Parade of Ignorance (Josh, warnings inside)

For the best part of twenty minutes, Joe had been sat atop of the astronomy tower with a bottle of Smirnoff clutched between his hands. His legs were hanging off the side as he looked down at the ground below, the oh so inviting ground below him. The entrance to the tower was barricaded and magically locked so he wouldn't be interrupted. No, interruptions wouldn't do him any good.

The bottle came up to meet his lips again as he changed his eyeline upwards, looking at the stars that for some reason had lost their sparkle. "Maybe to everyone else they're still shining," he said after swallowing the liquid, voice louder than he usually would have dared because who the hell gave a damn anyway. It was gone midnight, he knew that much, though the exact time escaped him. Maybe that was for the best. Everyone else, snuggled up in their warm beds, dreaming away as if the world was fine.

For once, Joe had learned to think differently.

The world wasn't fine. Nothing was fine. Terrible people existed and terrible things happened to everyone but those people. Maybe he was overreacting a tad. Maybe he had taken everything a little bit too far, but then again maybe not. It wasn't just about Brooke anymore, not just about Morgan either. It was everything. The mere thought of mealtimes made him feel sick to his stomach. Classes were making him feel hopeless. Everyone he had made an attempt to get to know seemed to be fading oh so slowly away from him, and his head was constantly spinning to try and find an answer as to why.

Why couldn't Joe shake the idea that it was all his fault? Why was he such a failure? Why did Joshua Murray get to him so badly? But perhaps most importantly of all, why the fuck couldn't he just grow some balls and stand up for himself?

Slowly, agonisingly slowly, Joe had figured out the answers to those questions. He couldn't shake the idea that it was his fault because it was; maybe if he had something to offer anyone who tried to get close to him, there was a better chance they would stay. He didn't in any way feel as though he deserved to be with the people that he had mindlessly fallen for; he wasn't entitled to them, no. It wasn't like that, not at all, he just wanted to be fucking happy. Astrid was a failure because he let himself be one: he couldn't keep his mind on school for long enough and he couldn't stop thinking about how amazing it would be to stop hurting for once. Josh got to him so badly because Joe let him; he let theSlytherin get into his head and he let him play his little games. He couldn't stand up for himself because... Well, scared people would always be scared, and there was no way to scare the fear out of him because fear wasn't something he was good at getting over.

His shabby performance in Professor Newbury's class proved that much.

"Or maybe you can stop moping, Astrid."

"Fuck," the Hufflepuff said, a little louder than was likely necessary. He hadn't been able to help it; he thought he was completely alone. Still, that voice, Joe knew it all too well and he soon settled somewhat, nothing but the gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach reminding him of who he was face to face with. Every muscle was twitching in his neck, screaming at him to turn around and look at the boy in the eyes, but he refused. Refused to give him the satisfaction.

"You're still my play thing."

The mere thought of belonging to Murray only furthered the twisting of his gut. Joe wasn't a toy. He'd been telling himself that for days, weeks even. He wasn't a toy, most of all because toys were fun and as pathetic as he felt for thinking it, Joe was everything but fun. The sudden turn in conversation, if one could even stretch as far as to call it that, confused the Hufflepuff slightly, and finally he turned his head to look the blonde in the eyes that stood out in the darkness.  He spoke barely above a whisper, voice hoarse and dry and breaking. "Why?"

Why? Why, why, why? "Why do you care? Since when have you ever cared about anyone but yourself? Just leave me alone, I don't want to play whatever game you're trying on me." The alcohol had clearly had an effect on him, despite the meager amount he had actually swallowed, because never in a million years would he have dreamed of saying something like that. 'He doesn't' the voice in his head laughed, a harsh sound even to his twisted mind. 'Idiot, why would he care about you of all people?'

Yet, for some reason, Joe knew that the 'alone' he had requested would not be granted to him. No, not yet anyway.

Softness. The air with which Murray spoke was full of nothing but softness, no hate, no sneer, but what anyone else would confuse with actual concern and respect. Joe's head was spinning, trying to figure out what the hell was going on to make it all happen, but his head wasn't working properly and the vodka had been knocked over and damnit, he just wanted the blonde to leave.

"Get down from there, Joe."

The noise that left Joe's throat was inhuman, almost, partly due to the use of his first name. Hysterical. Something between a scoff and a laugh, his usually soft blue eyes icing over and taking on a darker hue. If he wasn't who he was, perhaps they would look menacing, but no, he could never be menacing in the slightest. A few times, the warnings to get down had been easy to ignore, but the final one came as much more authoritative than any of the previous times. The Hufflepuff shook his head, pushing himself backwards and finally standing up, facing the blonde full on but his stature and lack of anything but skin and bone making him look like nothing more than a wooden puppet on strings.

"You don't get it, do you?" he asked, hands balled in fists at his side. "You don't get it. You've always had everything, Murray. You've got a family that give a damn about you. You've got girls falling at your feet. People are scared of you, people look up to you, people fucking love you. You're smart and popular and good looking and-..." Hysteria was taking over his whole body, tears streaming down his rosy cheeks but he couldn't feel them. The sensation was so familiar that it was almost comforting. "You don't get it," he repeated, much quieter, much softer, full of that little bit more raw emotion that he promised he'd never show.

"Why do you want me to not, eh? Hell, you can throw the victory party if you want." The malicious way that the words were spat as the boy turned again, holding on to the rail to steady himself disgusted him. He swallowed hard, taking a few deep breaths and refusing to turn back because, and he hated to admit it, he knew that the blonde would change his mind. "You don't think I will, do you?" he asked, voice shaking just as much as his arms. "You think I'll run back down the staircase like the kid I used to be. I'm not him anymore. I'm not..."

No further words left Joe Astrid's lips as he hopped back up onto the rail, stepping down so he was on the few millimetres of ledge that held his life in the balance. He let go with one hand, wiping his eyes, refusing to be found with tears in his eyes. No-one's going to miss you, and you don't have the chance to miss them, so why are you crying? The boy let go with his other hand, closing his eyes and stepping off into the nothingness.

Falling... Falling...

Falling.