a case of you
title: a case of you
rating: pg-15
word count: 1534
summary: yifan only hurts him to protect himself. fill for this.
a case of you
you're in my blood, you're my holy wine
you taste so bitter and so sweet
oh, i could drink a case of you, darling
↭
"Mudblood,"
Joonmyun suddenly freezes in his seat, eyes wide and locked onto his Herbology text book. He hears the boy behind him snicker, and the rest of the Slytherin 6th years laugh at his expense because not only was he a mudblood, but Wu Yifan seemed to thrive on making his life miserable. It was all a joke to them: a filthy, stupid, vile, joke that wasn't funny at all to Joonmyun. In fact, the words, which he had heard so many times before, had been tattooed into his mind, and whenever he was alone, he thought about them- drowned in his own thoughts, Yifan grabbing his ankles and dragging him closer to the dark bottom of the sea of hatred. It makes him feel sick.
Yifan watches as the Gryffindor rises from his seat and runs out of the room, book tucked haphazardly underneath his arm. He stifles a laugh as the professor looks at him with accusing eyes because Joonmyun has never left a class without permission, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that Yifan had ways of getting under the boy's skin. With all accusations left unsaid, the class resumes, but he's not really thinking about how to make a lifesaving potion out of such and such herbs; he's thinking of kissing Joonmyun breathless instead.
Joonmyun isn't sure how he finds his way into the Gryffindor common room (which is seemingly empty since most students are in class), but he sits down on the floor in front of the fireplace anyway, staring hard at the charred wood through his teary eyes. The black, pealing logs remind him much of himself- cold and unwanted, nothing to warm him but the bright orange flames that he should be used to by now, but he can still feel them enough to know that they hurt. It brings him so much pain, and he has no control on how fast it becomes a wildfire that burns down his carefully constructed walls.
Yifan doesn't really hate Joonmyun. Of course, being born into a pureblood family such as his, he grew up loathing anything that had to deal with a muggle. Until he met the Gryffindor, he had never thought of a mudblood in such a manner as he did him. He couldn't let his friends know about his little (big) crush, and if his father found out, he would probably find a way to send his son to Azkaban. Inevitably, he keeps everything to himself; harboring his feelings in a bottle before tossing it out into the eerily calm sea. There it waits until a vicious storm carries it back to the shore, ripping the waves to shreds with its winds along the way- its winds which Yifan has conveniently named Joonmyun.
Joonmyun forgets to go to bed, still clad in his robes of yesterday when the sun comes up over the forbidden forest. His eyes are as dark as the burnt wood that lies in front of him, still warm even after 14 hours of being put out, and albeit there isn't a flame, Joonmyun can feel it. It's in his heart.
Yifan doesn't see Joonmyun during potions, and though he finds that fact quite worrisome, he decides to take his mind off of that and instead think of a potion that could make him come from a half blood family. He's not sure if there really is such a thing, but there is Polyjuice, and if he can turn into one of Joonmyun's friends (the tall one with dark hair; he talks nonsense all the time, and he's completely bonkers. He once set the kitchen on fire from his bedroom, and to this day, no one knows how that even happened. Or maybe the short one; he has slightly curly hair, best Gryffindor Quidditch player, and he’s too sassy for his own good. He's also known for his amazing skills at acting and being a little bitch) then he can be closer to Joonmyun without looking like a blood traitor.
He can hear them now-
“Oh bloody hell, it’s that dunglicker,”
“Scumsucker,”
“Mudwallower,”
“Mudblood-lover,”
“Joonmyun lover-”
Joonmyun considers skipping dinner, but thinks otherwise when his stomach rumbles lowly and it reverberates off the walls of the common room. He makes his way into the Great Hall, cringing to himself when the lot of the Slytherin table goes quiet. With his head held up, pretending he doesn't hear their low whispers, his eyes catch sight of his friends waving him over to their table. A smile finds its way onto his face while he wanders over to them. Yet before he sits, he feels a small tug at the edge of his robes, and when he looks down he sees a bunch of Slytherin 1st years surrounding him. He gulps, eyes flittering to the cake they hold in their hands, and then the first one hits him in the face, falling to the ground with a sickening plop. The Slytherin table erupts with laughter while the other three houses watch on with wide eyes. There's cake in his ears, frosting in his mouth, and sprinkles in his hair when he runs out of the room, face hidden by his hands. It's all because he's a filthy mudblood, and, for the first time in his whole life, Joonmyun hates himself.
Yifan faintly smiles when the Gryffindor runs out of the room once again, a feeling of déjà vu settling upon his shoulders. It’s a different setting, but it’s the same emotions- he’s longing to humiliate him and to love him. The two should conflict, having nothing to do with each other, and yet, as he stands, his heart floods with them. He just hopes that when he finds the boy he won’t drown in his feelings because he can’t afford to lose his head over someone like Joonmyun.
Joonmyun doesn't like the feeling of eyes on him during class, doesn't like the whispers he hears at lunch, and surely doesn't like the way Yifan looks at him when they pass each other in the halls. It sends a spark down his spine that he can't exactly explain. It angers him to look at Yifan, the stupid perfect Slytherin boy from Canada with nice blonde hair and deep brown eyes, voice that sounds like silk even when derogatory slurs pour out of his filthy mouth. He's just like a snake- crawling under Joonmyun's façade that he's tried so hard to perfect, and then he injects poison into his mind, sinking his teeth deeper into his neck and pumping the venom until he's full- until Joonmyun chokes from the pain, hands pressing against his temples in order to stop the throbbing. It never works. Nothing ever works.
His robes fly out behind him as his feet carry him to the West Tower.
Yifan isn’t sure how he finds the Gryffindor, but he does, and he’s trying not to let the other notice him as he follows him up the winding staircase. Though, at the entrance of the Owlery, Joonmyun decides to turn, pointing his wand straight at Yifan. The said boy shrinks back, trying to put as much distance between them because maybe Joonmyun is crazy and wouldn’t mind blowing his head off of his shoulders. He does have every reason to.
Joonmyun’s grip tightens around the base of his wand, and his eyes have tears in them, but Yifan still thinks he’s the most beautiful boy he has ever seen.
“Do you know what you have done to me, Yifan?” Joonmyun asks, voice low and harsh.
Yifan has enough sense not to answer, and the Gryffindor continues as he takes a step toward the taller male.
“You’ve ruined me,”
They stare at each other for a while, clouds covering up the sun and bathing them in a cool summer breeze before Yifan closes the distance between them, planting his lips directly on the other’s. He ignores the pain of Joonmyun’s wand poking into his ribs as he holds the boy’s head still between his large hands.
Joonmyun protests because no this shouldn’t be happening, I don’t want this, I don’t want him- but he does and slips his arms around Yifan’s waist and holds him tight.
It begins to rain when they pull apart, and Yifan can see the tears that have stained Joonmyun’s cheeks, but he can only think about how much he wants to kiss him again.
“You like me,” Joonmyun states, eyes fluttering shut at the soft touch of Yifan's fingers against his neck.
“I like you,” the tallest confirms, pulling the boy closer until their lips are barely touching. “I really like you,”
↭
"Mudblood,"
Joonmyun suddenly freezes in his seat, eyes wide and locked onto his Herbology text book. He hears the boy behind him snicker, and the rest of the Slytherin 6th years laugh at his expense because not only was he a mudblood, but Wu Yifan seemed to thrive on making his life miserable. It was all a joke to them: a filthy, stupid, vile, joke, and yet, this time, under the curse of his damned mind, he smiles so wide his cheeks start to hurt.