don’t wanna fall in love… with you”
Newt smiled at him again and Percival looked away as his heartbeat went astray. It happened a lot lately. These short glances, small smiles directed at him and him only, occasional touches, which left Percival breathless…
Seeing Newt for the first time was like witnessing something extraordinaire. His eyes were glinting like a pair of diamonds: so blue, so pure, so strong. The feeling of his arms wrapping protectively around Percival’s shaky frame was warm and safe, so very much like home. His auburn curls were so soft and smelling of grass, something spicy and so nicely tickling Percival’s cheek as Newt helped him up, allowing Percival to lean onto him as they walked out of that dark place Grindelwald held him prisoner in.
Percival never dreamed about meeting someone like Newt: so passionate about what he loved, so enchantingly brave and fearless in front of danger, so caring of those he had warmed up to. His very presence changed the people around him, even if he tended to say that “I annoy people, Mr. Graves.“
When Newt was around, Percival’s world, painted in dark monotonous shades of gray suddenly got splattered by different colors he didn’t even know the names of. Suddenly, the sun shone brighter, and warmed him more. The sound of rain became soothing and the smell of flowers - pleasurable.
Percival’s life became worth living because he had Newt there, at the distance of an outstretched hand, and he knew, he knew that he had to stop before it turned into something chaotic and ugly. Because nobody truly loves no one.
He needed Newt to make him feel safe and free of Grindelwald’s shadow. Percival tried to convince himself of that so many times, but whenever his eyes met Newt’s, saw that shy, awkward smile those lips formed, Percival’s thoughts dissipated and he just dumbly stared back, looking like a complete fool in love.
Because, oh, he was. He was so in love with this magnificent person, beautiful man, utterly perfect human being.
“I never felt like this before.“ Newt murmured, almost inaudibly as they stood there, with their fingers intertwined, trying to avoid each other’s eyes.
Percival forgot how to talk, forgot how to breathe when he risked a glance at the man. Newt tried to cover with his other hand either the blush or the wetness on his freckled cheeks, while his fingers dug into Percival’s knuckles.
What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way.