Title: The Same Every Time
Author: Black Annis
Rating: PG
Pairing: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Summary: Oliver's true love is Quidditch, and Percy hates it, hates it, *hates* it.
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"Want to do something? You know...*with me*?"
Same words, same time. Alone in their dorm while everyone else had gone off to breakfast. The beds sat empty and unused, the room silent. Perfect circumstances for a nice snog, but Oliver was too busy. Same answer.
"I'm busy writing up a strategy. Practice, Percy. We've got to. If we don't win this year..." Oliver trailed off, notes of sorrow in his voice. He was already in mourning for something that had not passed. He acted as though his Quidditch days were fine as silk and rare as pearls.
"You'll be picked up for as a reserve, at least for a season...you're good enough." Silently Percy raged further; always Quidditch, always that stupid game. I hate it, hate it, *hate* it.
"Not if we lose - or worse, if Quidditch is canceled *again*," Oliver said, squinting in concentration, scratching furiously at a piece of parchment.
"Oh. Need more ink?" Percy offered his well.
"Thanks." Oliver dipped his quill quickly, and went back to his writing, dripping ink across the floor.
"Need anything else?" Percy said, almost hopefully. The more Oliver asked for, the more he would give, and then how could Oliver ignore him?
But Oliver never noticed him, at least not enough for anything more than a rushed kiss before dinner or a short game of chess. Not when he was buried in foul Quidditch. Not when he had better things to think about, not when Percy was clingy and needy like he knew he could be.
But everyday was like a constant battle to keep his head above water, piling book upon credit upon responsibility, just he might stand on it all and escape the ocean of meaningless and forgotten people, escape his family, escape everything.
"No. I just need some quiet so I can concentrate."
Percy nodded, disappointed. "Okay."
So what if he clung to Oliver a little too fiercely, hung a little to hard onto his every word? Oliver was what kept him afloat. Did keep him afloat. But lately it was changing, lately Oliver didn't care to talk to him at all. Percy tried to imagine Oliver being there for him, and every time he did he slipped a little closer to the truth. He was on his own.
He glanced morosely at Oliver's parchment, watching the little dots zip around meaninglessly. Watched Oliver's quill scratch awkwardly at the page, gripped tightly by callused hands far more comfortable holding a broomstick. Watched his boyfriend's *true* love unfold. It was the same every time - why did he even try?
"I'll be in the Library then...if you need me." Percy stood up, all traces of hunger gone. Might as well take advantage of it and study. "So that's where I'll be. If you want to see me."
Oliver didn't answer. Percy slipped out of the room, glancing behind him to see if his departure had even been noticed. But Oliver continued with his work, not a single effort to acknowledge Percy, not a single effort to keep a drowning boy afloat.
The end.
Author: Black Annis
Rating: PG
Pairing: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Summary: Oliver's true love is Quidditch, and Percy hates it, hates it, *hates* it.
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"Want to do something? You know...*with me*?"
Same words, same time. Alone in their dorm while everyone else had gone off to breakfast. The beds sat empty and unused, the room silent. Perfect circumstances for a nice snog, but Oliver was too busy. Same answer.
"I'm busy writing up a strategy. Practice, Percy. We've got to. If we don't win this year..." Oliver trailed off, notes of sorrow in his voice. He was already in mourning for something that had not passed. He acted as though his Quidditch days were fine as silk and rare as pearls.
"You'll be picked up for as a reserve, at least for a season...you're good enough." Silently Percy raged further; always Quidditch, always that stupid game. I hate it, hate it, *hate* it.
"Not if we lose - or worse, if Quidditch is canceled *again*," Oliver said, squinting in concentration, scratching furiously at a piece of parchment.
"Oh. Need more ink?" Percy offered his well.
"Thanks." Oliver dipped his quill quickly, and went back to his writing, dripping ink across the floor.
"Need anything else?" Percy said, almost hopefully. The more Oliver asked for, the more he would give, and then how could Oliver ignore him?
But Oliver never noticed him, at least not enough for anything more than a rushed kiss before dinner or a short game of chess. Not when he was buried in foul Quidditch. Not when he had better things to think about, not when Percy was clingy and needy like he knew he could be.
But everyday was like a constant battle to keep his head above water, piling book upon credit upon responsibility, just he might stand on it all and escape the ocean of meaningless and forgotten people, escape his family, escape everything.
"No. I just need some quiet so I can concentrate."
Percy nodded, disappointed. "Okay."
So what if he clung to Oliver a little too fiercely, hung a little to hard onto his every word? Oliver was what kept him afloat. Did keep him afloat. But lately it was changing, lately Oliver didn't care to talk to him at all. Percy tried to imagine Oliver being there for him, and every time he did he slipped a little closer to the truth. He was on his own.
He glanced morosely at Oliver's parchment, watching the little dots zip around meaninglessly. Watched Oliver's quill scratch awkwardly at the page, gripped tightly by callused hands far more comfortable holding a broomstick. Watched his boyfriend's *true* love unfold. It was the same every time - why did he even try?
"I'll be in the Library then...if you need me." Percy stood up, all traces of hunger gone. Might as well take advantage of it and study. "So that's where I'll be. If you want to see me."
Oliver didn't answer. Percy slipped out of the room, glancing behind him to see if his departure had even been noticed. But Oliver continued with his work, not a single effort to acknowledge Percy, not a single effort to keep a drowning boy afloat.
The end.