Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I’m driftwood and I’m floating out to sea

As sun descends upon my home

And likewise, heaven’s work of art, a mauve

surrounding me, now permeates my soul.

————

James wants to die. That’s what he tells himself as the concrete swirls below, blending with the snow in a haze of grey and white. Six stories down, students huddle for warmth, unaware of the fight waging overhead.

It would be easy. A step forwards, a rush of wind, then nothing. Over in seconds.

He can’t bring himself to do it.

“It probably won’t hurt,” a voice calls out from beside him, infuriatingly calm compared to the whirlwind that is James' mind. He’s perched on the other side, looking down at the ground with a distant look, like it doesn’t really matter all that much to him if a gust of wind blew him off.

James doesn’t even know the boy's name anymore. In another life he did. Black hair, dark features, a permanent smirk.

He looks so much like Sirius, it hurts, stabbing him in the chest with such force he almost falls unintentionally. And then it’s just funny. Now, of all times? If there is a god, he’s laughing from the heavens at the irony. The boy beside him is Sirius’s brother.

“Or, you could grab the railing.”

James follows his gaze to the metal handle, mere feet from where he’s standing. It seems a world away yet so close at the same time.

“It’s up to you, I’ll only be permanently scarred by the image of you on the concrete if you jump.”

That smile, god it hurts, possible more than jumping would. It’s such a painful reminder of what he lost.

Down below, someone screams and the previously oblivious crowd of students look up. James can feel their eyes boring into his skull, judging him.

“DON’T SAVE ME, YOU’LL JUST HURT YOURSELF!” Regulus screams, directing every person in the crowd back to him. James knows what he’s doing and god, he’s so grateful. If it looks like James is trying to save Regulus, no one is going to call him out for being on the roof in the first place.

“JUMP ALREADY!” Someone shouts from below. An unfamiliar head of black hair. It’s not directed at James but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

Laughter echoes up through the wind and James wants to do it just to prove them wrong. Fuck all of them. They don’t even deserve the air they’re breathing. Yelling up at a kid like his life doesn’t matter.

It’s funny. Even after James has decided his life is worthless, he can still see the worth in others.

“Take the railing, James.” The boy on the roof instructs, dancing across the thin barrier to move closer. James wants to scream at him to be careful but that seems a little hypocritical.

James doesn’t want to take the railing. But he’s not sure he wants to jump anymore either. He’s frozen, feet locked in place, walking a thin line between life and death and simply waiting for something to sway him either way.

“You don’t want to do this here.”

He doesn’t. But what’s the alternative? He can’t stay on this rooftop forever. At the very least because he would freeze. Actually, he already is. It’s fucking cold in the middle of winter and his jacket is downstairs. Maybe that’s enough then. He doesn’t like the cold.

He takes the railing.

The other boy steps forwards, grabbing James by the arm and helping him from the ledge. His hands are so warm, like droplets of sunlight on his skin.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember your name. I should but I don’t.” The words feel foreign coming out, like his throat has been possessed to speak.

“Regulus. And I didn’t expect you to remember.”

James just nods mutely, his mind clinging desperately to the one piece of warmth in his current life.

“Do you think there’s such a thing as a perfect day?” Regulus asks, staring back at the ledge lille it’s a long lost lover.

“I…..I’m not sure,” he admits.

The fingertips, pressed against his bare skin are pure fire. All too soon, they leave.

“You should put on a coat,” Regulus says, taking his hand away. “It’s cold.”

For a moment James is actually shocked by the way he just leaves, disappearing into the stairwell and allowing James to stay on the roof by himself. But then, if he was going to kill himself, he would have already.

————

Pomfrey is a lovely lady. Her office smells of cloves and cinnamon and altogether too much perfume, but she’s kind, albeit a bit dim, and James doesn’t really have a say in whether he goes or not.

“I heard some interesting talk today. Something about you being on the roof?”

James has no choice, she’s only giving him the illusion of it. She knows damn well what happened today and she wants to talk about it, either he opens up or she calls home, and James really doesn’t want her calling home. He’s done a bang-up job at convincing his parents he’s fine and this would throw a major wrench in that.

“Um…..yeah,” he coughs, trying to find a voice that doesn’t sound so meek, “but I wasn’t up there to kill myself, I was talking …someone else off the roof.”

Pomfrey nods in sympathy, taking the bait like a starved fish.

“So why were you up there?”

“I just wanted some quiet.”

“Quiet from what?”

Pomfrey and her damn questions. He wishes she would just let him leave already.

“I dunno, life, my thoughts. Sirius.” Maybe if he gives her what she wants she’ll back off.

“How do you feel about life, James? Your life in particular.”

Terrific, obviously. I just found my best friend's brother trying to throw himself off the roof so clearly I’m ready to have a party. And then there’s the tiny fact of why I was even up on the roof in the first place.

He doesn’t say that though, instead he coughs again to buy time and scrounges up the words of what she wants to hear.

“Sad. Angry.”

“Why angry?” She prompts, straightening a pile of brochures on the corner of her desk.

“Because…..he was supposed to be here. We were going to get out of this town together and now I’m just alone.”

She makes a pitying noise, nodding along as he speaks. It’s all such a shame, they both know he isn’t getting anything out of this. It’s the school doing their due diligence and covering their tracks so that if James does throw himself in front of a train, or swallow a bottle of pills, they can say they did everything they could.

“It was an accident, he didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

Well no shit. James stares at her blankly. This was the therapist they made him see? He figures he might have better luck talking to a wall. Ten sessions, ten weeks and still he doesn’t feel any better. If she wasn’t just a high school guidance counselor, he would ask to see her qualifications.

“He’s still gone,” James replies, the words leaving him along with all the fight he had left.

“I know.”

More sympathy, more pity. He’s so sick of it all.

“Can I go?”

“I would like you to see me tomorrow as well, just to talk some more. I’m concerned about your assimilation back into school life.”

And what a joy tomorrow will be. James shoves the chair out from behind him, waiting until her back is turned to roll his eyes.

—-----

The bell rings and James slumps into his seat. Fucking Geography.

He might have actually liked this class. If he had someone to share it with. They could have spent the periods dropping notes back and forth and planning out all the places they were going to visit one day.

Now it’s just another stop in the barren wasteland of time killing. James wants to go to sleep. If he can’t die, then that's a pretty good second.

“So, I have a new project for you all,” punctuated with a bang, Albus drops a stack of notebooks onto his desk.

Albus Something. He insists the class call him by his first name, and refuses to tell them his last, thinking it makes him cooler. It does, but James isn’t going to admit that. As far as teachers go, Albus is one of the better ones, he cuts James a lot of slack, especially after the accident, lets him sleep in class and hand in halfway done assignments.

“Wandering.”

Wandering? James thinks, putting his head on the cool plastic wood surface of his desk.

“You’re all going to pair up and explore. Anywhere, everywhere. It could be as simple as a coffee shop, or a bookstore. It just has to be places you’ve never been before. At least three. And then, you use these notebooks to write about them.”

Albus held up a small black leather book, grinning proudly at the class.

James didn’t quite know what to make of it. Part of him was ecstatic. This was just the sort of thing Sirius would have loved. They would have had the best time exploring around, though they probably would have had to go pretty far, Sirius had been exploring this town since he was a kid, there wasn’t a place within ten miles that he hadn’t already been.

The other part though, figured it sounded like too much work for himself alone. His favourite partner was dead and nothing could bring him back. James didn’t want someone else to tag along, he wanted his best friend back.

“Partners?” A hand extended down to James, dropping a notebook next to his face.

Regulus. But he wasn’t even in this class, James was sure of it. He would have noticed, surely he would have noticed?

“What?”

“I signed us up.”

“What… as partners? You’re not in this class though.”

Regulus smirked, leaning back. “Don’t I feel special. I actually am. Have been all term. But it’s good to see how much you notice.”

No that couldn’t be true, James would have noticed. He wasn’t that oblivious to the world around him.

“So….wait, you what?”

“Partners.”

Fuck. James had been counting on just begging off to Albus, spouting some stuff about Sirius’s death and asking for a different assignment. Now he actually had to do it. With Regulus. A boy who looked far too much like his dead best friend. Fuck his life.

“Why?”

Regulus ponders this for a second before opening the book and scrawling his name in the top corner along with a phone number. His cursive is neat and loopy, not at all like James' chicken scratch.

“I want to. And you looked lonely. Here, add your name.”

He pushed the book towards James, laying the pen down on top for him.

James sat at the back corner of the class, it was easier to avoid detection that way. Now, it was proving to have another use. They were secluded, isolated from the chaos that ensued as twenty other students scrambled for partners.

“So, any ideas of places we might wander?” Regulus pulled up a chair, stolen from the empty desk beside James.

“No,” he scowls, thoroughly unimpressed with the way this day was turning out.

“Shame….well, I have a few. We can go on Saturday.”

James wondered how much pleading it would take to get him out of this assignment. Probably not a lot. One good thing about people pitying him, they let him get away with a lot. He would go after class to not hurt Regulus’s feelings. James figured he owed him that much. For now though, he had to play along.

“Go where?”

Regulus just shook his head. “You'll just have to find out….”

He didn’t like this game. If anything could be worse than being partnered up with Regulus, it would be driving in a car with Regulus. James couldn’t do that. Especially not with him. Fuck, he couldn’t even bear to be in a car with anyone at this point.

“I haven’t agreed to this yet,” he protested.

“No, but you will.”

Another cocky, self-assured smirk. Fine, he can think what he wants, act as arrogant as he pleases. After this class, James would make any excuse to get out of the project and it wouldn’t matter.

—-----

“I’m sorry James, but I think it’s time you get back on the horse. You can’t stay locked away forever. This might even do you some good.”

Fuck no. This would absolutely not do him any good. And just who the hell was Albus to say that? He wasn’t even a counselor, he had absolutely no reference to what James was going through. It was unfair.

“ I can’t,” James explained, almost begging at this point, “give me something else, anything else and I’ll do it.”

Albus pursed his lips and sat back in his chair, contemplating.

“No. This is the assignment, I’m sorry but I’m not giving you any leeway on this one.”

Well fuck him then. James turned away in a huff, letting the door slam shut behind him. God, this day was so shitty.

—-----

He prays desperately on the bike ride home, to any and every god that can get him out of this situation.

Please don’t let her have called home. Please, please please.

His parents were saints and they already lost one child. They didn’t need to worry anymore. Especially not now that James had just convinced them he was doing better. He was doing better, realistically. He was back at school, didn’t cry himself to sleep, actually no….he still did that sometimes. But regardless, he was on the up and up. If he could ignore the fact that he tried to kill himself today.

His father wasn’t home when he arrived, ditching his bike by the stairs and creeping silently into the house to gauge the mood before revealing himself.

Mum was in the kitchen, mixing something with a huge whisk in a red bowl and humming to herself. On the outside, she appeared completely normal, but James didn’t miss the peeling skin on her fingers, or the way her eyes were tinged with red.

“James, I know you’re there,” she called, plastering on a smile and waving him into the kitchen. It smelled like cake.

So far, so good. It didn’t seem like anyone had alerted her to James extracurriculars yet today. He just had to act normal and everything would be fine.

“What are you baking?”

His mum stopped for a second, eyes darting to the calendar behind his head.

“A cake,” she replied, piercing James' eyes like she wanted to pull out every emotion he was feeling and lay it bare on the granite countertop.

Was she fucking joking. A cake? That was a sick, sick joke. It was cruel. Did she expect them to sit down at the table and act like a family? Fucking blow out candles and pretend like he wasn’t dead? Sirius may not have been blood, but he was family, a brother as well as a best friend.

“Why? Why would you do that?” He had meant to sound angry but it just came out as sad.

She set the whisk down gently, wiping her hands on a towel before gesturing for James to take a seat. He reluctantly skulked to the table behind her, casting a wary eye back at the red mixing bowl.

“James, I know you’re grieving. We are too. Sirius’s death was a big loss but we need to stick together as a family.”

He was at a loss for words. It wasn’t right. Sirius was dead and gone. He wasn’t coming back, he was never going to blow out those candles, he was never going to turn 18. It was all just a pretense of fake, plastic people pretending. Like dolls in a doll house.

“We invited Remus over too,” she continued, twisting the ring on her finger.

Oh so he was out of the hospital then. Last James had spoken to him it was the night of the accident, he and Sirius were fighting, again. They always fought back then, breaking up and getting back together, screaming at each other in parking lots, it was a mess.

They had broken up again that night. Sirius had begged James to drive him over. He had been a disaster, red puffy eyes, bruised knuckles, crying in the passenger seat while James tried desperately to fix what he could. And Remus had broken it all with two words.

It’s over.

Sirius had kept repeating it while James drove them home, frantically gluing pieces of his brother back together.

The accident wasn’t his fault. That's what the police said. It was raining, the roads were wet, he wasn’t speeding, and wasn't distracted. Except the last part was a lie. He was distracted. James had been trying so hard to keep Sirius alive that he had inadvertently killed him.

Remus was admitted later that night after he had learned what happened. James still didn’t know exactly why, his parents had thought he was too fragile to know. Deep down, James didn’t give a fuck. As far as he was concerned, Remus deserved it. He was the real reason Sirius died, why James had been distracted.

“No,” James slams a fist down on the table, “no, I don’t want him in this house. I don’t want to fucking see him.”

“You have to let this go, James. You can’t be angry forever.”

Oh but he damn well could. At least at Remus. He had cost him everything. So, no, he didn’t want to see him, especially not on what would have been Sirius’s birthday.

“I don’t care. I’m not doing it.”

His mum just shook her head, looking sadly out the window as white flakes fell from the sky.

“He’ll be here at five.”

Ten minutes. Fine. James simply wouldn’t be here when he arrived. They couldn’t make him stay.

“I won’t be.”

—-----

He doesn’t have anywhere in mind to go but right now, anywhere else is better. The snow doesn’t matter, even though it’s coming down hard. Nothing matters apart from getting the hell away from his house.

She wants to celebrate Sirius’s life? By inviting over the person who killed him? It's bullshit and James isn’t having any part in it. Remus doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve forgiveness or friendship or whatever his mum is trying to push.

He isn’t even really sure how or where he ends up, the light blanket of snow changes his perception of things and everything looks different at night. It’s outside of town, that much he knows.There’s a field next to him and something strange sitting in the middle.

Dead leaves and frost-bitten stalks crunch underfoot as he abandons the road and goes to look.

Wait. It’s a….piano? Not just a piano either, a grand piano. James sucks in a breath as he approaches, trailing one hand across the top and brushing away the snow.

Who would have dumped this here? And why? Grand pianos certainly weren’t cheap and this one didn’t seem to have any visible damages. He lingers there for a moment, hand resting on the cold black surface trying to decide if he wants to play or not.

Sirius loved hearing him play when they were younger. He would sit at the foot of their old piano and listen. Head tipped back, eyes closed. Sirius had always been obsessed with music. James almost envied him for that, he seemed to feel it so deeply.

God it’s so damn unfair. Sirius would have loved this place.

Blinking away tears, he pulls out his phone. It's half dead and the screen illuminates with a dozen missed calls and messages. He ignores them all. They seem to care so much about Remus, let them worry about him for a change.

I have three conditions. One, no cars. Two, we don’t talk about the roof. Three, I get to pick one of the places.

