This is gonna hurt but I blame myself first | Lyra

[Paxton Levine Sumac]

June 27th, 2028

Paxton was watching her from the back row ready to run away, the minute he tasted fear. Who was he kidding? It was he that scared shitless, but he masked it. Lyra was good, better than good, she was excellent. Her wand casted her spell silently, and she blocked near-instantaneously. Her hair was tied up and she was concentrating; she could easily maim them or kill the opponent. She couldn't, the rules stated otherwise. It's too bad, their opponent looks like a stuck up bastard. He swallowed, rubbing his neck.

It's been just shy of one month since he saw her. Just shy of one month since he told her he lied and was mean to her. All because he was scared of the commitment. Scared of what being vulnerable really was, being open with each other. All the sadness, all the pain, it came with being vulnerable. Paxton didn't know if he was ready for it yet, but he just knew that he hated being alone and lying to Lyra. Most girls he lies a million times. But Lyra? He eats away at him. Maybe the ten years hardened Paxton to Lyra, but no, still a soft spot for Lyra.

He has tried multiple things to get her off of his mind. He's tried to go back home with girls, but they didn't work out. The girls were pretty, playful, way too flirty; it's not Lyra. The bars were fun, with lots of acquaintances and friends there. He stayed out to the wee hours. But he can't shake him, the words keep coming back to him. It was Lyra who said it, “...it's all a fallacy for the most part; you still end up going home alone, or with someone you don't know or care all that much about…” So, he went home. Alone.

It has been ten years since he has seen Lyra. Ten years! One night has changed everything? Really?! Pax has been seeing his father last week, Lukas, to see if he can change. Lukas was against beasts (aka: werewolves, but giants, house elves, goblins, anything beast related). He loved sniffing his prey and snuffing out his kill. Lukas was in the middle of lobbying anti-werewolves and Paxton was excited. Well, excited until he gets to his house and Lukas droning on and on about werewolves and their biting, their clawing, their sounding… Paxton was biting his lip to not say anything. Lyra has been different, different from the werewolves. His stomach was aching. He blurted out, something like, "Oh, shit. I forgot to meet my friends." He was still thinking about it, a vague notion that passed through. Was Lyra that high from the ranking pool from his dad? Nah! Paxton was indifferent, that's all.

Paxton was eyed the exit, part way to fleeing, but he flickered from the duel and the door. The final blow was Lyra, the opponent was knocked out, stupefied. He clapped, taking a deep breath. This was it. He was bad at apologizing. Really, really bad at apologizing. He lingered at the doorway, he scowled. "God," Paxton sighed, and went the other way. Making his way backstage, the bouncer looked up, he was a big man, bald and burly.

"Name?" The bouncer asked coldly.

"Paxton Levine," Paxton responded, but not any favors from Levine, this time. "I'm here to see Lyra. She's a…" Lover. Hater. Friend. "...old friend. To congratulate her, mainly," He was sheepish, but the bouncer looked up and down Paxton.

"I'll tell her you're here and Lyra can decide. Wait here." The bouncer nodded it to the backstage bouncer, the backstage bouncer came up. Blast, Paxton drained his face. Lyra hates him, but there is nothing he can do. The bouncer already has his name, he can't run away. Biting his lip, he stood there awkwardly, trying to back to see her one-on-one.

| Lyra Horváth |

[Lyra Horváth]

Lyra hadn’t been mentally able to take another Heartbreak. However brief their encounter had been; her time with Paxton had done a number on her. Being crushed like that again had been detrimental. She had spiraled only slightly this time. Maybe it was because she had been less invested, maybe it was because hanna horváth hadn’t allowed her to this time. She’d been on the ball and dragged Lyra out of it before she had really even been able to begin. Throwing her into work had been the easiest way to deal with it. Signing her for every professional tourney across the globe. Blocking out other days with events, costume fittings, merchandise meetings, . It didn’t give Lyra a moment to think, and it was probably better that way. The only time she really had to herself was at night. When she was alone, that’s when it started to all crash down. On the really bad nights she could go through whole doses of dreamless sleep potion; she tried not to, to keep it to a minimum but sometimes she couldn’t. The thoughts questioning it all kept crawling back in, forcing her to face the unrelenting monotony of it all.

Today’s round of duels was a minor exhibition in London. She had only been half assed enthusiastic about it when Hanna had told her about it, but with the matches being on her ‘home’ turf she couldn’t really fight attending too much. It was a more casual thing, as far as these tourney sets went. The prize money wasn’t huge, a lot of it would be pledged to differing charities, but behind the scenes her fee was big enough to compensate. Even her look for the platform had been downplayed. It was simple and sleek. Clean lines and muted tones of a moss green boiler suit, hair up in a high ponytail and signature dark lips.

