Luna(tic) (Marauders Era)

30. The Invisible Lives of a Porcelain Girl and Her Ghost

The silence in the room was brief, and this time, instead of time feeling frozen, it simply felt bunched, like too many moments were overlapping. Like there were memories and recollections vying of space, happening at once, all the million instances from times past when things had been different. When they had both known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was them against the world. That it would always be them against the world.

Except now... it wasn't.

And it was that thought more than anything that stopped those bunching memories. That made the nostalgia freeze and fall to the floor, shattering with the simple realization that those moments might have been comfortable, but that had more to do with their familiarity than their happiness.

It was, after all, easy to say they missed the way things had been. Because the ways things had been was known. It was simple. It was a straight line, a tight wire, an easy balance as far as balancing went. But it had still been a high wire. And there had never been a net. There had never even been anything on the other side. Each step had been a step in place, the wire extending every time Luna made any attempt to traverse it. But now... Now the wire was loose. The balance was harder. There was a breeze swaying the fragile string beneath her feet, but it felt like if she fell, there might just be a net. And even if there wasn't... it felt like the wire finally led to something. Like she could make it to the other side. Like if she kept going, one day, she might actually find out what it felt like to stand on solid ground.

But that was Luna's consolation. Luna's view, one tinged by the terror of never looking down. And for Sam... well. Sam was a ghost. A shadow. Walking a high wire had never bothered him because all he had ever had to do was float. And as long as he held on to Luna's hand, he could be certain he would never float away.

Luna knew that. She had known it all her life. And she had spent most of that time gripping Sam's hand like he was a lifeline even as she knew all it did was occupy a hand she could have been using to balance. Or perhaps to catch herself in case she ever fell.

And Sam knew that. Knew that all that kept him anchored, kept him alive, was Luna's hand his, Luna's grip. Knew that if she ever let go, ever turned away, there would be nothing in the world he could do. And he wouldn't fall. But like a balloon abandoned by a careless child, he would simply... drift away.

Which was perhaps why, when Luna was worried about losing her balance, the fear that Sam spoke was of a different sort: "But now you have real friends," he murmured, the words pulling Luna back to the moment, yanking her uncomfortably from her thoughts for all that they weren't loud. Or insistent. Really, they sounded for all the world like he hadn't even meant to say them at all.

"Other friends," Luna corrected quickly, not daring to think through all the implications of his words because that would be like looking down. And she knew better. "Just other friends, Sam," she repeated, "You're exactly as real as they are."

Sam looked at her, his brow creasing, his lips twisting, his whole face seeming to fold in on itself like he was fighting to keep in words or tears he would rather she not be privy to.

"Am I?" he asked after a beat, his voice breathless, his tone desperate. His whole bearing so heartbreaking Luna could have sworn she could feel the fissures snaking out from her chest. Half of her was convinced that if she looked down, she would see spiderweb cracks lacing her skin, decorating her like the hairline fractures on fine, fragile porcelain.

"Sam..."

She meant to say more. Meant to convince him the way he always tried to convince her. Meant to berate him or beg him or do whatever it was that would make him take that back. Make him never say those words again because he was real. Of course he was real. She could see him and hear him and touch him and she could never have loved him so much if he wasn't real. At least to her.