Take apart your head.

[ terrible outfit. ]

Out of all the faintly surprising things that had been happening to Ana lately, receiving a letter from Llewellyn Ludlow had been likely the most surprising. The biggest issue being, she expected the pothead to hate her, like... Absolutely hate her. She had a few suspicions as to why he'd want to hang out with her, but if he was the revenge type, it was a bit late for that, wasn't it? He was slow at times, but not that slow, so that was out of the question. But, through their shared classes together and what moments they had spent alone prior, Llewellyn was just kind of an okay dude.

That wasn't to say he wasn't capable of being weird as fuck. There was something underneath that drugged out stare, and Ana always found it endearing. But...

Upon receiving his letter, requesting her presence for her goodies, she realized something: It wasn't necessarily her fear of Llewellyn that drove her away, but the feelings that he gave her. Or, in better terms, the feelings that he didn't give her. What he gave her was anger and regret and an upset stomach. What he didn't give her was any sort of feeling of affection or love or want. That wasn't his fault, despite his lacking attitude. Ana wanted so badly to feel normal, for the sake of? What? Her family? Her family didn't want her kissing wizards, they wanted her holding hands with a big, burly, muggle rugby player.

But she wanted to prove something to herself, with someone she thought she liked. But as it turned out, she didn't like him in that way. But she still very much wanted to be his friend... He was one of the few people she felt comfortable enough to say she was friendly with. Emphasis on the was.

She just so happened to be in the library when she replied to his letter, and she just so happened to have a stash on her. The thing about Ana that most people were aware of, but not the extent of, was that she was constantly on something. Ana without her muggle candy was rancorous, upset. Destructive. Even more so than usual. She could calmly speak to someone, accept their presence, and not scream at them for existing. It only made sense that he would come to her, if he truly wasn't trying to bust her ass in some weird late revenge plot.

"Hey Nana,"

Blue eyes jumped from her book, startled by how much time had gone by. She turned to him, brow sinking from this petname he gave her. But, she chose not to say anything, as "Ana Banana" was something people called her affectionately, "Nana" being a bit of a new one, but they were all very distant from "Louise" and that's all she really needed, honestly.

"Hi." She replied stiffly and looked him up and down. There was a temptation to give him a nickname. Like "Vomit Breath". But she would save that for when they're more firmly acquainted and not just meeting up on a whim.

"Before we... Saunter off," She mimicked a walk cycle with her fingers, "I suppose I should ask you... How do you do? Or would you rather just get down to business and spare the chitchat?"

Llewellyn had always liked Ana. She kind of looked dead, but you know... prior to rigor mortis setting in. Like that cool dissident of every high school cliche that would probably burn the school down one day then walk away in slow motion in her giant fucking boots like some femme fatale out of a Michael Bay flick. Back before when they had hung out, Llewellyn had always wondered why more guys didn't try to jump her bones. Not that Llewellyn was enlightened with the desire of his straight male colleagues, but if he had been straight, Ana seemed like his type of gal. Besides, she sort of treated him like shit, and whether Llewellyn consciously realized it or not, there was a tiny part of his psyche that was kind of into it. Of course, that was a self-reflection reserved for another day, and there were much more paramount aspects of Llewellyn's sexuality that needed to be analyzed and realized first. 

Sliding into the chair beside her he draped a long arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tiny frame into a hug. He let his arm linger there, purely out of routine that had been established when they were... whatever they were. Puke buddies. When she asked how he was he immediately opened his mouth, "I'm-" but he stopped. He was about to tell her he was great, or at least lie about it, like he would have with Kai, but he came to the cognizance that with Ana he didn't really have to. There was something, well, also damaged about her and that was comforting. 

"-kind of terrible, really. Kai and I haven't been talking. A conflict of interests I guess you could call it. I've been lonely and bored, but it's so much worse than that," he admitted sincerely, staring through the bookshelf that sat in front of them with an enameled expression. He didn't go on to tell her he was wholly heartbroken and being driven mad by his own suspicions. He'd seen Kai traipsing the grounds just the other day with someone else. Not that he expected him to remain mopey and solitary forever, and really this had been what Llewellyn wanted. Llewellyn would just have to do the mopey solitary thing for the both of them.

He also left out the details of his appointment with her, as he was sure they would be addressed soon enough. Besides, it was likely she saw the deep purple crescents forming under his eyes and felt the clammy tremor in his hand that shifted from her shoulders and rested along the back of her chair. Some things didn't need to be said. 

He was quiet for a moment, and then stuck his free hand into his jean pockets, fishing out an orange empty pill bottle. Upon the label printed Llewellyn's name (Llewellyn Lacey Ludlow) and the word Alprazolam. He slid the bottle in front of Ana. 

"My doctor is weaning me off, but I fucked up and won't get another script filled until March. I can't lie and say I lost it. I did that last month."