The earlier rounds had been a doddle. She had even let some of the up and comers take a shot or two at her just for sportsmanship. She had had to put a little more effort in the later rounds, the harder players. But still, the day had ended successfully. Now there was nothing more to be done except crawl into bed alone, after some food. If she could even stomach it. It was still about a week out from when the full moon symptoms would start to truly take its toll, but she was in no way well either. After being crowned the victor for the day, and lapping up the adoration with the best fake smirk she could; she had shoved in through the crowds, past the bouncer giving him a half smile. She’d known Tony long enough now. He knew her well and knew when to not want to push the urge to talk. She hadn’t been back in her dressing room all that long when she heard him talking to someone outside. Her eyes rolled. Probably just someone annoying, trying to get a press junket or something. If it had been Hanna she would have been in by now already. And they had been talking a little longer than anyone Tony would have just told to fuck off. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, her top lip lifted in a sneer. Sometimes she hated what she had become. An act. That’s all it was. A glossy veneer on the outside of a more than scuffed up mess of a person. She had stepped in behind her changing screen when there was a curt knock on the door and Tony popped his head in. ‘A Paxton Levine to see you Miss Horvath’. That caused her to stop, just as she was shrugging out of the pants. The sneer of disgust deepened on her face. The boiler suit dropped to the floor and she frowned again. That was a shock. What the fuck did he want. He had some balls to try and push his way in here after what he had said. What he had put her through.

“Paxton Sumac” she corrected the burly man with a laugh, stepping out from behind the screen, now covered in a floral silk robe over her underwear. As Tony shrugged it off, she narrowed her eyes, lips pursing with mischief now. She was going to let him wait for her. Let him sweat it out under the protective gaze of this incredibly large man. It probably wasn’t the most intimidated Paxton would ever be, but Lyra knew it wouldn’t be comfortable for him either. A wicked grin spread on her lips “Let him wait a while Tony, tell him I’m in the shower and I’ll see him in a while. Let him sweat it out” The security wizard obliged, his own smirk growing to match hers. He knew her well enough to know there was a reason for her actions. With a simple nod he disappeared again.

‘Miss Horvath is currently indisposed, though you’re welcome to wait, Mr. sumac’

Paxton Levine Sumac

[Paxton Levine Sumac]

Anxious, scared as hell, Paxton waited for the bouncer to come back and said maybe, she's busy or she hates you, I can escort you out. He must think of another way. Maybe he'll cause a diversion, maybe he'll wait in the streets, maybe… he trailed off. He came back, Paxton sighed, he hated that name. He bites his lip to say, it's not my name. It's a minor victory, but the waiting was brutal; getting to think about what he'll say or what he'll do. “Okay, I'll just wait… over there.” He moved three feet away, staring out. It was a small area but he couldn't chance it. He wanted to see her. It was crowded, loud and noisy, supporting charities. He rolled his eyes, he hated charities.

His hair was unruly, and the more he ran through it the unruliness it became. The more he thought about it the angrier and uneasy he became. He shouldn’t have gone there, to Lyra in the bar. He was happy and content, mostly. He was out at the bar, going to the concerts, going to parties, and picking up the girls. It was Lyra that was the problem, that girl was irritating, hauntingly pretty, and real. Now, he was unhappy and discontent. He hated being alone, deep down he knew that. It was Lyra that brought it out, being alone, but it's more than that. He wanted to be with her, he needed her. He was scared as hell. Apologize first, then he'll work on it. But how?

What was the apology, again? He lied when he was saying “desperate for attention”, and he was mean to her, when he hated her. It was true, he hated her, ten years ago, but mostly he covered up the pain and the hurt. He's over it now. Pax scowled. Why does he do this to himself? Most girls he lied nonstop, washed and repeated. He lied about having to work (for two weeks, most girls get the picture), he lied about having an ex-girlfriend (it's too fresh for him to get to the commitment stage), he lied about having being she’s ugly in the morning (it's harsh but it works)... list goes on and on. Pax didn't think twice about it.

Not with Lyra. Why Lyra?! She was a pain in the buttocks! She was annoying, moody, quiet, being a werewolf… and pretty, smart, and if you get a little closer, flirty and a glimmer of old Lyra. That was the problem. Hate and love. Paxton can't get enough of this drama, this tangled relationship. Intimate and passionate to the beholder, toxic and poisonous to most of us. He fidgeted, eyeing the door. No backing out now, Lyra knew who he was and what name he hated. He knew Lyra understood that he always played the music because the quiet fills you up entirely. She knew that Paxton hated to be alone. He knew that Lyra helped, but how to tell her that was the problem.

