king of fools.

I. BETA DRACONIS

THERE WILL LIKELY BE ANOTHER Draco Sebastion Basia after him, and another after that one, and another and another (Because there's always seconds and thirds and fourths in the Basia family. The only person that didn't have them was Una Basia, Draco's mother, but he wasn't sure anyone could be Una Basia as well as Una Basia was herself), but ten year old Draco was determined to make himself the most important one. The only problem was how.

At ten years old, Draco was an ambitious, freckled-faced pale boy with a heart still pink and pumping. He was a rarity and an exception because at that age; most of his family members had already began crippling, folding into themselves until their hearts were more stone than organ. It was also because Draco was the only one with snow hair, inherited from his mother, while everyone else sported (and still sports) the dark hair, dark eyes, and brooding look (A look that Draco later practiced in front of the mirror to perfect. He wasn't told to, he just knew it was a signature).

But things like that came later for Draco, and his childhood was filled with days both downcast and sunny outside with the normal neighborhood kids, the ones that grew up and wore polos and khakis while making out with the head cheerleaders of all the schools in their district and then some. Those were things that Draco hadn't paid heed to until he was twelve, two far years in the future for ten year old him.

After hitting twelve, Draco had changed just as much as his friends did. He became darker (not his skin but him), started wearing suits to dinner, and scowled so much that his lips changed to accommodate the look.

Draco became a Basia, and the transformation has held tried and true.

ℬ

DRACO WASN'T PREPARED TO MEET DRACO. In his fifteen years of existence, Draco was perfectly aware that people who wore different faces than he did had the right to be named Draco, but meeting one was different than it being hypothetical.

The other Draco was shorter than he was and by almost two feet, but that was because Draco was 5'8"and the other one was six years old and three feet something.

Draco didn't care about neither the six years nor the three feet something. His mind had already been caught and was stuck on the Draco part, albeit the fact that it was Draco Sullivan and not Draco Sebastian Basia (he shuddered at how terrifying it would be if their names were exactly the same).

The sun had been starting to set when it happened, and Draco was standing on the back porch of his third cousin, Hailea, to get away from the suffocating throng of people inside who pretended to be happy and were too proper whilst doing so.

Draco Sullivan had drawn Draco's attention with his big blue eyes and smiling face as his father (Sullivan's) called out to him. It was the way Draco (Sebastian Basia) had gathered the little boy's name, and the Sullivan painted onto the mailbox was enough for Draco to put together the fact that another Draco existed, and only a yard away. Draco Sullivan.

Emotions of betrayal and relief swam and mixed in Draco's stomach. The former because the other Draco wasn't the kind of Draco that Dracos should be, and the latter because that Draco was different. Less kingly, less menacing.

Still, Draco couldn't help but think of Draco Sullivan as an imposter.

The thought was completely unreasonable, but then the Basias had never been known for being equitable when it came to others sharing what they had. They believed that the rich and the poor were separate entities and should be regarded as such. Despite that, they weren't bad people, necessarily. They were merely . . . grey. And when you were raised in a grey place by grey people, you are eventually colored so.

Draco Sullivan had waved when he noticed Draco watching him.

Afterwards, Draco tried not to think about Draco Sullivan, and he still puts an effort into it, even three years later.

ℬ

DRACO BELIEVES HIMSELF TO BE INTUITIVE AND INTELLIGENT, but he doesn't expect it. Doesn't expect the funeral, or the black clothing, or the gentle dabbing that the women do to wipe their faux tears and the practiced grieving the men do.

Draco doesn't expect his mother's death.

He's eighteen and 5'11" now, and his mother is who-knows-how-old and 5'6" but stronger than he is both mentally and physically. Or rather was. Draco should get used to talking about Una Basia in past tense, because she was past tense as of 3:47 AM on a Tuesday.

Draco had woken up that morning to frantic commotion, a stark difference to the usual quiet and mellow mornings at the Basia house. He had bumped into a flustered older sister, and Ziva was never anything short of trimmed perfection. That's how his day had kickstarted, and it still hasn't ended.

He tells himself not to let the tears fall, to hold them until he gets back to his room (the one at the end of the hall, tucked into one of the many crevices of the house), but he can't. The heart wraiths seem to be out to get him, and he can't escape. Hell, Draco isn't even allowed to move. He's supposed to be standing still with his hands clasped, grieving. He's doing all of those things, and it's funny because when his mother had been alive (look how well he's adapting to using past tense), he had been unruly, especially in his youth, but it was only because Draco believed that his mother liked him that way. That when everyone else in their family tried their hardest to groom him, he still kept an ounce of rebellion in the dip of his collarbone.

When he gets home, Draco finds his feet carrying him to his mother's room. He stands there, feet rooted to the hardwood floor, becoming a part of the house's structure. Yet all he can see is the handmade rocking chair in the corner and the music box resting on the window sill. If Draco couldn't find his mother anywhere else, she'd be there. She isn't there presently, but six feet under.

Draco doesn't miss things or people or places, but he finds himself missing Una Basia now.

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it's here??!? i thought this wouldn't be updated for a while (and it hasn't, i know. i just expected even longer), but i was pushing myself to write today, and i didn't know what but this drew me in. when my writing is forced, it's usually trash so do tell me how this is haha :^)