Prior to their unfortunate last meeting, Llewellyn had always been the type to hug and touch and hold. Back in the day, Ana had a lot of patience for this kind of behavior. She wanted him to like her, even if it stressed her out. She had let plenty of guys hug her back then, but Llewellyn was one of the few that she willed herself to hug back. Despite it all, she was still fond of him. But she wanted so badly, every single time, to shove him away. Tell him to back off. Scream in his face that he was disgusting. In truth, she was surprised with herself for maintaining that level of control.

Even now, he pulled her close, and she tensed hard and kept her gaze in the book in front of her. Ugh. So gross. She wasn't sure what his intentions were, but Ana wasn't quite sure where to place him, and she wanted so very badly to slap him. She took his hand with her index finger and thumb and gently pulled it from her arm, placing it on the table before them, and gave it a sloppy pat. "Wow. Thank you, though," She told him, her shoulders reaching her ears stiffly, and she pushed her hands beneath her thighs to stop them from strangling him.

Llewellyn went on to explain how shit was feeling, and she appreciated the honesty. But while Llewellyn felt very deeply for his friend or whatever, Ana cared very little for their dynamic. Kai was boring. She never understood it. The two would sit there nodding along with each other about some rambling bullshit that made no sense, but they still loved talking to each other? Granted, Llewellyn's rambling bullshit was at least thought provoking at times. But... "That sucks," She replied shortly, side eyeing him, wondering if this loneliness bit had anything to do with their meeting today, "I can't imagine having no one to talk to." This was a dig, of course, for no particular reason. But it was irritating for someone to assume she knew what they meant when her closest friend was her shitty fucking brother who had no idea what was going on half the time.

He was lucky to have had a friend like that at all. Someone to get upset over when they walk away. Ana could do with all her so-called friends fucking off, and she'd be the same. Angry and alone. She knew better than to think that she preferred it this way.

Pulling her left hand from beneath her, she snatched his bottle up and examined it, listening quietly to his explanation. It was just simply so normal for doctors to just prescribe this shit and then toy with their patient. Ana didn't give two shits about addiction. She believed there was a good behind it, even with the drawbacks. She unzipped her bag and pulled out a dainty, black, velvet purse and waved it in front of him, before stuffing it back in. Her way of quietly saying that she had exactly what he needed. Lucky for him, Xanax was one of her specialties, and she glanced down the aisle, but it was vastly empty today.

"I suppose I could share," She began with a whisper, "But this is just between you and I, alright? This shit's like gum, and everyone always wants a piece once I open up shop." And lordy knew that she had to pull a lot of strings to keep her stash updated between breaks. Standing curtly, she gestured for him to follow her. While they were mostly alone, Ana wasn't dumb, and she would prefer a more comfortable place to laze around for the evening. Plus, when she wished to be alone, she truly meant alone, with little chance for interruption.

If Ana meant to taunt him, the meaning was either lost to Llewellyn or he chose not to respond to her astringent response in regards to Kai. The truth behind his words dug so much deeper than Ana could have guessed, though he supposed he never really saw Ana with... well, anyone. It was funny how he'd been so blind to this matter prior to now. She was a recluse if he'd ever seen one, prowling usually on the periphery of academic melodrama looking pissed and destitute. 

So it made sense that she didn't feel bad for him at all. On the same side of the coin, Llewellyn also didn't expect her to. He had dug his own grave in matters concerning Kai. After much rumination on the topic, he could only hope he wouldn't repeat the same mistake twice, when the time came that Llewellyn would love another... but knowing Llewellyn he would. He was good at that kind of thing. 

But none of this was on his mind at the moment. He had forgotten her gibe as soon as it left her faint lips. This wasn't his fault either. Llewellyn was well acquainted with the demons of addiction and how they sojourned desperation. 

With his hands now on the top of the table he wrung them anxiously, eyes following her quick snag for the bottle. He was glad she didn't ask questions. It was for that precedent, along with a whole smattering of reasons, Llewellyn felt comfortable coming to Ana for this sort of affair. Muggleborn issues were really only something that could be shared with compatriots, and even then it was a very exclusive club that got to peek into the window of Llewellyn's cryptic home life, and even then it was a limited porthole. He felt the skin slick in between his finger tips and leaned forward restlessly as he awaited some kind of response. 

Relief swept over him from the wordless exchange and he sat back. 

"I know. I'm sorry. I just... I need it real fucking bad. I can't breathe. You know what I mean. And on top of everything else, I'm a fucking wreck. You're like some goddamn guardian angel, I swear. If you didn't puke in my mouth the first time I would probably kiss you," he teased, sliding up out of the chair. He followed her like an impatient pup, trying his best not to step on her heels, lacking the same cool composure that the Slytherin possessed. Discreet was not a word in Llewellyn's vocabulary, apparently. 

short post sry bby girl

The corners of Ana's lips pulled back into an embarrassed smile, followed by a stifled guffaw, as he finally brought up the topic she was dancing around. She was honestly surprised to see him so casual about it, as it was probably one of the more disgusting things she ever experienced with another person. But then again, Llewellyn had always been... More so laid back, then most at least. Obviously, especially in this moment, he proved to have his anxieties. She almost felt silly then, that she dwelled on this for so long, pushed him away because she couldn't cope with it. But she still hated the reminder that she fucked things up, that she proved herself to be fucking weird.

