credit to nat of adoxography.

A few days had passed since the school year began, and everyone was trying to settle into the rhythm of things. The first two weeks were always a struggle, but for Rodrik this year felt much more of a struggle. Never mind the flocks of first years who looked to him for help, or the pressure of every professor reminding them that this was their exam year, never mind all that... In truth, he didn't even register half the things that were going on around him. His head was somewhere else, his soul providing company to the ghosts floating around the school.

He hardly spoke during the day, at most sharing a few phrases with Zoe, who had taken to following him around like a very little and very yappy guard dog. Her constant flow of words was exhausting, but he tried his best not to take his frustration out on her. She was only trying to help, to make sure he didn't follow in Vaughn's footsteps.

But, come evening, their paths had to split, as she couldn't come sleep in the boys' dormitory. And there was one person in that dormitory the sight of which made Rodrik's heart twist in knots.

Rowan. His cousin, and the brother of Rue, the girl Vaughn was trying to save from the rest of the werewolves. In his mind, that equaled with the reason why his brother was dead now. And Rowan was a walking reminder of that. Every. Single. Bloody. Evening.

So Rodrik had taken to staying in the common room well after curfew. He'd procured an alarm clock before going back to school - the small, round mechanical clock was quietly ticking away on the table on the other side of the room (so that he'd have to get out of the couch to turn it off, and he couldn't just shut it up and go back to sleep. He liked to sleep naked. He didn't need anyone finding him like that.), and it was set to wake him up at 4 am, well before anyone else would be up.

But tonight he could hardly fall asleep. Something that particular day had reminded him of Vaughn far too intensely, and he'd waited all day to get to cry it out in private. 

Now he was sitting on the couch, legs pulled up, hazy eyes staring at the fire, watching the remnants of his tissues shrivel up on the coals. He was still fully dressed in his school uniform, tie and all, and he would have fallen asleep just like that if someone hadn't almost sat on his face.

To nobody's surprise it was Lyubov Karev. The subject of his misguided and confused affections during the last term. It had been awkward and messy, and downright dickish from Rodrik's side, but right now he didn't give a hippogrif's ass about such things as crushes. 

"Me neither," he answered, his voice hoarse. "Don't think I'll ever sleep proper again."

credit to nat of adoxography.

You've been crying. Thank you, Captain Obvious. If his eyes wouldn't have been so sore, he'd rolled them in Lyuba's direction. But once again he had to remind himself, that she had no ill intention in mind, just like Zoe, even if it got on his nerves.

Lyuba's fingers were lingering over his tie, and without much thought, Rodrik leaned into her touch, letting her undo the knot he'd pulled far too tight. Was it with intent? He didn't remember, but it sure as hell hadn't helped him when he was chocking on his own tears. But he couldn't be bothered with such details while crying, not when a part of him wanted to suffocate.

The other part of him, which was still in charge of things, took a deep breath once the knot came undone. He leaned back into the previous position, turning his face away from Lyuba and staring into the fire.

Did he want to talk? No. He'd had this conversation once, and once had been enough. But... Hell, he might as well tell her so she doesn't nag him about it.

"Nothing can be done." He said, "Vaughn..."

It was always the  hardest part. That last word, whatever he picked when speaking to himself in his head or when he was talking to Zoe. It was like a wall of spikes that he had to scale.

"Vaughn's dead."

credit to nat of adoxography.

There was no lingering, no second thought about what had been and what might of be, when Lyuba wrapped her arms around Rodrik and pulled him close. Her voice was shaking as she muttered apologies in his ear. For a moment, Rodrik wondered -- why was it that people always apologized? Even when it wasn't anyone's fault? I'm sorry you feel this way? That seemed useless, as it was an apology he couldn't accept.

Grief had made Rodrik a little bit cynical.

He paid no heed to her apologies. No, what his attention was drawn towards was the muffled beating coming from her chest. Her heart, agitated, and yet... He stirred out of her grasp, grasping the back of the couch to help him stay up.

"Lay down, please." He said, and, when Lyuba had done so, settled on top of her, his head back on her chest, listening to her heart beat. The feel of her bathrobe on his skin, the lingering scent of coconut, and the firm and steady beat of her heart made up for the fact that the couch was not meant for this -- at least, not when both of them were on the tall end.

"I can't sleep in my dorm," he muttered, half of his mouth blocked by her bathrobe, "Rowan's there. He's a constant reminder. I can't hide from it."

credit to nat of adoxography.

When Lyuba's fingers touched his scalp, he shivered. It felt good, and he snuggled his face into the fluff of the bathrobe. His breathing steadied and became deeper as he listened to her heartbeat and the vibrations from her voice, as she tried to console him and figure out a way to make it easier.

"He's still there in the morning. And classes. This entire castle is a reminder. My own last name is a reminder." He said, sounding defeated. "I sleep here. Got an alarm clock set for 5, so nobody catches me here. Don't know how long I'll be able to keep it up."

He closed his eyes, shutting out the fire and the silhouette of the individual threads of the bathrobe, fighting against the emotions coming over him. Despair, confusion, anger... Grief, in all its shades of black and red.

"Vaughn...Vaughn always knew what to do. I... I never know. Not now, not ever. He would have achieved great things, while I..." he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. These thoughts hurt like hell, but they plagued him every waking moment, and when he got to sleep, they were right there, in his nightmares too. "If a Belanger had to go this soon, I wish it had been me. Less of a loss."

credit to nat of adoxography.

Everybody is worried.

Rodrik snorted in disbelief. Everyone? Or people you could count on one hand? It was another one of those phrases meant to comfort that just felt wrong. 

He chose not to argue with Lyuba, knowing that that never led to anything good. Even now he could sense anger flaring up in her voice, anger at him for feeling as he did. So, instead he just shifted around once more, trying to get comfortable. He could feel himself overheating, what with the layers he was wearing and the coziness of Lyuba's bathrobe.

There was nothing you could have done. It was the truth that stung like a dagger to the heart, so much so that Rodrik hissed and sat up, his hand clutching at his sweater above his heart. He didn't look at Lyuba as she continued to speak, trying to focus on the flickering flames so that he wouldn't start crying once more. But he didn't miss her words. To do things in his honor? To make the world better? How can I even do that?

That was a conversation he'd have to have with himself at a later date. His limbs felt heavy and he could scarcely keep his eyes open anymore, wishing for nothing more than darkness to engulf him. He pulled his sweater over his head, revealing a gray t-shirt underneath, and got rid of his other clothes until it was only that and his black boxers. The clothing was tossed on the nearest chair, and only then he looked back at Lyuba.

"I'd like to get a few hours of sleep. Are you staying here? Then we need to pull the couch open. And the alarm is set for 5, so..."