Try to Take Deep Breaths (and Go on Walks) Closed

Ami crossed her arms. “I know what gay people sound like, and you sound exactly like Thomas; he’s the gayest person I know. I swear to God, he sleeps in pride-striped pajamas.”

"And people don't 'sound gay'," Hunter pointed out. "Not really. I mean.” “Yes, they do,” Ami insisted. “Their voices are just… they’re just off. You wouldn’t understand, though.” “And even if I was it's none of your business,” Hunter continued. “And like I said, I've had a ton of girlfriends at my old school. But I had to break up with them cause I came here. I bet they all miss me a bunch. Dad'll probably send me a whole bunch of letters from them once he gets my owl. You'll see."

Ami gave him a weird look. “You were dating more than one person at a time? Well, you do you, boo. I’m not one to judge. But just let me tell you, right here, right now, that you’re gay. I’m calling it. Even if you don’t know it yet.”

“What’s his address?” Ami asked, ready to send the bird off. “Your father’s address?” She held a pencil, ready to write it down on the envelope.

"I'm not gay!" Hunter insisted one last time. "And I told you his address, you just obviously weren't listening hard enough." He cleared his throat and listed off his address again, waiting for her to copy it down onto the parchment. He didn't really care that she was the one writing it, he'd probably end up turning the envelope black. "Who are you writing to? Your girlfriend? Did she send you the CDs you can't actually use? If so then that's kind of a bad gift, unless she's a muggle then I guess it's just sad..." He frowned a little. "I wonder if records would work here. I mean they aren't electronic right? You could just use magic to make them spin. Maybe I should get dad to send me some of his collection?" While his dad did indeed have a record collection there was no way in hell he'd be willing to part with any of them, even the crap ones. Granted that was probably for the best, Hunter would probably end up accidentally(-on purpose) smashing one. Or two. Or twelve.

"I'll have to ask one of the older kids about all this stuff. It's all so confusing! I swear to God!"

Ami wrote down the address in neatly cramped, miniscule print that looked more at home on sheet music than writing a letter. “Got it.” She gave the letter to the owl, and sent the owl off, soaring away into the distance.

“Who are you writing to?” Hunter asked. “Your girlfriend? Did she send you the CDs you can’t actually use? If so then that’s kind of a bad gift, unless she’s a Muggle, then I guess it’s just sad…”

Ami shook her head. “No, not my girlfriend. I haven’t dated anyone- ever. No one can stand me for more than five minutes at a time, except for Thomas; that’s who I was writing to. My gay bestie? I got the CD from a girl in my dorm, who realized it wouldn’t work. Thomas is way into Ed Sheeran, so I thought I’d send it to him.”

She considered his question about records, and shrugged. “I don’t think they’ll work. Gramophones use electricity to work, the needle kinda deconstructs the sound and amplifies it through the horn. At least, I think that’s how they work. I don’t really know- I broke my dad’s when I tried to take it apart and put it back together. Next time I took something apart, I actually put it back together though- although it was rather dangerous. To be fair, my dad really shouldn’t have given a bored eight-year-old a rifle.”

Hunter's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.. "Your dad gave you a rifle?!, God, you are American." He rubbed the back of his head, knocking his beanie ascew. "I used to take apart torches and stuff when I was little. Nothing like a gramophone though. I did help my dad with his car sometimes though, changing the oil and all that. Wanted to be a mechanic when I was, like, five but don't know if I want to anymore. So, Thomas is a muggle? Or are they a wizard going to another school? I mean, there has to be others outside of Hogwarts. Otherwise, there would be more Americans than just you." He gestured to her with his hands. "Is Thomas American? I used to go there on holiday." No, no he did not. "Where are you from? Los Angeles? I know you guys have different accents and stuff but I don't know them off by heart or anything. I'm from London, if you couldn't tell." He tried to make his voice more stereotypically 'London' as he spoke, but his voice didn't end up really changing all that much, since his accent was pretty damn thick to begin with.

"Your dad gave you a rifle?! God, you are American," Hunter yelped, his eyes widening. Ami rolled her eyes. "No, Hunter, it isn't because I'm American," she said patiently, although she added under her breath, "But that's a very valid point, our stupid president..." She cleared her throat, and continued, "It's because my dad's in the military. He thought it would be a good skill to learn, for when I actually enlist when I'm 18. I don't know if they'll let me, though, with my being English and all that."

"So, Thomas is a muggle?" Hunter asked. "Or are they a wizard going to another school? I mean, there have to be others outside of Hogwarts. Otherwise, there would be more Americans than just you." Ami nodded. "Yeah, he's a Muggle. He thinks I'm going to a fancy, rich, private boarding school in the UK."