"Of course. What can I say?" She shrugged lazily, forcing the edge in her muscles to release itself, "You and I have something special." Something that she wished to never repeat again, and would be reserved for him specifically out of some need to reconcile, force away her doubts. She could obsess over it all she wanted, but it was small in Llewellyn's words. Microscopic in comparison to seconds before. But the nervousness in her stomach did not subside. If he were to lean in too close, a repeat of those events would most definitely happen.

As she lured Llewellyn to follow her, she wrapped her arms around herself and stayed quiet for a moment, thinking on what he had said prior. He was upset and anxious, and she had no interest in why, but had every wish to ease the tension. Mostly for her own twisted gut, for she wasn't very adept at diffusing worries. But in that moment, she had no idea what to say. She wanted to say something nice. She wanted to say she appreciated the jab, and that he had no reason to be anxious around her. But Ana wasn't very good at admitting those feelings. She, as whole, as a person, was as trivial and disconcerting as that kiss, and her only use was that she had drugs.

She got it. She understood. She could name a few people she kept around that were just like that. He didn't have to pretend otherwise, and neither would she.

So she remained quiet for a while, as they walked out the library doors and through the emptying corridor.

After a bit, she turned to him, eyes still locked forward, away from his face-- she wasn't sure if she could stomach looking at him close again-- "Your hair's gotten... Fluffier," She stated, as if they hadn't seen each other in ages instead of every other day in class. In her ridiculous heels, she nearly matched his height, and it was a strange feeling in comparison to how tiny she typically felt around his likeness. Ana tried to stop looking at him even in her peripherals. "Uh. Anyway," She began, squinting at herself, "Did you want to talk? About whatever's happening? I'm assuming you don't, but..." She twirled a long strand of hair in her fingers, trying very hard to avoid anything she really did not want to listen to.

When Ana commented on his hair Llewellyn reached up and gently pulled at a coil. He supposed fluffier could be a compliment, right? Spending the summer in London had actually calmed the gnarly mess of brunette, but upon returning to the moisture-laden climate of his home country he watched as they once again recouped their volume. It was getting long, and Llewellyn's mother had been nagging him for the past year to get it cut. Nagging which, on the rare occasions that she did come and visit him (because Llewellyn refused to go home), he shrugged off abashedly true to his garden variety teenage boy nature. For awhile Daniyah had offered to tame the beast that resided atop his head, but even she grew tired of the convoluted texture. 

"Thanks dude. Your hair looks... like, almost albino. It's rad."

He listened to their footsteps moving in unison, reaching out and letting his finger tips tactilely touch the wall, graze the rough stone grooves and kiss the occasional picture frame, skipping over the paintings out of respect for the art and because the paintings were kind of creepy. But then she spoke again, and like a frightened animal, he retracted his arm and shoved his hands in his pockets. Reticence enveloped the emptied hallway, save for their footsteps, as he tried to elect the appropriate response. 

Of course she would ask. Why not? She was giving him drugs, and drugs weren't cheap. Even Ana seemed uncomfortable with the topic of articulation, and it was no great mystery that Llewellyn failed in that department without the use of nonsensical and abstract analogies that usually soared over others heads. Really, it was a formality. Ana gave him something, and in turn Llewellyn broke a small piece of himself off for her, whether she wanted to hear his problems or not. That was simply how this worked. 

Knitting his unkempt brows together he crossed his arms over his narrow frame. 

But where did he start? Somewhere along the line things had gotten knotted, and with each new headache the rats nest in his brain continued to grow. Reaching up he scratched his cheek and cleared his throat. Well? 

He supposed he could start with Him and what had happened and explain how when he told his parents they did nothing short of freak out, and instead of keeping him close they wrapped him up in a neat little package of sanctimonious school clothes and crosses and sent him away, creating a whole slew of histronics in a boy that was too young to understand what was going on, and could only think that he had done something terribly wrong. When men in suits came to speak with him and asked him over and over again to rewind and repeat the same story until Llewellyn's lips stopped working like a curious little boys should and never opened again. The whole subject of the guilt and shame that planted itself in his gut at the beginning and bore branches heavily laden with fruit that grew to terrorize him. How instead of dealing with It the right way his parents sent him to that place that pumped him full of drugs and taught him that avoiding and ignoring was the best thing to do because no one knew how to deal with telling a child that something unfair had happened and he was fucked for the rest of his life because of it. How when he looked at Kai he was frightened, not of his friend, but of the idea that he might make him feel badly, that Llewellyn couldn't ever love him right because he didn't even know how to love himself- how could he? 