Eyeing the bouncer out of the corner of his eye, the bouncer was smirking. Muttering to himself, he takes a deep breath. It's too late now. He was anxious and fearful and all put in between but the bouncer didn't know that. His hair, curly and messy, he goes over it again. Paxton swallowed, stamping his foot. How long does he have to wait? Lyra is torturing him, he knew that. Shifting side to side, he was worried about Lyra hating Paxton. Or worse, indifferent to him.

| Lyra Horváth |

[Lyra Horváth]

Lifting her hand, she paused for a moment. She could hear the fuss going on beyond the walls of her dressing room, the other brackets finishing up, the press conferences and the jabbering that went with it. It was too much compared to the silence of the cinder block dressing room. Lazily she lifted her wand hand and some music played from the battered radio in the corner. Old fashioned, jazz of some sort, but whatever she'd take it. For now it was enough to block the outside. It would do. Once the wand was safely tucked into her robe pocket she moved to pour herself a drink. On the dresser her favourite Whiskey had been placed, an Irish brand, from the country. Delicious. The decanter was old and had taken a few knocks. She let her fingers run over a few chips gone out the outside of the glass bottle. The outside was rough, but it didn't change was on the inside. That mattered to her.

Ambling around the dressing room, she sipped from the glass. Taking her time to loosen up and unwind. She wasn't bothered showering, maybe when she got home. She was comfy enough for now, and likely wouldn't be staying here much longer. Just long enough for the crowds to die down outside so she could slip away unnoticed. Some nights she hung around the stage door, met younger duellists, did some of what her publicist called 'positive press'. But tonight she wasn't in the mood. A week out from full moon, she was tired and her aches were creeping in. Especially after a particularly physical night. She put the heavy tumbler down momentarily and stretched her arms above her head, slowly trying to loosen out the tension that she could feel building. Not from the physicality of tonight. No, the tightness in her chest was coming back now as a level of anxiety settled there, making a home.

Over the last week she had made peace with the fact that Paxton Sumac was completely out of her life once again, and for the better. Something even he had said.

Except he wasn't.

He he was now; barging back in with the temperament of a rogue Bludger let lose in the common room. With a huff of a laugh, she rolled her eyes. Somethings would never change. Would they? Pursing her lips, she thought that over and let herself sink into the worn arm chair in the corner of the room, back the rickety fold up chair at the dressing table, it was the only other place in the small room to sit. Good. Even if he did invite himself to stay, she didn't want him to be comfortable. Creating some level of control over the situation gave her a false grasp on it all. Settling herself, she folded her legs under herself, curling up. Over the next few minutes she had a glass of whiskey. And another. And another. Pleased for the magical refilling abilities on old objects like it. Just enough to take the edge off, or so she told herself.

After exactly twenty three minutes and fifteen seconds, she snapped, unable to take anymore of the unease. She wanted to let him sweat and stew, but the waiting was killing her. Forcing herself to pause for a few deep breaths, she shook out her shoulders and sighed quietly, letting her face slip into it's cold, unbothered mask. With another sip for luck, she eventually called out "Come in.." and licked at her lips, waiting as she was utterly on edge. She was just lucky she did a good job of covering it up. 

Paxton Levine Sumac

[Paxton Levine Sumac]

Dueling was dying down, the two platforms were playing out, but it was dwindling. Paxton needed water or a drink. He was parched, his taste was sandpaper. A drink would help… or would it? He was nervous, keyed up… maybe a glass would help or the glass could trip him up. Pax was shaking his head, he was out of his mind. One platform finished and the crowd faded away too. It was loud in the beginning but the quiet was deafening. “God,” He muttered, knitting an eyebrow. He wished he had water.

He looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes gone, about. One little platform was finished, leaving Paxton to stand there. The crowd was decreased, leaving sparse people chatting. His curly hair knotted, leaving his hand stuck. He wrenched it out, his hands in his pockets. No more running around in his hair. He'll just sit here, pining about her. Disgusted, he scowled. “Fucking Lyra,” Pax said, under his breath. “And me.” He shook his head, his fake laugh was troubled and diabolical. The bouncer looked up, concerned. Paxton weighed them off, seriously once more.

A couple minutes went by. Tortured. Anxious. Fearful. All the things that came through and all the in between, like rage, worried, rejected, scared… it circles between Paxton. “Miss Horváth will see you now,” The bouncer commented, and Paxton looked up.

