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“Ae.” At the call of his name, Ae turned from the breakfast table to find his boyfriend staring down at him. His smile outshone the morning sun pouring in through the windows, and it was too infectious for Ae not to return it.

He swung his legs over the bench, rising to stand beside him. “Good morning,” he said, stroking his fingers through Pete’s soft hair. “Have you eaten already?”

Pete nodded. “I just wanted to come wish you good luck.” He was referring to Gryffindor’s Quidditch match. Kongpob had worked the team to the bone this last week, and Ae was more than ready to send his house one step closer to the finals.

While his boyfriend’s sentiments were sweet, he couldn’t help but feel confused. “But we’re playing against Hufflepuff today,” he pointed out, glancing down to the yellow tie around Pete’s neck. He would prefer if his boyfriend only had his eyes on him during the match, but he couldn’t blame him for supporting his own house.

“I know,” he said, leaning in a bit closer so that he could whisper into Ae’s ear. “But I’ll still be cheering for you.” A shiver ran down Ae’s spine. If only he wasn’t minutes away from going down to the Quidditch pitch. Otherwise, he would have shown Pete just how thankful he was for the support.

Instead, he settled for pinching one of his cheeks, tugging on it gently. “Thank you, Ai Koon Chai,” he said. “I’ll be sure to make you proud.”

“You always do.” Pete really wasn’t making things easy for him. “You also look so handsome.” Ae caught the way Pete’s eyes flashed up and down over his crimson uniform as well as the not so innocent flush to his face. “I’m lucky to have such a great boyfriend.”

“That’s my line.” He was just about to give Pete a kiss before he was tugged back by his hood. Looking over his shoulder, he glared at the culprit. “You asshole.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Pond said, wide grin reading that he was far too happy with himself. “But P’Kongpob called for a team meeting before the match, and I don’t need our best Beater being hit with his own bat for making the captain angry.” He looked over Ae’s shoulder, grin turning to one of his devilish smirks. “Don’t worry, Ai’Pete. You’re invited to our victory party later. Just don’t forget the silencing charm around the bed curtains, alright?”

Ae made sure to punch his shoulder just light enough so that his game performance wasn’t inhibited too badly.

Wrapping his arms around Wayo’s waist, Pha snuggled against his back. “I’m going to get in trouble for being here,” he told him, though he knew his boyfriend wasn’t paying much attention. He had dragged him to the Hufflepuff stands with the excuse of being cold and needing body heat, and Pha just didn’t have the heart to say no to someone so cute.

So there he was, blue robes standing out against all the yellow, as they watched the Quidditch match unfold. Gryffindor was up by ten points, and Wayo, the competitive little badger that he was, was taking it quite personally.

“Come on, P’Beam!” he shouted, hands cupped around his mouth. “Who cares if your boyfriend is on the other team? Crush him!”

Pha shook his head, focusing more on playing with Wayo’s fingers than the game. He was a neutral party in all of this; his house wasn’t competing, and he had friends on both teams. Who won didn’t matter much to him.

What did matter was his boyfriend’s happiness and more so, his safety. Because while he was glad Wayo was enjoying himself, he was leaning over the barrier far too much for Pha’s liking. He kept having to pull him back against his chest. “If I wasn’t here, you would fall and be forced to drink Skele-Gro.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Wayo said, reaching behind him to smack Pha on the chest without taking his eyes off the field. “If Ravenclaw was playing, you’d be even worse. I’ve seen how quickly you make those dives when you’re in the air. And you’re telling me I need to be more careful?”

Pha’s chin came to rest on Wayo’s shoulder. “Is that your way of saying you worry about me?” he asked, voice low with lips pressed against the side of his neck.

His boyfriend, who had always had much more self-control than he, only patted his head. “Someone has to watch out for you. What would happen if you messed up your face? You’d be nothing without it.” Pinching his side, Pha laughed. His boyfriend teasing him would never get old.

He suddenly felt Wayo freeze in his arms. “P’Beam?” He was quiet, eyes blown wide. Pha turned back to the pitch to see a flash of yellow falling from the sky. “P’Beam!”

The next few moments went by too quickly for Pha to remember properly. All he knew was that one of his best friends had been soaring through the air on his broomstick, and now he wasn’t. He didn’t know what to do, but he’d lose it if he sat there and did nothing at all.

Untangling himself from Wayo, he grabbed his hand and headed for the stairs. “P’Pha?” Wayo asked, voice shaky. “Where are we going?”

