Chapter 22: I Visit Another Old Friend
I'm sitting on Teodor's couch as he chats on the phone in Bulgarian, gesturing animatedly with his hands. Every so often, he looks at me over his shoulder and rolls his eyes, mouthing English words to me that generally amount to describing just how difficult Viktor Krum finds it to keep his mouth shut.
"Listen, listen," Teodor says in heavily accented English before he's back to Bulgarian. I catch my name in the next blur of syllables, and Teodor starts talking louder and faster, eyebrows inching further and further up his forehead.
"I am being serious!" Teodor says. "She is here, right, Y/N?"
I blink at him as he begins again in Bulgarian, words flying off his tongue so fast I can't tell where each word stops and the next begins, and then he says, "Sit your ass down! She will come if she wants to. No, do not come here. I am serious, Krum." The next few minutes he speaks Bulgarian, and if the tone of his voice and his facial expressions are any indication, he's making threats.
"She does not want to talk to you over the phone," Teodor scoffs, "right, my friend?"
"I—" I begin, but he's already talking again.
"Yes, okay. I will let her know... Yes. And are we still going to that game—Okay, okay!"
Teodor makes a face and hangs up the phone, leaning against the wall and rubbing his palms into his eyelids.
"You two are very complicated people," he says and shakes his head.
"What did he say?"
"What did he not?" Teodor responds in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air. "Why is she there, is she okay, are you out of your mind, why do you even call, may I speak with her, you are an ass—"
"Teodor!"
"Oh, yes, I forgot that you do not care about Teodor, only Viktor," he says and crosses his arms.
"That's not what I meant, Teodor. I'm just in a rush. If I can't see Viktor, then I'll have to—"
"Oh, well surely you understand that was never an issue, no? Of course you could see him. He will do anything for you, of course."
"I..."
"Play nice with him, now," Teodor says and holds a hand out to me, pulling me from the couch and leading me to his fireplace. "I do not want to have to hate you if you break my dear friend's heart."
I smile and give Teodor a hug. "You're a good friend," I tell him. "Thank you."
"Yes, yes, I know," he says and pushes me along. "Get going, and you had best get that position, my friend."
Teodor grabs a handful of floo powder and throws it into the fireplace, then pushes my elbows to my sides and tells me the address. I repeat it carefully as I step into the fireplace, squeezing my eyes shut as I shoot through the floo network, focusing on not throwing up more than anything. The combination of nerves and traveling through fireplaces makes it easier said than done.
I stumble out of a fireplace clumsily, tripping forward and landing on my hands and knees. The Bulgarian floo network is just as ashy as every other one, and I'm coughing on ash and dust. I jump when hands close around my bicep.
"It's only me," Viktor says, but he pulls back regardless, watching me warily. He's not sure whether my coming here means that things are back to normal. He doesn't know if he should help me up or not touch me.
"Sorry, I'm not graceful," I say and manage to stop coughing and clamber to my feet. When I meet his eyes, I don't know what to say, so I opt for the socially-intelligent option: "You should clean out your fireplace."
Viktor is staring at me like I might be a ghost, so much so that I start to doubt if I'm really here.
"Is everything okay?" I ask him slowly.
"You're here."
"Well, yes, but—"
"I missed you," he says.
"Viktor," I say, "I want to make it very clear that nothing has changed. I just... I was hoping you would be able to help me."
"Nothing has changed?" he asks me. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," I say, brushing ash from my pants, "that I'm still, like, majorly fucked up. I don't want you to think this is me..."
"Coming back," he supplies.
"Yeah."
He swallows and nods his head. "That is fine," he says. "I told you I would give you time, and I will."
I purse my lips and scuff my foot on the floor. "Nice crib," I say. He looks so confused, I want to laugh when I explain, "Nice house, I mean. Crib can mean house."
"Oh," he says.
"Well, uh, you look great," I announce, tucking my hands into my pockets and forcing the world's most awkward smile. No one tells you how hard it's going to be to make small talk with your ex after you fall out of his fireplace like Santa Claus from hell. But he really does look nice. His hair is freshly cut, although it's tousled like he just woke up, and there's a pink flush on his cheeks that makes him look incredibly boyish. He looks ever bigger than I remember, taller and broader.
"Thank you. You look pretty, always," he says.
"So," I say, drawing out the vowel, "the Ballycastle Bats, huh?"
Viktor blinks away some of the surprise that's been on his face since my arrival, as if he's finally understanding why I'm here.
"Yes," he says, shaking his head like it's an etch-and-sketch. Clearing the board. "The tryout."
"That's why I'm here," I say.
"That makes sense," he says. I'm not ignorant of the flash of pain on his face.
So I say what I feel even if making this better temporarily might hurt more later. I say, "I missed you too, Viktor."
***
Viktor hands me a cup of water and sits down diagonal from me, like he's putting as much space as possible between us. He used to sit as close as he could. I furrow my eyebrows and try to hide how it bothers me with a sip of water.
"I mean, obviously, you are good enough for the team," he says. "That is not the concern. The problem is that you have to show off all of your strengths in a very short amount of time. Now, usually, if you were scouted, this wouldn't be so hard, but these people have no idea how well you fly."
I nod along, trying not to watch the way his mouth moves to shape each word.
"I know it is short notice, but the coach took a while to get back to me, you know?"