“Really?” He replied, stunned. “Right! I'll just go back there then,” Pax swallowed, nervous, he can't screw it up. His step was fast, who knew Lyra was going to do it but he just wanted to see her. Miss Horváth, it is on the sign on the door. Pax gulped, he can do this. Knocking, he peeked in. “Hi?” He half-questioned, sheepish. He runned around his hair, he just couldn't help it, stepping into the dressing room. Lyra looked nice and comfortable with a floral robe. A glass of drink in her hand. Man, he needs a drink.

He stopped just shy of the rickety folding chair. Nervous to sit down, he stood, his arms wrapped around his arms, cradling it. Well, let's dive into it. “I…” He paused, shifting his weight. He was going to say I'm sorry but it just got tangled, he was not good at apologizing, he swallowed. “Congrats,” He exclaimed, looking at Lyra for the first time in one month. He was stalling. Her face was cold, but deep down he wondered if there was a weaker side of Lyra, a softer side. He can tell that Lyra was tired, he can see it in her face. she was hiding it.

Well, three words won't cover it. He started again, “I was…” Paxton stopped, swearing to himself. He sat down, fluttering to the floor and Lyra; and back again. He can't do this. He was a failure. “Christ.” His arms went out, gesturing. “I screwed up, all right?” He blurted, He glanced at her but it's too much pressure and he looks to the wall. “I lied,” Paxton whispered, he got up, pacing. He can't look at Lyra because he knew that she hated him. He is going down in flames no matter what.

| Lyra Horváth |

[Lyra Horváth]

There was silence as she watched Paxton enter the room. Anxious on her part, and she was sure agonising on his. Once upon a time Paxton had been the quiet one of the pair. Lyra had been wild and outgoing, and would talk to a wall if it would talk back. There was no filter, no holding back. But that had changed over the last ten years. She had had to become more calculating, learn to listen more. Studying his form as he shifted she tried to work out just what the hell he was doing here. Her lower lip had fallen away, and she had been about to ask him just that, what he wanted, when then he actually spoke himself. Her eyes narrowed at him, immediately suspicious. He didn’t congratulate people easily. Especially not her, even as students in the chamber. It would kill him to praise her efforts, or acknowledge she had done better than him in the yearly tourney. That had taken her back, especially since they had left things on such volatile terms. Shifting in the chair, her lips pressed together as she watched him even more closely.

Tipping the glass to her lips, she looked away from him for a moment. It was then that he stopped, arms wrapped around himself. It made her frown, the movement was almost too childlike for Paxton. Too unsure of himself. She had only ever seen this side of him once or twice in the years they had known each other. It was odd. She wasn’t feeling unlike it herself, but she obviously just did a better job covering it up.

Her owlish eyes were fixed on him, still trying to figure it out as he paced. Fuck this was nerve wracking. He had taken the chair briefly, but it hadn’t been long before he got up again, seemingly needing to burn through whatever energy was bursting out of him. Her eyes were still narrowed, following him around the tiny dressing room. He was almost manic. For a moment, she wondered if he had taken something. Was this a bad trip?

Her face softened somewhat, tinged with concern. Brows furrowed, she began ”Paxton, what-” except he cut her off. He hadn’t heard her. But it was fine, he had started to answer her question anyway. When he started gesticulating, her eyes narrowed again unsure of where this was going. He wouldn’t meet her gaze, even when he stopped pacing, he stared at the wall above her rather than at her. Still in the more plush armchair, she was positioned below him and had to look up to even try to meet his eye. But he wouldn’t, he still stubbornly averted his gaze.

Lyra listened in anticipatory silence. The anxiety was chewing on her gut just as she was gnawing on her lip with her left canine tooth. This was a strange situation. They had both grown and matured, sure, but not in a million years did she think Paxton Sumac would ever come crawling back to her. Especially after she had held her wand at his throat. No, this was unexpected. A thought crossed her mind; was he trying to apologise?. The dark, cruel side in her was actually sort of enjoying it. Anyone normal with any sort of a healthy relationship would have just called it there. Accepted it, said it was okay and moved on from the point he was quite clearly struggling to make. But Lyra and Paxton had never been like that. The fiery, toxic side to them was always there. The unhealthy possessiveness that fueled the button pushing in the other was always their common ground. Her gaze was steady, her head still tilted back to watch him.

”About what Pax?” Would she use her childhood nickname for him, while making him say it out loud? All while she knew he was struggling? Of course. It dripped from her lips like honey, with the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips as she moved her glass to her lips again.