He pulled on the collar of his shirt as his chest thundered. "I uhm." Glassy green eyes flickered towards the end of the hallway. He wouldn't drop that bomb on her. No one wanted to hear that crap anyway. Instead, he started small, and picked away at a tiny, but relevant part of himself, letting it crumble out of his cramping taut throat. 

"I shouldn't have kissed you back then Nana, and I'm sorry I did that to you. Not that sorry, because you know...  but uh The thing with Kai. The not talking. It's because I love him, and I thought that maybe if we spent some time apart it would go away." Reaching up he rigorously scratched the side of his head, now avoiding any sort of eye contact with Ana. "I should have told you that you weren't really my type and I feel like a bit of an asshole because of it. Anyway. That's uhm. One thing. He doesn't know. No one knows, so don't go off telling all your ghost friends."

Returning the compliment, Llewellyn commented on her hair, and she twirled it a bit more in her fingers before smoothing it out. "Oh," She pursed her lips, "Thanks." That was actually kind of really cool to hear someone say. Ana's viewpoint on herself, physically, was ever changing. Some days, she really liked the way she looked, all pale and petite and shit. Her hair was her favorite thing about herself, of course, so it was definitely flattering to hear him say that, especially since she found albinism so fascinating (that librarian in particular was so beautiful, and Ana was rather envious of her, considering she was dumb as a brick). But on the other hand, she knew how sickly and emaciated she was, and how she looked. She could cover the deep purple in her eyes with shadowy globs of black, but in the end she was still but the ghost of the person she could have been. What could have been? She would likely never find out, even through all the drugs she stuffed down her throat.

So, she appreciated Llewellyn's compliment. She was interesting looking, not a pathetic corpse. Well, when she worded it like that, maybe it was kind of cool sounding... Corpse. Being a corpse was cool.

But her question seemed to unnerve him, and she immediately regretted asking it. Not only did he not need to tell her jack shit, especially since they had hardly talked ever since the party, but also? She just? Didn't want to delve into the mess that was Llewellyn's life. It was obvious, wasn't it? She knew very little about the guy, but his laid back stoner demeanor was but a coping mechanism. No one was the way they were without being strangled into submission by something, save for the ones at the top doing the strangling, because they're rich and powerful or whatever. That's how Ana felt, anyway. She was not Llewellyn's doctor, and he likely didn't like his doctor, and she wasn't going to take their place. No one fully ever understood why they were the way they were, but that didn't stop Ana from guessing. After all, being told repeatedly that her body issues were all in her stupid fucking head, she spent a lot of time dwelling on what things could possibly be wrong with her, as well as everyone else.

Before she could tell him that it was fine, that she was being stupid for pressing him, he finally spoke.

Her steps paused, finally reaching their destination, and she turned to look at him, eyes wide and flickering between his figure and the floor below. This... was unexpected. Here, Ana had expected that all of this was on her. She thought she was the only one who didn't feel those feelings, that she hurt him and disgusted him and horrified him, because he had expected her to be normal. But things clicked into place now: Llewellyn was completely and utterly gay. He was so gay. How did she never realize this before? After all this time, she had forced herself into affection she didn't want, and he was simply doing the same, was he not?

But. But, but, but. That led to an interesting conclusion. "Oh my-- Oh my fucking god," Ana slapped her hand against her forehead and blood rushed to her cheeks, painting them red and choking her throat in the line of fire. Aggressively, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the empty classroom she had been leading them to all this time. Inside, it was dark and muted, and her fingers met her eyelids, rubbing them roughly and smudging the black ink that caked her face. She was on the verge of just absolutely clawing the shit out of her skin, but she had to calm down. This was the benefit of keeping her nails short, to keep her from making stupid mistakes and hurting herself.

However, she didn't stop there. She continued forward, to the back of the classroom, where sat a locked door, the words "DARK ROOM" etched onto a plaque on its archaic, wooden body. It was there that she turned to him abruptly, almost furiously, and she pointed a finger at him. "No, okay. Listen," She began, "I..." There was a pause as she brought her finger to her lips, thinking quickly on how she wanted to word this. Finally, she clapped her hands together and bounced them up and down rhythmically, matching the syllables of each word she began to speak. "This whole fucking time I've been so fucking mad at myself for kissing you, because I'm..." Another pause, "Also... Gay." Quietly this time. While she the anxiety could have eaten her alive, the admittance was relieving to say the least.