He thumbs the message in slowly before pressing send, fingers stiff from the cold. If he can’t bring Sirius here then at least he can bring his brother. Regulus deserves to see this. Even if it means James is now locked into doing that insipid Wander project.

—-----

The Runcible Spoon, it turns out, sells the world's worst coffee. James reflects on this while he waits for Regulus and tries very hard to stay in place. Focusing on the coffee helps, that's why he keeps drinking it, even though it’s turning to ash in his mouth and burning away the last remains of his taste buds.

It’s better than leaving. Possibly. James hasn’t made his mind up about it all yet.

He brought the bike, as requested. It’s his main form of transportation these days, what with the no driving rule still being in place. Oh, his parents fucking hate that one. But they don’t get a say in it, they didn’t almost die in the accident.

Regulus Black is fashionably late and it pisses him off. He’s doing him a favour by even being here. Ten minutes after two, he saunters up, curly black hair tinged with white snowflakes, and a wild, excited look in his eyes. He swipes the plastic cup out of James hand before he can get a word in to warn the boy. Though, not that he would have.

“Oh fucking hell, that is disgusting,” he splutters after one sip.

James takes great pleasure in this, serves him right. He takes the coffee back with a snort.

“Are you actually drinking that?” Regulus asks, raising an eyebrow and looking on with a mixture of fear and admiration.

“Yes. Actually I think it’s growing on me.” An outright lie, James has just lost the ability to taste it.

“That’s insane.”

James can feel himself smile ever so faintly. He’s never been called insane as a compliment before. It’s nice.

“So,” Regulus moves on, pulling out an honest to god paper map with four red sharpied circles, “pick. Personally, that one is my first suggestion, but we can go to any.”

He points to the closest red circle, just on the outskirts of their little town. Despite himself, James is actually curious. He studies the crinkled paper, taking in the notes in red ink, scrawled in that same overly neat cursive.

“Infinity?” he questions, nodding down at the farthest circles note where there is just one word.

“Correction, anywhere but that one. We can’t go there yet.”

“Why?”

Regulus smirks like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and James is an idiot for even bringing it up. “Because, some things need a steady build up to, it would ruin the effect if it was the first place we went.”

James rolls his eyes, half annoyed, half amused. “Well, I wanna go there”

“Nope, privileges revoked, I’m choosing now.”

He grabs the map back up, folding it exactly on the lines and shoving it back into his coat. A very nice coat, James notices. Dark brown, almost black corduroy with just a hint of green fabric peeking out from the interior. It works well for him, the dark contrast against pale skin makes his eyes pop.

“Fine.”

Under normal circumstances, this would be the opposite of fine, but today, James is feeling alright. Just this once, he can go with the flow.

—-----

James doesn’t know why he’s here, why Regulus chose this place. To him, it’s just a building full of ghosts, and James has far too many of those already.

Still, he can’t deny it’s pretty, and Regulus looks right at home here. God, just the way he looks around makes James a bit jealous; the wonder and pure adoration in his eyes. James can’t quite put a finger on why but he wants to be the cause of that. He wants to be the one to make Regulus look that way.

They climb the steps to the tower in silence, listening to how every noise seems to amplify within the wooden walls. It’s eerie but also relaxing in a way. James is starting to see the appeal.

His foot catches on the last step, sending James tumbling backwards before Regulus' hand darts out, clamping onto James' wrist and pulling him upright.

“Steady,” he murmurs, still holding on.

The contact sends a jolt of electricity down James' spine, shivering into his stomach. Regulus’s hand is warm, the same fiery heat it was on the roof that day.

Regulus takes a step back on the tiny landing, nodding upwards to the ladder, prompting James to go first. It’s a kind gesture and he takes it, pulling his hand back from the other boy and swinging up onto the first rung. The space is small, too small, and as he does so, his shoulder brushes against Regulus.

He doesn’t know why he feels so awkward all of a sudden, like the walls are closing in around them.

The ladder is even more treacherous than the stairs, every creak threatens to send him tumbling to the ground. James can’t help but picture himself landing on those worn-down stairs, neck twisted at an odd angle, limbs splayed out in every direction.

He tries not to look down.

By some miracle, they make it to the top unharmed. The belltower is smaller than it looks, about the same size as the landing and James heaves himself up, crawling to the opposite corner.

They’re so high up, he notices, higher than it looked from the ground. James doesn’t like heights.

“It’s beautiful,” Regulus whispers as he climbs onto the platform, immediately going to the edge and looking down.

There’s no railing on this roof and for the briefest of moments, James thinks he's going to jump.

He’s pretty sure that’s why Regulus was on the roof the other day. They had the same idea, but for some reason, Regulus found more worth in saving James than fulfilling his wish.

After ten agonizing seconds, Regulus steps back and takes a seat opposite James.

“I see the appeal now,” James says.

It is fucking beautiful this high up, despite his fear. They’re just above the treeline and James can almost imagine they’re the only people left in the world.

Instead of responding, Regulus just frowns and looks up. “There’s no bell,” he states.

James follows his gaze upwards and sees that above them is just empty. He smiles a bit at that.

“What?” Regulus asks, sounding disappointed.

“Well, it’s poetic isn’t it? A church with no bell? Its heart is missing, ripped away with just the body left to rot.”

Regulus smiles softly at that, looking back up with a new perspective.

“Yeah.”

They both stare up at the empty space for a moment, letting the words go unsaid. He has a feeling Regulus knows what he’s thinking. James feels like the church right now, a body with no heart.

“Regulus….” James starts tentatively, waiting for the boy to look at him before continuing, “why were you on the roof that day?”

Regulus doesn’t betray what he’s thinking, just stares back with empty eyes. James is well aware he’s breaking one of his own rules, but the question was pressing at him.

“I like the view.”

It's a bullshit lie and James knows it but he lets it slide.

“Why were you?”

The question actually catches him off guard, even though naturally, he should have known it was coming. For a second, he thinks about lying as well but what’s the point. James is so fucking tired of being silent.

“It was Sirius’s birthday…..”

“Oh.”

Regulus didn’t know, as far as James could tell. It certainly didn’t seem like the type of things his parents would share, based on what James knew of them.

Sirius had been left at a fire station weeks after he had been born. His parents just didn’t want him. James’ family took him in shortly after, not that he would remember, but his parents were fond of the story. ‘We took one look at him and knew he was ours’, they would say, lovingly pressing a hug into the boy. Sirius acted like he hated that part but James knew he secretly loved it.

When they were twelve, Sirius had wanted to know more about his real family. James had helped him, of course, they had pooled their change to buy a DNA test and weeks later, finally sent it off.

He still remembered the day Sirius had got it back and found that he wasn’t alone in the world, just unwanted. The final straw was his little brother. Born only a year later and his parents had kept him. Even stayed in the same town to raise him.

The real fucking kicker was that Regulus didn’t even know. He had no idea he had ever had a brother, never got to know him apart from seeing him in the hallways at school. Now he never would.

“It doesn’t matter,” James continued, brushing off the urge to spill his guts to Regulus, “nothing much matters anymore.”

Regulus nods slightly at that, looking out at the treetops again. “Something must though, otherwise you would have jumped.”

Was that true? James sits with those words for a moment. He hadn’t jumped because of Regulus. Not anything else. Though he’s still not quite sure how he feels about that. Most days being alive seems more like a chore than a gift.

“I never said thank you. For being up there, and doing what you did. They would have killed me for being up there if you didn’t act like I was saving you.”

“The whole school thinks I’m a freak anyways, better me than you.”

“I don’t think you’re a freak.”

The words tumble out before James can stop them but Regulus doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s somewhere else altogether, a faraway look in his eyes. It startles James by how empty he is now, a far cry from the whole person who was sitting next to him just seconds ago.

In a morbid sort of way, it’s fascinating. Regulus is a ghost, he fits right in at this place. James stops talking and starts watching. Observing the way he blinks and how the sun catches his eyes just right, reflecting back out. They’re brown with flecks of green only visible in the light, he notices.

His hands are torn, the skin around his nails poked at and rough, knuckles shadowed with fading bruises. There are dark circles under his eyes too, a testament to the sleepless nights James knows well himself. It’s amazing really, how much you can learn from someone just by watching.

Suddenly, the same way he left, Regulus seems to come back to himself. It’s so subtle but James is looking close, and he catches the exact moment that Regulus becomes alive again.

“Where did you go?” He asks gently.

“Nowhere,” Regulus says, tugging at the hem of his sleeves.

He’s lying. It’s so blatantly obvious and it pisses him off. He could at least try a bit harder than that. James is so tired of people lying to him, acting like he can’t tell and like he’s not a whole person who is capable of picking up on context clues.

“Liar,” he accuses, rising to his feet, “I was honest with you and you’re just fucking me around.”

This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have come here. It was hard enough being taunted by the ghost of his brother but this was too far. James couldn’t just sit here and be made a fool of.

“No, wait,” Regulus scrambles up, desperately throwing himself in front of the ladder, “I don’t- fuck what do you want me to say? I don’t even know where I went myself because I’m not there when it happens.”

Slowly, James sits back down. Because he understands that part. The weeks after Sirius died were a haze of that exactly. A ghost town, a body without a soul, walking around aimlessly with no direction or purpose.

“What do you mean?”

“My mind just…..leaves sometimes. Flies away, traps me inside and abandons me.”

James nods. That happens to him too. He stares at Regulis harder, trying to find the source, locate the injury that keeps him from being tethered to the earth. It’s not there. Or at least, it’s not visible to James. That, he doesn’t understand, but then again, he’s never been very good at hiding his emotions.

Regulus is looking away again, one of his hands sliding down his sleeve to pinch the skin on his wrist. He hides it well, if James wasn’t watching him so intently he wouldn’t have noticed. But he does.

“Hey…what are you- stop!” James leans forwards and smacks Regulus’s hand. The sound resonates in the tower and Regulus pulls his hand back, staring into James eyes with a look of pure indifference.

Regulus just shrugs back at him, “It’s like you said, nothing much matters anymore.”

There’s a light thunk as James slumps back where he’s sitting and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know what to say. How is he supposed to fix something else when he’s so broken himself?

“I’m sorry,” is what he lands on. Whispered quietly, the wind blows it from the tower as James shifts over to take his hand. It feels like the right thing to do, even if his heart is hammering out of his chest at the touch.

Unlike that day on the roof, his hands are cold now. Almost freezing, they burn where his skin touches. It’s nice though. And Regulus doesn’t pull away.

“Me too,” Regulus says back, his hands beginning to warm as James holds on.

—-----

The half eaten birthday cake is still on the counter when James gets home. He had hoped it would be gone by now, seeing as it has been almost a week since Sirius’s birthday now. No it’s still there, taunting him, laughing at him as the crumbs turn stale and the icing hardens.

He can’t bear to look at it anymore. Every day since last week it's been there; a glaring beacon of what could have been.

It hits the bottom of the garbage can with a resounding smack and James feels a slight sense of accomplishment. Fuck that cake and everything it represents.

His mother isn’t home right now, but the faint humming sound emitting from the backyard tells James that his father is. He wanders out into the snow, pulling the coat closer to stave off the wind.

The shop is warm at least and as he steps in, a blast of hot air from the space heater fogs up his glasses instantly. His father doesn’t notice him right away, he's too preoccupied with his work, hunched over a table covered in sawdust.

“Dad?” He half shouts over the grinding noise.

Instantly the shop goes quiet and his father turns around, drill in hand. There’s sawdust in his hair and his glasses are smudged but he smiles warmly at the sight of his son.

“James? Is everything ok?”

He hates that that’s the first question his dad asks. Nothing is ok. Nothing ever will be ok again because Sirius is dead. But he knows that’s not what's being asked so instead, James just nods and takes a seat on one of the cardboard boxes by the door.

“Yeah, just wondering what you were up to.”

“Oh,” his father frowns slightly, then sets the drill down, “well, right now I’m just working on something fun. It’s for your Mum, wanna see?”

James' dad is a sculptor. Usually wood but he has experimented with other mediums in the past. Last year, for Sirius’s sixteenth birthday, he made him a metal statue of a dog. It’s kinda his thing, making animals for people. He always got it right too, it's scarily accurate, how good he is at matching animals to humans. James’ is a stag.

Rising from his seat on the boxes, James takes a step forward to see his newest creation.

It’s a miniature horse, entirely hand carved from a block of wood. It’s objectively gorgeous, made with a talented hand. Even the legs, though not much thicker than a pencil, held incredible detail. James could see every individual hair etched into the surface.

“Wow,” he breathes, “It’s really good, Dad. She’s going to love it.”

Smiling, his father rubs at one of his eyes. Probably got some sawdust in it, James thinks, he’s more sawdust than human these days with how much time he spends out here. Not that he can fault him for that. They’re all coping in different ways. Mum bakes and gets drunk off kitchen sherry when she thinks everyone else is asleep, Dad comes out here and shuts the world out. And James…. Well James is trying to kill himself.

—-----

James doesn’t know what he did wrong. Everything had been fine, hadn’t it? Until they left the church and Regulus went radio silent. Maybe he had overstepped by taking Regulus’s hand? But it had felt like the right thing to do at the time and Regulus had let him.

He doesn’t get it. Why did everything change so suddenly?

He’s texted Regulus over a dozen times since the church, and heard nothing back. And he's been missing from school, James has been watching for him. He’s seen his friends, Evan and Barty around but no Regulus.

Until today. Coming out of the school at lunch, James hears a familiar voice, tinged with anger and a bit of panic.

“You fucking freak, are you following us?” It’s Lily, one of the girls he went to primary school with. They aren’t friends exactly but he knows her. There’s another girl with her too, but James doesn’t recognize her at all. Lily’s screaming up at someone while she picks a rather large rock off the ground as a weapon. Stepping back, James hides himself around a corner, wanting to observe whatever was going on here.

“Yeah, my white van is just around the corner,” the voice calls back, sounding unamused and totally annoyed. Fuck. It’s Regulus, but James can't seem to pinpoint where he is.

It's funny, the joke. James smiles to himself a bit but Lily and her friend don’t seem to get it.

“I’ll scream,” the other girl says, her voice trembling.

Oh no. This wasn’t good. Regulus didn’t exactly have the best reputation around school, James had learned. In fact, quite the opposite. Almost everyone James had asked had called him some variation of ‘freak’ or ‘weirdo’.

Finally, Regulus comes into view, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, he lifts his hands to show his innocence. Utterly confused, James peeks out a little farther to see where he had come from. Nothing. Unless Regulus was sitting on top of one of the air vents sticking out of the second floor, he seems to have materialized into place.

“I’m just leaving,” Regulus says.

Dropping the spy act, James starts forwards. He really needs to talk with Regulus and this may be his only chance considering the boy is straight up ignoring him. As soon as their eyes meet, Regulus drops his head, looking elsewhere like he hadn’t seen him.

Too late, James thinks. I’ve got you cornered now.

“Oh, James, thank god!” Lily sighs, dropping the rock. It hits the concrete with a thunk and James notices how Reglus flinches ever so slightly at the sound.

“What’s going on here?”

The girl with Lily, Mary, he thinks her name is, takes a step back, still eyeing up Regulus as he stands to the side.

“He was following us!” she blurts out, pointing a painted finger at him.

Simultaneously, Regulus lets out a snort of disbelief.

“I was actually just minding my business,” he states quietly. His eyes flick up to James once before landing back on the concrete.