Paxton Levine Sumac

[Paxton Levine Sumac]

He had said it. Well, technically he almost said it. Paxton hated apologizing, so much that he overrode it. He screwed up was the first thing he said, it was an apology and the most honest he ever made. He never apologized, no matter what. Not when he was angry, mean, sad, rude and all the things in between. But some things have changed, apparently. Lyra walked into Paxton's life, and he screwed up everything, royally. Why did a night with Lyra screw things up? Most girls it was a fling, or one night stands, and that's all. He should have run the other way, he just knew it. But Lyra was enticing, tantalizing; just out of reach but he could catch her if he tried, maybe.

Paxton paced, looking at the floor, the wall, the ceiling and all the in-between. He can't look at her, Lyra was probably a mix between disgusted, angry, and hatred. It's been two minutes but Paxton seemed like hours. She was talking again, he stopped then, looking at her. Lyra smirked, holding up a glass of whiskey. She taunted Paxton, the more he tried the more he was torturous by her. He bites his tongue, mad about all of this. He was tired of Lyra and he just kept on inciting it further, entangled with it, he can't get enough.

He took a step closer to Lyra, not that close, but he needed to be closer to her. “I lied about when I felt desperate for attention from you, bit, okay? You're not desperate or anything else, I didn't mean to say that I was…“ He began, he didn't say that he was scared of being vulnerable, it was too close for Paxton. He couldn't do it and tried a new tactic. He started again, “And… I have been mean to you.” He sighed, looking at Lyra’s brown eyes, but he looked away. “I hated you in Hogwarts, but I’m over it, way over it,” Paxton replied. In Hogwarts, he was hurt and angry, it turned into hate, he was too afraid of saying it. He grinded his teeth, angry and vulnerable at the same time.

He sat down again. Paxton was parched but he couldn't bring this up to Lyra. Something is missing, though. Paxton flickered across his face. Will he commit to one person, to Lyra? He gulped, scared as hell. Being defenseless and being fearful was new to him. Being friends is different, carefree. He talks about hot girls, people he hates, what he had for lunch, sweet nothings. He doesn't get into the deep side. In a relationship it was different. More intense and intimate, he opened up more. That's when he ended up heartbroken, one with Charlotte, and one with Lyra. Why did Paxton keep getting hurt by someone who broke it? He kept on coming back for her, like a punished heart. Mentally, he was screaming to get away from her, but his heart can't stop. He wanted to be with her. Only her. But he can't say it.

Irritated, his hands keep drumming against his jeans. His mind was screaming, he should try this… “I can apologize to you if you want,” or “Tell me what you want” or "I want to be with you.” He can't speak up. Humiliated, Paxton reddened. He stares at the floor, hopelessly in between daring to say something (because it is one shot he doesn't get another chance) and cowardly to say nothing (because what if she doesn't like it?). His hands came up to his face. “Can you just talk,” He pressed, muffled by his hands, only for a minute. Paxton was so miserable he could die. His face came up to stare at her, trying to read Lyra’s mind.

| Lyra Horváth |

[Lyra Horváth]

Lyra knew this wasn’t easy for him, but that didn’t mean she helped him out in any way. Her petty side was strong when it wanted to be, and this was something that she’d savor every bit of. Eyeing him closely she took another sip of her whiskey, her face soured, her eyes narrowed. ”Who’s the one desperate for attention now? Dragging himself to my private dressing room, at a pro dueling show tourney that he’d make sure to never be caught dead at in the past, begging your way past security?” Her comment wasn’t kind, but nor was it meant to be. It was times like this she thought she would have been better placed with him, in Slytherin when she was sorted way back in first year, and not Hufflepuff as she had been. But then, it wasn’t truly her; but more of a reaction to it all.

With another swig of her drink, she let the silence stretch in front of them for a moment, before eventually muttering. ”You were more than mean. That’s putting it mildly Pax…” The hurt tone of her voice betrayed the hardened bravado of an exterior she portrayed.

As he laid out the rest of his admission, she was silent. Only glancing at him every now and then. She wanted to watch him closer, to hang on his every word, but the front she put up showed a different story. Even if it wasn’t all true. The night they had spent together was the first time in a long time Lyra had actually felt good about anything. She had been a fool to think that way, let her heart run away with itself like that again. It had only left her in another state for the days that followed, before she had been able to harden her heart to the world again.

