11:39 P.M. - Room 203, Irma's Inhabitants

Mental collapse. It was never something Altair expected. Sadly, it wasn't the first time it had happened to him. He had been a victim of his own mind since his seventh year at Hogwarts. Believing it stemmed from his relationship with his ex-boyfriend, Altair vehemently and constantly blamed him, even though he wasn't anywhere near him to blame. Sometimes, he'd catch himself screaming the old flame's name, usually with conviction, sometimes with fear.

Altair was curled up in a ball in a corner of his apartment. His eyes were wet, and tears stained his white, button-up shirt and khaki shorts. The pets, a kneazle and crup, were watching him from the sofa. They always tended to stay away from him when he started sobbing, cursing under his breath, basically not being the happy-go-lucky guy he usually was. They knew they wouldn't get a pat on the head when he was like this, so they chose to just watch.

"I.. I... I... ne-need to..." He was sobbing to himself and his breath was catching at different intervals. "...ne-need to talk to-to someone." Slowly, Altair made himself rise from the ground. He walked, zombie-like, still crying, to a cabinet in his bedroom and removed a piece of parchment and a writing utensil. Keeping his face away from the paper as to not let any wet drops touch it, he started writing a quick letter:

Lance,

I know it's late. But I'm about collapse over something, and I shouldn't be alone right now. I think you've been here before, but just incase - I'm at Irma's Inhabitants, Diagon Alley, and my room number is 203.

Altair

With as much force as he could muster, he took himself out of his apartment and to the owlery room in the complex. He picked the one he thought quickest, and tied it to the owl. Whispering the address in the owl's ear, he grabbed a snack, fed her, and took her out to fly off. "Please, get there as fast as you can." As he watched her fly, he went back to his room, and started crying again.

Lance had just got home from work when he heard the owl pecking at his window. He opened it and took the parchment from its mouth, quickly reading over it. He was relieved it wasn’t from the Ministry asking him to come back to work for some more overtime.

He was concerned about his friend, but it wasn’t exactly the first time he’s had a break down. Over some long lost love or some damn thing like that. He was far more sensitive than Lance was. Plus he was gay, which Lance was fine with. They had been best friends since Hogwarts. Altair helped him get through the loss of his brother during the battle of Hogwarts, they were there together during it all.  Than when his fiancé called off the wedding a week before they were to be married, Altair was there to cheer him up.

As tired as he was, he needed to go to him. He always did.

Lance grabbed his coat and apparated out front of Irma’s Inhabitants and made his way to his room, knocking at the door. “Hey pal, you alright?” He called through the door when he didn’t come right away.

Outside didn't match Altair's apartment. It was clear skies, and the stars were out in full brightness. It was enough to make Altair cry even more. "Why doesn't the world match me? Where do I fit in?" He was muttering this to himself. His tears were drying on his cheeks, and he was now stopped up. The crying had ceased momentarily, but only just.

Now he was situated on the sofa. His pets had moved to their cushions under the window, still watching him, still waiting on him to stop. He had a cup of hot pumpkin juice with a shot of absinthe in it. Sure, it was hard alcohol, but it was only a shot, and that would be all he would allow himself. Heck, if anyone knew he had the drink, he might be in trouble.

“Hey pal, you alright?”

There was a knock on the door, followed by a familiar voice. It was Lance. His best friend had received the letter quickly. Altair would have to thank that owl next time he saw it. "Oh, thank God! You're here!" Altair yelled as he set his cup down and rushed to the door. He swung it open and stood there, his face looking a mess. His apartment wasn't exactly nice to look at either, and he wondered how Lance would take to this.

Lance took a good long look at his face. He’d seen him at his worse before, plenty of times, so it wasn’t a surprise. He put is hand on his shoulder and raised a brow to him. “So what is it now? Hmm? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t wait for him to answer and just walked into his apartment and crashed onto his sofa. He looked around at the mess his apartment was. Lance thought he was bad. He didn’t like to admit it, but he did allow his mother to come over so often to clean his cottage. He better things to do with his spare time.

"You know I just got off work, I'm tired and you're lucky I'm here." He joked.

As Lance just walked on in, Altair stood there, still tearing up. He knew Lance well enough to just let him walk in. Altair had been there for him when his brother was gone during the last battle at Hogwarts and when his fiancé called off the engagement. He knew Lance through thick and thin, so Lance was always going to be there for him when he needed him.