James doesn’t get it. It feels like every time he talks to Regulus, he’s speaking with a different person. Today it’s quiet, angry Regulus.

“On top of a pipe?” Lily accuses, “weird place to sit.”

Lily looks back up, presumably to where Regulus had been sitting and James has to stifle a laugh. He was up there? All the way up top? He can almost see it, Regulus curled out of view, perched like a bird while he observes the world undetected. Funnily enough, it’s not hard to picture at all. In fact, it seems like just the place Regulus would love.

“Oh yeah, that’s me. Weird fucker, right? Well I can tell you that I wouldn’t go after either of you in a million years,” Regulus spits, shifting to cross his arms.

Lily starts forwards, pure fire in her eyes and James steps in the way. “Ok, ok, why don’t we all calm down? Lily, is it possible he really was just sitting there and this whole thing is a misunderstanding?”

Her eyes narrow at him. “Are you really defending him right now?”

“God, I’m just trying to not start a fight!”

“Fine,” she spits, grabbing Mary’s arm and turning to stalk away, “we’re leaving anyway. As long as that one doesn’t try to follow.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Regulus replies with fake cheeriness, then sticks his middle finger up at them as soon as their backs are turned.

“Fucking bitches,” he mutters under his breath before spinning to walk the other way.

James does a double take for a moment then starts after him.

“Hey, wait! Why are you ignoring me?”

Regulus doesn’t slow down or even stop until James grabs his arm, holding him in place. Only then does he look up. He looks so tired.

“Just go away James.”

“Are you ok?”

It's hypocritical of him, he knows, considering how much he hates when people ask him that. But honestly, he can’t think of anything else to say, and he doesn’t want Regulus to leave just yet.

“Yeah. Just fine.” His words are a little too enthusiastic and James frowns. He’s lying.

“Do you want to get a coffee or something?”

“You have class.”

“So?”

He’s picking at his fingers. It’s subtle and almost hidden behind the sleeves of his jacket, but James can see him pulling at the skin beside his nails. One of them is bleeding.

“Let’s go get a coffee, ok?”

James doesn’t give Regulus anymore time to protest. He starts walking and prays that Regulus follows.

He does.

So they go for coffee. James orders a caramel cappuccino while Regulus takes his black. The smell of sugar and caffeine fill his nose and as they take their seats at a table near the back corner of the cafe, James watches Regulus.

He looks nervous, eyes darting around a little. He doesn’t drink his coffee at all, instead it sits untouched in the middle of the table. The extra bit of distance telling James that he doesn’t plan on drinking it. Why order one then, he doesn’t know.

They sit silently for a while, James stirring his coffee with a silver teaspoon, it makes little clinking noises as the metal collides with ceramic and the sound is kinda soothing. Until Regulus reaches forwards wordlessly, and takes the spoon from James. He lifts one eyebrow in question but allows it. Maybe the sound was annoying him.

“So….. are you going to tell me what’s wrong or just keep avoiding me?” James asks, taking a sip of his coffee. It's light and sweet and warms him from the inside out.

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Liar.”

Regulus flips the confiscated spoon around in his hands absentmindedly, avoiding James' eyes.. In the front of the cafe, a girl drops a mug. It shatters on the floor with a crash and the shop goes silent for a moment, everyone stops to look except James. His gaze is occupied.

“I think you should find another partner for the Wander project,” Regulus mutters once the shop fills with chatter again.

“What? No!” The only reason James was even doing this project was because of Regulus. If he had anyone else as a partner he would just take the zero.

“It’s for the best.”

“Regulus, what the fuck?”

This wasn’t the same person that James had sat with in the church. It feels like someone else entirely. But why? What has changed?

“I should go. This was a bad idea.” He rises to leave but James grabs his hand again, pulling him back down. He’s not leaving without getting some answers.

“What the fuck is going on with you? Everything was fine last week and now you’re ignoring me and trying to cut out of the project?”

Regulus finally drops the spoon he’s been fiddling with and it lands on the table with a thunk of finality. “I’m great, just don’t think we need to do this together. You don’t want to associate yourself with me.”

Because of his reputation? Frankly, James didn’t give one fuck about that. He had finally found someone who doesn’t make him feel like he’s drowning constantly and he couldn’t let that go.

“Um, yeah I do, actually. And you’re not getting out of this project, I’ve already found our next place to Wander.”

There’s a long silence as Regulus ponders this. James can see he’s said the right thing, he can see Regulus struggling against asking. He loses the fight though.

“Where?”

James smiles. He’s won this one.

“I’m not telling you until you agree to stay. It’s really good though, I think you’ll like it.”

It was completely true. Regulus would fucking love the piano field, just based on how much he had loved the church.

“Fine.” He mutters.

“Promise?” James asks, not entirely convinced that Regulus isn’t lying.

Begrudgingly, Regulus nods. It’s enough. Or at least a start.

“So, have you been sick or something?” James asks, changing the topic from their project. He wants to keep the location a secret until they go.

“What?”

“You’ve been gone from class…..though I suppose you were still technically at school, so maybe not sick. Why bother going to school if you’re not going to class though?”

“I just didn’t want to go. But my parents would notice if I was home so I just hide around the school or town instead.”

“Oh.” James had actually suspected that. Regulus didn’t seem like the type to care about his classes at all. Though that begged the question of why he was interested in the Wander project. He’s just about to ask this when Regulus gets up suddenly.

“I have to go,” he blurts out.

This time James lets him go. “You’ll text me though?”

He nods, grabbing his jacket and walking away before James can say anything else.

He’ll text. James is pretty sure. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

—-----

“You seem angry today, James.”

Pomfrey is shuffling papers behind her desk as she talks and James truly wants to be anywhere but here. He hates these sessions. Never once have they proved helpful in any way.

“Hmm, fascinating,” he deadpans back.

He is angry. He’s angry at the whole damn world. How dare they exist when Sirius is dead? How dare he exist in a world that Sirius doesn’t? Fucking laughing and joking and getting coffee, he’s disgusted with himself for that because he doesn’t deserve any of it. For just a moment today, he had forgotten about the accident. And that terrified him at first, but then it just made him hate himself. He deserves to be dead along with Sirius. It should have been him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

She sighs slightly and leans back in her chair.

“I’ve been talking with your parents and we all think you might benefit from seeing a grief counselor.”

God, of course they did. Everyone was always making decisions for him with no regard to what he would want. Why not just shove him off to some other fucking quack. They all seemed to think talking would fix his problems. It was bullshit.

“No.”

“James, you should really consider it. It might help…”

She’s horrible at this. It's pissing him off and this whole office, reeking of cinnamon, is making his head hurt. He’s never walked out of one of their sessions before but today he just can’t do it.

The chair scrapes abruptly against the floor and he can faintly hear Pomfrey calling after him but she doesn’t follow.

—-----

They meet at Runcible Spoon for the second Wander. James doesn’t buy a coffee this time, he’s made that mistake once and it shall never be repeated. See, he actually likes coffee, just not from here.

True to his word, Regulus has texted back over the last week, though it was mostly one word answers to James questions. That’s stopped now, more radio silence since Tuesday. James is trying not to take it personally. He’s trusting that Regulus will show up today.

And he does. Late, again, but he’s here. In that same scuffed jacket, hands shoved in the pockets and dark circles under his eyes. His eyes, they’re just dead, no emotion, no spark, only emptiness. He looks fucking horrible, James can’t lie.

“Where are we going then?”

James pushes away the things he wants to say. Are you ok? What the hell happened? Instead, he plasters on a fake smile and pulls his phone out. He had tried to find a paper map, like the one Regulus had that first day, but he couldn’t get one that had the place they were going on it.

“Here,” he flips the screen to show Regulus.

The other boy nods mutely.

“We’re biking again too, but don’t worry, it’s not too cold out today…..oh, I guess you know that already though.”

More staring. Not at James though, more through him.

“Ok, let’s go then.”

What the fuck? So first Regulus was talkative, pushing him into doing this project and not giving up. Then it turned to silence, then anger, now….what even was this? Just a passive agreement of anything James said. But now, in the middle of a coffee shop was not the time to bring that up.

“Yeah….let’s go.”

He’s silent the whole way there, riding slowly behind James on that rusted green bike. James is pretty sure the thing hasn’t been ridden in years but he appreciates the effort Regulus put in to avoid cars.

They’re going to a field just outside the town limits. It's ordinary and boring apart from one thing but James is pretty sure Regulus is going to like it. Or at least, the version of Regulus that had loved the church would like it. He doesn’t quite know if the current version of Regulus will.

“It's a field…..” he says when they arrive, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

“Yeah. More than that though, the main event is in the middle. Come on.”

He ditches his bike at the roadside, letting it fall into the grass. Regulus mirrors him and then stands awkwardly to the side, waiting to follow him into the field. The snow isn’t that bad anymore, they had a couple warm days that melted the last bits of winter, leaving this field muddy and abandoned in the early days of Spring.

It’s not as pretty as when James first visited it, covered in a thin layer of flakes, but it has a different sort of beauty now. And it fits better if he’s being honest, Regulus looks like he belongs here. The grey field reflects the boy in front of him, drained of all life.

He’s just standing there in the mud, looking around with his hands in his pockets. They lock eyes for a moment and James nods his head in the direction they’re going.

The attraction of this field is strange. James doesn’t understand why or how it could have possibly gotten there but it doesn’t matter much. It's here now, an eternal resting place as the wood rots and turns back into dirt.

“A piano.” Regulus states, walking forwards to trail a hand across the smooth lid. His knuckles are bandaged, James notices, the white cloth tinged with dark red dried blood. He turns suddenly, looking actually mildly interested now.

“Can you play?”

“What? Oh, uh…..kinda?”

He hasn’t played in ages, ever since he quit taking lessons freshman year, but he can probably still do it. It’s kinda like riding a bike, the skill never really leaves completely.

“Let’s see then,” Regulus says, hopping on top of the lid and reaching into his jacket to produce a pack of cigarettes.

Ok, guess he’s playing something. Not really how he expected this to go, but what the hell.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he comments, taking a seat on the bench.

“I don’t,” Regulus replies as he lights the cigarette.

Yet another mystery that James will never figure out. It’s intoxicating. A part of James wants to tear him apart, analyze what makes him tick and put him back together.

Regulus crosses his legs on top of the lid and stares down expectantly, smoke trailing from the corner of his mouth. He looks good like that, James thinks for a moment before banishing the thought entirely. Wrong time, wrong place.

The song he chooses starts out slow, “Return to Versailles' by Joshua Kyan Aalampour. It's quiet, but alluring and with the out of tune piano, it sounds even more chilling. The song echoes through the field as he plays, fingers dancing across the keys. He stumbles once or twice but apart from that it’s perfect.

He’s not quite sure why he chose this one out of all the songs he knows. It just feels right, a haunting melody for an abandoned place. The music flows from his fingertips with ease, and as the notes grow softer near the end, he looks up to find Regulus crying. Silent tears stream down his face but apart from the obvious sign, his face is completely emotionless. He’s even still smoking.

“Oh, fuck are you ok?” He pulls his hands back from the keys and stands up abruptly.

“Yeah?” Regulus stares back at him, almost questioning why he’s asking.

“....you’re crying.”

Regulus lifts a hand up to touch his cheek and stares at the wet fingers he pulls away. What the fuck? For a second, James really thinks he’s out of his depth here; Regulus didn’t even know he was crying.

“Oh.” Still no emotion, just a blank recognition.

James hops up on the piano next to him, their knees touching. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through his body before the wave of shame brings it back down. This is not the time.

“So, what do you think of this place?” James asks, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t think addressing the crying will get him anywhere but the silence is pressing.

“It’s a good pick,” he takes another drag of the smoke, inhaling deeply before crushing it into the black surface, “I like it.”

“Good-”

“-hey why did you pick that song?” Regulus interrupts, turning to face James with such intensity in his eyes. It’s a far cry from the emptiness just moments ago and honestly, the sudden change throws James off-guard.

“Oh, uh, I dunno. It just felt right. That song always reminds me of being on the outside, looking in through a window at everyone else living their lives without a care and I guess I feel a bit like that right now…”

Regulus nods like he understands before falling back on the piano to look up at the sky. James follows because it feels right. The sky is absolutely beautiful right now, a blend of orange and blue as the sun sets and the stars come out.

“That’s my star you know?” Regulus points up.

His star? Sirius had a star too. The brightest one in the sky. It was fitting for him, he had always been the brightest person in James' life. The way he just had the ability to light up a room with his presence.

Sometimes the grief comes suddenly, a wave crashing over him and pulling him back under just when he feels like he’s starting to learn how to swim. It's all encompassing, a physical pain that stabs him in the chest repeatedly and makes him forget how to breathe.

“Are you ok?” Regulus asks, turning on his side to face James.

It’s such a loaded question, but for the first time in weeks, he actually thinks about answering honestly.

“I’m so….angry all the time and I don’t know how to fix that. It’s like the world came crashing down when he died and everyone just picked up where they left off but I’m still there trying desperately to glue myself back together. I hate them for it. I hate how they’re all fine when I’m not. I hate them trying to help, their fake concern, it’s all bullshit,” the words come flowing out, like a burst dam, “I don’t know how to stop being so angry. Part of me doesn’t even want to because I think if I stop for a moment everything I’ve patched together will fall back apart again.”

Slowly, Regulus’s hand slips into his, a puzzle piece falling into place, the way it’s always meant to have been. He squeezes it once and James breathes out.

“You don’t have to be all put together. The world can fuck off and wait,” he whispers.

“How? How am I supposed to ask that of anyone? It’s selfish.”

“So what?” Regulus asks, “you deserve to be selfish. It’s your loss, not theirs, you get to choose how long it takes for you to heal.”

James can feel the heartbeat in his hand, it’s closed so tightly around Regulus’s. Is that really how this works? Is he allowed to take time? No one else is. His parents don’t get that privilege. They still have to work, still have to keep moving despite how much it hurts. James should be doing the same.

“It’s not fair though.”

Regulus sighs and turns back to the sky. “Nothing is fair.”

Yeah. Nothing really was fair. If it was, Sirius would be here right now. But he’s not, and he never will be again. For a while James sits with that, the warmth from Regulus tying him back down to earth as the sun sets completely.

“Which one,” James asks, when he can finally take a full breath again.

“Which one what?”

“Your star, which one is it?”

“Oh,” Regulus laughs, for the first time, and James thinks it’s possibly the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

“That one. See the rectangularish cluster there? Sorta looks like a lion if you squint really hard? Mine is the one at the base of his front foot.”

James tries to follow where he’s looking but he can’t find it.

“No,” he admits, still searching.

“That one,” Regulus lifts their intertwined hands and points with one finger.

James can see it now. Whoever decided that that constellation looked like a lion had to have been on some major drugs. It looks nothing like a lion at all.

“It’s pretty,” he says, relaxing back to stare at it, “......like you.”

James is sure Regulus can hear his heart pounding now. It’s so deafeningly loud. Why did he say that? What if Regulus doesn’t like him like that? And god, how long is he going to take to respond? This is killing him.

“Thanks,” Regulus whispers back.

James is acutely aware of his body now. His legs, hanging off the edge of the piano, his shoulder pressed against Regulus, his hand, probably horribly sweaty.

“So, I get to choose our next location, right?”