"I'm so fucking gay, Llewellyn. You don't even know. Or, I guess, maybe you do," Again, she slapped her hands against her face, letting out a cackle from the pure underestimated fury she felt in that moment. Fury towards herself, her feelings, her awful, stupid feelings. But it was relieving. So relieving. And she would go on denying it, possibly forever, and she would never admit it again. But hearing Llewellyn's admittance, his apology, when this whole time she thought it was just her? They were really just two big weirdos avoiding their big weird emotions; avoiding talking about it, in fear of what the other would say. Afraid of admitting it even to themselves. She couldn't even think about how disgusting it was that he liked Kai out of all people in that moment, but that was beside the point.

This was it. Ana had lost it. Finally, she would be burning down the school, and it had been Llewellyn's stupid fault she did it because he couldn't keep his foolish mouth shut. He let the faint girl drag him along into the classroom, relaxing his stiffened muscles so she could drag him along more easily, though for such a tiny thing she was surprisingly capable. Within the dark of the classroom he was blind and found himself in a bit of a free fall stumble, hip checking a desk and hissing out in pain. Ana didn't stop though. She pulled him through the darkness to the back of the classroom, then turned to him. 

He braced himself for her wrath, taking a tiny step back as she began her maddening prattle. He closed his eyes and readied himself for Ana to go back on her offer and to leave Llewellyn to his suffering. To tell him to get the fuck out and to never speak to her again. Or... or snap his neck witch-hunter style and hide his body in the castle walls. But instead, when she spoke, he opened his eyes and caught the silvery outline of her face and her wild wide eyes. When she was finished he was silent. Smiling like a big goof, but Ana likely couldn't see that as his back was to the little bit of light that seeped into the classroom from the tiny glass aperture nested within the door, clearly modeled in ode to a muggle classroom. 

"Wow, thats fucking nuts. I had no idea. I guess that's pretty funny," he responded loftily, but surprised. In truth he was glad for the shift in subject. Him being gay, while it was something important and all, had been the least of his concerns the past couple of days- weeks, even. Thankfully, Ana missed the point, too wrapped up in her own relatability, and to be perfectly honest that was a big sigh of relief for the curly haired Puff. He would rather listen to her unleash her self loathing than talk about himself or his problems any day of the fucking week. 

The point being, it hadn't been so much about Llewellyn being gay. While it was true he did occasionally dwell on the topic and housed a whole surfeit of catholic fueled self-condemnation, it fell pretty low on the totem pole of shit that was freaking him out in that very moment. In truth, Llewellyn's head kept running full circle, forgetting about Kai for a moment but then hitching back onto his infatuation. What was he doing? Who was he with? Were they nice? Llewellyn hoped so. He would knock out anyone that wasn't nice to Kai in a heartbeat. Were they friends or... something else? Over the years Llewellyn had watched Kai slip in and out of casual flings, standing helplessly on the sidelines, or even playing up the wingman role, thinking that just as long as his friend was happy, that he would be too... but... Oh. OH. 

The sudden insight hit him like a ton of bricks. If it hadn't worked before, why the hell did he think it would work now? No wonder he felt so shitty. The only thing that had changed was that instead of watching him from the sidelines, he instead watched from the stands. No matter what, internally, he was the same.

So then what should he do?

He had forgotten about Ana, standing directly in front of him. There had been an awkward silence as Llewellyn worked out his own, entirely unrelated, internal dialogue. His face flushed and he spoke again quickly.

"Not that your gay. The kiss thing. I... didn't know it bothered you so much Nana," he ushered the words out, but he meant them. "I don't know why you would be mad at yourself over that. I mean, it's pretty dickish to do I guess, but... like..." he paused, not entirely sure what he was even on about. "It's easier to forgive others, I think, but the real struggle is to forgive yourself, and to remind yourself you deserve forgiveness just like everyone else. I fuck up a lot, and I think if I held onto every little stupid thing I did, I'd probably just go drown myself in The Black Lake. It's not like you broke up someones marriage or murdered their children. You just wanted to forget who you were... and so did I."

Llewellyn was doing that thing that he did, where he spoke so casually and normally and Ana could only think about how irrational she must have looked. But the burning in her gut didn't subside, and her fingers laid lodged in her eye sockets. She kinda, sorta wanted to punch him in the face, because it wasn't funny at all. But, in the very least, she was relieved that he was so flippant about the whole thing. Hell, he was likely more okay with the whole thing than she was. And now that she calmed herself down, pulling her hands back down to her sides, she realized she had sorta missed the whole point of what he was saying. But this was more important, in her opinion, because it correlated to the two of them rather than Just Llewellyn.

In other words, she cared more about things that related to her than whatever the hell he was dwelling on. If she were to care about every friend or whatever's sob stories, she would truly be nothing more than a skeleton, dead and galvanized to rot from listening from listening to Zayn cry about his life in general for hours on end.

She glared towards his figure in the dark as they sat in silence. That was it? "That's funny"? That was so... Llewellyn. Her blackened fingers curled and strained as she yearned to backhand him. Ana breathed out, nice and slow, a prolonged, impatient sigh. Like a bull, almost. Instead of overreacting once more, she took a step closer to the door. The sooner they were shoveling drugs down their throats, the less likely she'd murder a man; the next time she had an actual feeling, perhaps she would just eat it instead.