Now her cold gaze stayed trained on him, staring him down. Watching his cheeks colour brought her a little bit too much satisfaction. Even as he pointedly avoided her gaze now, she watched him closely, taking note of any more tells he might have had to prove he was strangely genuine about this whole thing. They were all there. She knew that. The whole sorry situation reminded her of when he finally had admitted he did actually like like her back in Hogwarts. Even after she had gotten her friends to rig spin the bottle so she’d be paired up with him in their early years.

Something about it was a lot more real though. Somewhere deep down, she knew he was being truthful about it all. Finally laying himself bare at her expense. His exclamation had caused her to soften significantly. As she peered at him now, her face wasn’t quite so cold, it was more a strange curiosity. As he finally dropped his hands from his face to look at her, her own cheeks flushed. She didn’t quite know what to say to him. What he had done to her wasn’t okay, she wouldn’t forgive him that easily for it. She wouldn’t just fall into his arms, a damsel in distress. His damsel that he always wanted. She wouldn’t let herself play the fool again. But, the way she watched him, the way she didn’t immediately curse him and tell him to leave, showed a small smidgen of hope. They stayed there, in that moment; eyes locked on the others, quiet, for what felt the longest time. Eventually she uttered

”I don’t know what you want me to say Pax..” Her tone was hushed, almost defeatist. The way she said her childhood nickname for him now was very different. So much softer now. Almost fragile. Childlike in the way she watched him, hope growing in her chest a little too quick for her to keep up, to squash it out. Her heart swelled and her cheeks darkened even further as her gaze dropped away. She’d be a fool to let him in again, and yet, he was the closest thing she had to home at the minute. And she had been so starved of that recently.

Paxton Levine Sumac

[Paxton Levine Sumac]

Paxton’s stomach squirmed at that angrily and he scowled. “I didn't beg the bouncer…” He called out, but he toned it down. Keep it cool, Paxton. “I know that,” He kept his voice low, biting his tongue to keep from shouting. Paxton believed that Lyra thought it’s funny to be desperate and flounder like that. Lyra was enjoying it. He was desperate, though, crawling back to her in the honorable dueling circuit. He was not fooling around this time. It's not like the other girls, this was Lyra. That girl did a number on Paxton but he was still coming back for more.

The silence drove a hole deeper, deeper, and deeper. Paxton sat there silently, waiting for Lyra to talk. She started it again. He stomach wrenched, he knew he hurt her feelings, but he was trying to protect himself. He was trying to get rid of Lyra but now he screwed it all up, because he can't get Lyra out of his head. “I…” Sorry. “...know that too,” Pax repeated, it seemed like a broken record. He grinded his teeth. Why did he say he was sorry! Just literally say it! He can't say it, though. He was a scumbag.

Paxton was trying to be a man about it. He was staring at Lyra, she's not a damsel in distress, she's more than that. She was waiting to apologize or something. Paxton tried to but has minuscule lengths to tell her that he's still into her. He was holding out. He was afraid to be hurt again and too scared to say he’s sorry. It was an impasse. His throat was dry and his heart rate was faster the more he sat there; doing nothing.

Lyra was softer now and Paxton gauged the response. Is that resignation he heard or feel a fragile hope? No, it's not that. He sighed. “Okay,” Paxton replied, dusting off his jeans. He stood up. “I'll just go then,” Pax whispered, he gazed at her. She was just so little and skinny like a glass lamp, one push and smash, but, deep down, there is a fire, Lyra was tough, calculated, and strong. He knew that Lyra could take care of herself. He knew that he was scrappy, a fighter, and independent. It's the same goddamn thing. They fight sometimes (loads of times…) together they'll be invincible… or maybe they'll be in flames. He had to try.

“I'm not finished.” Stepping back to Lyra. Scared of commitment, being vulnerable, being sad… he was tired of this. “I’m sorry,” Paxton tumbled out, he stared at Lyra. He did it! Enlivened, he takes a step closer to her. “I’m an asshole and I fucked up, I…” He’s scared he’ll lose her, he didn't say that though; too fresh. He took a deep breath. staring at the floor. He was scared now but he can't stop now, “Let's start over? Or something?” Paxton asked, holding his breath, fleeting gazed on the wall, to Lyra, to the floor, and to Lyra. He can't decide right now; so scared of being heartbroken again.

| Lyra Horváth |

[Lyra Horváth]

Her breath stayed fairly even, but only through forceful control. Though she didn't have the emotional maturity to recognize it, this was a mirrored version of their earlier selves. One holding out hope on the other, only to have it crushed and crumble apart in the end. Taking another arduous breath in, her eyes had fallen away from him after her final admission of vulnerability. She knew not to let it in, and yet. There was something as equally vulnerable and endearing with Paxton, something her softer soul couldn't help be drawn in by. When the two had parted ways last, he had torn her to pieces and even now, she wasn't quite sure she had built herself back up again yet. They had been nothing good for each other once upon a time. Sure they had grown and things had changed between them, but maybe their last meeting was evidence that they were doomed to fail again.