James nods, his heart in his throat. Then he realises Regulus can’t see him nod in the darkness.

“Yeah. Better be somewhere good though, this is gonna be hard to beat.”

“Watch me.”

James would. He would go anywhere Regulus chose just to feel this again. It's the first time in weeks, months even that he’s felt something other than anger or despair. And he doesn’t want to let it go.

All too soon though, he has to.

“I have to get home. It’s almost eleven,” James whispers.

Regulus has been silent for so long that James almost thought he fell asleep. He pops back up instantly though, pulling his hand gently from James and sliding off the piano.

“Yeah, me too.”

A lie. Regulus has a tell when he’s lying. It's tiny, imperceptibly small but James has been observing him. He always picks at his thumbnail when he lies. He did it in the coffee shop and in the church.

James doesn’t call him on it this time though, he wants to keep riding this high for as long as possible.

“Bike with me home?” he asks instead.

“Okay.”

And he does.

—-----

“So. Have you thought anymore about that grief counselor?” Pomfrey asks, straightening up a plastic flower pot on her desk while James stares helplessly at the door.

No. He hadn’t. That’s been the last thing on his mind. Ever since the piano, Regulus is always the first.

He’s still skipping school. By James count, he hasn’t attended in almost three weeks now. Sometimes it worries him, the way Regulus moves through life without a care in the world. He never thinks of the future, that much is clear. James just can’t ascertain why.

They’ve been meeting up every day since their last Wander a week ago. Sometimes at Runcible Spoon, they’ll get coffee and Regulus will steal half of James' drink. He likes sweet things, James has learned, but he never wants to buy his own.

Other times they wander. Not for school or for the project, just because. Sometimes it’s quiet, and neither of them say anything, they just walk and observe. It’s easy and James can feel his mind start to calm when Regulus is around.

He’s still not even sure what they are exactly. They’ve held hands twice but they still haven’t kissed. James doesn’t care. All he knows is he likes spending time with Regulus, whatever comes with that is alright with him.

The way his brain works is fascinating. He can see beauty in everything, can come up with poems on the spot, can find the joy of life anywhere he looks. James doesn’t understand how but he loves it. It’s his favourite version of Regulus, when he’s happy and talking at a mile a minute, throwing ideas out into the universe at an astounding rate, even though they don’t make sense half the time.

He’s so full of life now that James can hardly imagine him being the same boy from the roof that day. The one that had looked down at the ground like it was waiting for him and danced across the ledge without looking where his feet would land.

“-James?” Pomfrey’s voice brings him back down to earth. “Have you thought anymore about the grief counselor? I really think you would benefit from it.”

Clearing his throat, James leans forwards. “Um, yeah, I don’t think it’s something I need.”

“Are you sure? Some people have trouble moving forwards after the death of a loved one but there’s no shame in needing help.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” he smiles at her.

It’s starting to feel like the truth. Sure, he’s been ignoring Sirius’s death, but here are other things to focus on, and if he doesn’t think about it, then it can’t hurt, and so he must be fine. In fact, he’s better than fine, he’s existing in a fictional bubble but who the hell cares?

So maybe he’s not perfect yet. That’s something James can live with. And god, he wants to live because Regulus makes him feel so very alive. How can that possibly be a bad thing?

“Okay,” she says slowly, looking across the desk at James suspiciously, “I would like you to just think about it though, okay?”

No. What was the point? He was happy now. Finally. Why bother digging through the past when James has gotten so good at burying it?

“Fine,” he says, just to appease her.

She beams at him, and James gets up to leave, collecting his bag from the food of his chair.

“Oh, one more thing.”

Annoyed, he turns. This meeting was the last thing of the day and Regulus was meeting him at Runcible Spoon.

“I’m proud of you, James. You’ve come far.”

Tears spring into his eyes without warning. No one has ever said that to him before. His parents love him, of course they do, he knows that with every fibre of his being, but they’ve never outright said they’re proud of him.

Nodding, he leaves, letting the door bang shut behind him.

—-----

“-so the one guy, he’s getting all up in my face and screaming about how I wasted his vodka- but like I didn’t, anyways, his face is all red and angry-and then BAM- down he goes!”

Regulus continues talking as they take their seats, slightly tripping over his words. James is genuinely concerned he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t take a breath.

“So you just hit him?” James asks for clarification, looking at the ring of purply-blue bruises surrounding his left eye. It worries him a bit but then again, who doesn’t get into a fight at least once in highschool?

“Yeah, but he deserved it. Can I have a sip?” Regulus nods down to the coffee in James' hands and he passes it over with a laugh.

“Are you sure you need more coffee?”

He frowns at this, looking at James with a confused expression. “I haven’t had any yet today.”

Coulda fooled James. The way Regulus was talking, it seemed like he’d drunk all the coffee in the country already. But oh well, he was fucking smiling so what else mattered. God he loved seeing Regulus happy.

“Anyways, it’s finally warm outside so I figure we can go to our next location this Saturday. If you want to….”

He really, really wanted to. Regulus had been insistent that they needed to wait for a warm day to see it and though it was officially Spring now, the last week had been colder than normal.

“Yes,” James answers immediately.

His coffee is half done by now. Regulus has been sipping it slowly, draining it down like it’s the only thing keeping it upright. James thinks it might be. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, despite his insane amount of energy.

“A sip!” James exclaims, jokingly indignant. Regulus rolls his eyes and hands the cup back after stealing one more. “I’m going to go broke paying for your caffeine addiction,” he mutters.

Regulus just smirks back, “yours always tastes better.”

Of course it does. James is a pro at ordering.

“So,” he starts, now that Regulus is letting him get a word in again, “are you ever coming back to school?”

Rolling his eyes, Regulus slumps back in his chair. “Why? It doesn’t matter, and I’ve got other things to do anyway.”

“Yeah like what?” James challenges.

“Like, learning French. Did you know my family is French? They never taught me though, so I’m going to learn it myself. And baking the perfect muffins. I can’t seem to get the recipe right…..but I’m sure I’ll get it soon, I’ve only made like three dozen batches…. Anyways, I think any of those are perfectly acceptable options as opposed to sitting through droning classes and wanting to die.”

James snaps his head up at the last words but Regulus seems unphased. It was probably a joke. Right? No, it was definitely a joke. He wouldn’t be so nonchalant about that.

“Well,” he replies slowly, “as fun as baking muffins seems I would like you to come to school.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t be as mysterious, and what fun would that be?”

It’s a shocking realization, spurred on by Regulus actually giving him something for once. He doesn’t know anything about the boy sitting across from him.

“Hey, why don’t you ever talk about yourself?” He interrupts as Regulus starts listing off the ingredient combinations he’s tried for the ‘perfect muffin’.

“I do?”

“No you don’t. I know you’re French and like baking now but apart from that….nothing.”

Regulus leans in and pulls the mug from James' hands. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

Everything. James wants to soak in every detail and surround himself in them like a cloak.

“Ok well to start, what’s your favourite colour?”

It’s unnerving how long it takes him to answer even that. Regulus seems to be thinking hard about it.

“Blue,” he finally answers, rewarding himself with a sip of James coffee.

“Blue…” James echoes in disbelief, “It took you two minutes to decide on….blue.”

“It changes! Last year I had an exceptionally long obsession with the colour green. Everything had to be green, my walls, clothes, everything. Thankfully Evan stepped in before I could do my hair green.”

James agrees with that privately. Regulus with green hair would be a tragedy of biblical proportions. He looked so lovely with black hair.

“Ok. Why blue then?”

“My favourite place is blue.”

“Care to explain anymore than that?”

“Nope.”

“Fine. Mine is red if you must know,” James sighs back dramatically.

“I already did.”

“What!? How?”

“That stupid red scarf you wear all the time. And your shoes. No one gets red converse unless they really like the colour.”

Damn him. Was he really that easy to read? As punishment, James confiscates the coffee and drains it. Regulus frowns from across the table and folds his arms together.

“I’ll buy you another one,” James laughs.

So he does. They drink another two, sharing the one mug between them and talking while the sun goes down.

—-----

“James, are you going to be home for dinner tonight?” His mum calls up the stairs as James is getting ready to leave.

Regulus was right. It is a warm day and he’s finally going to see the elusive place the boy keeps raving about. Infinity, he had it labelled as on their first Wander.

“Uh….. probably not,” he calls back, haphazardly doing up the laces on his shoes and smiling down at the red fabric.

“Could you come down here please?”

Fuck. That was never good. Sighing, he shoves his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and starts down the stairs.

Both his parents are sitting at the table. His mum gestures for him to take a seat so he does, protesting slightly that he has to be somewhere.

“It won’t take long, promise,” she smiles back, though the motion doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“What?”

Her aged fingers wrap around an etched mug. A remnant from his fathers pottery phase.

“Your father and I are worried about you. You’re gone all the time and when you’re here, you’re always shut away in your room. I know Sirius’s death hit you hard but we want you to know that we’re here if you need us.”

No. He’s not thinking about this. He’s not talking about it. Sirius dying is something he doesn’t want to bring up. Its old fucking news, a newspaper stashed away in the back of a cupboard in James mind.

“Yeah. Thanks. I’m fine though,” he replies flatly, looking out the window.

“Are you?” her hand reaches forwards to grab James.

“Yes,” he pulls away, “and I’ve really got to go.”

She watches silently as James leaves the room, her outstretched hand laying on the table where James had rejected it. Maybe they were still torn up about Sirius but he wasn’t. Not thinking was suiting him perfectly fine.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter. Maybe if he repeats it enough times it will be true.

—-----

Regulus meets him at their usual spot, outside Runcible Spoon. He’s not sure how this became their spot since they both hate the coffee, but it did. It feels more official somehow, less than a regular meet up and more of proper business.

Today was proper business. Infinity. James was finally going to see it.

“So it’s much farther than anywhere else we’ve gone but it’s worth it,” Regulus says, leaning against his beat-up bike and peering down at the neatly folded map.

“That’s fine,” he replies quietly, frowning down the street.

“Ok. Perfect. Let’s go then!”

Sometimes he doesn’t understand how Regulus can be so damn happy all the time. The last two weeks he’s been the picture of joy, always smiling, laughing, talking loudly. James is envious of it.

So maybe his denial isn’t working as well as he thought.

The sun beats down as they bike towards their location. Winter is long gone now, Spring is simply everywhere he looks. It’s in the trees, just starting to grow leaves, it’s in the grass shooting up in ditches, it's even in the air, that familiar scent of earth and rain and life.

It takes about an hour to get there by bike. Regulus was right, it was much farther than their previous locations, though the journey is much nicer now that the temperature doesn’t threaten to bite their fingers off.

“Ok,” Regulus says, dropping his bike in an unassuming ditch.

James mimics him and looks around. There’s nothing much to look at. It's a gravel road, lined with trees. Not exactly project material, nor up to the standards of its predecessors.

“Are you planning on murdering me?”

Regulus just scowls back, grabbing his arm to pull him through the line of trees. There’s the faintest trace of a path underfoot but James strongly suspects it was made by Regulus.

After another five minutes of walking they reach the destination. And it absolutely takes James' breath away.

Hidden behind the wall of trees is the most beautiful place he’s ever seen. It’s a quarry. Small, but completely solitary. James doubts anyone has been here in years apart from Regulus. The pit is filled with the most brilliant blue water he’s ever seen and rimmed with thick grey cuts of stone.

“.....wow,” he breathes, dropping his jacket on the rocks to feel the water.

As suspected, it’s freezing from the winter. He can’t see the bottom either. The rock walls just continue down until they merge with the water in a haze of black.

Behind him, Regulus is settling down to stare at it. James shakes off his hand and goes to join him. For a minute, the two sit silently side by side, their words stolen by the scene in front of them.

“I see why you like it so much,” James says finally.

“It’s my favourite place in the world,” Regulus whispers back, leaning into James to rest his head on his shoulder. The contact surprises him at first but soon it grows familiar, the weight steady and warm even though Regulus’s curls tickle his nose slightly.

“I think it might be mine too.”

Regulus laughs at that and shifts to look up at James. “You know this place doesn’t have a bottom? I’ve looked and I can’t find it. I think it just goes straight down into the earth, a never ending pit.”

“Infinity,” he replies.

“Yeah.”

They lapse back into silence and James stares off into the water. He can imagine it, a portal lurking at the bottom of the pit, a void leading into the unknown. It’s fascinating and beautiful and a part of him wants to see it.

Then, all of a sudden Regulus jumps up. James looks at him questioningly, already missing the heat Regulus was pressing into him. Where the hell is he going?

“What the-”

James doesn’t even have a second to question it before he sees the scars. And then he forgets about the absurdity of Regulus taking his clothes off, instead, he’s backtracking, replaying all their interactions. Regulus has never worn short sleeves before. James understands why now.

His skin is a map of damage. Everywhere. Where it's not scarred with thin criss crossing lines, it’s puckered with circular burns or fading bruises. Even his back, James sees as he pulls his shirt off.

Regulus doesn’t linger, once he’s stripped down to his boxers he dives into the water. Only then does James break free of his daze.

What the fuck just happened? Where did he get all those scars? Why did he jump into the water?

James stands on the bank, staring down into the water. He can see Regulus underneath, warped pale skin reflecting back up. Seconds tick by while James stands there, his mind whirling. Seconds turn into minutes and a shiver of fear starts creeping up James' spine.

That water is fucking cold. He can’t see Regulus anymore either, he’s faded into the pit, washed away by the darkness. And suddenly James is terrified. He doesn’t want to be alone. He can’t do this again, can’t lose another person. He simply can’t.

Then, as quickly as he disappeared, Regulus reappears, breaking the surface and positively beaming.

“It’s beautiful,” he shouts, waving an arm and treading water in the centre.

James could smack him. Instead, he turns away to grab his jacket. He’s not fucking doing this. It’s cruel.

“Hey, hey-wait!” Regulus calls after him, swimming to the side.

James ignores him and stomps towards the path out.

“Hey,” a cold hand lands on his wrist, stopping him in place and turning him around.

Suddenly the hands are on his cheeks, ice burning the heat in James face brought on by the shame and rage of being left behind again. And then Regulus is kissing him, his wet hair dripping onto James face.

It’s desperate and cold and James is taken aback for a split second before he kisses him back. The anger disappears, burning out inside him because Regulus is here. He’s safe and he’s here and James is never letting him go again.

He pulls back abruptly, holding Regulus by the shoulders. God he’s so fucking cold, how is he not shaking. James is pretty sure he’s shaking and he hasn’t been swimming in freezing waters.

“Why did you do that?” he whispers, staring into the boy’s dilated eyes.

“I wanted to.”

Slowly, James shakes his head. “You can’t do that. You can’t scare me like that. I thought you drowned.”

“I didn’t. I’m right here.”

Regulus is starting to shake now, his lips tinged with the blue that he loves so much. It may be spring but it's certainly not warm enough for him to be soaking wet outside. James leads back to where they were sitting and silently wraps his jacket around the shivering boy before sitting down beside him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” James snaps once Regulus stops trembling. Then he instantly feels bad as Regulus’s eyes fill with hurt.

“Fuck I’m sorry- I’m just……..why? It’s freezing and we’re an hour away from any sort of civilization, why do you play with your life like this?”

“And you don’t?” Regulus shoots back, wrapping James' jacket tighter around him.

“No, I don’t, not anymore.”