But he spoke again, and her lip curled and her brow furrowed as she attempted to follow along with him. While he ultimately had a point at the end, there sure was a whole lot of nonsense before that. Yes, it was true that she had very little sympathy for herself, but to claim it was easy to forgive other people wasn't true, for her at least. Ana forgave Llewellyn because she did not know his intentions. She was mad at him at first, but she was madder at herself for trying. He was possibly the one altercation she had with a man that didn't end with her blaming the other party. But Ana was the Queen of Grudges. She would rather come to terms with herself than other people. But that wasn't the point. He was saying that she would have to forgive herself for what happened between the two of them, and while she had felt bad about it... She didn't really have anything left to forgive. She felt bad about pushing Llewellyn away, for kissing him and barfing and all that. But she had gotten over it. She had always assumed Llewellyn was the one who did not, and she avoided him because of it, to avoid admitting who she was.

That was the funny thing. She spent so long avoiding him, for what? Nothing. They were both morons.

There was another bout of silence then, as she stared him down. Finally, she sighed, and placed her hand on the handle behind her. "Right, well," She finally spoke, clearly swallowing the embarrassment of her freak out, as well as her anger, "Someone's been listening to their therapist." With that, she jiggled the handle a bit, before concluding some asshole locked it, and turned away from the Hufflepuff. Slipping her wand from the holster within her jacket, she tapped it once and unlocked it effortlessly. What was the point of locking a door, she wondered, when every jerk ass around had a magic wand?

But the silence let Ana think a bit, without it being even more awkward. She pushed the heavy door open and stepped instead, fluidly twirling around to hold it open for her friend. The room was painted red by the antique lights above, and the white canvas that was Ana's being was crimson under the glow. They always said red was the easiest color to adapt to in terms of lighting, but Ana simply just liked the shade. Plus, she had some negatives shoved in her bag that she needed to deal with.

And, well... Llewellyn was an okay enough person for Ana to bring to one of her few hiding spots.

"Look," She began once more, tugging a strand of hair between her fingers, "I appreciate your honesty. As well as your attempt to make me feel better, or whatever. But, to be blunt, I'd rather just do drugs than have this forced, happy reunion because we're both fucked up and gay. That's not my thing. I doubt it's either of our things." After closing the door behind him, she crossed her arms and followed his expression with her eyes. After another moment she finally spoke again,

"You should know... You have a terrible taste in lovers." Herself included, but that was part of the joke.

"She's a nice lady," he countered with a shrug, not sure if it was meant to be an insult or not. He was like, pretty tight with his therapist and wrote her often while he was away at school. It had been some time since he saw her last, the summer preceding the school year had been spent entirely at Kai's place so he could avoid That Place he hated. "Just a little bit nuts."

Upon entering the room Llewellyn was hit in the face with a aromatic scent of chemicals. He'd never been in a dark room prior to this point, so he was unsure of what to compare the distinct fragrance to, but it wasn't altogether unpleasant, like gasoline or vinegar. It stunk of developing fumes and probably wasn't the healthiest to be inhaling, but their incentive for being found in such a place wasn't exactly blameless either. That is to say, the two collectively weren't likely candidates to be concerned with their health, and that could be doubly said for Llewellyn. He didn't particularly mind the sensation of his nose hairs being burned away. 

He leaned his back to the door, carefully folding his arms behind his waist and letting his fingertips bounce against the surface of the door. Green eyes roved curiously across the overwhelming glow of vermillion, like everything was coated in a thin coat of phosphorescent blood and the black shadows were pitless. The expression of a curious child splayed itself out over guileless features. He let her speak, but wasn't too concerned with what exactly her lithe figure was yammering on about. Llewellyn did that sometimes. He just... checked out. Wasn't there. It was evident when it happened, as he would begin fidgeting and become much more tactile with his environment, where as normally his body language spoke in modest tongues. When he started roaming, it was a gesture of comfort from the Hufflepuff, a thing that he reserved for people like Kai and his siblings... and now, I suppose, Ana as well. Gently he pushed off the surface of the door and began fiddling with one of the light fixtures, turning it on its side and aiming it towards the murky corners of the room. 

"Yeah, yeah, cool. Me too," he said nonchalantly, nodding his head deliberately and shook out his mop a little with a conclusive final nod. While it was a true statement, her words fell to deaf ears. He let go of the light as it rapidly heated up and began to singe his fingertips- a sensation that was not altogether unpleasant, and watched the fixture swing haltingly. Suddenly, her words filtered in again, and he sort of just grinned this big sheepish smile. 

