Luna(tic) (Marauders Era)

29. Truths that Stop Time

Luna stepped into the first empty classroom she found. It was not the most cautious or careful choice she supposed she had ever made, but careful was far from the forefront of her mind at the moment. She could already tell she was getting tangled in thoughts of Pandora. In thoughts of Sam. And she knew if she let herself go down the spiral of thoughts of safety and secrecy, it would only get worse.

So instead, she motioned Sam in that first door she found and closed it behind him. And then, for just a moment, just a heartbeat, she stayed staring at that door, at the grain of the wood, the cool metal of the knob beneath her hand. And though it wasn't nearly enough to properly untangle much of anything at all, Luna supposed it was better than nothing. It would at least help loosen those knots. Might even be enough to keep them from strangling her if this conversation made them tighten. And she rather thought it would.

So Luna took this time that she had, this time she could steal. And hoped that those few breaths were sufficient to keep her from slipping when she inevitably got still more twisted up in the conversation to follow. Because she would get more twisted. No conversation that started with that look or those words would ever end without tangles. Really, Luna rather thought, as she turned around, she would be lucky if it ended with anything less than a full on free fall.

And yet she turned anyway. Because there was no running from this. No running from Sam. There never had been. And Luna didn't think there ever would be.

So Luna did not run. She faced him. And she waited. And waited.

Sam didn't speak immediately. He didn't even look at her. Actually, he seemed to be rather reconsidering the entire thing, which, of course, did nothing to ease Luna's growing apprehension. She knew what it meant when someone who started a conversation seemed rather hesitant to have it. It meant the conversation was hard. It meant the contents were hard. It meant things like intervention and evaluation and all the other terms Luna had dreaded since the first time she'd understood what they meant.

And it was strange, standing here, waiting for those things, dreading those things, feeling the sickly, slimy awfulness that crawled over her skin at the thought of them, when it was Sam standing opposite her. Sam hesitating to speak. Because Sam never made her feel like that. And Sam never hesitated. He spoke his mind And he never, never, spoke of those things.

Of course, right now, Sam wasn't speaking of anything. He was at least looking at her now, but the staring wasn't helping and Luna found herself wishing she had taken longer to untangle the beginnings of those knots instead of turning so fast because yes, there was silence and stillness, but beneath that stare, that soft grey stare that felt like looking in a mirror, Luna couldn't untangle anything. She could simply stare back, caught by her reflection. Frozen by her ghost. Waiting for time to restart again.

And it did, but not with words. Not with questions. Just with a sigh and a turning away. And that was worse. Because the silence stretched, but there was weight to it now. There was length and duration and Luna could count every second ticking away like a heartbeat echoing in her ears until she couldn't take it. Until she wasn't just tangled in her own thoughts, she was crushed beneath the silent, invisible weight of the accumulating seconds. Until she opened her mouth and prayed breaking the silence would break the weight and leave it falling in pieces and fragments and dust all around her feet.

"What?" she asked, the word more a gasp than anything else. "What's wrong?"

Sam turned around, his face looking like it had gotten caught halfway through a wince and stayed stuck there, pinched and uncomfortable and upset.

"This," he said softly after a long, long moment, gesturing vaguely between them, the movement and its meaning leaving Luna flinching. "This is wrong."

Luna blinked, wondering if she was too tangled to understand or if, for once, it was Sam who was tangled to explain and this sort of half-nonsense she hoped she wasn't understanding properly was what she sounded like when she was all twisted up and tripping over herself to try to set it right.