the world is spinning and he can't breathe through the smoke in his fragile lungs , and he is waiting - for something he isn't quite sure what , but it is brewing in his bones like the beginning of a wildfire.
[word count: around 27,500]
/NICO DI A...
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There is a ringing, a stinging sense of nostalgia as Nico's gaze flitters over the weeping parents and ecstatic children, drowning out the constant voices and footsteps into a sense of just ringing, as though no other sounds exists except this, nothing else inciting enough to demand his attention.
His dark hair falls over his eyes and deepens the shadows cast by his cheekbones, fluttering in the wind as it breezes across his face. A boy, stood a few feet from him, raises his eyebrows at Nico's trunk and backpack, but doesn't comment, auburn hair reminding him of a pretty boy he used to know im Italy- before the war, before he disappeared into a train and dusty tracks with a star on his arm. Nostalgia crawls its way down his throat with yearning claws and settles in his stomach.
Nico tears his eyes away, and he does the same, looking back to where his friends stand with forgettable faces swept away into the moment. He brushes past them, and there is a ringing and sense of nostalgia when his gaze flickers to the brick wall his dark eyes bore into. His hands are shaking.
(But that's not important).
Somewhere a clock chimes, overwhelming the ringing for a second and holding him by the throat, as Nico turns at the muted sound of footsteps against the floor. A dog bounds up to him, fur dark and shaggy, eyes dark and curious, large paws padding the ground and pink tongue spilling from its mouth.
"Hey" Nico says, almost as a whisper, because he doesn't want to scare the poor dog when it hasn't shrunk away from him like most animals do. He runs his pale, slender fingers through the dog's fur and around its ear, and it barks appreciatively and wiggles closer still. It's dark eyes flit to meet his.
Another voice joins the white noise of both nothing and everything, and says, "Snuffles," with a little laugh and a boy with hair as dark and messy as his own and startling, emerald eyes focuses into view. Nico unthreads his fingers from the dogs fur and blinks a few times as Harry Potter runs towards him, followed closely by a red-headed boy that reminds Nico of the man who used to own the comic book store in Venice, and a girl with bushy hair and wide eyes.
With its tail wagging feverishly, the dog rolls onto its back and Nico bends down to thread his fingers through its fur again, and the ringing and voices and footsteps is joined by panting and laughing. "I like your dog," he says, as the trio approach him with their eyes on his leather and silver ring.
After a little silence that Nico tries to ignore, Harry Potter comments, "his name's Snuffles," and Snuffles jumps towards him with a thud like a beat to the rhythm of the ringing. "I think he likes you too," he adds a second later, maybe to dismiss the stagnant silence settling between them.
"You're wizards, aren't you?" Nico asks, even though there is still this ringing and he has to concentrate to hear the reply of "yes, and you are too, I'm guessing," from the brown-eyed girl with the curly hair.
