everybody plays the fool • {lionel}

A window in the living room allowed bright sun rays into the otherwise dull flat. No decorative pieces adorned the grey walls, and the room was comprised of old simplistic furniture. Aside for a few shoes scattered around the floor and a green and silver scarf that draped across the counter, there were no tell tale signs of who occupied the place. The most immaculate spot was the kitchen, revealing its lack of use.

Kay Sterling stepped out of his room and trudged down the stairs into the lounge area with a loud yawn, dark hair drooping over his slate-coloured eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck and eyed the kitchen as if contemplating making something, then he looked over to a cage in the corner, having made up his mind that he would do what he always did – order in. As he walked towards the counter – the only thing in the kitchen that they utilised daily – it registered to him a little later than necessary that there was no owl in the cage.

He blinked rapidly in an attempt to force the grogginess away. It was already midday but it was Kay's day off, and sleeping in on these free days had become a habit. Working under that old headcase had seemed easy on the surface, but he was constantly sending Kay out and about. When breaks finally came, he spent the entire time being as lazy as he possibly could.

The young wizard peeked his head out of the entryway of the lounge room to look at a door, which was slightly ajar. Originally, the room had served as an office space but neither he nor Mark really had use for it. The older Sterling often stayed behind at work to complete any extra duties, and Kay was already accustomed to his disorganized-to-everyone-else-but-understandable-to-him style of work. It was left untouched for a while until Lionel started staying over more frequently. Once Mark became tired of the couch already being occupied on his longer days, he brought a mattress into the office and that single change had turned it into a makeshift guest room in their eyes.

Sighing grumpily, Kay decided he'd wait a bit before fussing his younger brother, instead turning back to their living area. It was then that the owl swooped in and headed into Lionel's room. He watched with narrowed eyes as the creature stayed for a few minutes before heading back out. Odd. His stomach let out a low growl and the disgruntled Sterling walked over to a cupboard. Merlin, did he even remember what a cooking utensil looked like? He rummaged through the drawers for a while when he noticed the owl return and leave again.

Unable to help himself, he barged into Lionel's room. If the loud shove of the door opening hadn't announced his presence, the louder growling of his stomach would have. “Sir Lionel, what are you doing? Who the hell are you writing to and why didn't you order us any food?” Kay entered the room and strung himself across the mattress while his brother sat at the desk.

Things had been different with Blythe since they'd left Hogwarts in a way that felt unfamiliar to the way it felt different with Marin or Jacqueline or Peter. Leaving Hogwarts always felt like opening up to something less focused, less directed - the rising seventh year was all too conscious now of the ways in which it was so artificially contained. Most years, though, leaving felt like an interruption, where what happened within its walls was merely put under stasis, to be resumed without complications the following year. That had not been true the summer before their fifth year, of course, but here they were again. He didn't know whether it was that she was leaving or that he had finally released himself, perhaps permanently, from the confines of the Sterling ancestral home.

It wasn't that Mark and Kay's apartment was much better, but at least it wasn't in Orkney, and his brothers had, surprisingly, managed to mature to the point where Lionel no longer resented their presence, although the number of barbs would never lessen. It was kind of welcome, in a way, the kind of blood that actually seemed like it might matter in the long run. And, if Lionel's job sorting beetle eyes and doxy eggs in the back of the apothecary, and sometimes donning a pained smile in the front when the cashier was on break, all for the occasional chance that the sleepy, aged proprietor might share some unusual insight into his previous career creating potions that could create occasional rifts in space (like Vanishing Cabinets, but temporary and on any surface) was utterly mindless, at least, for the first time, he was earning something for his work rather than being subjected to eternal indentured servitude. Still, all of this made it strange as he scrawled another short note and tied it to Iseult's leg. Tomorrow, six, they'll both be working. Their talks had a lot more words in them when they were in person. Something about the medium of short sentences sounded a lot more ambivalent.

Plucking the increasingly scribbled-on parchment from the owl, who hooted slightly irritably upon seeing him re-ink his quill, he narrowed his eyes, considering then shrugged. The paint will be set by then. Four. Like her, Blythe's penmanship was elegant with the hint of an edge. Sure he wrote and attached the address. "Last time, just...do your job," he muttered at the owl as she regarded him balefully. No sooner had she swooped out of the office-bedroom again than Kay burst in, looking disheveled at best. Lionel glanced upward, doing the calculation. He hadn't told Kay about Blythe - there was absolutely no need to - but on the other hand, seeing his face would probably be entertaining, and might even mollify him slightly.

