my errors in your scars; anxiety panorama { phillip }

NOVEMBER 2004

They took the long way back to the common room. It wasn’t unusual for them; by now, actually, it was pretty much automatic. If there was a chance to get away from the crowd and spend some extra minutes alone, they’d take it. Or, that was the idea, anyway. In early September, they’d kissed for a minute in an empty corridor most nights after dinner. That had faded quickly, though; being all over each other wasn’t as lovely when a teacher could walk in at any moment. Billie and Phillip were both private people at heart.

They took the long way back, but Billie didn’t use the extra space to kiss him, or talk, even. She felt the weight of all kinds of things on her shoulders, and couldn’t quite shift away from introspection and internal analysis to say much. Dinner had been tense, and she wondered how everything was supposed to work when nights like this – with her friends (both Barbie and The Gryffindors) and her boyfriend – went like that. She felt anxious, and though their hands were linked, she felt very far away from him at the moment.

Phillip felt intense as they walked out of the Great Hall and took their time heading back to the common room. The wizard was thankful that whatever all that was was finally over, but he was also trapped, replaying all of the little comments over in his mind. And the way Billie seemed to shift from the person he knew to the person her friends seemed to. She had squeezed his hand every so often, enough that it had started to become some kind of cue like she was apologizing for something or warning him or some other message he didn't entirely understand. At first, it had been calming, but eventually, it made him a little anxious.

Now that it was over, he was relieved to get to spend some time with her and that she had led them down the corridor instead of straight to the tower. Ever since they had talked in Hogsmeade, things had been a little different. They had spent more time together, Phillip had noticed, but it still didn't feel one hundred percent resolved. Probably because it wasn't, but he had wanted it to be.

Tonight had brought up all of those fears again and reminded him of all the things he found irritating about her friends. Trying not to say anything rude to them had resulted in Phillip saying very little the entire dinner. Not that the loud ones seemed to mind, Phillip figured they could have full-length conversations with a mirror. He sighed as they walked, not meaning to make any sound, but it escaped his lips anyway. Phillip looked at Billie for a moment before speaking, "Well, that was... interesting?" Which he supposed was not really a lie?

It was over, but she still felt nervous. Why did she still feel nervous? Probably, a logical voice in the back of her head told her, because it hadn’t gone well, and that wasn’t a good sign for the future.

Phillip meeting Kendrick had felt like a huge, huge deal in her head before it had happened. She’d felt sick with anxiety that day – but it had been mostly unfounded. Though the actual afternoon tea they’d had together had been mildly mortifying the entire time, subsequent dinners and handshakes and meetings had felt far more relaxed; it had gotten to a point in the summer where Billie could leave them alone together for a moment and not feel like a ball of nerves the whole time.

This was different though. Why had she thought it would be easier for her friends and her boyfriend to get along than her boyfriend and… Whatever Kendrick was – her guardian? Billie felt confused about her Gryffindor friends, and why they didn’t seem to like Phillip, and confused about Phillip and why he seemed especially hostile with them – as opposed to say, Barbara or Aase. The whole thing felt too wrong to her, and the easiest conclusion she could come to was that she’d done something wrong.

Interesting? She didn’t know what to say to that. “Yes,” she agreed politely, but her tone was less committed than her one-word agreement.

Although the teenager felt like he didn't have anything good to say, walking in silence made him more anxious than before, her friends had been less than stealthy with their dislike of him, and a part of Phillip had expected Billie to apologize for them by now. He didn't demand it, but it would have been nice since he went to Dinner even though he hadn't wanted to in the first place. For this reason, exactly, he wasn't blind, and he certainly wasn't deaf, they didn't like him, and the feeling was mutual. Barbara was okay, but she was also the only other Ravenclaw at the table. The rest of them either ignored him or said things he was pretty sure we're supposed to annoy him, like bringing up the movies Billie had gone to with Killian over the summer. As if he needed more things to worry about.