"Dude. He's a drummer," he responded as it it were the epitome of cool and Ana was absolutely insane for doubting it even for a moment. Had he not already been a shade of all over scarlet, Ana would have seen the pinkish tinge that spread across Llewellyn's features as he recalled the nights they'd been jamming and Kai would be in the groove for hours, shirtless and soaked to the bone and Llewellyn would be at war with his anatomy and struggling to keep his eyes to himself. However, it wasn't important for Ana to know those sorts of details. 

"Besides, what do you even know about taste? I don't see you thirsting after anyone. Or maybe you areeee, ooooooh," he said with a chuckle, sneaking up close behind her and playfully flicking a bit of her long blond hair. 

"Come on... who in your opinion... would be in good taste? It's only fair." 

The fucking stoner wasn't listening again, but this time Ana was sort of glad for it. After all, this was what she wanted. She wanted him to drop it, and he did in that proper Llewellyn fashion. She thought nothing of it simply because it was him. If it had been anyone else, she would already be stuffing their own belongings down their throat. Say, a t-shirt or a wand or the entire contents of their bag. But he put on this big, dorky grin and she was, in the very least, irritated by the fact that he was endearing even when he was dumb as a brick. Was that what it was like to accept someone as a friend? What a terrible notion.

"Dude. He's a drummer,"

"Wh--" She squinted at him for a moment, before her face twisted in horror, her shoulders meeting her ears in disgust. "Oh my god." She wanted to gag. He was almost definitely implying things about the Ohme boy that Ana really, really did not want to think about. Yeah, she was sure he could bang it out all night, and she was sure she would lose her fucking lunch if he uttered another word about it. That didn't stop Kai from being as interesting as a wet paper towel. Boy had the least amount of meat in his personality than anyone Ana had ever met. But, this was all so very trivial and shallow, wasn't it? Llewellyn wanted to shove it up the guy's butt, or vice versa, etc etc, and that meant very little to her. She needed sustenance, personality, chemistry. Even then, she was possibly the pickiest person alive. There was no one of courting material, in her opinion. But... of course, there were people who were nice to look at.

She shut her mouth then, face flushed, but the color was invisible under the glow. Ana never spoke to someone about a matter like this before, but she supposed Llewellyn was possibly the only person who could at this point. Her wide eyes remained stuck on the empty basin beside her, trying to get the image of a sweaty drummer boy tantalizing her lion maned friend out of her head.

"Besides, what do you even know about taste? I don't see you thirsting after anyone. Or maybe you areeee, ooooooh,"

But, like he knew exactly what she didn't want to talk about, he sneaked behind her and brought her own feelings into the mix, and she stiffened at his touch. Like she could feel his fingers at the tips of her hair. Thirst. She didn't thirst after anyone. Of course, her mind drifted to Professor de la Cruz, but she didn't count, did she? Professors didn't count. And, also, she would rather die than admit she had a crush on a professor, that was stupid. Also, also, also, also, she didn't have a crush on Professor de la Cruz, so like?

"Do you mean, who do I think would be a better option?" Pale eyes finally met Llewellyn once more, and she shook her head, a silence following as she attempted to recall all the boys in their year. "I mean... Cadence is pretty to look at. Clean. He's also a fucking weirdo, isn't he? That seems like your cup of tea," He also had possibly one of the worst names in their year, aside from herself, of course. But that's not what Llewellyn was asking, was it?

She turned back to the basin again, the stench of the formula coated thick in its empty body. Black fingers traced the length of it, seeking any leftover moisture from whoever last used it. It was dry. "I think... Charlotte... Is kind of... Attractive..." She muttered her response, frozen now in horror, "For an awful bitch, I mean." And dethawing herself immediately through her flippancy. She began digging in her bag for her black purse once more, to distract herself from sounding like an absolute moron. But what was said, was said.

Weirdly enough, she trusted Llewellyn not to tell anyone. That was the benefit of sharing their little, gay secrets then, huh?

"Cadence and Charlotte?" came his mimicked return, the edge of consternation resounding in his echo.  

Llewellyn's expression turned from curious to entirely put-off as he mock-vomited off to the side, obviously dissatisfied with the options that Ana had presented. It wasn't that they were entirely dreadful choices but... Cadence was, well, a bit off, and likely not at all interested in the likes of Llewellyn. After all, he was  a scrawny air head stoner that couldn't even formulate an incantation without giggling halfway through it because all those dang wizard words just sounded so silly. Llewellyn did suppose he had that pretty boy thing going for him, but Llewellyn's tastes were obviously not conditional to how pretty a man was. After all, he liked Kai, and while Kai had his own unique charm, Llewellyn would not describe him as pretty even on his best days. And while Cadence was nice to look at, Llewellyn was at least somewhat realistic with his expectations, while Ana clearly was a bit... delusional. 

After all, Charlotte Spencer wouldn't do so much as scoff in his or Ana's general direction. Hot? Perhaps, but Llewellyn was a shit judge in that department. What he did know, however, was that she was a bit of a twat, but maybe he and Ana were both glutton's for the impractical. That, and their own misery. 