"Merlin, Kay, you can keep more than zero days' worth of takeaway in the fridge at one time, there's something called preparing ahead," he said, unable to resist the dig as he wiped his quill in an orderly fashion and declined  to turn around. "If I'd ordered food when I woke up, it would be ice by now in any case. She'll be back in ten minutes, you can make up your mind what you want in the meantime." Stowing his quill, he turned around and cocked his head with a slight raise of his eyebrows and a smirk.  The expression was entirely for the sake of being infuriating, for his own amusement. "And try not to make a new mess in the other room in the next twenty four hours, my girlfriend's coming over."

Despite their differences, Kay was a little surprised at how easily they’d slipped into a comfortable routine. He and Mark had been inseparable since they were younger, so it had been obvious that they would eventually move in together – and it was a relief for Kay, who certainly did not want to return to their family home, but was barely making enough to foot the rent for his room here, let alone a place of his own. Lionel had sort of slipped in but, surprisingly, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. In fact, with Mark working and schmoozing almost all the time, the youngest Sterling’s company was welcome. Not that Kay would ever tell him.

Kay rolled his eyes and then followed it up by rolling around on the mattress in a faux-tantrum. “I’m hearing a bunch of shit I don’t care about. I’m hungry,” he whined, bending his head back to catch a glimpse of his brother, who was aggravatingly still slumped over whatever he was currently occupying himself with – probably some tedious wordy book or an article on what made grass grow. “And bored,” he continued, not so subtly directing Lionel to entertain him. As if on cue, the younger boy complied, uttering the most ridiculous and uncharacteristic statement Kay had ever heard from his mouth.

“Your what?” He sputtered, nearly choking on the air. Gangly legs swung over the end of the mattress and his feet hit the floor. He hoisted himself into an upright position, eyes wide. The swiftness with which he sat up had rendered him somewhat dizzy, so he placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. His mouth remained ajar as he stared at Lionel for a long moment. Then, he keeled over in laughter, arm moving from the wall to his abdomen. “Lionel Sterling, have you finally learned what a joke is? I’m almost proud of you.” He chuckled again and began to imagine what sort of fake girl Lionel had formed for himself. She probably enjoyed advanced magical theory and the complex mysteries of outer space. Kay grimaced.

After he’d spent another few seconds laughing, he zoned in on his brother. “What are you using Iseult for? Are you writing mum? And don’t be smart and tell me it’s for your imaginary girlfriend.” 

Lionel's forehead drew together as he heard the sound of Kay flopping down on what had become his bed, approximating disgusted confusion despite some underlying amusement. Everyone always acted like Lionel was the baby of the family, but really, who could blame him for his resentment of that when observing his ostensibly older brother acting like this? "Honestly, I would think you would have figured out something to do with yourself on your day off in the past year. This is why I'm the smart one and you're...whatever this is," he gestured, adopting a deliberately annoyingly lofty tone. It lasted for approximately two seconds, after which Kay, hilariously, threw himself upright. Lionel, who did not feel comfortable showing his emotions the majority of the time, burst out into genuine and quite hearty laughter as Kay suffered the dizzy consequences of his own shock.

Less fortunately, his own laughter would probably not help his case now that Kay didn't even believe him. His laughing expression turned to annoyance as he directed some thinking energy to what would convince him. "Merlin, you think I came to suffer living with you two just so I could turn right around and write mum all day long? Would have stayed on Fara and worked in the shop another summer if I wanted that in my life," he rebutted automatically. The taste of freedom, his brother's both long since graduated, coupled with all the weird feelings surrounding Blythe and getting caught up in her own feelings about leaving, accelerated Lionel's own impatience to graduate. If he didn't see such a solid value in what he knew would be stellar NEWT grades, and think that between Marin and Jacqueline and Peter he didn't have nothing to continue for, he might even consider dropping out. But then, of course, that would just make him more like Creevey, which was another strange thought. He hadn't thought about him in about as long as he and Blythe had started spending time together.