Still, Lyra was having trouble denying the pull she felt to him, drawing her in. Her physical want of him she couldn't ignore.

He had stood up to go, brushing at his jeans. So he was walking away, maybe it was better off that way for the both of them. If Lyra had nothing to cling to, she wouldn't put down roots again. She had half heartedly been eyeing the southern hemisphere's dueling circuit; with no ties here it would be easier to go. The money was decent, even if there was no point to it anymore for her. No reason for anything. Paxton walking away would cement that for her.

But he didn't. No, instead he stepped closer. Her eyes widened and her head tilted back so she could look up at him from where she sat. Now that he was closer there was definitely no ignoring the heat burning between them. Now he was closer, she was on heightened alert. Her face had returned to a more guarded expression, even if her lips had betrayed her and fallen open in anticipation of the ultimate closeness. However as he started again to speak, her mouth was open for an entirely different reason. Hos honesty, an apology, was it's own punch in the gut all over again. The candor had Lyra on edge for an entirely different reason. Even if she had wanted this, she never expected it in her wildest dreams to actually happen. It was strange, in a way it felt like he was apologizing for....well...everything. Not just recent events. Everything that went down between them in Hogwarts, the secrets spilled. The admittance had sucked the breath out of her, momentarily she had forgotten to breathe as she watched the hardened line of his jaw tick; she was acutely aware of every little panic he was trying to cover up. She knew him too well to hide it, or at least she had, once upon a time. The younger sunnier Lyra, the one she kept deep down inside of her, saw every little worry he felt as he laid it all out and wanted to jump into his arms and make it all better, let them ride off into the sunset together. But her current self wanted to tell him where to go, to protect herself from it all, stop history repeating itself. She had lived through his hurt and betrayal twice now. She didn't want to turn it into a third time by any means. Still, she listened. She heard him pouring himself out to her.

After an internal struggle, she decided to pacify both, and neither at the same time. Meeting him half way wouldn't be so bad, right? Slowly, she pushed herself to stand in front of him. The older, more sensible Lyra screamed to step away from him, that there wasn't at all enough space between the pair of them. She stood in heavy silence watching him, waiting to see if he'd actually meet her gaze. When he didn't, she reached out and grabbed at his chin, forcing him to look at her before she spoke. She made sure her voice was more even this time, even though she was sure her quiet tone was enough to let her own frailty be known to him.

"What does that look like Pax, starting over?" Her grip slackened slightly and softened, but still she found herself wanting to touch him; she didn't let her hand fall away from his face. "How can I trust you won't absolutely destroy me like you've done already...twice..." No matter how much she tried not to let her emotions win, her voice cracked at the end when she added the 'again'. Her owlish eyes looked up, tearing into his, searching. Her own vulnerability was obvious in how she watched him, waiting for him to prove himself.


Paxton Levine Sumac

[Paxton Levine Sumac]

It would have been better if Paxton had gone. Nervously, he risked it all, behaving like either a coward or a hero. It's hard to tell these days. Pax felt his stomach churn as he squeezed his fist tighter, tighter... until he feared he might vomit. No matter what it took, he did it to be with her for a single second, even if it was painful. As Lyra moved, her feet came down, blocking his line-of-sight of the floor. Is there a chance for us to have a happy ending? No, he’s incapable of doing that, there needs to be a compromise, she can’t do it either, it’s dull. He sees the spark and is determined to fight for it. However, he continues to anxiously gaze at the floor, scared as hell. Coward, not a hero.


Lifting his chin, she made him meet her eyes. Pax made a face, but she hurt him first! It happened a while back, but the pain lingers. Pax murmured, recalling, “Remember, you hurt me the first time.” He furrowed an eyebrow at her, still sad, but he was over it. “But...” he hesitated, pausing. With gritted teeth, he fixed his gaze on her. Lyra peered at Paxton's face. She was small, tiny, and smart, smarter than him.


Lyra stood by his side, his uncertainty lingering on whether it was too near or too far. Standing there, he felt an overwhelming sense of fear. He struggled between fighting for her and leaving. The act of leaving is a display of cowardice. Stamping his feet, he wore a scowl on his face. What if he just stands there, looking foolish? He cannot accomplish it by just standing there; he needs to fight. "Look," Paxton stammered, his anxiety clear. Reaching out, he seized her hair, running his fingers through the individual strands for a moment before ceasing. He was uncertain about whether she enjoyed it. Despite that, he really enjoyed it.


