Song:
Can't Help Falling in Love (Elvis Presley)
"If I can't help falling in love with you?"
A/N: Chapter contains mentions of sexual assault. It's not graphic at all and describes part of its aftermath. If you feel uncomfortable or triggered by this chapter, please do not read it. As always, my messages are open.
Nicholas Lawson's love language had always been touch.
When he was a young boy, he'd hug his house elves until their eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their heads. His mother always pushed him off whenever he'd try to hug her, and his father hadn't bothered to hold him after he started walking.
The first person to ever hug him properly was Callisto. As a child, she was much more expressive, something that had seemed very odd to him. After she finally warmed up to him, he'd give him a hug every morning and every evening, and whenever she was bored, she'd lay her head on his shoulder or kick him under the table. He pretended that he didn't notice the casual signs of affection, but he greatly missed them when he was back "home". It was during one of the breaks when Milena had explained to him that powerful men, such as him, were supposed to have one male friend, and one girl they would court. Nicholas had quickly figured out Callisto was the second, which left him wondering who would be the "male friend and advisor".
He soon realized Callisto had no intention of ever being courted by him, something which made him feel very relieved. He couldn't imagine kissing or hugging Callisto the way couples did. It felt fundamentally wrong. It was around that time that Nicholas befriended his roommate, Leo Roi. So, now he had a male friend and advisor and he also had Callisto, but there was no girl for him to seriously approach. He was breaking Milena's rules, but how could it ever be his fault that he didn't care about any girl beyond the superficial level?
Nicholas Lawson had been convinced that he would never fall in love; it was impossible.
And then, he met Antonia Malinov and he could swear he had never felt dumber before. Once again, he was breaking Milena's rules because Antonia was a half-blood, one of the few attending Durmstrang due to her family's lineage being rich in seers, but he was already planning to scam his entire family, so breaking one more rule couldn't hurt all that much.
He'd watch the girl from afar, never really building up the courage to talk to her. It was supposed to be easy; Callisto already knew her. He just couldn't do it. Besides, his reputation would most probably scare her away. The only thing he could do was occasionally ask Callisto about the girl, always making sure he looked as nonchalant as possible. His friend had the nose of a hound when it came to his feelings. In his eyes, it made her even more terrifying, and convinced him entirely that only a genius or a madman could ever truly love her. He considered himself as the latter.
And two years passed like that, with him longingly staring at her during lunch and classes, trying and failing to impress her whenever he'd aim a bludger at an innocent Quidditch player and occasionally hearing from her.
He didn't really understand when Callisto and Antonia started hanging out more, not that he cared all that much. Nicholas was just happy to see her having lunch with them and studying with her in the library after curfew.
And then, two big bombs dropped on his head.
Antonia Malinov was dating a pureblood whose name she couldn't disclose, although he was certain Callisto knew. That didn't last for more than six months though, when Antonia found a necklace right by her boyfriend's bed.
A necklace that wasn't hers.
That was the end of the first bomb. The second bomb got dropped when he walked up to Callisto's dorm one day after a party, only to be met with a locked door and Callisto begging him to leave.
Why? That is none of your business, Callisto had hissed before she closed the door shut on his face.
Is Antonia okay? Leave, Nicholas! She had pleaded him, her voice trembling.
The next few days he was in complete and utter darkness. Antonia had disappeared and Callisto only came out of the room to get two plates of food during breakfast, lunch and dinner. Perhaps that was why he had felt his chest tighten when Callisto sat down for lunch next to him one day, her eyes scarily calm and the food on her plate untouched. There was a scream as Andrian Gruev fell to the floor, writhing around violently and shouting incoherently. Nicholas could have sworn he saw Callisto's lips curling into a cruel smile for a moment, her eyes fixed on the boy as she lifted her goblet and drank some of her water, a toast to the well deserved torture Andrian was going through a few meters away. It was vengeance, an eye for an eye. But above all, it was a cry for help; a woman screaming that enough was enough, that Andrian Gruev needed to be punished for what he had done to Antonia Malinov, only to be in turn punished and dismissed.
In the end, it was lawless justice.
After that, Nicholas wished he had remained in the dark, because now he could never tell Antonia all he felt about her. She didn't want to be touched, and he didn't know how else to show her.
Antonia Malinov's love language had never been touch.
She prefered grand gestures of adoration, but she found herself settling for stolen kisses. The girl could remember hearing in a show once that if a man couldn't show his love for someone in public, he didn't feel it. Antonia thought it was dumb, until she realized there was nothing romantic about being kept a secret just because of your blood. There was also nothing romantic about being cheated on, but she always knew that.
