ground (well lower than Chris was, for sure). And who cared what anyone else said or thought? After the short spell he'd spent at Caleb's (rather than going home), he believed more in what he felt.

"Hi." was all he said, turning with a smile for Luke alone.

Caleb had changed. He wasn't the sniffling, insecure little boy he used to be. It seemed odd that Chris should consider his OLDER brother to be a little child, but then Caleb had always come off like that. But when he picked Chris up at King's Station, Chris barely recognised his beloved stepbrother. Caleb was, to Chris' knowledge, always scrawny and pale. He used a whiny sort of voice and he was always on the verge of running away. He worked.... Merlin knows where.... but someplace in London. That was the Caleb, Chris had remembered. The Caleb that picked him up (literally) at the station was nothing like the Caleb Chris knew. Other than in complexion (though he was a little tanner) and facial features, this "new" Caleb had been - beautiful. He was like a model out of the Muggle magazines! Buff, completely redesigned (clothing wise), smooth facial hair, tan skin. And when he picked Chris up (in a hug), it was confirmed - he wore some sort of smell on him. It was a good smell. Attractive. What was the cause of this transformation? Chris found out later.

And it was good, and it was troubling, and it worked. He looked into the eyes of a soul he wanted to keep close to his own.

"Haven't seen you around, Mister!" he joked.

[Luke Anthony Torrington]

Luke felt a tremor when Chris' hand rested on his knee. It was a warm sensation. He liked it. He put his arms out to catch the boy, should his stumble become a tumble, and by setting his hands on Chris, he could feel the young boy's rib cage. He'd never noticed how skinny the Gryffindor was. What did they do to him at home?

"Hi," Chris said, and his smile assured Luke that this was a feeling completely unique to him. He shifted and, without thinking much, slid his hand up and around Chris' shoulders. He didn't really care now if anyone saw. Chris' gaze seemed to shift into a world beyond Luke's grasp - into a memory, perhaps, that didn't include the Hufflepuff... or didn't include him yet. He tightened his grip on Chris' shoulder, not rough but coaxing, coaxing him to sit a little closer. Around them the night had grown colder, despite the warmth given off by the fire, and the fire within was in need of an extra spark to entice it back into life.

"Haven't seen you around, Mister!" the latter joked. Luke smiled.
"I like to be mysterious, dear sir." He found Chris to be somewhat immovable, so he slid himself closer to his crush. Crush? Well, Luke supposed he could accept that term as definitive of his feelings for Chris. The boy was young, but not without charm. And what person could resist that smile? It did warm Luke's heart.

"I have wanted to see you though," Luke said, leaning his head closer to Chris', so that only the two of them could hear it. "I missed you."

[Christian Nagle]

All the words Luke said, all of them, fell into some special register in Chris' personal (internal) pensieve. Every one of them like icing on cake - sweet, delicious, not entirely necessary but very delicately chosen - and they seemed to draw a barrier up around them, barring the world. It was - it felt like a hug from Caleb, like seeing his parents kiss (however revolting it may have been), like a pat on the head from his deceased father; precious moments, fragile and special. Scripted for no one else but he.

"Yah, I missed you too," Chris found himself saying. He also found himself leaning his head on Luke's ever-so-vacant shoulder. It must be the dancing flames of the campfire. Must be. They were as intoxicating as a sip of his mother's homemade hot chocolate: she made the best hot chocolate ever. It was ordinary chocolate - well ordinary for they who called Swiss chocolate ordinary - mixed with South American chili powder, cinnamon and mint-spiced milk. The thought of it brought the memory of its taste to Chris' taste buds. It was one surprise after another. And so was this relationship with Luke. One surprise after another.

"Tell me what Africa is like," Chris said with a dreaminess to his voice. "Is it all safaris, like the London Zoo? or is it just desert for miles and miles?"

[Luke Anthony Torrington]

"Yah, I missed you too." Words like those sank deep into Luke. How lovely. But when Chris took the liberty of resting his head on Luke's shoulder - that was cute. Cute in the way a teddy bear is cute, or a little puppy is cute. Luke hesitated, thinking twice (as he always did) about laying his own head on Chris'. That would be cute. Cute like his brother David handing flowers to Dave's girlfriend, Kate, when she least expects them, cute. Cute like George tossing baby Mason in the air and blowing on his tummy, cute. Mature cute.

Some time elapsed, sitting there by the fire, watching the flames dance and lick the cool night air. There were stars in the sky, bright enough to be seen, and Luke gazed at them for a moment. One looked like it connected to two others in an elongated triangle. Ben used to call it the Summer Triangle. When it stood high in the sky, summer was in full swing. When it dipped close to the horizon (according to Ben), the cool of autumn would be there soon. Luke wasn't ready for autumn, except for its promise of James and Phillippa's wedding. He wondered, could he take time in October to go to the ceremony? It would be on a Friday, so surely it was going to be when they were off school for weekends. He also thought, very quickly, if he could bring Chris. It seemed like the type of event that catered to having special guests.