Come to think of it, Llewellyn couldn't think of many guys in their year that appealed to him in that kind of way. Professors were of course an entirely different ballgame. What teenager didn't pine and fantasize over their scholarly majesty? He'd had more embarrassing dreams about the Ancient Runes professor than he cared to ever concede. 

But... he could think of at least one, and as the thought came up in his mind he took several steps back, giving Ana ample space.

You know. Just in case. 

"Your uhm... brother... is kind of fit," he said meekly as he continued to take a few more steps backwards and watched the pale teenager dig through her bag and his stomach, which had knotted itself up into a ball anxiously, loosened considerably at the thought of the spoils that laid within, but not enough to let his guard down after dropping such a statement so casually. 

Scoffing at Llewellyn's tone of voice, his little faux fit he threw, Ana continued to traverse the innards of her enchanted bag. A lot of books, a lot of potions supplies, and her black purse seemed to be buried under makeup or something. How annoying. She felt like a shitty Mary Poppins. But, more importantly, she didn't appreciate the guy's judgement of her tastes. First of fucking all, clean people clearly weren't his cup of tea. Also, Charlotte's awful bitchness was beyond hot as hell. The two of them verbally sparred, Ana called her "that pig nosed skank", and it was beautiful. The perfect dynamic. Of course, Ana would never admit that she felt that way to that extent with that pig nosed skank, but she certainly did not find her nose to be piggish, and she certainly dreamed from time to time of the two of them together. And it was embarrassing. Humiliating. The cold shoulders she sometimes gave the girl were normally due to one of those nights.

Grabbing the chords of her purse, she finally pulled it out from the black depths, only to watch Llewellyn back up in the corner of her eye. Despite the strange behavior, she didn't think much on it. He was weird. Probably saw a demon in the red glow, off in the distance, doing the macarena. Whatever.

"Your uhm... brother... is kind of fit,"

Turning curtly to him, Ana's jaw dropped, eyes wide. If she could physically manifest daggers from a look, Llewellyn would have been crucified to the ball behind him. For a moment, she sat in silence. Before suddenly chucking the velvet bag at him with the full force of a manic baseball pitcher.

"F*cking excuuuuuse me?" She snapped, hands raising to her ribs, palms upward, fingers curled like black claws ready to rip his stupid fucking hippie face off his stupid hippie skull, "Aaron? Oh, yeah, Aaron's so f*cking fit with his dumb ass pout and inability to take care of himself. 'Ohhh, I'm so misunderstood and treated sooo poorly'. Can't even do a f*cking basic algebraic equation without throwing himself into the corner and weeping. Writes poetry about how daddy didn't go to his ball game, wah wah. Quote, 'I'm just creaming at the thought of someone like Aaron f*cking Gray, also, I drink bleach and live in a garbage can', end quote of Mister Dip Shit Ludlow. Dip Shit Ludlow can't even tell the difference between a dead possum and a bonkable boy. He's not even good looking. All he does is smear blood on his face and everyone goes so absolutely f*cking wild, as if he's the only boy around that gets into dumb shit fist fights. He loses most of them, anyway, doesn't he? He can't even go a day without having his face beaten in. And those stuuuuupid, ickle, little scowls he does. Disgusting. As if being him is soooo hard. That's how 'fit' Aaron Gray is, what a joke."

Through her ranting, stepping toward Llewellyn slowly with gritted teeth, fingers making little quotation marks at every pseudo-quote she spoke, she quickly rationalized in her head: They were twins. They had the same face.

Reeling back suddenly, her expression turning to horror, she screeched. Hands twisted into her hair. "Is that why you were interested in me? Because I looked like my brother? Thought you could f*ck the gay away if the person of interest looked just like their 'fit' brother?" She heaved, dropping into a squat as she tried to level herself. But under her breath, "gross, gross, gross, gross" could be heard, repeated until she finally fell into a silence.

"HA" suddenly rang from her haunted corner. Having calmed herself, she could finally take in exactly what he said. This was typical of Ana, to going to tirades about Aaron for no real reason. But the idea of someone liking him? Especially if that person was her friend? It was unthinkable. It wasn't allowed. No one was allowed to like Aaron if they were friends with her. He was a pest. A menace. She wanted to squash him like the weak, little bug he was. "You're sooo gross, Llewellyn," Cackling now, she fell back onto the floor, sitting with her knees to her chest, "Please, love yourself for once, for f*ck sake." Like a child falling from their tantrum, she breathed heavily for a moment, eyes tucked to the side. She turned her attention to taking off her big, clunky boots instead of potentially apologizing for freaking out. Everyone knew her relationship with Aaron. It was more than strained. Worse yet, she really loved her brother. He was her best friend. But no one else was allowed to have him, quite frankly.