Maybe a lie, but that’s not important right now. And he really hasn’t attempted killing himself since a month ago on the roof. But that's besides the point, Regulus is what’s important and James needs to know why he doesn’t care.

“It doesn’t matter all that much,” he says simply, parroting James' words from the church back at him.

“Why did you kiss me then? If nothing matters?”

“I wanted to.”

God, James could scream. Fucking one step forward and two steps back. He thought they were close, at least close enough for James to spill his guts, just apparently not enough for Regulus to return the favour.

“Fine, you want to know? Because I’m slipping away slowly and soon enough I won’t be here so i wanted to kiss you to know what it felt like before I’m asleep again.”

It was a start.

“Asleep?” James questions, shifting on the rocks.

“Like when I’m not here, when I go away and my brain locks me in.”

Oh. They had talked about this at the church. Back then James had thought it was the same thing he experienced. Now he’s not so sure.

“Tell me about it.”

Regulus blinks up at him, confused.

“Why?”

“Because I want to know about you. More than your favourite colour and what country your family is from,” he takes Regulus’s frigid hand and blows a puff of warm breath into it, “I want to know you.”

“Ok,” Regulus whispers, settling back into his earlier spot on James' shoulder. It's cold and his hair leaves a wet splotch on his shirt but James would rather die than him pull away again.

“It happens in phases…. Sometimes I fall asleep but I’m still physically here. It’s like my body weighs more and the air hurts to even breathe. Life isn’t worth living during those times, and I just want to die. I was asleep on the roof that day until you woke me up.”

Oh. He was up there to kill himself like James suspected. But instead, they saved each other.

“But the other times I’m so alive, James. I’m so fucking alive and it almost seems worth it……until the sleep comes back and I can’t do it anymore. I just wanted to live today….a perfect day.”

A perfect day. He had asked about that before, if such a thing existed.

“I’m sorry,” James says, wrapping his arms around the other boy, “I ruined your perfect day.”

“No you didn’t,” Regulus sounds confused, “you made it perfect.”

He presses a kiss into Regulus’s dripping hair, pulling him closer.

“And these?” James asks, lightly tapping his arm where it’s covered by thin white lines.

“Oh,” the other boy frowns as if it’s the first time seeing them, “sometimes it wakes me up. The pain is better than nothingness.The burns aren’t all from me though….my dad used to smoke a lot before he left. I was his favourite ashtray.”

His mouth tastes of metal and bile now. It’s not fair. Why did they even fucking bother keeping him and throwing Sirius away then?

“I’m sorry….”

Regulus waves him off. “Don’t be. It’s fine, it was years ago.”

It was definitely not fine in James' eyes. Who does that to a child? It’s despicable.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he mutters into Regulus’s curls.

“Maybe not, but does it really matter?”

Yes. It does. To James, it matters quite a lot.

—-----

They stayed at Infinity far longer than they should have. James knows this. But Regulus fell asleep in his arms and he didn’t have the heart to wake him up. He looked so fucking peaceful with his eyes closed, more relaxed than James had ever seen him before. It wasn’t even really that hard to ignore all the missed calls and messages ringing through his phone. Eventually he silenced it so as not to wake Regulus.

By the time he finally did wake up it was almost midnight and they still had an hour ride home.

James was scared, truthfully. He had never stayed out past curfew before and his Mum was sure to be pissed. Maybe rightfully so but he didn’t care. It was worth every second, worth whatever punishment was sure to come when he got home.

Regulus came with him, despite James' protests. He didn’t want to go home yet, he admitted underneath the stars once they got into town. Neither did James, if he was being honest, but the longer he stayed away, the worse it would be.

The porchlight was on once he arrived. Flickering overhead it illuminated his mum, sitting on the little swing.

“James,” she said, her voice dripping with quiet anger, “get inside.”

Nodding, he got off his bike and turned towards Regulus one last time. Every cell in his body ached to kiss him. He looked so beautiful in the moonlight. That wouldn’t end well though, so instead he just mouthed ‘bye’ to him and began to wheel his bike up the sidewalk.

Regulus lingered a second longer before starting off as well.

“Where have you been?” She demanded as soon as his bike was put away and they were inside. He hadn’t even gotten his shoes off before the interrogation started.

“We were working on a school project…” he defended weakly.

“Oh, I’m so sure.” she seethed, “at one o’clock on a saturday night.”

James looked around the dark house. His dad wasn’t up at least so he didn’t need to worry about that until tomorrow.

“Are you dating him?”

“What?!”

“Oh, please, I’ve known you were gay since you were eleven. Are. You. Dating. Him?”

“No!”

“You can’t just disappear like that, coming home with a boy at ONE IN THE FUCKING MORNING!”

If his dad wasn’t awake already, he certainly was now.

“It’s not like that! Nothing happened!” James protests.

“You’re done. You’re not seeing him anymore, you’re far too young to be having….relations.”

The anger spills from him all at once. Weeks of shoving it down and ignoring it have turned it into a white-hot rage. A tempered sword, and James knows just where to stick it so it hurts the most.

“Oh, fuck off, you let Remus and Sirius do whatever they wanted, now suddenly it’s an issue with me?! You just want me to be depressed and grieving, maybe it’s easier for you that way, sucking down Sherry in the kitchen when everyone else is asleep but I’m moving on! Sorry you can’t do the same,” James spits back at her, stomping up the stairs.

It's so goddamn hypocritical. She’s only mad because he’s learned to live again and she can’t.

“You’re not seeing him anymore,” she calls after him, her voice scarily calm once more.

Yeah, we’ll fucking see, James thinks, slamming his door shut. Only once he’s in there does he realize he left his phone on the table downstairs.

He waits an hour to go down and retrieve it. Except it’s not where he left it. It’s not anywhere downstairs at all.

Fuck. He needs to text Regulus, tell him he didn’t leave him, that he’s not abandoning him.

Ok. It’s fine. James will get it back tomorrow and then he can tell him. Once his Mum has calmed down, he’ll get it back and everything will be fine.

Only he doesn’t get it back the next day. Or the day after that. A week passes by and James is alone. He searches for Regulus at school every day to no avail. And he doesn’t even fucking know where he lives to send him a message. James is effectively cut off.

Chapter Text

Warm water, in the twilight growing cold,

overhead there will unfold

a myriad of stars

—-----

Infinity. How do you describe something so…..encompassing? So endless? So very endless and eternal. Regulus has thought a lot about that. If it really exists or if nothing happens after death.

What would be worse, something or nothing?

He truly doesn’t know.

So he doesn’t say anything. Instead he stays silent, letting his body relax into the warmth of James while he stares across the water. It’s one of those days. Another failed attempt at perfection. He’s really starting to think it doesn’t exist, and with the Sleep creeping in, he might not get another attempt.

James’s arm is around him, possibly the only thing anchoring him to the earth right now. Sometimes it spins too much, threatening to throw him from the very ground and send him orbiting into space. Like now. He can almost feel the world spinning below him and he’s so aware of how insignificant everything is.

Infinity, death, life, Sleep…..James. Nothing really matters at all in the grand scheme of things.

It’s wrong, how safe Regulus feels in James’ arms. It's wrong and so very cruel. He’s torturing himself, flirting with a life that will never be. Giving James hope for a future that doesn’t exist. Actively giving him something to hold onto while Regulus feels life flicker and die in his chest.

He’s not ready yet. He doesn’t want to let it go.

Almost without thinking he gets up.

Slowly, methodically, he takes his clothes off. He’s not thinking about the scars or the bruises now, only how to stay awake. James makes a sound beside him, and it barely registers before he’s flinging himself into the abyss.

The water is freezing but it makes him feel alive. Awake. Like the air in his lungs isn’t a temporary contract. It’s what he’s been chasing but it’s still not enough. He needs to freeze it all out before it comes back.

He’s going down, deeper and deeper until his lungs threaten to burst and his fingers lose all blood flow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. Just a little farther and he could make it, just a little farther to infinity.

His lungs are screaming now, so painfully empty they threaten to override his brain and force a breath.

Finally, he turns back, breaking the surface with a grin and enjoying the feeling of air on his face, no matter how cold it’s making him.

“It’s beautiful!” he calls, shouting to James on the shoreline who looks pissed.

Fuck. Ok, damage control time. He wasn’t under for that long, and he hadn’t gone to Infinity. It was fine, he was alive. No matter how much it hurt to still be here, he was. So James couldn’t be mad.

Except he was. Mad enough to leave apparently. Double fuck. The water is too cold, it’s making Regulus’s movements clunky and he can’t seem to get to the shore fast enough. James is leaving and all Regulus knows is that he has to stop him.

Everything hurts as he runs after James. The gravel digs into his heels, the warm air burns his fingertips, his lungs contract painfully and slowly, as if rejecting the idea of filling once more.

It takes too long for Regulus to reach him, and even longer for James to turn around. Every moment is an eternity. Finally, he does and God he’s so beautiful it hurts. Every bone in Regulus’s body aches to touch him, even if James' skin is pure fire.

So he does.

Slowly at first, his hands cling onto James face, taking in every inch of him, scanning his face, memorizing his eyes…..his lips. It’s not enough. He wants to know it all, feel it all. He needs it. More than air, more than anything.

Regulus wouldn’t describe himself as desperate. He had never begged for anything in his life. Not when his father beat him, not when he was locked outside for days on end, not when they starved him. No, Regulus Black was not a begger.

Now, he was begging. Pleading silently to the universe that James would kiss him back.

When he finally did, it hurt more than he expected, James was so very alive and warm. It was poetic really, how it burned to simply be near him. But then, Regulus had never cared about being burned anyways.

This must be how the surface of the sun feels. Blindingly bright and scalding, so hot it’s painful but in the best possible way. He never wants to let go. Ever. If he could live out the rest of his numbered days in James arms it would be more than enough. So…. maybe a perfect day does exist.

But everything ends eventually. Even this.

And when you’ve touched the sun, nothing ever feels quite so warm afterwards.

—-----

The music is loud, almost too loud but Regulus likes it. He likes being pressed up against the wall in this basement filled with sweaty teenagers, he likes not having to think because the sounds fill his brain with emptiness instead. Most of all though, he likes being drunk.

It’s usually a toss-up, Regulus and alcohol. Sometimes it works great and makes him sociable, friendly, alive like everyone else seems to be. Other times it feels like it’s summoning the Sleep.

Today is the former and he’s extremely grateful for it.

Barty’s basement is muggy and filled with people Regulus doesn’t know. There’s LEDs absolutely everywhere, flickering in and out so he feels like he’s in a bit of a dream. It’s all good though, life feels fucking fine right now. In fact, it’s better than fine. He feels like he could jump off a roof and just fly away into the night.

Until there’s a lull in the music and Regulus’s mind decides to regroup. The memories of James come flooding back. Kissing him, falling asleep in his arms, all the empty days since. They press at his head, threatening to explode out.

It’s not fair. Not at all. After everything, why would he leave? Why would he just abandon Regulus like that?

No note, no text, just radio silence. Regulus didn’t question it then. It felt like the natural sequence of things.

Deep down he knew why. It was the same reason everyone left. He was a freak. No one stayed for very long once they really got to know him. He can’t really blame James all that much. He would leave too, if he could.

“You alright?” Evan shouts over the music, stumbling up with his (sixth?) drink in hand.

“Yeah,” he yells back, leaning into the wall to avoid someone spilling their drink on him, “I need another shot.”

Evan grins at him like he won the lottery and Regulus drags him off to the table that houses all the liquor. Say what he will about Barty, he can throw one hell of a party. It makes for an excellent distraction.

Five songs and two more shots later, Regulus is well and truly wasted. The alcohol burns through his veins, whisking away all thoughts and feelings until he is just a part of the wall. A painting or a statue rooted in place, swaying to the music.

In the corner, Barty is dancing on the table, extending a hand down to Evan and pulling him into a kiss.

It’s sickening.

No, really. Regulus is going to be sick.

Peeling himself from the wall, he bursts out of the basement and into the night, barely making it past the door before upchucking into the bushes.

Two minutes later he stumbles further into the yard, his mouth tasting of cardboard and acid. The dew soaks through his jeans as he falls back, leaning up against a tree and staring into the sky. It’s a full moon tonight. The moon is so bright overhead it almost hurts but it’s better than looking at the flashing lights in the windows; that might make him puke again. Sirius is out in full force tonight too, almost as bright as the moon.

His Mum taught him to read the stars when he was little, back when she still loved him. She would take him outside at night and they would stay up late stargazing. She always hated Sirius though, she said it was overrated and boring, ‘far too flashy and attention-seeking’. How a star could be attention-seeking, Regulus didn’t know. He let her have it though, preferring to enjoy the fact that she was spending time with him at all.

He wonders if James ever looks at the sky and talks to Sirius. Maybe he’s doing it right now. He wonders what James is doing. Where he is, how he is. Anything.

What Regulus wouldn’t give for just a glimpse of him. But James made his choice. And Regulus would respect it. It didn’t matter anyways. He would be dead soon and nothing would matter at all.

“S’cold out here,” Barty mutters, sitting down and lighting up a cigarette.

Regulus didn’t even see him come out. He simply appeared. It makes him giggle a bit, thinking of Barty making his way out here while Regulus was staring up at the moon like a deer in headlights.

“God, you’re utterly tossed,” Barty laughs, handing his lit cig over.

Regulus doesn’t really like smoking, it’s more of a social thing for when he needs to find something to do with his hands. He takes it tonight though, to wash away the taste of stomach acid with smoke.

“Yep.”

“Thought you were gonna bring Sunshine tonight?”

Sunshine. Their name for James since Regulus refused to say who he really was or give them any information on James whatsoever. Evan had come up with the name. Said Regulus lit up like the sun when he talked about him.

He didn’t talk about him anymore. It felt like a betrayal now. He was Regulus’s secret. Only his. Even if whatever they had was long gone.

“Nah, he’s gone.”

His voice catches on the last word so he coughs to cover it up. Barty doesn’t need to know how utterly pathetic Regulus is. How fucking miserable and pitiful he is for daring to think someone could ever love him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Pretty sure it was always going to end that way….”

The wet grass is so very cold now but it’s nice in a way.

“Reg, come back inside. Forget about him and come have a drink.”

He doesn’t deserve it. Either of them. No, Regulus deserves to sit here in the cold and think about James. He doesn’t need to go back inside and infect the happy, shiny people with his misery.

“No, I think I’m just gonna sit here a moment,”

Barty lingers a second longer, clearly trying to find something to say.

“It’s fine,” Regulus says before he can, “I’ll be fine. Go back to Evan.”

So he does. He walks away slowly, back to the party, back to the warmth that Regulus doesn’t deserve.

“Regulus,” Barty calls, looking back, “I am sorry.”

Yeah. So is he. He’s sorry he hasn’t killed himself yet and he’s even more sorry that now he won’t be able to. At least until the alcohol leaves his system and Regulus is in control again.

Though, based on how it’s been going lately, he has a funny feeling that Sleep will take him first. But what’s once more cycle? He’s been riding this merry-go-round for years. One more round can’t hurt.

His body shuts down slowly. It's a gradual slip, steady and sly, creeping in with a vengeance before he can realize it’s happening and by the time it does, it’s too late.

It just happens. The air expands around him, enveloping him in a bubble, unable to move, unable to speak. Unable to do anything but watch as the world passes by around him. It’s like sleeping, only now, he can’t wake up.