"I'm glad it is just us now," Phillip admitted, but there was not an ounce of apology in his eyes for saying it out loud. After Hogsmeade, he wondered if all of this would come up again. It hadn't really felt resolved then, and it certainly wasn't now, but at the same time, Phillip didn't want to be the one to start the conversation. He wanted her to say something, so he would keep hinting until eventually his already nearly nonexistent patience wore off. While he hated that Billie was put in between her friends and himself, Phillip didn't know how to stop it either. He'd agreed to go to their dinner, he'd tried to play nice (which for Phillip meant being gloomy and quiet), but they kept provoking.

"I don't think your friends like me very much," The wizard added, shrugging slightly as the frown resurfaced on his face. Not that he cared, there was only one fifth-year he wanted to be around, and she was walking next to him.

When he said he was glad that it was just the two of them, Billie nodded. She already knew he hadn’t wanted to be there, and even if she hadn’t, she was so attuned to him now that she immediately felt his relief as soon as they were away from the others. “Me too,” she answered honestly, but it didn’t make her feel closer to him. Her expression was relaxed and unreadable, her eyes moving from painting to suit of armour to window as they approached each in turn.

She didn’t answer right away. For a moment, the blonde was caught between wanting to dismiss his words – it felt polite to reassure him that he was liked – and apologising; it was her fault that he’d had to sit through it, after all. She was quiet for a moment, having some trouble distancing herself from obsessively going over every little comment and look any given pair in the group had shared throughout the night. “I’m sorry, Phillip” she said. Both options were polite, but her guilt always weighted her towards apologies. She glanced at him when she said it, hand squeezing, automatically going through the motions. When Phillip was distant, he was distant through silences and moodiness, but Billie’s only emotionally distant respite was politeness.

She had agreed, and that made him feel a little better, but only a little. Phillip didn't want her to stop hanging out with her friends (yes, yes he did, but he'd never admit that), but he was glad when it was just the two of them again. He didn't feel comfortable around the rest of them, but he had never really liked big groups or social settings. Phillip had very few friends for a very clear reason. He wasn't a good friend to have, he didn't like being around people, and he was the opposite of fun. Somehow, somewhere along the way, Billie had found this other version of him buried deep underneath all of the cynical nonsense, but that version was reserved for her and her alone.

Billie squeezed his hand like she had many times tonight, and Phillip wanted to smile because of it, but it never came. The squeeze felt different, apologetic, but reminding him that she shouldn't have to apologize. "It's alright," he began, I don't like them either, Phillip left the second part out, pausing awkwardly before nodding. "St. Andrew's is a stupid holiday too," Phillip projected, he hated more than just the Scottish traditions, but what good would saying any of it out loud really do? Instead, he was quiet again, his eyes trailed away from her and toward the corridor, the walk feeling longer than normal.

She glanced at him when he said it was fine, then offered a small, polite smile when he commented on the holiday. Billie didn’t know much about the holiday, but she doubted that it was the holiday’s fault for being stupid. She was used to her boyfriend being negative about that sort of thing; Phillip thought a lot of holidays were stupid. Most of the time his negativity was something she met with patience and grace; she knew that being open and gentle was the best way to reach him, even when he didn’t want to be reached.

Right now, though, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be reached. It was entirely different to how she usually felt with him; most of the time she wanted him to read her like a book. She wanted to be open, kind, ready to meet him wherever he was at. Was it selfish of her, she wondered, to feel distant? Selfish to seem distant, at least. She felt appropriately guilty for it, but it didn’t make anything better. It didn’t make her more present, or less nervous. She wished she was here with Barbie instead, and then felt immediately guilty for that too.

Her smile was small, reserved even, and even though he was used to Billie being quiet, this felt different. Enough that it alarmed Phillip. The pair could spend hours saying very little, just enjoying each other's company, but this didn't feel like that. This felt strained, like things that needed to be said between them that just weren't being said. It made Phillip uncomfortable, and he did not handle it very well. Phillip chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, considering the way she hadn't said a word, and then decided to say something.

"Are you okay?" The wizard asked, turning to face her a little better even as they continued their walk toward the tower. "What are you thinking?" If there were something on Billie's mind, she would tell him, right? Phillip assumed that she would; she had only ever been open and honest with him, in her reserved, polite kind of way. And he trusted that she would let him know if he had done something wrong at the dinner. Not that he would see it that way, but he would at least try to listen. Her friends had been rude all night, Phillip thought, so the idea that Billie was upset with him was a strange one, but he felt like something was wrong. And his mind went to very dark places if left to its own devices.

