maybe, maybe not [Open]

[erich]

In an old rickety chair sat Noah Whitehall, his eyes fixated upon the fireplace just ahead. The heat licked against his flesh, causing his pale cheeks to slightly warm in a pink fleshy color. From the looks of it the hufflepuff had been loitering around the trophy room for hours. Within his lap was a parchment stretched out, a quill positioned at a downward angle within his left hand. Across it were written a few words, but at the last sentence there was a long line that went off the page. Perhaps the line symbolized that Noah had drifted off to sleep at one point in time, or he had been caught off guard and startled by something within the room. Whatever had happened would remain a mystery, for Noah remained alone.

Not many students gathered to the trophy room in the late evening hours, thus it was the perfect place for Whitehall to covert over personal time. Get his homework done, study some of his lessons and simmer about the events of the day. His eyes, glossy from the heat, turned to one of the glass displays that sat adjourned from the fireplace. All those names, all those faces.... all those great success. Noah felt himself slump downward. Name. Name. Name. My name... is... how many times had he introduced himself, yes, yes he was Noah Whitehall, no one else. His right arm was dead weight, hanging off the side of the chair and soon he dropped the quill to the ground. All the while his left hand pricked at the parchment on his lap before shoving it off, the soft flutter of paper coming in contact with the ground.

Amongst himself he started to chuckle, the tone low and slightly dark. Too funny, this place, the hazy sanctuary of his head... But it didn't replace the cutting steel of the blade called loneliness. He hated this, the idea of him running away to an unoccupied room. The parchment was face down on the floor, and if it was turned over, a person could see Noah Noah Noah scribbled with dark ink, much like a person would do if they were practicing a signature. Yet, every etch of his name was a reflection of the first, all identical.

A smile was on his face, no use in hiding the amusement of his pathetic situation. The hand that had pushed the parchment off his lap ascended so that he could place the cool part of his hand against his forehead, layers of his hair falling into the crevices of his fingers. Wasn't there a remedy for how awful he sometimes felt?

Wasn't there going to be someone else to call his name?

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[nen]

It was a crisp night, the kind that wasn't too cold, but just enough so in a refreshing way. Perfect flying weather. Becoming the captain of his quidditch team had been a goal of his since his first year. The first game he ever went to astounded him. Everything about the sport looked fun and exhilarating. In his fourth year, he had been accepted onto the team as a keeper only because there was simply no one else to do it at that time. Pure luck. He worked hard to prove that he didn't need luck to succeed from then on, but had the skill to do it on his own.

Well, apparently he had shown them well enough, because he was informed before returning to school that year that he would become the captain of his team. Bringing the quidditch cup to his house had seemed like a distant dream before, but now it was closer then ever. Nen had been training relentlessly, spending hours upon hours not only on the pitch, practicing plays and strategies, but in the libraries as well, reading any and all quidditch books that they had.

Now he knew that reading wasn't going to give him the edge that they needed to win the cup, but it didn't hurt to have the knowledge. Once he got his team together, they will practice relentlessly. If they were going to win the cup, they had to stay one step ahead of the other teams. Nen had been out for a couple of hours already, and the cold was beginning to nip as his fingers, making it hard to grip his broom properly. Next time he would have to remember to bring gloves.

Deciding that it would be best if he head in for the night, he steered his broom towards the ground, landing with a soft thud. Dismounting his broom, he strode off the quidditch pitch, and up to the school. The sun had set a while ago, but luckily some lamps lit up the front of the castle. Nen pushed open the door, heading towards the staircases. As he climbed, one of the staircases decided to change on him. Hanging onto the banister, he stopped as the stairs swung to another door frame. This route would still bring him to the common room, but it was a bit of a detour. It wasn't a bother though, as the trophy room was on the way there. Nen had always enjoyed going in there and just staring at the beautiful trophies.