The moon hangs still overhead and the longer Regulus sits, the more he feels like a part of the tree. He can feel his roots growing, stretching out beneath the soil, branches spiralling up to the heavens. It’s nice to pretend. If he were a tree, life would be easier.

His limbs are freezing now, slowly moulding into a part of the trunk. Skin is being replaced by bark, a thin layer of frost forming over his leaves as he sinks below the dirt.

He’s Asleep again.

—-----

Drying up in conversation

You will be the one who cannot talk

All your insides fall to pieces

You just sit there wishing you could still make love

The green walls don’t feel like him anymore. They should be blue ....or red, like James' scarf.

Regulus is laying on the floor of his room, looking up at the skylight while Radiohead plays in the background. Once, when he had mandatory counselling following a bad bout of being Asleep, the therapist had told him that listening to sad music when he’s sad is counterproductive. Ironically, it was the only thing she said that Regulus actually listened to. It just stuck.

Sometimes her voice still pops into his head randomly. Like now. Only he doesn’t want to get up and turn the music off. His body is too tired to do much of anything apart from moving his eyes across the walls.

It’s sickening. He needs to repaint. Neon green, why had he chosen that in the first place? It was a bad colour. Made even worse by the sticky notes placed around like confetti. Looking at it now was even worse with the cheap alcohol from last night still working its way through his body. The multi-coloured notes add texture to the vomit-green, making his walls look like a parking lot at an amusement park.

It’s the best thing that you’ve ever had

The best thing you’ve ever had has gone away

Yeah, that’s pretty accurate. The best thing he’s ever had has gone away and it’s left him completely fucking empty.

Something is sticking into his back awkwardly. It’s making his spine hurt but he just can’t be bothered to move it. Sleep is inside him now, eating away at his organs, replacing feeling with empty space, turning his blood to salt that burns as it circulates to keep him alive. He doesn’t want to be alive.

I am a moth who just wants to share your light

I’m just an insect trying to get out of the night

He shouldn’t have gotten drunk. It was nice in the moment but the comedown is never worth it. Especially when he uses alcohol to try and keep the Sleep at bay. It comes back with a fucking vengeance and leaves him like this.

Days pass slowly and in the blink of an eye. Regulus watches them go from the floor of his room. The sun rises and falls, it rains, then the sun comes back out. Minutes tick away, they turn into days, then a week, then two.

Two weeks since the sun left, two weeks since he got up off this floor. Two weeks since he’s felt anything but empty.

There’s really nothing much to say for what happens when Regulus is Asleep. He doesn’t see any of it. The world passes by around him and he’s stuck in place, stuck in his mind, reliving every moment he’s ever felt alive but unable to do anything to get it back.

Sometimes he actually sleeps, dozing in and out of consciousness all while on the floor because the bed is just so far away and he’s scared the walls might close in if he gets that high up.

Other times he thinks, sinking deeper and deeper into the pit of self-deprecation and shame. How could he possibly have believed that he was worthy of being loved. Not even loved, just liked. It’s truly disgusting. He’s disgusting. A mass of skin and bones and flesh with nothing but worms inside. No wonder James left.

When he feels slightly less awful, he reads the sticky notes, bits of his favourite music, poetry. He puts everything on the walls, hoping for it to help when he’s in this state. It never does.

And when that finally tires, he dreams of dying. He plans it all out, different methods, how he would do it, where he would do it, how fucking nice it would be. He doesn’t act on any of it. That would require getting up off the floor and he simply can’t do that yet.

No. Instead he stares at the green walls, plans his death, hates himself, and breathes. For fourteen days he just breathes.

It’s the same green paint that finally motivates him to move for something other than water or the bathroom. He just can’t stand the fucking sight of it anymore. It’s not what he wants to look at when he dies.

—-----

The paint store smells exactly how one would expect. Like paint. It might be the greatest thing Regulus has ever smelled. It smells like change.

He wanders the aisles, letting his fingertips brush against the samples. They're so bright, shades of orange and yellow, popping like daisies, blues and greens, deep and vibrant. He wants them all. He wants to bathe in them, soak up what makes them so beautiful and keep it to himself.

It takes almost an hour to find the right colour and even longer to find the right shade. Eventually he settles on red. Red like James’ scarf. It has to be perfect

“You sure about that?” the man at the counter asks gruffly when Regulus presents him with the small tile.

Smiling, Regulus nods. He’s quite sure.

“Alright. I only ask because it’s pretty dark, if it’s for a bedroom you might want something lighter.”

“It’s okay. I like this colour.”

The man shrugs and heads off to mix it up for him.

Twenty minutes later, Regulus is home.

Painting doesn’t take long, especially when he’s not concerned with anything but painting. Nothing matters more than covering up the putrid green.

Slowly but surely he does. Layer by layer his room transforms into a sea of red, glaring and bright and so very beautiful. James would like it, he thinks. It’s the exact shade of his stupid scarf.

He covers up the multitude of old sticky notes, not bothering to remove them. He just throws more red on top, plastering them into the wall forever. It’s a new beginning. Or, more accurately, an ending.

When it’s finally done he feels a bit lightheaded from the fumes but it's ok. The green is gone and he’s getting off the fucking merry-go-round.

—-----

Dinner that night is a quiet affair. She likes to do this sometimes, pull Regulus from the void and act like they’re a happy family. Like the years of silence, avoidance and neglect are ages past and an under-baked yet somehow burnt casserole can wash it all away.

It’s bullshit, they both know it.

“What did you learn today?” She asks, glaring down the empty table and picking Regulus apart with that sharp gaze.

He doesn’t answer just yet. Mainly because, far as Regulus can tell, it’s a Saturday and he hasn’t been to school in weeks. Fuck, he hasn’t even left the house in weeks. But what does she know? Regulus has gotten quite good at existing under the radar. And her radar is exceptionally flawed.

“Nothing…. It’s the weekend.”

“Oh… well what did you learn yesterday?”

How pathetic he is? How undeserving of love? Maybe how ugly the colour green is?

“Not much.”

His stomach hurts. It clenches tightly and refuses to allow any food in. Not that you can call this mass of green beans and ham food anyways. He really might throw up. Which would be a shame because he hasn’t eaten in days and that would really hurt. Throwing up on an empty stomach isn’t fun at all.

Hopefully it goes away. He has plans for a better meal later on. A final one.

They lapse back into awkward silence, punctuated by the clinking of cutlery as Regulus shuffles the food around on his plate and hopes it looks like he’s eating.

How does she not notice? He’s disappearing before her very eyes and she doesn’t even see. Maybe he’s invisible already? Maybe he’s wafted away like a ghost, faded into nothing leaving behind a plate of untouched food and silver cutlery.

Then her eyes lock onto his and he knows he hasn’t gone away just yet. Unfortunate, that. Very unfortunate.

—-----

After dinner, or lack thereof, Regulus goes back upstairs. It still reeks of paint but the smell reminds him that at least one thing is different and it’s comforting. Like an old sweater, familiar and worn.

He feels like he’s already gone. He feels like a ghost, drifting up the stairs and to his room.

It’s not him that stands in front of the mirror, watching the boy inside it stare back with empty eyes.

It’s not him that reaches into the cabinet, carefully selecting out an orange bottle of sleeping pills.

It’s not Regulus that dumps the contents into the ghost's hand, counting them meticulously while whispering the number out loud.

Thirty-two

He doesn’t know the person saying that. The voice sounds foreign.

Regulus watches from behind the veil as the ghost drifts back to his room, taking a seat on the floor and opening a clenched fist to reveal the stolen pink pills. He watches as the ghost tips them into his mouth, and swallows hard, two, three, four times.

Finally, he lies down on the floor and imagines his body shutting down. Organs dying, blood pumping slower and slower until it slows to a stagnant pool in his veins. It’s too soon, he knows that, but he can feel it coming on.

There’s a weight pressed heavily against his chest, lulling him back down to the floor, preventing any and all attempts to fight it. The pills seem to whisper to him, promising serenity, eternity, an end. He wants to listen.

Ten minutes pass by while the weight grows heavier. All the while it whispers in his ear.

Stay here, they say, stay with us.

No. He doesn’t want to anymore.

The pills are liars. This isn’t peace. This is Sleep.The very thing he’s running from and here it is now, threatening to swallow him whole and keep him forever.

It’s a fight to even lift his head from the ground but he does it. With every last ounce of strength he fights it.

Then he’s running, sprinting to the bathroom, kneeling at the toilet and jamming his fingers so far down his throat. It isn’t enough.

Nothing comes up.

He hasn’t eaten in days beside the pills. There's nothing to come up.

Desperately, frantically he tries. It’s not enough.

Then, more running.

Honestly he’s not even sure where the energy comes from. Adrenaline maybe? That elusive drug that Regulus has been chasing his whole life finally kicking in when it’s needed the most. If he wasn’t so scared he might find it funny.

He feels more alive than ever when he’s closest to death.

The hospital isn't far, maybe a few blocks but it feels like an eternity. Like running in a dream, or through quicksand, it’s not fast enough.

Finally, years later, decades later, he arrives, pushing through the doors to the emergency room and locating the nearest person who looks like they have some semblance of a medical education.

“Pills,” Regulus gasps, “I swallowed pills and they won’t get out of me. Get them out of me.”

Her skin is cool as she guides him to a room with a leaky sink, instructing him to sit. She’s so calm. How is she so calm? Regulus isn’t calm. His mind is racing at a million miles a second. It’s not right, he can’t die now with unfinished business.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Someone else enters the room now. It’s all a haze. His mind is slowing to a crawl, unable to keep up with even the leak in the sink. Is it too fast now or too slow? He just can’t tell.

It’s not Sleep that's creeping in this time, it’s something else altogether. Death? Is this what death feels like? It’s not all that different from falling Asleep.

Not that different at all. He smiles faintly at that before nodding off, the leaky sink now a steady stream in the background.

—-----

The lights are too bright and everything smells of antiseptic.

But he’s still alive.

For maybe the first time in years, Regulus is glad of that. The Sleep didn’t get him, no matter how hard it tried.

It takes another minute for him to open his eyes. Opening his eyes means accepting the reality of his situation and he’s just not quite ready for that yet. Regulus is good at breaking things, not putting them back together, and hospitals are for mending.

Something clicks by his head and he forces them open, coming face to face with a smiling woman. Not quite who he would have picked for his first sight after almost dying but it’ll do. It’s a friendly face at least.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, looking down upon a wooden clipboard. “You didn’t have any ID on you when you came in so we’re going to need you to fill out some paperwork.”

She didn’t even pause to let him answer her question before shoving the clipboard into his hands. Any other time he would be offended but honestly, he gets it. This is just a job to her, nothing more.

Or maybe she’s tired of having people come into the ER demanding to have their stomachs pumped. Perhaps it’s a common occurrence around here?

He leaves a fake name on the papers, filling out as little as he can. It needs to be like he was never here. No one can know.

When he’s done, he hands it back, scanning the room for his belongings as she goes, presumably to check the obviously fake information he gave.

He waits until she leaves to crawl out of bed and get dressed. Then it’s out the door, down the stairs and following the red lines on the floor to the exit.

Red again, how fitting.

There’s no need to stay here anymore. He knows this process well. First they send in someone to look at him and assess his ‘mental state’. Somehow, they’ll find his name and contact his mother and then it’s all over. He’ll be admitted and every chance of freedom slips away.

He leaves before that can happen.

The sun is shining outside as he exits the building. It feels almost like a slap in the face but right now that doesn’t matter.

Regulus is alive and the rest can fall into place.

—-----

So maybe he wants to give life one last shot.

One last fucking shot.

It’s like a mantra, repeated over and over in his head as he walks down the gravel road and towards the church.

It’s a real church this time. Not an abandoned one like he visited with…James.

But he’s not thinking about that. One step at a time, that’s what everyone says. He can do that. He can at least try.

Sometimes it’s manageable; the mood swings. Like right now. He doesn’t feel Asleep or Awake, just in between. This is how it must feel for everyone else. Maybe this is how they live their lives, precariously balanced on the tightrope that Regulus can’t seem to stop falling off of.

It must be nice.

The church smells of mildew and sugar, probably due to the ‘refreshments’ put out, consisting of stale cookies and watered down coffee. He feels sorely out of place here. It’s not meant for the likes of him. This place is for people with real problems, not for people like Regulus who just can’t seem to deal with life.

He found it online. A support group for people who have survived suicide attempts or known people who have succeeded. Regulus really envies the second type right now. But, instead of doing something about that, he makes a coffee, ignoring the packets of sugar because he doesn’t deserve anything sweet right now, and takes a seat in the circle of chairs provided.

Five minutes later, people start joining him, talking amongst themselves quietly and filling the room with noise that seems far too loud.

“First time here?” A boy leaned down, his face marred with deep pink scars. The longest one spanned his entire face, starting at his left eye and crossing over the bridge of his nose to end high on his other cheek. They looked relatively new.

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” he plopped down in the seat next to Regulus and extended a hand, “Remus.”

Tentatively, Regulus shook it. Remus had a strong grip. And he kept staring at Regulus with this weird, faraway look in his eyes. Almost....sad. It certainly didn’t match his attitude.

“Regulus.”

“Like the star?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Regulus.”

Thankfully, their conversation was interrupted as an older woman called for everyone's attention. He was quite put off by whatever this was and he certainly didn’t come here to make friends.

The woman introduces herself as McGonagall but says everyone can call her Minerva. Then she starts the meeting by having everyone go around and introduce themselves. Regulus gets the sense that everyone else here already knows that and this refresher is purely for his benefit.

She starts at the opposite side and he’s thankful for that, it gives him time to think about if he really wants to be here or not.

He tunes out the names as they fill the air. It doesn’t matter at all. None of these people matter and he’s not going to be sticking around to get to know them. That much is clear already. He is gaining absolutely nothing from any of this.

Once they are done, Minerva takes the lead again, opening up the floor for anyone to speak. Surprisingly, it’s Remus who jumps in, raising one scarred hand and standing up when Minerva smiles and gestures for him to speak.

“So, a lot of you guys know me, I’ve been coming here for….almost four months now and today is my three month anniversary. Which doesn’t mean a lot,” he paused, catching a glare from Minerva, “ok, actually it does mean a lot. Most days I still don’t want to be here, but, let’s be realistic, none of us would be here if we truly wanted to be alive. But it’s something. I can think about him now without wanting to hurt myself. And I’m starting to figure out how to live in a world without him. Half the time- no, almost all the time it still fucking kills, sorry Minerva, but it’s getting better. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. Is that it does get better. Nothing is ever permanent and the way you feel right now won’t be permanent.”

Remus sits down after that, nodding along with the other members as they voice their assent.

Regulus thinks it was all bullshit. Every single word that had just come out of Remus’s mouth was utter bullshit. That was his entire problem. Nothing was permanent. No matter how badly Regulus wishes it would be, it was as inevitable as the tides. Sleep always reclaimed him. Maybe this psychology crap worked on people who were normal but it sure as fuck didn’t work for him.

He zones out for the rest of the meeting. Remus had said enough. This place wasn’t for him. It was for failures who tried and fucking failed at the one chance they had and now had to attempt to make something of their lives afterwards.

Regulus wasn’t like them. When he tried. Really tried, he was going to succeed. He wouldn’t end up here again.