Yet, he gives it the bravery to talk. “I don’t know where to go from this.” Pax combed out his hair. "I'm a beginner when it comes to speaking,” Pax forced a laugh. “I like you, though, I’m…” I’m sorry, deeply sorry, “... A second… a third chance is waiting for me to take. I messed up. The other time I got scared… for…everything,” Paxton reddened, and he stammered. He knew, but to say it: being vulnerable, being vulnerable to Lyra, it’s too much to handle. Like a child scared of a nightmare, they hide under the covers. He is unable to leave, standing out in the open.


He sealed his eyes shut. In a hushed tone, Pax admitted, “God, I am a wreck because of you.” He ought to return to a different place, to a different time. However, Paxton remains unable to forget Lyra, and Lyra remains unable to forget Paxton. We're trapped in a curse, doomed to repeat, but maybe we can have a fresh start? Can I expect to be happier next time? Will it lose its intensity? Who knows?

| Lyra Horváth |

[Lyra Horváth]

"Me hurting you first was stupid, childish. Do you remember what it was over? Because I do. The fact you've held onto that so long and let it fester, still holding on to hating that part of me....well it doesn't exactly fill me with hope Paxton" She let her hand drop down, away from him and she stepped back away from him. Another subconscious test to see how he reacted to that movement, the moving away from him.

"We were like fifteen or something right? Before....before I was bitten..." he hadn't asked her to remind him. But this had been festering in her own chest long enough. She had to get it out now. "You hadn't been giving me as much attention in the duelling chamber as I wanted. You kept saying you'd duel me next, and when you didn't and kept moving on to the older duellists that wanted to duel with you I got more and more annoyed. And when you finally came to find me then I snapped and broke up with you; I said you obviously didn't like me that much and you were acting like a shit boyfriend that you couldn't give me attention. Remember? I was stupid and selfish of me but I was a child. I didn't know I had embarrassed and hurt you in the same way. I know but I had no idea what was coming next" he had stepped forward again, playing with some of her hair, silently listening. Her tone dropped somewhat before she continued, not entirely softening, but not exactly as aggressive, even if there was still a knives edge to it. "If you had just come and talked to me, apologised or just talked to me, things would have been okay, probably. But you didn't, you were too stubborn. You held onto that annoyance and let it grow to hate. Then....I came back to school, after...everything..." she could feel the bottled up emotion welling in her chest, she tried to halt it, reminded herself to breathe. She still actively avoided his gaze as he stood so close to her, trying to reach into her and search her eyes so closely. As she went on her voice cracked "Merlin it was hell. It was so fucked up I had to go back at all. So soon. People didn't know what had happened but then knew something had fucked me up. You just stood back, still hating me. Making me feel worse. I just tried to get through every day"

"And then as soon as you figured it out, you couldn't wait to make my life hell" tears filled her owlish eyes, and the flood gates opened, there was no holding it back anymore. "I still don't know how you even found out really, but after that everyone knew. You ruined my life Paxton, that's why I didn't come back. That's what started everything else then. You've no idea what you did, the path you set me down" a guttural sob half escaped her, she tried to tramp it down, and failed. She stepped back from him, and crossed the room to pour herself another drink. She couldn't be near him, the thought of her trying to give her any sort of tender touch made her skin crawl.

She sunk a tumbler of whiskey in a matter of seconds before she reached again to pour herself another. trying desperately to steady herself before she said anything else, not truly trusting herself. By the time she spoke again she had some sense of control over herself, slowly she licked the remnants of her second quick whiskey off of her lips before she finally looked to him again. "I thought we'd both changed, both grown to be better. But no. The other night was totally out of the blue, totally amazing but I felt like I had been given another chance. To see if things really had changed, but then it ended in the exact same way. Well, slightly more dangerous if anything, thankfully for you my self-control has improved just enough that I didn't actually kill you or lash out this time, even if I wanted to." She watched him in silence for another moment, letting the quiet stretch out between them as another way to push his buttons just how she knew she could. He had admitted she made him a wreck, but then, she always had. She knew that, and that was the crux of all this; the power each had over the other.

"I've grown. I've had to for the most part. Grown and adapt to everything, or lie down and die. But I don't know if you have..." her eyes locked his, as if searching for something in him. Something to show her any little scrap of hope that she could cling to.

Paxton Levine Sumac