drunk on the pitch {open}

He rubbed his arms at the coldness surrounding him. Griff had never been one who particularly enjoyed the cold, having been born in the middle of winter, and the thought of anything below 70 degrees made him involuntary shiver. He had traveled across the world many times over, had seen many places that he would have loved to stay, yet he couldn’t. He knew most people would kill have his life. To inherit millions of riches, but Griff doesn’t. He loves his freedom, the control he has over his own life, and destiny, and it saddens him that he will one day have to “sell his soul to his future.” He sometimes thinks there was something wrong with him for wanting to give up, the power, the riches, and the girls. But I digress, he was really cold.

He leaning against one of the poles out on the quidditch pitch, a bottle of firewhiskey open beside him. . It was really late at night, with there being only a couple more hours before sunrise. He had always liked nighttime best. There was just a stillness at night that the daytime didn’t have, and he loved that. He also enjoyed the animals that came out at night. He liked the chirping sounds of the crickets, and the splashing of the frogs as they hopped from one end of the pond the next. He loved hearing the owls talk to one another, and watching the animals he didn’t get to see during the day interact with each other. Griff leaned back on the pole and looking out into the darkness, took a swig of his drink, and let his mind wonder.

When he was younger after his father, and siblings, went to bed, he would sneak out of his house, and go sit by the pond at the edge of his house. He came back time and time just to be alone. It had been a rarity in his house. He did after all live in a house with seven 7 other people, running in an out, not to mention all of his father’s business associates coming in and out. He pulled a cigarette out of his back pocket, and began to smoke it. He didn’t smoke often, only when he was super stressed, or when he was cold, and yeah he was pretty fucking cold. He could go home, but he didn’t want to. Not yet at least. So he sat there, on someone else’s car, and stared out into the darkness. Something was going to happen, he wasn’t sure what just yet, but he couldn’t go yet.