“So, what did you think?” Remus asks, jolting Regulus out of his own head to find that the circle of chairs were empty once more. Everyone was either leaving or making use of the ‘refreshments’ provided by the church.

“It was fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Yeah.”

Remus sighs and scratches the side of his nose. “You should try again then. This place saved my life, it’s far more than fine.”

He has to try hard to suppress a laugh at that. Not in a mean way but he simply can’t imagine this place doing anything like that for him.

“How? No offence but it’s kinda….bullshit. Just a bunch of people repeating the same stuff they’ve heard online. ‘One day at a time’ or ‘ healing takes time’. How does that help? They told me the same shit at the hospital when I was loopy on all the meds and half alive. I was a hell of a lot more receptive to it then and it was still fucking stupid. ”

The other boy is quiet for a moment. Then he looks away. “My boyfriend died a few months ago. Everyone says it wasn’t my fault and I guess, realistically it wasn’t. At least not all the way. I broke up with him that night though, and the accident happened while he was on the way home from that. His brother was driving. He blames me for it all. Says that it was my fault.”

Wait. What the fuck? Was Remus talking about Sirius and James? He has to be. This was a small town, not too many people that were dying in car accidents.

But how? Why? James had never told him about Remus, never said that he was the reason they were in the car that night.

“Anyways, that doesn’t matter,” Remus continues, “ I tried to kill myself a little bit after that. Drove my own car directly into a tree. It’s how I got these,” he gestured up to his face with a dejected smile, “ and after I got out of the hospital, I tried again. The only thing that really, truly helped me, was this place. Meeting people in the same boat I was in that had gotten out of it.”

Except Regulus isn’t in the same boat as any of these people. He’s on a solo raft, drifting further and further into the open ocean with each passing moment. For a short time James had been his lifeline, pulling him back to shore. But he was gone now too.

“I’m just saying, you should keep coming back.”

“Thanks.”

There isn’t much emotion put into it but Regulus really didn’t give a fuck anymore. He doesn’t have anymore to give, all he wants now is to get out of this place.

Remus lets him go, silently staring as Regulus pushes out the doors and into the parking lot.

He isn’t coming back.

—-----

He doesn’t go home after leaving, instead, he walks around aimlessly, wandering the town without any destination in mind. At one point it starts raining, a light drizzle at first until it turns into a torrential downpour.

It’s a warm rain, falling from the heavens like it was meant for him. It’s nice, really. After weeks of being so cold and empty, the water is pleasant. And, let’s be honest, he really needed a shower. The grime from the hospital felt like it had burrowed under his skin, cuddling up with all the shame and anger.

Eventually, sodden and dripping, he finds himself standing in the middle of the forest staring up at another church. The one with the missing bell.

Ironic, isn’t it? How things from your past have a way of bursting free even when you’ve tried so hard to bury them.

So, he’d tried. Albeit not very hard but he still had put some effort in. That was worth something at least. It had to be. But now he didn’t know what to do.

Everything was too much effort. Living, breathing, trying. It was all too hard and Regulus didn’t have the effort to give. More than that though, he was tired. A bone-sucking, deep, endless exhaustion that had made its home in his soul.

He was tired of the cycle, tired of riding that same merry-go-round for his whole life.

It was clear to him now. He didn’t want to stop the merry-go-round, it was too hard. No, he wanted off. But not with pills. Never again with pills. He would find some other way, a better way.

The church was the same inside. Rotting wood pews and crumbling walls. Slowly, he made his way up the tower, pausing at the spot where he had touched James for the first time. His fingers linger on the rung of the ladder, seeking out some remnant of the sun that James might have left behind.

He didn’t find any, of course. The sun is fleeting. It doesn’t leave behind gifts.

Regulus does though. At the top of the tower he pulls out a sharpie from his bag, sifting through the crumbled papers, old cigarette packs, and books to find it.

“Regulus was here,” he writes, “for a short time, I existed.”

There’s nothing more to say after that. He’s left his mark on the world. Proof that he did indeed live for a little while.

—-----

The sun is setting as he gets home, casting long shadows off the road.

That’s one thing he will miss. He’d always loved summer, even as a child. It was always warm, and green and everything felt so bright and happy, if only on the outside. It brings a slight smile to his face. He had been chasing the sun his whole life without even knowing it.

It isn’t until he finally looks up from the road that his heart stops dead in his chest.

“I……I’m sorry,” James says, rising from where he’s sitting on the front steps of Regulus’s house.

He looks good. Just how Regulus remembered him. He’s still wearing those dusty red converse and a long red flannel shirt and his glasses are crooked on his face and….maybe he has a few more freckles than Regulus remembers?

It’s not fucking fair. Regulus has made up his mind and it’s not fair at all for James to be here now. He left. He fucking left and Regulus had fallen apart but now he’s back? Apologizing and acting like he didn’t- No. He’s not doing this. It hurts too much.

“Go away, James,” he replies, once his throat learns how to speak again.

“No, please, just listen? I didn’t want to. I didn’t want any of this-”

“Go away.”

It’s breaking him, letter by letter. But, god, it would be so easy. And a part of him wants it. What’s one more turn around the ride? He can do it. For James, he could do it. Even if it hurts. Regulus has never been a stranger to pain.

Except he can’t. He needs off this ride.

“Regulus…. I swear, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

James is practically begging now, tears welling up in his brown eyes. Regulus feels like he might puke.

It’s not fair. Just when he had it all figured out, just when it was almost over, James shows up and gives Regulus a reason to keep living. And he can’t decide. It writhes in his blood, bubbling with the need to run or do something other than sit down and listen, no matter how much he wants to. It's a choice to make.

Leave or stay.

Live or die.

James or infinity.

Regulus sits down.

“Why?” His own voice sounds so weak and fragile and it disgusts him.

James doesn’t move. He’s so close, only a few inches and Regulus could close the gap easily. He wants to so badly. He’s been living for too long without the sun and now it’s finally in reach. But he can’t.

“I didn’t stay away on purpose,” James’ voice is quiet but steady and he stares out into the street as he speaks, “ after that night I lost my phone and I didn’t know where you lived and……I tried Regulus. I tried so damn hard to find you.”

Clearly not hard enough, he thinks before feeling immensely guilty.

“How did you find me?”

James smiles sheepishly before admitting that he stalked Evan and Barty. “They almost didn’t tell me. And then Evan, I think, asked if I was the ‘ elusive Sunshine’. I still don’t know what the hell he meant but they gave me your address after that.”

Fucking Evan. Regulus was going to kill him.

“What did he mean by that? Sunshine?”

The lie comes easily. “I don’t know, probably some stupid joke between the two of them, making fun of you in some odd way.”

“Oh. Ok….. Hey, I really am sorry... I missed you so fucking badly.”

“It’s okay. Probably for the best to be honest.”

“What?” James turns and looks back at Regulus now, his face twisted in confusion, “why?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly been a functioning human being since….that day. I fell Asleep again.”

James nods in understanding. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not. I fucking missed you, Regulus. You have no idea how much. You’re the only person I feel like I can actually breathe around. ”

Funny. Most of the time Regulus feels the same way.

“I missed you too,” he whispers, fully giving in now.

What does it even matter? James makes him feel alive. He’s here now, he’s back and he’s not leaving again. So maybe Regulus doesn’t need to try so hard to put up walls? Maybe, at least for now, he can take them down and just exist?

“Do you want to come in?” He asks, getting up from the steps and gently opening the door for James to follow.

He does, slowly, like he’s drinking in the world around him.

There’s not much to look at. A living room with a worn black couch, an outdated stove and refrigerator, hardwood floors that echo in the empty home as they walk to the stairs. Regulus has seen it all a million times and even if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t linger on it. Nothing was special or eye-catching. Really, he didn’t understand why James was taking his sweet time crossing the house.

“Any day now,” he mutters.

“Fine, I’m coming.”

He stops looking around and crosses the room in three strides. It’s only as they're halfway up the stairs that Regulus realizes he’s never had anyone else in his room before. It gives him pause. Showing off his room feels slightly….intimate.

“You alright?” James murmurs, placing a hand on Regulus’s shoulder. The warmth grounds him but he still shrugs it away. It doesn’t feel right. After so long away he’s really not sure how to do any of this. Really, he’s not sure how to do any of this.

He’s kissed people, sure. But only when he’s been drunk or high or riding the crest of being Awake. He’s never been in a relationship or……whatever the hell it was that him and James were doing.

Instead of replying he starts forwards once more and before he can think anymore about it, he pushes open the door and steps into the sea of red.

For a moment they just stand there, James looking around, and Regulus mimicking him, trying to see the world through his eyes. The walls are a bright crimson, dotted only by a singular sticky note. The only one he’s put up since painting.

As luck would have it, James goes right to it, reading it silently.

I’m driftwood, and I’m floating out to sea

as sun descends upon my home - the grove

of trees whose fragrance still remains with me.

And likewise, heaven’s work of art, a mauve

surrounding me, now permeates my soul.

Warm water, in the twilight growing cold,

is rocking me. Beneath dark blue, a shoal

moves swiftly; overhead there will unfold

the myriad of stars in semblance of

a giant carousel in dimming sky.

Those stars that glitter for the grove I love

will glitter too for me, where here I lie

alone, enraptured. . . and I think I might

drift evermore, enveloped by this night.

“That’s beautiful…..who is it by?

Behind him, Regulus shifts uncomfortably. “Uh….me.”

“Wow,” James sucks in a breath and turns, “I love it.”

“Thanks.”

He doesn’t really know what to say, no one had ever read his writing before, let alone liked it. It was an odd feeling but not an unpleasant one. It made his chest feel warm, like the sun had reached out and grazed him.

“Wanna sit?” Regulus offers, collapsing onto the floor, mainly because sitting on the bed would be too weird.

James follows, keeping a short distance between them out of respect. He appreciates that, even though he wants nothing more than to jump into James’ arms.

“So what’s it about? The poem.”

“Death,” he confesses, “ drowning, really. You know for the average person it takes only three minutes? 180 seconds before they hit that breaking point and their body forces them to breathe in. It’s actually peaceful once you stop fighting, overriding that part of your brain that’s programmed to survive is the hardest part. After that, it’s just nice. Kinda feels like floating.”

“So you’ve….?”

“Oh. Yeah, when I was fifteen. My dad drove our car off a bridge and I couldn’t get to the surface fast enough. I should have died that day. I stopped fighting and started sinking. Apparently I was under for four minutes before he found me. Though really, I don’t know why he bothered. Probably didn’t want to get a murder charge.” Regulus let out a short chuckle at that, ignoring how James tensed beside him.

“But that’s what the poem is about. That day, at least.”

“Oh.”

Regulus fiddles with a stray bit of string hanging from his sweater. It’s an old one, dark black with a fraying hem and too long of sleeves. He’s never really cared about his appearance before, but suddenly he’s aware of how dirty he must look.

He’s skinnier from the days spent on the floor, the sweater hangs off him at odd angles, showing bone through the fabric. His hair is still slightly damp from the rain and there must be dark circles under his eyes. Fuck, he’s sure he looks an utter mess. James must think he’s disgusting.

Regulus wraps his arms around his waist and pulls his knees in, suddenly anxious to change the subject from him.

“I met a boy named Remus…..not in that way,” he adds quickly, noticing the tinge of jealousy creeping into James’s eyes, “ just at a stupid meeting, we only spoke for a couple minutes. Why didn’t you tell me he was the reason you were driving that night?”

There is a fly in his room. It buzzes around the singular lightbulb while James stays silent. Regulus tracks it with his eyes, wondering if he said the wrong thing or if James was mad at him now or…..

“He killed Sirius. It was his fault,” James mutters quietly, “ It was his fault that I was distracted and it was his fault we were even out there in the first place.”

“I’m-”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” James interrupts, avoiding Regulus’s eyes.

“Okay.”

They sit silently for another moment before James leans over and rests his head on Regulus’s shoulder. A millions thoughts race through his mind, how he didn’t put on deodorant today, how he can’t remember the last time he showered and how his hair must be greasy. Regulus turns into a statue, staying as still as he possibly can for James.

“I really missed you,” James whispers into his ear.

“So you’ve said,” Regulus replies flippantly.

A smile flashes across James face before he abruptly sits up and places his hands on either side of Regulus’s temples.

“I’ve missed this too….”

James gently presses his lips to Regulus, his hands twisting into his hair as the kiss deepens, growing messier and hungry. Suddenly it doesn’t matter that his hair is greasy or that his clothes are damp and ratty.

The only thing that matters is James. The ball of fire pressed against his face, a personal sunbeam that’s all his. He’s alive and the sun is in his hands, and he’s kissing James so nothing could ever be wrong again.

Somehow they end up lying on the floor, James on the bottom and Regulus perched on top, their faces still locked together.

James is sturdy, Regulus finds out. He’s stronger than he looks, but he clearly doesn’t mind being pressed to the ground. Slowly, Regulus kisses a line down his jaw, lingering at his collarbone to suck a bruise into his tanned skin.

James makes a slight noise of happiness and Regulus smiles into his shirt, finally lifting his lips to ask James to take his shirt off. It’s really just in the way at this point.

“Oh,” James starts, sitting up and putting an arm around Regulus to stabilize him as he does, “Uh, I have a few….scars.”

He blinks back, not understanding why they weren’t kissing anymore. There was too much air between them, it almost physically hurt. Besides, who didn’t have scars? Regulus hadn’t had unblemished skin since he was seven. It didn’t matter one bit.

“So?”

Under his hips, James shifted uncomfortably before reaching up to pull his shirt off.

There were scars, true enough, but they were beautiful. Only three red lines, crossing along his chest, one of them dipping down to his lower abdomen. They were obviously recent. And medical grade. Not at all like Regulus’s, self inflicted and made of hatred. No, these were beautiful. Physical proof that the sun was still shining.

“They’re from the accident. I had to have surgery….afterwards.”

Regulus traced one finger along the line, trailing it downwards to where the mark stopped. Then he leaned down and kissed the place where his hand had been.

“You’re beautiful.”

They don't waste any more time talking after that.

—-----

Almost an hour later, they finally come up for air. Still on the floor, Regulus rests his head on James' chest and listens to the steady heartbeat sounding through his skin. James throws one arm protectively over Regulus as they stare up at the ceiling.

It feels safe. And warm. If Regulus had a choice, he would stay here for eternity. Endlessly curled into the pocket of James’s arm, content to just exist in the shadow of the sun.

“Why red?” James asks finally, breaking the steady sound of his heartbeat.

“It was green before. I think red might be my favourite colour now though.”

A laugh bubbles up in James’ chest. “You said it was blue a few weeks ago!”

“Yeah. But red reminds me of you.”

A spot of warmth appears on the back of his head as James kisses it lightly. “Good.”

“I lied before,” Regulus confesses, “ about the ‘Sunshine’ thing.”

“I know.”

“What?”

“You have a tell when you’re lying,” James explains, brushing a curl out of Regulus’s face, “you pick at your thumb. This one…” he taps Regulus’s left hand lightly before putting his arm back around the boy.

“Fucker.”

James just beams at him and gestures for him to explain.

“Okay, well Barty and Evan kept asking for your name and I wouldn’t tell them so they started referring to you as Sunshine whenever you came up in conversation. They said I, and I quote, ‘lit up like the sun’ when talking about you.”

“That’s adorable. Did you talk about me a lot?”