“Hmm?” She glanced at him politely, with her eyebrows slightly raised, when he asked if she was okay. Billie wasn’t good at lying – at least not about things like this. She was used to him knowing how she felt, and felt like he could probably see it in her expression. They were just about to ascend a small set of steps, though, so took it as a chance to look away, glancing at the step in front of her instead of meeting his eyes. Her chest hurt, and the anxiety had not yet abated; it was a gentle tug in her tummy. Not enough to pull her under waves, but just enough churning to make her feel slightly sick.

“Thinking about dinner, I suppose” she answered honestly. He’d asked two questions in a row; she chose to answer the second. “And prefect things,” she added, wondering if it would annoy him that she was thinking about her responsibilities and not thinking about him. Or, her responsibilities as a prefect as opposed to her responsibilities as a girlfriend. How was she supposed to fit all of this together? It felt like an insurmountable task, perhaps the only time where she’d felt like Phillip wasn’t on her side.

"And prefect things," The first half of what she said had made Phillip nervous, but the second half had irritated him. Even after whatever that was that just happened at dinner with her friends, she was thinking about her responsibilities. If he were a better person, he would have respected her devotion to the title, but Phillip hadn't even honored the badge when he was supposed to be the one wearing it. And instead of thinking of it in terms of 'Billie had a lot of things going on,' he instead focussed on 'she'd rather be there than here, with me' And his dark, twisted version of the truth was painful. "Oh, I see," He responded without looking at her, his jaw tightening as he slipped his hands into his pockets.

Months ago, all they did was spend time together. They wrote frequently; she would say, 'I'm free for a little while,' and Phillip would apparate straight to her without writing a word in response. Now, he felt like he was struggling to even schedule the time to spend with his girlfriend. Between her friends, her duties, and her studies, he felt like the thing that was being pushed to the side. The one that demanded too much attention and received very little in return. Phillip selfishly wished she would drop something, despite the growing fear that she would drop him instead.

Billie couldn’t help but frown slightly, feeling that familiar swell of distress as she searched. She felt confused, conflicted. There was a part of her that said that he was being unreasonable, but... it was in her nature to shy away from those kinds of thoughts.

In fact, she felt guilty for thinking it at all – if he felt jealous or neglected, then wasn’t that her fault?

Oh, I see. His tone made her frown deepen, and against her own will she slowed to a stop on the staircase. He was a step above her, and between his height and her anxiety, his presence felt imposing. Wasn’t he supposed to help her navigate these things, too? Was it all on her? Had she done something wrong? Billie felt confused, hurt and guilty in equal measures. “Do you know their names, Phillip?” She met his gaze, then looked away, the frown still lingering on her expression. “My friends,” she clarified unnecessarily.

Phillip imagined the conversation would continue on the way, so many of them had in the past few weeks. He would be terse and irritable, Billie quiet and apologetic, and eventually, they would find some common ground or change the subject, but something different happened. Billie stood her ground. Of course, it was in the most polite sort of way; even though she was frowning, she barely met his eyes. It left Phillip feeling unbalanced, even though he was standing firmly on the steps up the tower.

"Um, yeah?" He said, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but that was partially a lie. He knew Killian's name, but it wasn't because he was making an effort to be the other wizard's friend. Phillip was pretty sure the other Ravenclaw, who was quiet like Billie, also had a B-sounding name but doubted that would count for anything. The others were just the loud Gryffindor girls and the random angry Hufflepuff boy. "Why does that matter?" He deflected, but Phillip wasn't very good at lying, it didn't agree with him, and that wrote discomfort all over his face. "I know Killian's name."

Why does that matter?

Billie didn’t say anything. Why did it matter? Well, other than Phillip, those were the people she spent the most time with; didn’t he care about what she did, the way that she existed, outside of him? That made sense to her, first, but the part of her that had difficulty contradicting him was there too — asking the same question he did. Their connection, their space was the most important part, wasn’t it? So — why did it matter? She felt confused, wanting to nod and apologise and let it go, but finding a strange, pained feeling in her chest preventing her from doing it properly.