"You know I just got off work, I'm tired and you're lucky I'm here."

Altair looked at him sitting on the couch. His two pets were already on Lance, knowing he'd pet them and love on them. "Oh shut up." He said to Lance. He moved himself from the door to the couch, where he pushed the pets down, and took his spot next to Lance on the couch.

His tears were starting to subside now that Lance was here. Looking straight ahead, he started talking. "I just don't know. I'm sick of myself. Of my mess." He crouched over. "I have to move on. But when I try, I cry. I sob. I curl up over there." He pointed to the corner next to the window. "Lance. I hate myself."

"I have to move on. But when I try, I cry. I sob. I curl up over there. Lance. I hate myself."

Lance leaned back on the couch and rolled his eyes at him. He sometimes wished he were a more sensitive man. "Move on? Your still not talking about that Slytherin are you? That was six years ago. So yeah, you need to move on! Get over it! Whatever!" A hint of frustraton was in his tone.

"You need to find someone else who will make you even more miserable." He chuckled. "Hey, love sucks, I know that. I got over it. Alcohol really helps you know. It worked for me." He sighed and paused for a moment to look over at him. "You really need to stop saying I hate myself. It really pisses me off man. You're better than that."

Sitting there, he felt Lance's presence next to him. The guy was not as sympathetic to Altair as he was for him. Altair would have wished for him to act a little nicer, but at least he was here, supporting him like the great friend he was. And that was all he could really ask for.

"Move on? Your still not talking about that Slytherin are you? That was six years ago. So yeah, you need to move on! Get over it! Whatever!"

Altair almost pushed Lance when he said that. Sad thing was, his friend was right. He needed to get over it. He had been pulling it out long enough. "Why do you have to go and get all hard-arse on me?" He looked over at him, gave him a small shove in the leg, and then looked back down.

"... You're better than that."

He looked over at him again. This time, Altair kind of cracked a small smile. "You're too kind." He kicked him in the shin, lightly. "Sometimes." Getting up now, he walked over to the kitchen and wiped his face. "I shouldn't act like a sobbing git. I'm sorry." He leaned against the counter, and his kneazle started scratching his leg. He let his arms down to to let her up. She leapt into his arms and curled up there. "It's late, past midnight. You can sleep here if you'd like. I'll gladly give up my bed."

"Ooch!" Lance shot him a dirty look after he kick him. "Hey, you know how I am. I chase criminals all day, I have to be a hard-arse. Sorry if I'm not being sensitive but it's hard to switch gears after getting off a shift."  He stood up and followed him to the kitchen.

"I shouldn't act like a sobbing git. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you shouldn't. Why don't you come and work a shift with me one night. That will toughen you up pretty damn fast." He said before opening up his fridge for something to drink.

"It's late, past midnight. You can sleep here if you'd like. I'll gladly give up my bed."

Lance turned around and gave him a scowling look. "You're not giving up your bed. I'm not that tired that I can't apparate home. But if you need me to stay than I'll take the couch. As long as your little creatures don't crawl all over me."

"You're not giving up your bed. I'm not that tired that I can't apparate home. But if you need me to stay than I'll take the couch. As long as your little creatures don't crawl all over me."

Situating himself on the kitchen counter, Altair sat Indian-style, his kneazle curled up in his lap. He rubbed her head and scratched her ears, giving her the purr-fect attention she so deserved, or at least thought she did. "Lance, this is my apartment. If I give up my bed, the only other human being here to sleep in it would be you. I'm not letting this fur balls catch their "Z's" in my covers." His pets gave him mean looks.

"Yeah, you shouldn't. Why don't you come and work a shift with me one night. That will toughen you up pretty damn fast."

Watching him lean down to open the fridge, Altair caught a quick peek at his behind, admiring it and smiling before Lance turned back around. "The only thing I have in there is water, pumpkin juice, and my favorite muggle beverage - Southern Style American Sweet Tea." He laughed once, and then stared again, then quickly caught himself when he kneazle stuck her claws in once to let him know he shouldn't.

His friend scowled at him and he laughed. "Oh Lance, did your mother never tell you that you look so much better when you smile?" He leaned his arm out and pushed Lance's lips into an upward position. "There, so much hotter." He laughed again. "I'm glad you're here. I think you're the one friend I needed to cheer me up, and look!" He paused and smiled happily, "You've done it!"