Niccolò York
You got my name right!
Thu Jan 2, 2014 16:55

The past few months seemed to simply slip away, haunting only the faded edges of his mind where the cobwebs rippled beneath curtains of mist and heavy fog, hiding all the questions Niccolò should have been asking himself, like why he’d been walking in a blind daze for so long, why he’d been distant from his friends and family for absolutely no reason he could fathom, why there’d been such a strange emptiness… like a crater dug out from within his mind, suddenly filled with memories of… memories of the only thing that mattered, she whom Niccolò did not have to have any questions about. Natural curiosity was displaced, and all Niccolò was left with was an insatiable desire to be near her, see her and talk to her and kiss her and touch her. He could not understand why he’d been avoiding her, but questioning that didn’t matter either. At the announcement of the SGA’s bowling party, he saw his chance to send her a note, inviting her to meet him there.

What should have been five minutes turned into ten. Niccolò walked at a snail’s pace from the school’s secret elevator towards the muggle bowling alley on Pearl Street. A few other recognizable students passed him on the way, and he offered up vague, crooked smiles in their direction, as if he’d forgotten how to convey happiness and was only now figuring it out. The November weather was colder than he’d expected, goosebumps prickling a path across the length of his bare arms, dark hairs standing on end, a slight electric tingle when someone passed a little too close, friction causing heat as they brushed up against one another. It stung, but Niccolò felt woken up, increasing his pace towards the bowling alley, and the hazy image of that girl situated at the forefront of his mind.

“Lyubov,” Niccolò blinked upon entering the establishment, his vague smile gaining substance, a full grin spreading across his face. It made no sense how… it felt like joy, it felt like ecstasy simply to see her, which was weird because he must have seen her this whole year, in classes and passing one another in the Draco commons. But his eyes felt clearer than they had all year, and suddenly she was Lyubov to him again, not just the barest idea of a friend he’d been nodding to and politely greeting all term. “Wow, this place looks great.”

He took his shoes, a subtle quirk of his dark brow, wondering if her strange offering to each guest was some sort of unique Ukrainian custom, until he looked around and realized these were mandated wear for all players. “Uh, thanks. Find me later, yeah?” He playfully bumped against her shoulder before moving further inland, getting out of the way of students eager to play, lining up behind him.

He felt warm all over, having seen Lyubov, one of his very best friends, someone whom he’d forgotten how much he loved, whose presence excited him, made him eager for adventures, even in the very mundane of possible activities, like simply hanging out in the rain, splashing mud against one another. But she wasn’t the girl he was looking for now, whose face and voice were still phantom shadows occupying various branches in his head, bouncing on memory. Her name was just out of reach to him, something he couldn’t quite grasp or put his finger on, balanced on the very edge of his tongue.

“Amelia,” His breath felt forced out of him, shoved forward out his throat as if someone had reached inside him for that single purpose. Niccolò met her gaze with a frozen expression on his face, not quite happy or disappointed or sad or confused, a soft frown trying to spread and a smile starting to shrink. Niccolò didn’t move from where he stood across the room, his bowling shoes tied by the shoelaces and hanging around his neck, their bulky weight carrying some sort of strange comfort, like a leather strap cutting into his neck, his camera bumping against his chest, and suddenly he remembered…

(“Smile!” Amelia’s laugh echoed down the dark passageway, the two of them briefly highlighted in blue.)

“Amelia…” Niccolò repeated to himself, uncertainty fading, closing his eyes and then opening them again, something solid finally clicking into place, hesitation shadowing his sudden broad smile, bounding forward and reaching for the hand of his betrothed. “You came.”

Strikers was a lot warmer inside, the November weather unable to penetrate, except for when the entrance doors opened, a quick wind sneaking inside, battling the muggle heating devices. Niccolò felt comfortable in his simple white shirt and baby blue jeans, a silver chain necklace hanging around his neck, a light imprint on his skin after having worn it all summer, his dark olive skin lasting into the winter. His hands were a little cold, but steadily warming up, especially the one holding Amelia’s hand, his thumb brushed up across her knuckles.

“Do you wanna play a game or just hang out?” He glanced around them, dark eyes settling on the pizza, a faint longing in his soft gaze. “I’m up for anything, princesa.”

  • Unfortunately tagging Niccolò YorkAmelia Knight, Thu Jan 2 05:18
    He "remembered". Nothing in his note had said it, but Amelia knew. If he did not, he would not have bothered with her, more likely than not naturally preferring to ignore her the way he had for years ... more
    • You got my name right! — Niccolò York, Thu Jan 2 16:55
      • I decided to try a little harder.Amelia, Thu Jan 2 21:27
        "Amelia... You came." He was already touching her, his hand capturing hers with unsettling normalcy, like this was their relationship. And it was , or at least as far as his altered mind told him,... more
        • It only took you seven years!Niccolò, Thu Jan 2 23:14
          Niccolò pouted in the direction of the pizza, tomato sauce and the hot spice of pepperoni wafting through the air, letting himself be led away towards the bowling lanes. “Cool, but the moment you get ... more
          • Late bloomer, I guess.Amelia, Fri Jan 3 22:45
            The arm Niccolò so carelessly draped around her shoulders felt heavy, the weight of her guilt infused into his touch. " who are we?" His words fell so painfully plainly, as if this sort of... more
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