pv The fault in our stars

"No thank you."

Archer only smiled, but it was not that usual intent smile of an intellect, nor was it even that polite smile more forced for decorum rather out of interest. Before he had been too naïve to understand how something as bright as a smile could ever be tainted with sorrow, yet if he had a mirror that doubt would fade as swiftly as scattered leaves in the wind. Pain, he would learn, would never cease to exist, even if the gloomy blue was painted over with layers of neon yellow. He smiled, and it was as if to say, "I'm sorry then, I will be here with you, but there is nothing I can do."

Helplessness was a feeling Archer had yet to experience in familiarity before tonight's meeting, but with eyes that refused to pull themselves away from the older girl's crumpled form, he felt more impotent than ever. Perhaps the stoic philosophies he had read so much on would have told him to not let the pains of life push him down, but after all what more were they than mere words? He had read, he had observed, he had calculated, he had written, and what use would any of them do in the real world? After all the world was not one of letters, nor was it one of numbers; those humanly innovations were no match against nature's cruel hand, and when nature commands for death or pain, that was what must follow. He had told himself that he could do nothing to change it, and he had thought he had made peace with that, however depressing. Yet when the thought came back and hit him square in the chest, he was out of words and could only relent under the power.

So he slipped into silence once more, seeking wordlessness as a sickly respite.

@Anastasia Blackwood-Varney, again, apologies for how late this is, next time please feel free to message me as a reminder.

Just as Anastasia rolled her head back whether in search for respite or admiration of the night Archer followed, though for whatever reason he seemed to no longer know as he lost himself within the mesmerising patterns of the night sky. There was nothing he could do, just as the enigmatic girl had said with the same enigmatic expression. Tonight he knew the many cruelties of fate did not have an answer at all, and perhaps the philosophers were fools trying to search for it; perhaps that made him a fool himself, engaging in such talk with a stranger in the middle of night, but so be it.

Fingers tracing absentmindedly along the stone etchings the boy was reminded of the habit he had picked up from his father, who often rubbed against his desk carvings with a quill in his hand. Looking towards the stars Archer recalled once more nights spent with his mother -- nights when sometimes they did not need speech to feel comfort in each other's presence. In the Scottish highlands he had very little conventional company other than his family, oftentimes the stars were friends as close as anything else. So blessed to have found such solace when the girl's parents would be forever interlocked with death just as he had before Archer reminded himself for the gratitude of life.

And so they sat, in silence, as he contemplated wordlessly. Minutes passed. It must have been close to one when he finally stood.

Suddenly he felt giddy, as if all the excitement in the world had been drafted into him. Despite having no idea where to, all Archer knew was the inexplicable urge to go, to do things he would never even have considered before. And of school rules did not approve? - the rules could be damned, for as far as Archer cared. The revelations on Hogwarts' tower almost elicited a laugh from him but remembering his company he managed to subside it, fearful he might even seem more lunatic than he was already. "Have a good night," he said, tentatively, afraid to disturb their tranquil reality that stood in stark contrast to the happenings in their minds. Whether fate liked it or not, Archer Duncan was going for a swim.