After the stairs stopped, he climbed up the rest of them, onto the third floor. Once arriving at the door to the trophy room, he twisted the handle and pushed the heavy wooden door open, creaking as it swung. He stepped in and noticed a boy sitting in front of the fire. "I'm sorry." he said, looking at the paper on the ground, then back to the boy. He didn't look familiar to Nen, and he could see that he was in hufflepuff. "There's usually not anyone here this late. I can leave if you like"

[erich]

The room started to spin in-front of his eyes, taking up the spaces of objects and filling them up with a hazy blur. One more breath of the warm air through his lips, his throat or nose he was sure that he would most likely hurl. Or even worse, he may just pass out and wake up late for one of his classes. Tardiness would not do, he was here to show that he could successfully finish, despite being left out of Hogwarts for some fatal broom-stick accident. But whenever he saw a quidditch match, his heart felt warm, as if he would love to use his free time doing the same. Whenever he got close an actual broom, he felt anxious and jittery. Noah never even had a first-year flying lesson.

His heavy lids dropped and he felt darkness. Images were swirling in his head, images of a different person, a different life. Even the way he walked, talked, and breathed were all filled with confidence. It was a person so unlike Noah, that it caused him to snap his neck back and his eyes popped open. A voice entered the room and he felt himself froze. There was nothing wrong with taking solace in the trophy room, was there? It wasn't exactly a forbidden zone within the school. Both of his hands dropped down to the arm rest, holding himself still so that he could lean back and look to the intruder. Still feeling repressed by the heat in the air, Noah turned in a haphazard way – he had placed his weight far back into the chair.

Only results apparent were that of a major failure. The Huffelpuff felt the legs of the chair glide upward, and Noah wasn't sure if he was moving or the chair was, but before he could calculate his losses he felt lighter. The chair had fell backward, along with Noah in it. Just before his head could make contact with the concrete floor, Noah lifted his left shoulder and allowed his right shoulder to take the impact. None of the less, the whole thing startled him and his glossy eyes shifted to stare up at the Ravenclaw. The black and yellow scarf was the first thing he reached for, pulling it off of his neck so that he could get more air. The fall had winded him for a second.

After momentarily checking his surroundings, he slipped his legs to the right and let the weight of them carry him upward into a sitting position upon the ground. Using one hand he immediately began to rub the back of his right shoulder, looking up at the other male with a little mirth. “N-no, you're fine,” Noah replied, wondering what was going on in the stranger's head. The Ravenclaw must have thought he was stupid, and clumsy. Neither were true, Noah was adept at keeping good posture and balance, and he was certainly doing well in his classes. He felt like a card, the bad side exposed to this other male while the good remained masked.

“... do you need the room? I don't mind leaving, I wasn't doing anything important anyway,” his eyes shifted to the paper that was facedown and to the quill, objects of his insanity that were both discarded. Yet, they were evidence that he was in this room. His pale face was already flushed from the flames of the fireplace, but if the other male had found him else where, the pink cheeks would have been from the embarrassment he was feeling of toppling over himself like that. As stunned as he was, he failed to remember he was still sitting on the ground.

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[nen]

Nen watched as the other leaned back in his chair to look at him, hoping he knew that if he tipped back further, he would surely fall. Just as he was about to open his mouth to warn him, the Hufflepuff began falling backwards. Even though he knew it was hopeless, the keeper in him just had to try and make the save. Dropping his broom to the ground, he lunged forward, but was just a moment too late. The back of the chair slipped past his fingertips and continued on it's fall towards the ground.

He was glad that the other boy at least hadn't hit his head off of the rock floor. "Are you okay? He asked before the other even had a chance to sit up. Nen didn't think that he was clumsy or anything of the sort. He had actually done the same thing multiple times. He knew that if you were concentrating on something, or your mind was someplace else, things like losing your balance happened very easily. Nen was never the type to think someone stupid or clumsy just from one situation. He was genuinely more concerned about if the boy had hurt himself or not.