“Hospital Wing,” he said with little explanation. He didn’t have the right words to say, but he had to get to Beam and he didn’t want Wayo anywhere close to the skies right now. Once they were on the ground, he’d feel much better.

 …

“Congratulations on winning the game,” Beam said, and Forth swore he could punch him right then and there. The rest of their friends had left, leaving them with well wishes. He had barely had time to process anything that had happened within the last hour, and he felt as though his head was about to explode. “I heard P’Aim caught the snitch after the match restarted.”

He was about to yell, tell Beam how stupid he sounded until he took a good look at him. His pale skin was littered with dark bruises that would surely take days to fade. The rest of his body, still covered in his yellow Quidditch robes, couldn’t have looked much better. He was lucky he hadn’t broken anything.

Dropping into the chair beside his hospital bed, Forth took his hand in his, ducking his chin and resting it against his forehead. When he’d seen Beam fall, everything had gone completely silent, and his vision had gone red. Never in his life had he flown so fast. He knew that if he wasn’t quick enough to save him, he would never forgive himself. But Kongpob had beat him to it, broomstick skidding to the ground as he softened Beam’s blow. Hogwarts’s Golden Boy indeed. He’d really have to find him later and thank him for what he’d done.

But for now, he had to take care of his reckless boyfriend. “You scared the shit out of me,” he said glancing up at him as he held his hand tighter. “Do you know how worried I was?”

Even with a split lip, Beam looked beautiful when he smiled. He saw him wince when the wound pulled, but he still kept on smiling. Forth hated that it was probably for his sake. “You’re always worried about me,” he pointed out.

“And I have good reason to be,” he hissed. “Look what happened.”

“It’s just a couple of bruises. I’ll be fine in a couple of day.”

Rationally, Forth knew that. But he couldn’t help but think about if it had been more than that. Beam took both of his hands in one of his, and it was only when he felt how secure Beam’s were that he realized that his were shaking.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I promise I’ll be more careful from now on. But I’m fine. P’Kongpob was there for me to land on. And if he hadn’t, I know you would have.” He kissed his knuckles as he tried to lighten the mood. “So stop worrying. You’re going to get frown lines and ruin your cute face.”

His boyfriend may have been stupid and careless, but Forth loved him regardless. He leaned across the bed to kiss the bruise on Beam’s cheek. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Kissing you,” he said, smiling as he moved to the one on his chin. “So that I can make it all better.”

Arthit stood outside the Quidditch pit, waiting for his boyfriend, thoughts spinning through his head. He’d been worried when he saw Beam fall off of his broom, but he was downright petrified when he saw Kongpob go after him. His heart was still beating twice as fast against his ribs.

He admired how selfless Kongpob was. It was one of his favorite things about him. But there were times when he was too selfless. Allowing Beam to fall on him was where he drew the line. He knew he was strong and could take a lot, but Arthit’s heart couldn’t.

“Hey,” Kongpob called, running up to meet him. Despite what had happened, he still had his handsome smile on his face. “Sorry for keeping you. I was trying to get the professors to schedule a rematch. It’s not exactly a fair win when one of the other team’s players gets hurt, is it? Were you waiting long?”

It was as though Kongpob didn’t even care about his own wellbeing. Sometimes, Arthit feared that were the case. He was always so concerned for everyone else that he forgot about himself. That’s where he came in; to remind Kongpob that he wasn’t infallible.

“Where are you hurt?” he asked bluntly. Kongpob cocked his head to the side, but Arthit was not having it. “Beam fell off of a broomstick on top of you, Kong. There’s no way that you walked away uninjured. So I’ll ask again: where are you hurt?”

The guilty look that crossed Kongpob’s features almost made Arthit drop the subject entirely. Almost. He was only doing this because he knew that Kongpob would never admit it otherwise.

“It’s just my ribs,” he said. “But it really doesn’t hurt that much, I’m sure in a few days it will be fine – what are you doing?”

Arthit had started to poke around Kongpob’s torso, waiting for the reaction he wanted. And he got it when Kongpob let out a low hiss. He was hiding bruises underneath his Quidditch robes. “P’Arthit, I’m fine, really.”

“Nothing about this is fine, Kongpob.” How could he so easily care about everyone else but not himself? “Do you know how worried I was for you? I saw you go after Beam and then he landed on you and I swore you broke something and you made me wait here thinking about it–”

“Hey,” Kongpob soothed, taking hold of both of his arms. “I’m fine, see? Besides my ribs, nothing hurts. In a couple days, I’ll be back to normal. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about, okay?”

Arthit sighed and nodded. He knew he could be overbearing, but who could blame him? His boyfriend did the stupidest things.

