All of your dreams will die (open)

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Joshua’s Summer holiday had not been the climactic, life changing vacation that someone like him would be expected to have. He’d spent the season alone, having not heard from his parents in over a year. The young man had rented a small flat in which he spent most of his time outside of Hogwarts. The money with which he payed for rent came in a small creme envelope that was delivered to him once a month. The only note that ever came alongside said envelope was, Love,
Mom and Dad

Every time Joshua received that envelope; every time he ripped it open to look at the check inside. He always found a small bit of hope hiding somewhere within him. In over a year there had been nothing. He had received no phone calls, no visits, no anything. The only proof of his family even being alive was that envelope, and yet he continued to think that one day they may appear on his doorstep.

It was an odd thing, to miss one’s family. Joshua remembered spending summers on Cape Cod wishing that he was anywhere but his home. And now it was the only place he wanted to be. Maybe it was the loneliness of being all by himself. He’d spent a majourity of the Summer playing video games in the dark, his only companions being the ones that he spoke to over a headset.

In light of this, Joshua had realized that he hadn’t made a-lot of connections over his years at Hogwarts. Sure, he was awesome, but perhaps his awesomeness alone was not enough to really make a lasting impression on anyone. Nowadays, he was known mostly as the boy who will never leave Hogwarts. He wondered if that was really the only thing that anyone would ever remember about him.

As the Summer came to a close, he now walked through the halls of Hogwarts. He hoped that this would be the last first day he would ever experience at this school, but it was not as though he tried his best in all of his classes. The idea of putting effort into something he did not care about made no sense in his mind. The only goal here was to pass, but even that goal was barely enough.

He had nowhere to be at the moment, so the library seemed like the obvious destination. Joshua figured that it would be a good idea to get some studying in before his classes for the day began. He was unsure as to whether or not he would actually study; his attention span may win the battle, but it would never hurt him to open a book. Entering the room, he noticed all of the young faces buzzing around the library. They all seemed so hopeful; ready for the new year to begin.

Someone walked by him, especially smug in their stride.
“Just wait,” Joshua stared the student dead in the eyes. “All of your dreams will die.”

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Studying was not something Corbin really did much of, although he wasn't entire daft; he still did the homework, and still participated in classes. He did, after all, intend to pass. Besides, he wasn't exactly dumb, and if he put his brain to it, he could pretty much accomplish anything he wanted -- or so his mother said. He didn't really credit anything that woman said; mothers tended to be partial.

He did, however, know she was right in saying he had brains.

But that was not the reason Corbin was in the library. Oh, no. He'd just come from a meeting with a Ravenclaw, who's duty it was to set up the Room of Requirement for the end-of-summer party he and Lucy were planning. They'd been finalising details and the password, in a place nobody was likely to overhear or be suspicious about them meeting. (And who was ever suspicious about two people in the library, if surrounded by books and parchments?)

Corbin was just leaving to find Lucy when someone caught his eyes. Joshua, he recognised, from the previous party. They hadn't spoken much (Corbin had been too busy with others, and the Hufflepuff hadn't looked like he needed help with anything) and so what was happening was... Interesting, to say the least.

He raised an eyebrow, taking in the words without speaking, mulling them over. It wasn't a taunt from someone who disliked him, nor was it something meant to be a scathing commentary on his goals. Rather, he saw it for what it was -- admitance that something, somewhere, wasn't quite right. There were two kinds of people who made that sort of comment.

The first was someone who honestly didn't give a flying fudge about anyone or anything other than themselves. The second was someone who, whether they knew it or not, was hiding something deep down, a pain or a past that bothered them and kept them up at night. It was the kind of comment his father would've made while he was drinking a glass of whiskey, a distant look in his eyes as though talking to someone who wasn't quite there. A comment made in passing, indicating a sort of carefreeness that Corbin knew his dad did not have, that spoke more of a personal sentence than a fact, and he'd be damned if he let someone as young as Joshua get away with that.

"Well fudge," Corbin said, returning the look without so much as blinking. "So much for becoming a opera-singing ballerina."

