CL in retrospect pv rett brooks

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Interacting With: N/A
Mentioning: @Dorion Anderson as Everett Brooks
Hex Color: #800000

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July 1st, 2023
Arrival Area, Hogwarts Campgrounds

With the ghosting of fingers against portkey, the muggle world as Rafael knew it folded upon itself and became magical once more.

The magic was palpable, almost tangible in the warm summer air as it wafted through the campgrounds, twisting reality itself into something distantly familiar. Hogwarts, the old castle, greeted his eyes from a gaping distance, her presence bold and breathtaking as she loomed from afar in all of her powerful majesty – the sight was almost akin to that of one of the creatures of old, as if staring down a mighty firebreather from leagues away. So grand, yet so small. So close, yet so far away. So warm, yet so dangerous. The sight left an odd sort of feeling stirring within the young man’s chest, the boy’s lip bit closely between his teeth as apprehension shocked his nerves all at once. The sudden rush left as soon as it arrived, leaving behind another sort of sentiment Rafael couldn’t quite place. Not quite happy, not quite sad, not quite nostalgic. Perhaps bittersweet was the word.

Or perhaps the word was nausea – the origin of which, Rafael knew, had nothing to do with his newfound proximity to the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and everything to do with the merciless wrenching of the portkey. As his stomach churned in distaste, his vision still reeling from the tool’s violent jolts, he solemnly decided that he would rather like to take the train home this year, thank you very much. Of course, such fleeting physical ailments were of no consequence. There was little time to be nauseous, after all.

The Gryffindor was searching for a very special person. His special person.

Despite having owled each other profusely during the time the Gryffindor had been in private tutoring, it had been just shy of two years since Rafael and Rett had seen each other in person. The thought alone was enough to send the Gryffindor’s emotions spiraling into a torrent of gloom – it had been far, far too long since he had felt Rett’s comforting presence beside him, heard his collected voice with his own ears. It was true that only so much information, so much emotion, could be conveyed through photographs, through written word – and it was needless to say that the contact they had maintained, hadn’t been nearly enough. How could it ever have been enough, for two years? In what far-off reality could letters replace their emphatic face-to-face conversations, complete with laughter and banter and comedically contorted facial expressions? In what distant universe did they replace the subtle yet ever-present contact of elbow-on-elbow, of arm-around-shoulder? Of lips on lips. Such contact was utterly irreplaceable. Rafael desperately missed it. He missed Rett.

The distance had been… hard.

Well. In any case, he’d attempted to look a bit nicer for the occasion, if not in a more reserved manner. In the least, he’d foregone his typical sports shorts in favor of a pair of loose blue jeans, the wardrobe change accentuated with a pressed white t-shirt and deep maroon windbreaker. He’d also tamed his hair a little more than usual, brushing the warm brown locks back into a well-managed fringe that accentuated tasteful shocks of blue. Over his left shoulder hung a small black pouch that, in a muggle world, might be used to house a computer. In his right hand, a suitcase was clutched, the linings crafted with leather and engraved with his initials. Dirty initials.

And no, he did not want to think about that right now.

Angst aside, it was an outfit that he would rather not vomit all over.

Stomach still twisting, he allowed his gaze to wander ever-so-carefully, flitting from unfamiliar face to unfamiliar face in search of even a sliver of that poised figure, that carefully-kempt shock of blonde hair, that uniquely stunning emerald gaze. He knew with an ominous sort of certainty that this would most likely be his last chance at meeting with his boyfriend before school activities started. Rett was going to be here, right? Anxiety swirled in the pits of his stomach, clawing at its infrastructure in a misguided attempt to escape and attack the world at large. He could have sworn the boy had mentioned his plans to attend camp in their correspondences. In any case, the Gryffindor sighed as his eyes clouded with discomfort, if Rett were coming, he would be arriving right about now.

In retrospect, perhaps he should have told Rett about his plans –