He gestured to her with his hands. "Is Thomas American? I used to go there on holiday." Ami's eyes lit up. "Where'd you go to? New York City? San Francisco? Oh, I love San Francisco... Seattle's great, too." 

"Where are you from? Los Angeles? I know you guys have different accents and stuff but I don't know them off by heart or anything. I'm from London, if you couldn't tell."

"London," Ami laughed. "That's pretty much the only city I know in England. Oh, Cornwall, too, but that's it. No, I'm not from the City of Angels; I was born in London, same as you, but I was raised in Chicago."

"Right, cool. You don't sound English, at least to me."

He'd done that thing again. That thing where he dug himself into a hole. A normal person would just try to climb out and correct themselves, either that or avoid the question entirely. Not Hunter. Hunter dug deeper, whether he wanted to or not.

"New York and Hollywood, only a few times though. My dad can be really busy with work and stuff. But whenever we did go, it was great. I should probably ask if we can go again during the summer holidays. Though maybe he'd just want us to spend time together, he's not used to us being apart for a long time, you know? 'Cause it's just us two. That's why I'm sending him a letter, so he doesn't get lonely." His stomach twisted as he spoke, a sudden wave a nausea rising up the back of his throat. Still, his voice didn't waver, not even for a second. He just kept smiling his lopsided and cheeky grin, kept his back straight, his posture strong. He was fine. Everything was fine.

The only thing that changed was a slight shift in his eyes. It was the one thing he couldn't control.

Ami beckoned two owls down from the rafter, clicking her tongue. Thanks, Nora, she thought, smiling at how the girl had taught her the basics of bird-talk. She put the envelope into a bag and handed it to the owls. She rattled off an American address, and after some weird, judgmental looks from the two owls, the birds took off.

"NYC and Hollywood," Ami mused. "That's cool; I get air-sick whenever we go to California, though, so I haven't been there in a while. How was the food there compared to over here?" When Hunter mentioned his dad, and how it was just the two of them, Ami's heart broke in her chest (For what, the sixtieth time? Ami, girl, why you so sentimental?). Hunter didn't seem too upset, but his expression was slightly off.

"Just the two of you," Ami repeated softly. "That sucks, Hunter. I'm sorry. Here, next time, before you send him a letter, come find me first. I have some stuff that I think he'd like- what did you say his job was, again?"

Ami turned, beckoning another one of the owls down, just to pet the soft bird's feathers. Sitting on the stone windowsill, she swung her legs over the edge so they were on the outside. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" she sighed softly, talking mostly to the owl, who seemed to nod in agreement.

Hunter nodded along with the arrow, glad for the change of subject. In truth, he didn't really like talking about his mum all that much. He had moments where he forgot she was dead, expected to walk into the living room and find her watching Big Brother or some other trashy show. He'd expected that he'd sit on her lap and pretend to know what she was talking about and smile and nod.

No such luck.

He looked out into the light sky and sniffed. "Kinda crisp though, summer's definitely finishing up." He pulled the edges of his beanie over his ears to keep them from going too red. "Do you think it's gonna snow soon? We're in Scotland, right? And it snows here a lot more than it does in London. We'd usually just get silt and slush. That stuff's good for snowballs though, makes them really, really hard. This dude on my street used to put stones in them and chuck them at your head, now that hurt like hell but I put dirt and rocks in mine and gave him a bump the size of a conker right in the middle of his forehead. Now that was a good day."

Ami looked at Hunter in alarm. "Woah. That escalated really quickly. I mean..." she trailed off, looking back towards the stunning view the Owlery offered. "I did throw a knife at a deer in anger, this one time after it jumped clean over the trap I'd laid. It missed, by about a mile and a half, but I still felt bad afterward."

She fiddled with her thumbs, looking down, down, down the side of the tower. What would be the damage if she jumped? Would she die? Maybe, maybe not. Of course, it all depended on how she landed. If she stayed tight and aerodynamic, arms pinned to her side, legs locked out straight, would she slice straight through the dirt? Or would she just die on impact, coming in at such a high speed? She'd never know if she'd never try. Of course, that was an experiment for another day, and most certainly not in front of other people.

Ami silenced the darkly scientific thoughts scurrying about her mind, and tried to think of something happier, of a lighter topic. "How's Gryffindor?" she asked conversationally, nodding at Hunter's red and yellow striped badge on his chest. "I've heard both good things and bad- enlighten me with some gory details."