"Yeah. I really appreciate it. You, uh... you have no idea how much it's actually helped. I feel terrible asking you for any more considering, you know, how I'm still not one hundred percent, but, uh... well, I didn't want to disappoint you, or anyone, really. And I do want to do this, I think. But I know I won't get it right now. I'm out of practice and I'm not confident—not like I used to be. I mean... I don't know if I can get it back, but it feels like a step forward when I've been stuck for a long time. Just trying out... That's progress, I think."
"I know everything has been so difficult. I just want you to have some sense of normalcy after everything that happened. I know it's not ideal, but it's something. And anything else I can do for you, I will. Just ask me and it's done. No stipulations. This is just about healing."
"You're such an incredible person," I say and sigh, dropping my head into my hands. "Better than I deserve."
"No, do not say that," he says and shakes his head. "You know it is not true."
I raise my eyebrows and drink some more.
"So," he says, "what exactly am I helping you with?"
"Oh," I try to say, and I choke on my water a little bit. "Sorry. So, I've been trying to practice a bit, you know? Get back in the groove or whatever. But, you know, it's been in a field with a hose and Cedric, so it's not really helping all that much."
Viktor's face shifts, and I can't really decipher exactly what emotion does it, but his eyebrows are furrowed and he might be frowning a little.
"I just—I wasn't ready to go back to Hogwarts. I feel terrible asking you this, I really do—"
"Whatever you need," he says. "You... you have been seeing other people?"
"Seeing them? No, not seeing them, like seeing them, seeing them."
Viktor furrows his eyebrows. "Does that mean something I don't know?"
"I don't know. What do you think it means?"
"Seeing. With eyes."
"Oh, yeah, I've seen people," I say as I begin to blush.
Viktor nods and stares out the window.
"It's not like a ton of people or anything," I tell him quickly. "It's just a few people. Like Ced. And I didn't ask him to come. He just kind of..." I trail off and stare into my cup of water. "It's not like I was visiting everyone in the world except you."
"I know."
"That's part of why I didn't really want to come, you know? Because I don't want it to seem like I'm only coming here because I need help. Even though... I want to be friends. If that's okay."
"I... I cannot pretend to understand why being friends is okay and being what we were is not. I don't ever want to pressure you, but... I just don't understand."
"You don't want to be with me right now. Trust me," I say and raise my eyebrows.
"You cannot be sure of what I want."
"No, I'm saying—"
"I know what you're saying. It just does not make sense to anyone but you. That's okay. But I don't think you should pretend like you know what I want. You have no idea what it's been like to wait like I have, hoping you would reach out and at least let me know you're still alive," he says and looks at me, his voice becoming more unsteady as he progresses through the sentence. "And then you showed up at Teodor's out of the blue. I did not even know how I was supposed to react. I had no idea if you were okay. I had no idea why you would go to him instead of me."
"I didn't just want to show up—"
"You just showed up there," he interrupts. "The only difference is that I wasn't there. I don't know why it's different for me. I don't know what I can do to make what happened better. I know I hurt you, but—"
"No, it's not that. It's not about that, Viktor."
"No, I know that you're hurting. I can see it. I can see the way you look at me. It's different now. And when I touch you—" He looks away and blinks faster, biting down on his bottom lip. "It kills me to know that you're hurting because of what I did."
"No, you didn't do anything," I say. "I know that. I mean, I was a little skittish right after everything happened, but it was with everything and everyone."
"But you only left me," he says quietly, meeting my eyes. I look away because I don't want to say what he won't admit. "You only stay away from me."
"That's not true."
"And you went to Teodor before you came to me," he says, running his hands over his face. "I never thought you would feel like you had to go to—"
"Stop, Viktor."
"I—"
"Listen to me," I say and stand, sitting beside him. He tenses up and watches me as I grab his hand. "Stop doing this to yourself. I told you that it isn't your fault, and it's not. You didn't do anything. This just—I feel terrible about everything that I've done."
"What have you done?" he asks.
I stare at him with eyebrows furrowed deep. "What haven't I? The United Kingdom is practically shutting down right now. Everyone is fighting and no one knows what to believe, but it all started when..." I let go of his hand and slide away from him.
"You didn't cause this. You know that, right?"
"Didn't I?" I ask quietly, voice nearly cracking.
"Y/N, no," he says, and there's anguish in his voice. "No. No, you didn't do anything wrong. You—No, you were just—You..." He's the one to grab my hand this time, squeezing it tight. I don't think I could pull away even if I wanted to. "You can't think this way. No one blames you."
That's when it erupts. This rage that I've been feeling lately. It comes faster than I can handle it, and I jerk my hand out of his.
"That's the problem! I feel like I'm—I'm duping people, like I'm tricking them into thinking that I'm not responsible for what happened. I don't want that. I want to be held accountable. Do you know how fucked up it is to be the only person who understands what I've done? My mistakes have implications that are far larger than anybody cares to admit, and it's fucking killing me. And then you come around and start throwing these things at my feet like it's out of love and not pity. I don't want you to love me. I want you to hate me for what I've done. I don't deserve your love."
Viktor is staring at me with shock on his face, and I don't know which part is the cause. He's shaking his head no, slowly.
"You're not responsible. You know that, don't you?" he asks me, and he looks so genuinely confused, I don't know what to do. So I do what any strong, independent woman would.
I start to cry.
And when he pulls me into his chest, I don't push him away.