He paused, keeping his expression neutral, not so much as breaking a smile. "So, which dreams of yours just died?" It wasn't what some would call a conventional way of asking someone if they were okay, but Corbin had never been conventional -- nor did he know how to comfort others -- and so he saw nothing wrong with what he was saying, or how he was saying it.

[[OOC: As I am uncomfortable with writing the f-word, even with dashes, I have replaced it with fudge or freak/frick in Corbin's posts. It should be assumed that, throughout this thread, when Corbin says 'fudge/freak/etc', it is the actual f-word, unless indicated otherwise (the word will be underlined). Smile

]]

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Moments after making his remark against the establishment in which he was currently suffocating, Joshua noticed that the innocent passerby had actually been someone with whom he was familiar. Corbin Henderson, a Slytherin who was a couple of years or so younger than he. The Hufflepuff had only encountered Corbin a handful of times, having been invited to a "secret party" by him in the previous year. He remembered the party as being nothing special; a large variety of different personalities drinking and chatting in different cliques. The most interesting portion of the night had been being locked in a room with a complete stranger. In fact, he remembered practically nothing of the encounter.

"Well fudge. So much for becoming a opera-singing ballerina."

The snake's face being as stoned over as it was, Joshua believed for a split second that Corbin was being serious. He tried to imagine the idea for a second; this smartass in a tutu singing falsetto. Josh was sure that the only way to get his voice into such a pitch would be to punch him in a special area, which he actually considered before deciding that getting into a fight would not aid him in his efforts to graduate Hogwarts.

Instead of taking the more entertaining course of action, Joshua brought his eyes to a similar stone-like state. He placed one hand on Corbin's shoulder and sighed,
"I truly am sorry for your loss," looking off into the distance at the dream that once was, he added, "I am sure that you would have looked rather sexy in tights." This statement may have actually been true, seeing as the boy before him was actually in what some may claim to be above average physical condition.

'I bet he has great abs,' Joshua thought, immediately silencing his mind afterward.

After this awkward exchange of sarcasm, Corbin inquired the Hufflepuff as to what dreams had been shattered.
"Take your pick," he responded, his eyes shifting from stone to glass. "What dream would you like to mourn first? The dream that I may have a chance at a bright future? My dream of ever escaping this shithole that some people claim to be home? The dream that my family may do more than pay my rent?"

Joshua took a deep breath, his fists now clenched and his pulse racing. He felt as though punching Corbin would release the tension that was ripping his world apart, but how could violence mend anything at this point? How could anything he did mend anything?

"So tell me, ballerina," he said, no longer in the mood to be sarcastic or friendly. "Do you have anything to say to that?"

Guest

A smirk touched his features. "Oh yes, very hot," he replied. "Unfortunately they don't have tights that matches my complexion. It's a hard one to get right." Frankly, he had no idea what that meant, but he'd heard females discussing dresses in similar fasions, so surely it worked? In any case, it was something to say.

And then Joshua was continuing, and in the words Corbin heard truth and raw honesty. This was the sort of thing someone only ever said when they had bottled it up long enough that they didn't care who heard, as long as someone did. And it was sad, and pathetic, and yet understandable. Not everyone knew how to talk about things, and not many who did had friends to talk about said things with. Corbin was lucky; he had both.

Corbin shrugged, not showing much emotion. He'd never really been what one could call a good therapist, and while his friends did ocassionally come to him with a problem, it was always because he gave his unhindered, undiluted, and definitely uncensored opinion. If they'd been the one in the wrong, they'd know it. Nobody who ever wanted comfort or words of sympathy ever came to Corbin for a reason.

"Life sucks," he said, tone matter-of-fact and not sarcastic; he was being serious. "Fudge me if I know how to fix it. You've got shit in your life? Welcome to the fudging club; none of us have neat, pretty little lives. Not you, not me, not the girl I fudged over summer, and certainly not the librarian glaring at us for talking."