After what happened that night, she found herself being unable to stand skin to skin contact. It just didn't feel the same way. Every soft and tender touch she had ever felt in her life had been replaced by sheer terror and forcefulness. Callisto had tried hugging her, knowing how it always calmed Nicholas down, but the blonde immediately noticed how the girl tensed up and held her breath. Callisto basically threw herself to the other side of the room, not saying a thing.
That night, Antonia didn't manage to sleep. She had messed up. Callisto had been so kind to her and she had messed it all up. How could she be so selfish? The girl was doing everything in her power to help her feel a bit better, and she had made her feel so guilty. Antonia had seen in her eyes how horrible Callisto had felt. No, there was no way she wouldn't abandon her.
But Callisto didn't abandon her. Instead, while Antonia was showering for what seemed to be the thousandth time in the time span of a week, scrubbing her skin raw, Callisto had placed a box with a pair of light pink, satin gloves on her bed.
Your favorite color.
-C.C.
Antonia had bawled her eyes out that day. She had never thought she would receive the best gift she'd ever gotten during the darkest time of her life.
From that day on, the gloves never left Antonia's arms. Avoiding skin-to-skin contact all together was impossible, and the gloves solved that problem for her. There was a protective layer shielding her from unwanted touches and Antonia wished Callisto had given her a pair of gloves much sooner.
After Callisto's expulsion, it had just been her and Nicholas. His company was pleasant, even though he had always been a bit loud and unnecessarily blunt. It made her forget about how utterly miserable she was, even if it was just for a few hours every day.
Every day Nicholas would bring breakfast and would wait right underneath the window of her dorm for her to get down. The dorm was forbidden territory, under Callisto's strict orders. It was Antonia's space only, and unless she authorized someone to go in, Callisto had let it be implied that poisoning someone from miles away wasn't all that complicated. They'd eat in silence and then go to classes. Usually, Antonia finished first, so she'd gotten into the habit of bringing lunch to an abandoned classroom they had found. She had found comfort in their routine, happy to know that at least one person in the entire castle didn't mind sharing lunch with her. The rest of the day, they were together, studying or exploring the grounds.
Nicholas had always hated hiking, but it made Antonia smile, so he just did it. Funnily enough, Antonia thought the same thing about him.
Antonia hadn't said anything, in fear of making Nicholas feel uncomfortable, but she knew he didn't look at her like a friend only. When he looked at Callisto, there was love in his eyes, but it was different than the love in his eyes when he looked at her. She had always thought he looked at Callisto like that, so she couldn't help but laugh every time they had to act like a couple in public. Antonia had thought that she would be scared of that expression in his eyes, but she was surprised to see it had quite the opposite effect. The girl trusted him, and how couldn't she?
Nicholas had never touched her.
The only thing he had ever done was link their pinkies with a black ribbon while they were gazing at the sunset in the mountains one day. It didn't feel unsafe, dirty or shameful. It felt like what touch was supposed to be like. Antonia's eyes had watered, but she kept them focused on the sunset, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart.
She could get used to that pounding.
Just like any other day, they were sitting outside, eating from a packet of candy Elena had sent them. Antonia looked over at the boy who was scribbling on a piece of parchment, a small smile tugging her lips up as she noticed how his left hand went over everything he had just written. There was no way the ink had dried up, resulting in small smudges and his sleeve being covered with black stains.
Perks of being left-handed in a right-handed dominated society, he had said teasingly when she first commented on it. Antonia had simply made a point to make fun of him by effortlessly writing with both her hands.
Nicholas was still quite sour about that.
"Should I tell her?" The boy asked, looking up from his paper. Somehow, he had managed to get ink on his chin, but he hadn't noticed. There was excitement behind his clear, blue eyes, that resembled the giddiness of young kids when something went their way. His blond curls were a bit messier than usual from the wind, falling over his forehead and casting shadows on his face.
He was rather handsome, she thought, feeling her cheeks heat up.
"No, we should surprise her."
"Yes, imagine being Claire," Nicholas started, clasping his hands together, "And waking up to see us two throwing a bucket full of ice cold water on your face. It's hilarious."
"Brutal."
"Stop defending her, Antonia. She's evil." He taunted, sending her a lopsided, genuine grin. He turned back to his parchment, one hand on the ground, picking at the grass.
Antonia looked down at her hands and took off one glove, folding it carefully. Her heart was pounding and she didn't know if it was because of the excitement, or because she was so unfamiliar with touching another human being after so many months of her hands being constantly covered. She didn't think about it much longer, her hand trembling as she laced her pinky finger with his.
The quill dropped from his fingers and he looked down at their linked hands, unable to constrain a small smile.
Maybe touch could be their love language after all.
~ ~ ~
Not my usual type of chapter, but I feel like it was necessary. Antonia and Nicholas are characters close to my heart, even if they don't really appear in the chapters. It's probably one of my favorite chapters I've written so far and I hope you like it too.