She parted her lips to speak, but then he mentioned Killian and she shut them. Pressed them together in a small, unhappy line. So it was Killian again. She’d been more distant with her Gryffindor friend of late, and really hoped Killian hadn’t noticed. She’d been working on prioritising Phillip, and it did take “work”, with all of her responsibilities. She looked back up at him — so much taller than her, standing like that, on the step above hers — and registered his discomfort. She wondered what it meant, what she should do about it. She felt quite alone again, and didn’t like the feeling.

So Billie started walking. She couldn’t stand to be in whatever emotional stalemate they were in, and she felt panicked and confused, and waiting wasn’t making it better. So she started walking, at her regular pace, moving past him and up.

"Right, then," Phillip said, his words chased by an irritated roll of his eyes. Billie moved past him on the steps, failing to continue the conversation, and Phillip felt ignored again. She had asked a question, and he had answered, and yet, she said nothing. More and more, he felt like she was running out of time for him. And if Billie couldn't even spare the time for an argument, what did they have left? His hands tucked into his pockets, stubborn and hating how needy he felt, Phillip followed her up the stairs silently. The teenager refused to carry the conversation.

So much was different now than how it had been months ago, and it would be unrealistic to blame all of that on Billie. It wasn't just that she had Prefect duties and a new group of friends that Phillip did not fit into, but their relationship's dynamic had changed. And whether Phillip understood it or not, opening the door and becoming a couple had shifted something inside of him too.

Phillip had never been in a serious relationship, and what he and Billie had built was so strong it consumed him now. He wanted to spend every second with her, he was demanding and controlling, and it wasn't healthy. Phillip found himself unable to enjoy things unless he could share them with her, and he was jealous that she had a life outside of him, especially when all he had was her.

Her heart was racing in her chest as she tried to take it all apart in her mind.

Even though she’d never imagined Killian as anything more than a friend — they’d only really started talking after her feelings for Phillip had blossomed, and Billie didn’t think she had space for more than one set of those kinds of feelings, after all — even so, she understood, to an extent. Killian was, well, a boy. And he was quite tall, and handsome, she supposed, and very clever and kind, and Billie certainly did spend a lot of time with him now, between OWL study and prefect duties. She hadn’t even sat with Phillip on the train in September this year.

The fact that it was Phillip’s first year not as a prefect probably also irked him too, because even though he’d been sort of rubbish at it, and disliked the responsibility, they could have spent a lot more time together currently if he was one. And Killian was one of the people she spent that time with now. A part of her wondered if he was jealous of the group, too; she’d more or less been a loner for her first few years at Hogwarts, and she’d occasionally felt a pang of something seeing groups of friends laughing together. And then, he was a little older — sometimes she didn’t feel adequately mid-teens enough to match Nola and Mavis’ enthusiasm, and Phillip had just turned eighteen — so maybe he hated that he didn’t fit. She understood that, she thought, getting to the top of the stairs and turning down a familiar right-hand path.

But, Barbara? Barbara had been her only friend for years, and even if she was closer to Killian now, Barbara was still her best friend, because in relationships, history mattered too. Billie had faced quite a bit of instability in her young life, and being steadfast? Dependable? There was a part of her that had learned to expect to lose the things, the people, she had. So those things mattered to her. Barbara mattered to her. It pained her a little that they’d decided to go back to Ravenclaw tower together, and let Barbie walk at least some of the way alone.

It bothered her that he hadn’t said her name.

But.

But it was difficult for her to stay bothered, or upset, with him. Even now, her frustration was shifting rapidly to guilt. She knew that Phillip loved her, and despite having quite a developed ability to believe two things — even seemingly conflicting things — at once, Billie had great difficulty thinking badly of people who cared about her. People she cared about? Same thing. It hurt her to think badly of her parents, and they were, well — So Phillip didn’t get along so well with her friends. So he didn’t know all of their names, even after all of this time. Was that so much of a problem? Did it need to be?

Her thoughts chased themselves around in her mind, and she undermined herself and her feelings a lot in the process.