Legacies || Lorenzo Berkshire

Sober

Real sweet but I wish you were sober.

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Wish You Were Sober • Conan Gray

Evangeline Emrys

Helene and I, helped down the three girls to our dorm. Blaise had a hidden stash of fire whiskey lurking around his dorm.

Helene refused, saying she had Potions first period tomorrow, and me? I had a few glasses. I've never tried it, but it was good. A little weird at first because of the burning sensation. Not too much to get me drunk, but not too little to leave me perfectly sane either.

Once we got down, my body landed on my bed. The air around the room whisking away the candle, my last source of light. It was too hard to sleep. My thoughts were clouded but they wouldn't be silenced either. With a sigh, I put on a sweater and walked to the door.

I wasn't quite used to Hogwarts yet. It didn't have my silk sheets and large bed, or my own library. It didn't have the gardens in the Emrys Manor. It had people. Actual people and not just the enchanted paintings or blood relatives. I had freedom and yet no knowledge. I was free but clueless, and honestly what good would freedom be if you didn't know how to live.

My hand was busy, tracing the intricate details on my book to notice someone sitting on the couch. Even so, I chose to ignore it. I had too much of my own problems.

Your whole life you think you're ready to go out because it's all you've been waiting for, but you're not. You're like an idiot wandering around in the darkness, oblivious to what you bump, touch, see or feel. And at times it was worse that you felt like your were deaf, mute, blind or all of those.

I was lost in a world I wasn't aware of.

Even if I found myself in one of my books, it would be much easier than this.

What's worse was everyone expected so much of you.

When I first travelled here, the last words I heard from my parents were "make us proud." 

But why? Why can't they just be proud of me unconditionally?

Why can't they just love me unconditionally?

Must there always be a reason to be loved? Is that what love is?

Because if it is, the books lied to me. The authors lied to me.

I just don't understand. How do they expect me to do something great in a world they shielded me from.

If I fail, it would be my fault but I don't even know what I'm facing.

What accomplishments must I have? 

I slopped down on one of the chairs, quietly reading to myself, the fireplace not doing much of it's job to keep me warm. I couldn't really make out what I was reading. The voices in my head talking much louder than I can comprehend the words on my book.

My chain of thoughts somehow were vanquished as I heard silent cries from the armchair.

Brown hair, long legs, a chiseled face and brown eyes sparkling as the fire illuminated its liquid. 

Salazar, I wasn't prepared for situations like this. What the fuck do I actually do?

Someone send help now or someone will go home crying, someone other than Berkshire.

His eyes fluttered and shut close, then back open again. His tear stained face looking up at me as I crouched down in front of him.

"Hey..." I mumbled, barely audible but the fact that aside from the crackling of the fireplace no other sound was heard helped.