“But if you’re really that worried.” He leaned in to smile wider. “You could always give it a kiss. I hear they work better than magic.”

Arthit pushed him away and stomped past him, ignoring Kongpob’s laughter. He took it all back. He didn’t care one bit about this idiot.

Tin patted Can’s head as he continued to whine into his shoulder. After the match had ended, he’d been dragged to an empty stairwell and met with a lap full of his very upset, very clingy boyfriend. He couldn’t necessarily say he minded that second part, but after an hour of listening to Can complain, he’d just about had enough.

“It’s just not fair,” he said for the tenth time that hour. “P’Beam got hurt! They should have postponed the match! Or at least given us a redo!”

Tin wisely chose to not mention that Beam’s absence had little to do with Aim reaching the snitch before Can had. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him close so that his head was under his chin. He had to get him to stop moping somehow, and he only knew one way to go about that.

“You looked really cool today,” he said, interrupting Can from cursing the entire Gryffindor team. He blinked up at him, his wide puppy eyes making Tin smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone fly as fast as you. Just how fast do you think you were going?”

Tin didn’t care much for flying. He didn’t even care much for Quidditch. The only reason he’d started going to the games was to either spectate with Can or to watch him play. Either way, he’d end up in the Hufflepuff stands, scaring everyone with the green of his robes. But he didn’t care about anyone else. He only cared about pleasing his boyfriend.

His personality so easily flip flopping, Can broke into a wide smile as he looked up at him. “Was I really going that fast? It didn’t feel any different than it normally does. But maybe that’s because I’m always fast?” Tin shrugged and nodded. “Maybe if I train harder, I’ll be even faster than P’Tew. Then we’ll totally kick Ravenclaw’s butts!”

He continued to babble on as he had before, but he sounded much happier now. And for Tin, that made it much easier to listen. He never wanted an upset boyfriend on his hands. If he could, he would hand Can the snitch on a silver platter just so he would never have to see him cry over a trivial Quidditch match again. But if he couldn’t do that, he’d be there to lift his spirits instead and turn his frown into a smile. That smile alone was reason enough for Tin to keep listening all night long.

“Are you still worried about P’Beam?” Ming asked Kit as he handed him a chocolate frog he’d snagged from Tin’s drawers. Ever since he’d started dating Can, he’d accumulated a rather large candy collection that Ming may or may not have been stealing from for the past month.

Accepting the treat, Kit undid the wrapping slowly. “A bit. I know that he’s fine, but it’s still scary, you know? Imagine if N’Yo fell out of the air.” Ming winced. His best friend, as strong willed as he might have been, was so much smaller and more fragile than Beam. He’d be bent every which way if that happened.

“I’m sure P’Forth is taking care of him.” If there was a second, more crude meaning to that, neither of them mentioned it.

They stared up at the darkening sky for a while, not saying anything. They’d sneaked out of the dungeons to get some air. Kit would have usually scolded him for making him go against school rules, but there was no reluctance this time when Ming asked him to go.

The atmosphere between the two of them was heavy, and Ming wasn’t used to it. It felt like they had just started dating again. Kit had been so reserved and awkward while Ming had desperately tried to make things comfortable between the two of them. He hated feeling like that again.

“We’re playing against Gryffindor next,” Ming said. “We can avenge P’Beam then, yeah?”

Kit let out a breathy laugh around the head of his chocolate frog. “Are you resorting to revenge tactics now? That’s not very forthcoming of our future captain. What would P’Prem do if he heard you talking like that?”

“Probably make me fly around the pitch until I got dizzy and passed out. Which is why we don’t tell him,” Ming said, articulating each word with a tap to Kit’s nose.

Kit pushed his hand away. “Don’t be ridiculous. If we’re going to win, we’re going to win fairly.”

“How very un-Slytherin of you.” He paused before saying softly, “I’d do the same as P’Kongpob did if something like that happened to you.”

Their senior had rushed in to save Beam from a worse fate, and all Ming could think about the entire time was if Kit were in that position. He liked to think he’d help all of his friends if something like that happened to them, but if it were Kit, he would have apparated to his side.

Kit nudged him with his elbow. “Don’t sound so sad. I’m not as stupid as Beam is. I’d never fall off my broom.”

“But I’d still save you,” Ming said, touching their noses together. “Because I’m such a good boyfriend.”

Kit’s eyes flickered down to his lips, but Ming didn’t notice. He had already closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss him. Kit laughed into the kiss, and Ming had barely pulled away when he whispered, “The best of them all.”