At that, he glanced over at said librarian, giving her a faked apologetic smile, for she had indeed been glaring. He lowered his tone, looking back at Joshua. "Your dreams died? Boo hoo. How sad. It's not like you can get new dreams or anything. Or maybe you just think they've died because you're too low in a pity-party to realise the flood waters have only risen to your waist. Salvage what can be salvaged. Mourn what can't. And then pick your damn self off the floor and fudging move on. And if anyone tells you otherwise? Fudge them." He paused to frown slightly. "Sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively. I don't care which."

"As for futures," he went on, a moment later, "Fudge what people say. Write your own damn story, that sort of cliche shit -- and don't tell me that's not possible, because it damn well is. And for fudge's sake, Joshua, don't keep it pent up or you'll grow up to be a sad, pathetic old man who sits around all day doing absolutely fudging nothing while everyone else around him tiptoes in fear of causing him to have a heart attack or some shit, while secretly waiting for him to die of natural causes so they don't feel guilty -- and I would know. I live with one."

"Anything else you want me to comment on? Or did you expect me not to have an answer in the first place, because you're the only fudging person in this whole fudging world to have a sob story?"

Guest

As Joshua finished speaking, he saw the Corbin shrug. The Hufflepuff was unaware as to why that bothered him, but he knew that it did. He hadn't expected Corbin to care, but he figured at least he'd do more than simply shrug it off. Perhaps the Slytherin figured he was above hearing others' problems, although if this was the case then why did he ask in the first place?

But moments later, Corbin continued on. Joshua watched as the boy ranted, his face straight and genuine. What came in his words bothered Joshua more than a shrug. This wasn't him ignoring the problems that the Hufflepuff had. No, this was him disregarding any emotions that Joshua was feeling; as though he had no right to be feeling them.

Who did this guy think he was? Of course, everyone had problems. That was the way of the world. What did he expect Joshua to do? Obviously, the school portion of his boulevard of broken dreams was his own fault. But it was not as though he hadn't tried to contact his family. They simply wanted nothing to do with him.

"Do you not think that I fucking know that?" Joshua asked him, trying to appear as calm as possible because there was no way in hell he was going to show this bastard that he'd gotten a rise out of the seventh year; he would not give him the satisfaction.

"Do you not think that I have spent countless days thinking, 'Well Josh, you are not a starving African child, therefore your problems don't matter,'? Because I have. I know that my problems are a portion of what I could be going through, but that does not mean that I am not allowed to have said problems. It does not mean that I am not allowed to wish that my life was at least a little prettier because my life at the moment is Honey Boo-Boo on a scale from Jennifer Lopez to Kim Kardashian."

He knew that Corbin may not have understood the last point, but his mind had convinced him that it made perfect sense and he, therefore, had to say it.

He watched as Corbin smiled at the librarian, who did actually seem rather irritated by the boy's quarrel. She looked at them, her eyes saying, "Really? Must you settle this here?"

The more Corbin spoke, the worse the content got. He was now telling Joshua that there was no reason that he could not fix his dreams or create new ones. He sounded like an idiot. It wasn't like Josh hadn't tried to fix his problems. He couldn't fix his family if they didn't want to be fixed. He couldn't make friends with people who didn't want to be friends. He couldn't build a life that the world did not want him to have.

"Anything else you want me to comment on? Or did you expect me not to have an answer in the first place, because you're the only fudging person in this whole fudging world to have a sob story?"

With this, Joshua smiled wide and gave Corbin a hug. This was not because he wanted to hug this jackass, but because he knew that such a gesture would catch him off guard far more than punching him ever could, and oh did he want to punch him. He would have liked to punch the Slytherin so hard where the sun didn't shine that he could no longer even consider having children, which he knew was wrong but oh wouldn't it feel fantastic?

"Thanks!" He said with fake enthusiasm. "That fixed all of my life problems."

» Some dreams will come true one day ( Open )
» Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of (Elenore & The Harrington Boy)
» I Know Where I Am...maybe. (open)
» I could make you happy, Make your dreams come true (One Shot)
» Around and about (OPEN)