He looked into the Hufflepuff's eyes as he spoke to him, shaking his head, his lips curving up into his signature smile. ”No, you don’t have to leave.” He told the other boy, bending over to pick up the tipped chair. He then held out his hand, offering to help the fallen boy. He hadn’t made any effort to get up, but maybe he just needed a little assistance. ”I just came in for a little bit of inspiration, how about you?” he asked, remembering the paper that had been laying on the floor when he came in. He wondered what was written on it, but wasn’t going to retrieve it and find out.

[erich]

Good thing the wizarding world didn't have a knack for technology, or else a camera would have been pleasant to place Noah under slow motion, just to watch him fall over and over again. Despite all of his failing tonight, his eyes reached out to the object that was discarded. This other male had dropped a broom, and although Noah's arm was throbbing his eyes were staring longingly. He felt anxious seeing the broom, felt better when he was in this room, and although he was a supposed victim of an insane broom accident, he wanted to fly right now. The fear that he usually felt when he got to near to the flying grounds felt fuzzy, unreal, as if it really wasn't apart of him and he was living a bad dream. His eyes shot upward when the stranger spoke to him, and his gaze appeared glossed, uncertain.

He didn't know there was such a thing as niceness, he saw how the school ran like clockwork. One minute a person could be your friend, the next if you screwed up, a person became a loner. Although it mostly happened in the Slytherin house, he was fearful of having to deal with his dignity being caught into a mad-spiral such as that. Why hadn't the stranger started laughing at him? Noah sort of wished he did, then he could swallow his nervousness and laugh at himself, too. The other male's question was softer, gentler and Noah's eyes had the most difficult time to keep looking into the stranger's face. He felt god awful embarrassed, and he really wanted to crawl under a rock. Something so small and contrite really stripped a person of their pride, and he wasn't certain why – everyone made mistakes, didn't they?

A smile and Noah felt his bottom lip turn in, biting it, trying not to burst out into a rant. He wanted to question this stranger, ask why the hell he was so nice? He felt exposed under such an open attitude, and although he was enjoying, every cell in his body was denying people like him actually existed. Not once did his eyes dash away, his pale gaze watched the boy pick up the chair as if it was placing a bandage over Noah's new sore. Then the stranger reached his hand out to him and he gasped a little, it wasn't noticeable, but he had forgot that he was holding is breath in anticipation. Nethaniel's hand was enough to knock some sense back into the hufflepuff.

He didn't think about it, didn't want to calculate any further. Noah, already bruised from his fall, lifted his hand to place it into the stranger's own. Immediately he felt the other male's flesh, the way it was crisp and cool as if he had just come out from the bite of the early fall, where Noah's touch was blazing with heat from being a hermit and hiding himself in a room with a small fireplace. With his free-hand, he pressed to the ground and slowly stood into a stand. Although Nethaniel's cold fingers felt good against his melting nerves, he released the Ravenclaw's hand, trying not to make the situation even more awkward than it already was.

“I was avoiding everyone,” he said softly, forcing himself to look away, acting as if he was ashamed. But he wasn't, he just didn't want people to discover how much of an oddball he was. “Inspiration?” he inquired, genuinely interested, waiting for the other male's welcoming answer so that he could go back to drinking up Nethaniel with his eyes.

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[nen]

The fire in the background crackled as the two boys stared at each other. Nen saw the other's eyes staring at his broomstick. Was he admiring it? If he knew anything about broomsticks, he wouldn't be. It wasn't the fastest model, but it did the job. He saved up a lot of money to be able to get his broom, and he was proud of it. Normally he wouldn't leave it discarded on the ground like that, but it's not like someone was going to step on it or anything. It was good where it was, his attention was needed here. Nen was going to ask if he maybe wanted to ride it, he was staring at it almost longingly. But at the same time it looked like he didn't quite know what to make of the broom.

