This May or May Not Be Illegal Closed

@Wyatt Starkey I apologize in advance for the low quality writing. I got sick and it hit my like a mf truck.

Jackson gave the ghost of a grin. "I know ya think that's an accent, but for me everyone here talks with an accent..." He may have left Canada three years before, but every time one of the Brits opened their mouth, it sounded like they'd walked out of a bad movie. He'd tried copying the way the other students spoke, in all honestly. No matter how he went about it, he ended up mocking their accent after a few minutes. It was way too strange not to mock, considering the only British people he'd hear speak before actually moving, had been shriveled up old men with white hair and spectacles.

"That being said, this weather blows, and not in a good way." He hadn't seen snow since he'd moved, and rather than being relieved he no longer had to shovel any driveways, he missed the bitter Canadian winter. The mountains of snow and salt on pavements which kept black ice from forming. Digging through his pack, Jax pulled out two cinnamon candies, unwrapping one and popping it in his mouth before tossing the other in Wyatt's direction."Catch" he said. "That aught to warm you up," It was basically solid cinnamon, and it burned. Tears sprung up in his eyes after a few moments as he laughed around the candy. He wouldn't be able to taste anything for a day after it, but hell it was worth it.

"So...what the hell do ya'll wizards talk about?" the emo boy demanded. "And once we get over the small talk and you finally tell me what the hell happened to you, maybe you'll le-" Jax paused. Yeah. He'd gone around drawing people around Hogwarts, but he doubted Wyatt would take it as kindly as the girls had did when he'd asked them to sit still so he could sketch them. So he changed course. "Uhm. Quidditch. I understand that's the wizard equivalent to football?"

"So...what the hell do ya'll wizards talk about? And once we get over the small talk and you finally tell me what the hell happened to you, maybe you'll le-" he paused. Wyatt had no idea what the emo kid was going to say, but Wyatt didn’t prod when the boy stopped talking. "Uhm. Quidditch. I understand that's the wizard equivalent to football?" Wyatt nodded, slightly. Quidditch was its own thing, really.

“I wouldn’t know what wizards talk about,” Wyatt replied. “I wasn’t raised in the Wizarding World.” Wyatt still hadn’t eaten the candy that was thrown to him. From what he noticed with the emo kid, it burned. Wyatt wasn’t a fan of pain, especially if he had the option to opt out of it, so he just shoved the candy in his pocket. “I’m not eating that,” he mumbled to himself. No chance was he going to cry in front of this kid from a candy.

Quidditch. Wyatt’s mother was a really talented quidditch player, but Wyatt was never interested in sports of any kind. “I don’t know much about quidditch, and I don’t care to, really.” This kid was asking about wizard things like he just learned he was a wizard yesterday. Curious, much like Wyatt during his first week of school, except Wyatt was too scared to ask any questions.

Wyatt chose to ignore the emo’s, "what the hell happened to you," from before and move on. Maybe he was hoping the first-year would forget, though he wasn’t very hopeful. At least he could try to forget, maybe that’ll do something. But everyone knows you can’t forget something by thinking of forgetting it because you’re still thinking about it. This isn’t going well so far, Wyatt thought to himself.

Wyatt decided to focus on something else. The emo was pretty fragile and awkward if you squint hard enough huh? The mask melts away when he’s anxious. That "Uhm. Quidditch," didn’t sound like a tough graffiti artist, it just sounded like any first-year. A first-year who probably had more to himself than he let on. Some sort of sadness he covered up with humor. Wyatt wanted to know more, but he didn’t dare show it.

_{@Jackson Lockwood}

@Wyatt StarkeyDamn it's been 10 days...how have you not ditched my ass by now?

The wave of relief which passed Jax over at the boys words was practically tangible. "Oof, okay, now we can talk," he breathed. "Yeah, fuck quidditch. That shit's wack...it's all most the eggheads in my dorm want to talk about...That and some guy Voldemort...apparently he was important or some shit."

Knowing Wyatt wasn't a wizard took away so much tension from Jackson's posture, it was a very visible thing. He stood straighter, thumbs hooking in the loops on his jeans comfortably, making eye contact dead on. Magic and shit? Yeah he had no idea how to deal. But when it came to the normal world, that he knew, and knew well.

And it was occurring to him just then...he'd spent so much time trying to fit, desperate to assimilate within the new culture he'd suddenly been thrust into, he'd forgotten why he was doing it in the first place. Some day, he hoped he'd come to love the wizarding world the way his brother did. With an open-eyed wonder wherever he turned. But he wasn't there yet, clinging to the past. To memories of towering buildings shining in the afternoon soon, graffiti covered bridges and rusty fire escapes. The city...it was his life, it had everything he'd ever wanted and loved. It was something he knew how to survive in. This world, alien and eerie where nothing was what it seemed...he didn't belong in it. Not yet.

"Did the idiots at your school do the bottle flip, or is that just a Canadian thing?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. It was getting a tad long, inky strands hanging to past his jawline, paint stained fingers leaving silver streaks where they passed. Frowning, he pulled his wand out from his back pocket and proceeded to put his hair up in a man bun, twisting it around the magic stick. It was a badly done one, but it beat the hair landing in his eyes. "Oh my god, and don't even get me started on TikTok," he went on with a grin. God this felt good. Familiar. He found himself reverting back to old slang he'd been forced to bury around the wizards.

What’s a nice way to say it? Well, there isn’t one, so here goes. That emo kid was really talking Wyatt’s ear off, and Merlin, was it driving the Slytherin crazy. The kid reminded Wyatt of a more jaded Jack Burnett, and that wasn’t a good thing nor was it a compliment of any kind. "Did the idiots at your school do the bottle flip, or is that just a Canadian thing? Oh my god, and don't even get me started on TikTok," he just went on and on with a silly grin that practically said “I’m doing this to piss you off.” It was so terrible.

After Wyatt confessed he was raised in the muggle world, the artist before him seemed to relax, which was just about the worst thing that could’ve happened. Now this child was more insufferable than ever, talking even more than he used to. Wyatt wasn’t the most honest person in the world, he wouldn’t have had an issue with lying to this idiot. Instead, he told the truth- and look where it got him! The artist’s extroverted nature was astounding, and Wyatt began to look him over, but stopped when he realized Mr. Emo wasn’t some creature in a zoo.

Instead, Wyatt pretended nothing had happened and went on with the conversation just as snippy and annoyed as always. “My old school was full of idiots. The halls rang with the sounds of plastic bottles hitting the ground for weeks before my school banned plastic water bottles and told kids to bring reusable ones, made of tougher plastic or metal. Then they started flipping those,” Wyatt sighed dramatically. Like a rough-around-the-edges war hero sharing his stories with his grandchildren. “It was hell,” he concluded.

_{@Jackson Lockwood}