"Tell me what Africa is like," Chris said dreamily. "Is it all safaris, like the London Zoo? or is it just deser for miles and miles?" Luke snuggled closer to Chris. He leaned his head against the latter's. He sunk into reminiscing about Africa.

"Well, its a mix of both safari and desert. The biggest desert is in the north, running through places like Egypt and Morocco. The Sahara. It stretches from the Atlantic Coast to the Indian Coast - all the way across the continent.

"Those countries are almost completely desert and not a lot of people live in them except on the borders. Like Egypt, on the Nile and on the Mediterranean coast, people flock to those cities, but in the West, away from the Nile... people don't really live there.

"But in South Africa, where I was born, its mostly safaris. Same with the countries around it: Angola, Botswana, Rhodesia. Namibia has a desert, but its not as big as the Sahara. And then, near me, theres the Drakensburg Mountains. So its not as exotic as, say Australia or American Hawai'i, but its not as familiar as around here." Luke rested for a minute. Remembering Africa was both sweet and bitter. Like ginger and pepper.

[Christian Nagle]

Chris sighed. Mountains and deserts and safaris. It sounded nice.

"What do the mountains look like? Are they really high up?" The only mountains that Chris had seen were in the Highlands in Scotland and when he'd taken a holiday in Ireland.

"On the Isle of Mull, which isn't really that big but still, the highlands have mountains that just roll almost all the way up to the sky. I never thought I'd see those types of mountains on an island but there they were! And if you've ever been to Ireland, there are mountains there too. And sheep cling to the side of them like there's no such thing as gravity." Chris was sitting up at this point, looking at Luke. He was excited to be sharing some bit of information, because it wasn't often he could say something about someplace he'd been that an older person, such as Luke, had not been to. He liked being able to pull his weight in the conversation.

"It's really cool. Those sheep are amazing. Sometimes I wonder if they have some sort of magic about themselves. You know, something muggles can see and comprehend but don't really know how to - you know - possess."

He put his head back on Luke's shoulder. It was still warm from when he'd had it there before. It felt so comfortable.

[Luke Anthony Torrington]

Luke hoped that summer would never end, that this night would go on and on forever. He put an arm around Chris' body and pulled the boy close beside him. His fingers played with Chris' palm, hoping to make the younger giggle at the tickle. And then their breathing seemed to become synchronised. The sky twinkled overhead, each star a possibility for the world - for them.

And their possibility was endless, and it gave to Luke courage that he'd not ever known to possess. With that courage, he pushed back the bangs on Chris' forehead and planted a very light kiss there. It seemed right, like something they did in stories. Only it was two boys here, not a man and a woman. Two boys; nothing wrong with that, right?

[Christian Nagle]

While it felt certainly unlike any other kiss had felt, before, Chris wasn't displeased by it. There was nothing unpleasant. He felt very safe and very warm and very close to Luke. And it seemed ordinary for a kiss to fill the silence. It was harmless, placed on his forehead. But, it left Chris feeling something he'd not felt before. He wanted something a little more dangerous.

With Shari, Bless her, everything seemed edgy - like walking on fire without the burn - seemed on the verge of, you know, making them social outcasts. Like one wrong move could set the world on fire. But in Luke's arms, with Luke's kiss, Chris didn't get that feeling of adventure. Actually, he didn't really know what sort of feeling he got, other than protection, nurture, love. All the things his horrid family failed to give him seemed to be right here, in Luke. And he didn't want it to end.

It made him feel many contradictions at once: right, wrong; socially adventurous, socially safe; wanted and desired, put off and convenient; absolutely certain, absolutely doubtful. He laughed as Luke's fingers tickled his palm, and took the opportunity to snuggle closer. The fire was burning down, shadows were creeping across the faces of all, and Chris thought it would soon be dark. Luke was looking up at the night sky, and Chris did the same.

Stars. Multitudes of stars. Was each one of them the heart of a person, dearly loved, shining down on their loved ones? Was Papa Nagle up there? Chris put an arm around Luke's waist, and felt that he might cry, thinking about the father he knew he loved but would never know. He buried his face into Luke's shoulder, as a tear fell. Why did that one image have to define his entire memory of his father?

A corpse lying in his playpen, a boline sticking, hilt deep, out of its back. Turning the corpse over, his body still warm, the face of his father. Papa Nagle. He's just asleep. He'll wake up soon.

[Luke Anthony Torrington]

Luke felt Chris' mood change. He drew his gaze away from the sky, on to the boy.

"Something wrong?" He hadn't ever seen Chris in a melancholy mood. Though he'd seen people in melancholy moods, for sure, he hadn't been nearly as concerned about them as he was with Chris. Except for, perhaps, Ben's ongoing crisis with his girlfriend, Charlotte McDowell, and all the McDowells. That was a melancholy which Luke had to sympathise with just to bare it. But this was unbearable in a much different way.

"Hey?" He gently stroked Chris' cheek, finding a tear streaking down it. "Hey, buddy." Chris' skin was so smoothe; so young. Why so young and so sad? Deciding he might not be able to calm the boy much, he grasped the hand which was cupped on his side. He gave it a little squeeze and resigned to holding the boy snug against his side. Whatever comfort he could give, at this point, he'd give.