The warmth of the Hufflepuff's hand was a nice contrast to that of his own cold fingers. His hands had always been the hardest part to warm up after being out in the cold. Well, his hands and feet. He knew why, simply because the hands and feet let out cold easily. They were also the furthest appendages away from the heart, therefore taking a a longer time to carry the warm blood into the cool extremities. He knew a spell that would rectify this situation, but he enjoyed the numb feeling in his hands.

"Avoiding everyone?" he asked, the smile fading from his lips, replaced by a furrowed brow of a concerned nature. "Why would you be doing that? Is something wrong?" he asked, hoping that he wasn't being too nosy. Nen enjoyed helping others, but knew that some didn't like it. This boy seemed like he had a rough day to say the least. He hoped that what was troubling him wasn't too serious.

With a small sigh, he smiled again. "Yes, inspiration. Got quidditch captain this year." he said with a prideful grin, motioning down to the silver badge on his uniform. "I want to win the cup this year. I came in to see the trophies, you know, soak up some of the winning atmosphere.." He explained, walking over to the case with the Quidditch cup. Staring at it almost just as Noah had stared at the broomstick, Nen put his hand on the glass, tiny bits of condensation fogging the glass around his fingers.

[erich]

The Ravenclaw wouldn't admit it, but Noah could see it in the other man's expression. He was concerned that the hufflepuff was avoiding everyone, and even questioned Noah about it. There was no one to blame but himself, Noah didn't feel it was necessary to lie in this situation. He was here for a reason, but the one that he gave the other boy didn't seem right at all. Even when he was talking to Nethaniel he left out a lot of details that he often felt like he was going insane and was about to break at the seams, so here he was, etching his name endlessly on a parchment. Denying his name, and his identity. Just living in himself he always felt conflicted. “Nothing is wrong, not entirely,” Noah looked at the Ravenclaw now, his gaze intent. The shaken person that Nethaniel had ran into before had slowly slipped away, and the contours of Noah's smile seemed a little threatening because of the shadows trailing along his features – all because of the flickering, lively flame.

“When you don't know anyone, don't have a name nor a face, how do you approach others? Wouldn't they look upon me as a monster, or would I be absolutely invisible, regardless of the black and yellow I adorn?” There was truth to what Noah was saying, he didn't talk nonsense, but to the Ravenclaw there probably wasn't much object to get out of it. Despite having yet introduce each other, Noah was willing to answer just about anything that was asked of him. He didn't feel like he had consequences anymore, all that was left in-between his temples was not a brain, but an empty cauldron that was meant to have stuff be placed in. “I guess you can't say I am very good with... people, all the time. It's easier to be alone.” It sounded depressing to even say a line like that, and Noah was well aware, but regardless of his sentence his tone remained steady and unaffected.

Nethaniel's words were enough to change the dark and dreary, the Ravenclaw was a quidditch captain. The solemn gesture now appeared to show on Noah's face, as if truly put down by the other male's great words. He didn't know why... he didn't know why he was jealous, angry, sad and why it felt that a title like that belonged to him; like someone had given it to him before only to rip it all the way. His stare was heavy, but no moisture came to his eyes, for it wasn't an issue to shed a tear over. If Nethaniel ever asked why Noah was making such a face, he truly had no idea why. It's just a feeling, is what he'd remarked. Was he bi-polar or mentally challenged in the way that he couldn't even feel happy for the Ravenclaw?

A shift of pride went to the captain's face and Noah's face adjusted immediately, the swirl of mixed emotion finally picked the forefront: amazement. What was once a shifty and almost predatory look moved down to the silver badge, and then up again to watch the Ravenclaw motion away from Noah. Like a lost puppy, he wanted to follow the boy, for he had an uncanny feeling that he was attracted to Nethaniel's charisma. “If... feelings could be enough, then I'd certainly believe you'll do well for your team...” and he left it as that, not letting himself say feelings are fickle and unreliable but he felt that this male could do anything if he tried, and he didn't even know him.

“I wish you luck... er, what is your name?”

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