The worst part was, Iseult would probably come back without a letter, and then Kay would want to use her to order food instead. Lionel crossed his arms, and then swiveled back around to the desk to rifle through some of the papers on the desk to pull out what he would call a sort of paint sketch of himself and Marin that she'd done a couple of months ago, all of them sitting on a picnic blanket in view of the lake, Marin drawing and Lionel shading his eyes, and the book in front of him, from the sun, slightly more in focus than his friend. A small 'Blythe Alston' ran across the bottom right corner. He tossed it in Kay's direction - it wasn't the nicest piece of art he had from her, none of the mathematical inspiration her best works held, so probably she wouldn't be mad if his idiot brother damaged it. "Let's play the game of Kay needing to believe in increasingly impossible things," he announced. "What's likelier? A., Lionel has a girlfriend," frankly, Kay should sort of know of her, they were only a year apart and even Lionel had known of her before all of this had happened, "or B., Lionel has somehow become incredibly good at painting?"

“I’m the funny one,” he said in a tone induced with the essence of the word ‘duh’.

“Suffer?” Kay raised an eyebrow. “Lionel, I’m so hurt,” he deadpanned. His face remained impassive until he noticed Lionel’s expression morph, then Kay donned a superior smirk of his own. “It’s none of my business if you miss mum.” He raised and lowered his hands as if he were trying to calm down his brother. Still, in spite of his less than serious approach to the topic, he understood where Lionel was coming from. Kay hadn’t even bothered to stay in Farra upon graduating, simply gathering his belongings and dumping them in the extra room of the flat with promises of repayment. He could not (and did not want to) imagine the infuriating noses over his shoulder, hovering, prodding him about employment, the way he spent his free time… He would never get away with his lackadaisical tendencies there. His mum would probably have a conniption if she knew he spent his off days sleeping in until midday.

He mulled over the options presented to him carefully, clasping his hands together and pressing the tips of his thumbs against the bridge of his nose. “Definitely B,” he stated, moving his hands forward so that they pointed to Lionel. Kay was waiting for the punchline to the joke he remained convinced was being told. As a silence lingered, the look of disbelief reappeared on his face, interchanging occasionally with one of suspicion. Finally, he decided to bite. “What’s her name?” he asked tentatively. He didn’t give Lionel time to answer before jumping to his feet. “Clementine?” Kay questioned, analysing Lionel’s expression for any takeaways. The younger Sterling kept an inscrutable facial appearance. “Or is it someone else? What’s wrong with her? Is she visually challenged – she must be.”

"Yeah, you can have that, no contest," Lionel nodded swiftly, conceding a label he'd pay sickles to escape if he had to. "In fact, maybe you should give up potioneering and look into comedy. I hear it's become quite lucrative," he deadpanned, although admittedly there was only so much lower they could go in terms of wages. "You know, Kay, I might even believe that if I didn't know how much amusement you derive from said suffering. It's the only reason you put up with me, after all." Whatever else he could say about his brother, the one constant was that he needed to be entertained.

Lionel sighed. "I'm admittedly quite flattered, but also offended you think I have the conceit to paint myself sitting outdoors of all places." Upon Kay's first guess, he stuck his face forward, squinting at Kay as if he needed every inch to see, or to convey his incredulity. "Well, Kay, your not being able to read" he gestured at the painting he'd tossed over, lying neglected on the mattress, "certainly explains a lot about your difficulties advancing in the guild. If I'd known about this years ago perhaps I would have been able to put you on a remedial course. Alas, I'm afraid it's far too late for that now. I never did believe it's never too late to learn some things." He shook his head. "You know, just because you're obsessed with one of the Russells doesn't mean we all have to be. Oh wait, I'm smarter than you, and have come to the really not that difficult conclusion that Slytherins are much easier to deal with than Gryffindors."

"It's Blythe Alston, she's in the year below you, and really, visually challenged people don't paint well, from my understanding. Okay, how about this. A., Lionel has a girlfriend, or B., Lionel voluntarily left the house three days ago when he had a complete supply of potion ingredients, stationery, and food, and was deep in the middle of a book about the links between string theory and Conjuration, just to...get some sun, or something," he said dismissively, midday sun from the window glinting off his pale skin.