Post by theodore lawrence riggs on Aug 15, 2019 15:55:09 GMT -5
august 12th, 2021. the riggs household.
drowning.
theodore didn’t previously know the feeling of being prisoner to your own thoughts until
this past summer, at which he was trapped in an endless cycle of ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’
that weighed on his shoulders.
it had started with the attack on the gryffindor tower. seeing the empty seats in front of
him in potions, defense against the dark arts, and even muggle studies was utterly foreign.
he found himself staring at the space like a gaping black hole, a vortex that sucked him
into a confusing realm of despair. he no longer could sit in the common room without
feeling an overwhelming sense of...guilt. seeing their faces mingled with the memory of
an inconsolable isis- it broke his heart all over again.
then it was the beginning of summer. he was promoted to quidditch captain, something
to look forward to going into seventh year...and yet he wasn’t ecstatic about it as he felt
he should be. almost numb as people sent him congratulations, smiles forced as they
teasingly gave him a shove. everyone so lighthearted, and he was weighed down. he
brought everyone else down- again. and again.
and then, the potter home. harry potter gone- dead even. they didn’t know, and
theodore didn’t know what to believe either. he remembered staring at the prophet in
shock as the picture shifted before him. the boy who lived, the boy who saved the
wizarding world, gone. just like that. if he could be defeated, what would happen to the
rest of them?
were they all as good as dead?
theodore had been seated on his bed for minutes, perhaps hours. it may as well have
been days with how detached it was from it all. a weight had begun to mount on his chest,
as if someone had been laying brick upon brick atop of him. as the young gryffindor looked
around, the world was foggy; muddied with exhaustion, watery eyes, or both.
what were they going to do?
what was his family going to do?
what was he going to do?
question after question drilled into his brain, like a hammer being driven repeatedly into
iron nail. his breath became staggered as his body sunk back into the feathery mattress,
the only protection he had from collapsing onto the floor entirely.
tulip, too soon hopeless. isis, too good for this world to destroy. josie, too wonderful to
be given travesty.
all too much, all too fast.
too fast. too fast.
he couldn’t catch up.
theodore brought his knees closer to his chest as he tried to hold onto something-
something that would keep the world from spinning more than it already was. it was
harder to breathe now, the oxygen seemingly leaving as soon as it entered his lips
gasping for air. his cheeks stung with the tears that had spilled over and escaped, limbs
weakly shaking from the weight of the mounting bricks. the fear curled around him like
a black vapor, leaving theodore trapped in a world of not knowing, not understanding.
even as mother fell to his bedside, theo shook his head and tried to face it on his own.
tried to fight it with the little energy he had left.
theodore lawrence riggs, eldest son. gryffindor seventh year, quidditch captain, charming
and a bit too puerile for his own good. friend, boyfriend, son, older brother...was
drowning.
drowning.
theodore didn’t previously know the feeling of being prisoner to your own thoughts until
this past summer, at which he was trapped in an endless cycle of ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’
that weighed on his shoulders.
it had started with the attack on the gryffindor tower. seeing the empty seats in front of
him in potions, defense against the dark arts, and even muggle studies was utterly foreign.
he found himself staring at the space like a gaping black hole, a vortex that sucked him
into a confusing realm of despair. he no longer could sit in the common room without
feeling an overwhelming sense of...guilt. seeing their faces mingled with the memory of
an inconsolable isis- it broke his heart all over again.
then it was the beginning of summer. he was promoted to quidditch captain, something
to look forward to going into seventh year...and yet he wasn’t ecstatic about it as he felt
he should be. almost numb as people sent him congratulations, smiles forced as they
teasingly gave him a shove. everyone so lighthearted, and he was weighed down. he
brought everyone else down- again. and again.
and then, the potter home. harry potter gone- dead even. they didn’t know, and
theodore didn’t know what to believe either. he remembered staring at the prophet in
shock as the picture shifted before him. the boy who lived, the boy who saved the
wizarding world, gone. just like that. if he could be defeated, what would happen to the
rest of them?
were they all as good as dead?
theodore had been seated on his bed for minutes, perhaps hours. it may as well have
been days with how detached it was from it all. a weight had begun to mount on his chest,
as if someone had been laying brick upon brick atop of him. as the young gryffindor looked
around, the world was foggy; muddied with exhaustion, watery eyes, or both.
what were they going to do?
what was his family going to do?
what was he going to do?
question after question drilled into his brain, like a hammer being driven repeatedly into
iron nail. his breath became staggered as his body sunk back into the feathery mattress,
the only protection he had from collapsing onto the floor entirely.
tulip, too soon hopeless. isis, too good for this world to destroy. josie, too wonderful to
be given travesty.
all too much, all too fast.
too fast. too fast.
he couldn’t catch up.
theodore brought his knees closer to his chest as he tried to hold onto something-
something that would keep the world from spinning more than it already was. it was
harder to breathe now, the oxygen seemingly leaving as soon as it entered his lips
gasping for air. his cheeks stung with the tears that had spilled over and escaped, limbs
weakly shaking from the weight of the mounting bricks. the fear curled around him like
a black vapor, leaving theodore trapped in a world of not knowing, not understanding.
even as mother fell to his bedside, theo shook his head and tried to face it on his own.
tried to fight it with the little energy he had left.
theodore lawrence riggs, eldest son. gryffindor seventh year, quidditch captain, charming
and a bit too puerile for his own good. friend, boyfriend, son, older brother...was
drowning.