Finding not so platonic love

Her wobbly smile and her uncertain words began to snap him into focus. He shook his head again, trying to clear the weight upon his thoughts. Something had happened here, something that had unsettled Tamsyn. He dug his heels in, staying still as he tried to work his way through it.

He had come to this tournament alone. He had come alone because… because Zee was gone. Not away, but truly gone. He had been talking to Tamsyn, and then… and then Zee had been there, and then she hadn’t been. He turned his gaze back to Tamsyn, assessing, considering. He didn’t like the conclusion he was drawing. He didn’t like the way his thoughts felt muted and heavy. His heart weary, and beaten.

Dear gods, he had seen Zee in Tamsyn, hadn’t he? Because… because she had smelled like a guy, and he had realised he was losing her, too. He stared in growing horror at Tamsyn as a sweet, familiar voice called out to him. Sirius, come to bed, it’s late.”

He closed his eyes slowly, savouring the sound. Savouring it, even as his mind finally began to draw the pieces. Zee was dead, and he had finally and truly lost it. He had lost it, and Tamsyn had seen. No one could know. They would insist on finding a cure, in shoving medicine down his throat. They would take her away from him again, because it wasn’t right that he see her still when she was dead. If Tamsyn walked away from him, they would take Zee away. “Tamsyn.” he said softly, warningly. “Tamsyn, come back here.”


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