“No,” Regulus scowls.

He’s never been this vulnerable with anyone before. It’s an odd feeling, bearing your heart to someone and knowing they have power over you now. Even more odd was the way he didn’t hate it. Instead, he wanted to say more, he wanted to tell James everything, to rip out his soul and gift it to the boy so he could truly understand. He would do it if he could. In a heartbeat.

“I’m sure.”

They fall silent once more and the sound of James’s breathing almost lulls Regulus to sleep. It’s just something about being around him that allows Regulus to sleep. Maybe it’s the safety or the warmth that he provides.

He’s just slipping into that in-between zone when James stirs.

“I have to go,” he whispers, lightly extracting himself from Regulus’s body.

“Why?” he mumbles back, “Just stay here with me, my Mum won’t be home until next week.”

“No, I really have to go.”

That wakes Regulus up. He sits up on the hardwood floors and stares up at James while he collects his bag. “But I just got you back.”

Something softens in James' eyes and he leans down to press a kiss into Regulus’s forehead.

“I’m sorry. I’ll call you, okay?”

And then he leaves the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Regulus listens to the footsteps as they grow fainter, ending with the bang of another door shutting.

It hasn’t changed anything in the grand scheme of things. It’s just set back the timeline a little bit. Honestly, that’s fine. As long as he’s gone before he falls Asleep again.

In some ways, it’s better. This gives him time to sort things out. To write notes, to give away his things, to let the final pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

And wasn’t the goal always to have a perfect day? He had one of those, two actually, counting today. This could give him a chance at a perfect week. Perhaps even, a perfect month before it was all over.

A part of him feels bad, lying like this, pretending everything’s fine while he plans his suicide, but at the end of the day does it really matter? If there was something in this world that was enough for him to stay, he would have found it already.

—-----

Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye.

Every single day since James returned had been sunny and bright, the epitome of summer, despite it still being early spring. Even the weather matched, the bright days bringing with it unseasonably warm weather.

Regulus wasn’t complaining. It let him and James spend almost every day together.

They continued Wandering across the town, making ample use of the map Regulus had, filling it with notes and drawings until the chart was more sharpie than anything else.

Some days it felt more like the universe was mocking him, giving him a taste of what life must be like for everyone else before that too, was ripped away once more. Well fuck them. He was laughing back this time. For the first time in his entire life, he was the one in control.

And most of the time he was happy.

He and James didn’t go in public, apart from what had become their traditional stop at the Runcible Spoon. They still had the worst coffee in town but Regulus swore it tasted better when James ordered it.

After coffee, they always went somewhere new. An abandoned treehouse with a broken ladder, a river with a peculiar set of stepping stones, they even went back to the piano one more time and made out underneath the stars. Regulus thought that was a bit cliche, but whatever, it made James happy.

And at the end of every day, Regulus went home and continued planning his death.

It was a fine system. It was working well.

Until it wasn’t.

—-----

The second his eyes open to the familiar red walls, he can tell something is wrong.

It always starts this way, with that well-known feeling of unease and nothingness, like someone slit open his stomach and scooped out his innards with a spoon.

He doesn’t want to get up, but the emptiness inside him needs to be fed. It wants to ache, to hurt, to feel.

These days are the worst. They’re outliers, unscheduled, dropping in whenever they please. They demand to be felt. Regulus always obeys. It’s easier to give in than to fight. Besides, his body is already fucked. What’s a couple more scars?

Pain is a terrible friend. Regulus learned that early in life. It never leaves you alone. It lingers and presses and screams for more, especially in the shower. It's comforting though, knowing that at least there’s one steady thing that won’t ever leave.

He leaves the lights on this time, despite how odd it feels to be able to see while the water pours down over him. He hasn’t showered with the lights on in months. But there’s something cathartic about watching the blood circle the drain and wash away.

He stays in there far longer than he should. It’s just so fucking mesmerizing.

When the cut is deep enough, it doesn’t bleed right away. It goes white first as the blood rushes to the edges, then it bubbles and spills over, leaving crimson streaks as it drains him of this empty feeling.

That was really all he needed, to let the pain be felt. It’s just another cost of life for him, same as eating or drinking.

Twenty minutes later, he turns the shower off and steps out. Usually on these days he would just go back to bed but he’s seeing James today. That requires a bit more work.

Walburga keeps white gauze stocked under his sink along with bottles of antiseptic and steri-strips. It always makes him laugh a little bit. Why address the root problem when you can throw bandaids at it? Literally. The bare minimum of parenting.

They do come in handy though.

Regulus is an expert at this by now. He's quick with it, and five minutes later he wanders out of the bathroom, his thighs thickly bandaged to absorb any leftover blood. He dresses with more care than usual, selecting a pair of baggier black jeans to hide the bulk and a plain green sweater.

They’re going somewhere new again today. James’s choice.

He’s going to be late if he doesn’t hurry. But really, what’s the point of any of it? Wouldn’t it just be easier for him to cut ties now before it hurts worse?

Regulus is running out of time. If this morning had proved anything it was that.

—-----

James is waiting at the usual spot, a steaming coffee in hand that smells of sugar and warmth. Regulus wastes no time taking it from him in one fluid motion.

“You’re late,” James accuses, looking down at the boy from where he is leaning against the wall.

“I overslept.”

He’s careful with his lies now, ever since James called him out for his tell. He makes a conscious effort to keep his fingers from twitching.

“It’s noon.”

The warm coffee flows down his throat and settles in his stomach, leaving the taste of burnt sugar and cream on his tongue. “Like I said, I overslept.”

“Okay. Well, let’s go then.” James gives him an odd look but doesn’t say anything else.

He follows James as they bike to the next location. The gauze chafes and rubs at his cuts while they go but he doesn’t mind too much. It’s a familiar pain. Comforting in the way it aches.

They end up at an older park, the equipment rusted with faded colours, remnants of a childhood long gone and wilting.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, Regulus doesn’t think he’s ever been taken to a park before. Walburga certainly wouldn’t have taken him, she had better things to do than watch a child run around in meaningless circles. And Orion? There was a better chance of hell freezing over.

“What, are we going to push each other on the swings?” Regulus asks, dismounting from his bike.

James scowls back. “So mean. No actually, the park is not our final destination.”

“Where then?”

A smile crept onto his face. “Hope you like climbing.”

James leads him to the back end of the park to a small gazebo hidden amongst foliage. Clearly it had once been beautiful but, like everything else in this park, age had done a number on it. The lattice was chipped and breaking away, the pain peeling, exposing waterlogged wood and missing chunks of flooring.

“Up we go,” James called, holding aside a bundle of vines.

“To the roof?”

“Yep.”

Odd choice but okay. Regulus moves past him and takes the extended hand James is holding out, letting him guide him to the railing.

Once they’re on the roof, James settles down, leaning his back against the peaked tiles while letting one hand trail along the ridges. They have to lie down, since the leaves from the surrounding trees leave only a small gap between the roof and branches. Regulus joins him, resting his head on the boy's stomach and intertwining his other hand into James’.

He doesn’t speak, just lets the silence build between them while he stares out into the treetops. They’re so close that he would reach out and touch them. He understands now why James chose this place. It’s quite beautiful.

The trees provide cover and hide them from any prying eyes. It almost feels like they’re in a little fortress, tucked away from the rest of the world.

“You like it?” James asks, absentmindedly running a finger along Regulus’s wrist.

“Yeah. It’s one of those places that feels…..severed. Like it exists in between worlds, neither here nor there completely.”

“Poetic,” James laughs, “but I agree.”

“I would live here if I could. It’s so peaceful and just, stationary. Years could pass in the blink of an eye and nothing would ever change.”

“I’d live here with you. We could stay like this forever.”

If only James knew how much Regulus wanted that.

Slowly, James leans down and presses a kiss into his lips. It’s nothing like the other times. Those were desperate and needy, a necessity. This kiss was different. It was gentle and kind. The way the sun feels after a long storm, or a slight breeze during a hot summer day.

It’s perfect.

When it finally ends, Regulus sits up, his heart pounding in his throat. No more time to put it off.

“Regulus,” James says, his voice soft and punctuated by a squeeze of his hand, “ I love you.”

He’s never been told that before. Not by anyone. The words fill him up inside, trickling down his throat like honey, soothing and warm.

“I love you too,” he whispers back.

It’s the truth. Regulus does love him. More than anything else, more than life itself. Just not enough to stay.

—-----

Another week trickles down the drain slowly.

He knows he’s running out of time. Every day the clock ticks closer and he’s fighting harder to stay Awake. More blood gets washed down the drain every morning, more gauze is wrapped tightly to staunch the flow of self-inflicted poison.

James comes to his house now. It’s empty anyways so why not make use of it? And Regulus can’t bring himself to leave.

They don’t talk about it. It’s just another one of those things that goes unspoken between them.

So instead, James brings coffee and reads to him from one of the many books Regulus owns. Or they lay on the ground and write sticky notes for the ceiling and plan more places to visit.

Sometimes Regulus sleeps. Tucked in the crook of James’ shoulder he sleeps better than ever.

Today, though, something seems off. James has that look about him, a faraway, removed sadness that Regulus doesn’t quite know how to fix.

They’re sitting on the floor, bumping shoulders and sharing the sugary coffee as Regulus tries and fails to bring it up.

“So why the sticky notes?” James asks, fiddling with a pack of bright pink ones.

“I like seeing my thoughts out in the world,” Regulus replies, “it makes more sense than having them stick inside my head.”

James nods like that makes sense before looking up at the skylight. It’s raining again and the water taps against the glass, filling the silence with pattering sounds.

“I wish the world would stop moving,” he finally says, “sometimes I think too much about it and realize that we don’t ever have enough time.”

Regulus nods, understanding the sentiment wholeheartedly. There’s never enough time. He leans forwards, curling himself in the space between James’s arm and body.

“Is that why you’re sad today?”

It was meant as a jab but James didn’t take it as one, instead his eyes welled up with tears that threatened to spill over onto his cheeks.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Regulus asks, concerned. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go.

“Remus told me. About the pills and the meeting and you…..god Regulus, are you okay?”

His whole body goes stiff at that. James wasn’t supposed to know. It wasn’t fair for him to know. And didn’t he hate Remus? Why the fuck were they talking about him? Having meetings about his mental well-being behind his back? It was fucking bullshit.

Unconsiously, he begins to pull back from the other boy.

“It was weeks ago,” he says, fighting to keep his voice calm, “I’m fine.”

“Are you really?” James presses,” because I don’t think you are. I don’t know anyone else who acts like you. You disappeared for WEEKS, Regulus. That’s not normal! I just want you to be okay, I want to help and I don’t know how. And then I find out that you almost killed yourself?! How am I supposed to feel?”

Regulus’ hands are shaking now. It’s not fucking right. James doesn’t get to throw any of this back in his face. He doesn’t even know the truth of any of it.

“I wasn’t the one who disappeared. That was you. You left. And I don’t need your help. You don’t get to try and save me just because you couldn’t save Sirius.”

The effect is instantaneous. James’s face hardens and he pulls back, his eyes clouded with anger and hurt.

“That’s not fair.”

“I’m just saying that I’m okay. I don’t need your help.”

“Oh yeah,” James spits, “clearly you’re doing fine. You haven’t left your house in a week but you’re just fucking peachy, right?”

Fuck him.

Regulus can feel his blood boiling beneath his skin. His fingers tingle and ache with the urge to do something.

“I would kill to be you, James. To have my entire life ahead of me and never have to worry when it’s going to be ripped from me. To never have to worry about the clock and how long I have before everything goes dark again. To not live in this fucking cursed merry-go-round, living the same goddamn day over and over again.”

James narrows his eyes. “Because my life is great, right? I mean, Sirius is the one who died. I’m the lucky one who lived? Yeah, I’ve got the whole fucking world in front of me but my brother is dead.”

Then, just for a second, something flashes in James’ eyes. Recognition maybe? It’s gone before Regulus can fully place it.

“Get out,” he snaps, pointing at the door.

He’s done. He’s so fucking done. James can leave and never come back for all he cares.

It’s only after he’s gone that Regulus realizes that might truly be the case.

—-----

The house stays empty for another few days.

It’s been empty for weeks now. Maybe even a month? Time is harder to pinpoint these days.

He really doesn’t even know where Walburga went. She’d said something the night of his ‘attempt’ about being gone for a few weeks but he hadn’t been paying the slightest attention. He could call her, leave her a message, tell her goodbye, but on the off chance that she decides she wants to be a parent, he thinks it would be better to leave a note for her to find later.

They’re all written up. One for his mother, one for Evan and Barty, and one for James. When he looks at it like this, it’s quite sad, how little his life has even meant.

Only four people to say goodbye too. Only three of whom would care. If James would still care. Regulus isn’t sure that he will anymore.

Oh well. In a few more hours, nothing would matter ever again.

Regulus leaves Walburga’s note in her room. It takes him some time to find a suitable spot. One that she won’t notice right away.

The letter for Barty and Evan gets mailed to Canada. He writes a fake address on the letter, making the return address the correct one. That will buy him another few weeks. It wouldn’t be right if anyone got a letter before James finds his.

Regulus has the utmost faith that James will find his.

The streetlights flick on one after the other as Regulus pulls his bike to the road and sets off.

He takes it slow, drinking in the warm spring air. There are so many things he’s going to miss.

Sunrises on those sharp muggy summer days, sugary sweet coffee, the smell of homemade muffins and fresh oranges, the sound a book makes when it’s cracked open for the first time,

James’ smile, the way he laughs .

So many firsts, not enough lasts.

The moon is out in full when he arrives, stars glimmer around it like tiny teardrops suspended in the night. They shimmer along the surface of the water, reflecting back like a mirror.

Slowly, methodically he removes his clothes, stripping down to his underwear and folding the remaining garments before placing them under a rock. He takes the bandages off too, fearing they might slow him down in the water. He needs to be as fast as possible.

They burn a little when he removes them, the strings of fabric sticking to dried blood. One or two opens up again and starts bleeding. It doesn’t matter. The water will wash it away.

James’s letter goes inside his clothes, tucked in a white envelope, protected by a ziplock bag.

He can’t let the elements ruin his words before James gets a chance to read them.

He’s sure James will be the first person to come here once he goes missing. Maybe he’ll know that Regulus is dead, maybe not. It doesn’t matter much anymore. Regulus has said everything he wanted to say, he’s lived his life to the fullest.

Now it’s time for it to end.

This feels right. Better than pills or slitting his wrists in the shower. It was going to end the same way it started.

Infinity. Always back to infinity.

The water is cold but not unbearable. That’s good. It will make it easier. This is his final chance.

If there is a bottom to this pool, he’s going to find it. And if not ....well, that story’s been told before.

The water closes over his head before he can think anymore about it.

Time’s up.

He was correcting the universe of a grievous error. Regulus was never meant to exist. He was a mistake, an anomaly, a mathematical improbability. And it was always going to end this way.

Maybe his life was messy. Maybe it was imperfect and disastrous and worth nothing at all but he had lived it.

He had loved and been loved. He had existed, despite all odds. Regulus had touched the very face of the sun and lived to belong to it.

He clings to that as he pushes down deeper, trying, failing, to find infinity. For a little while at least, he owned the sun.

It had been enough.

It had been enough.

Somewhere deep below the surface, Regulus Black takes his final breath.

He never did find the bottom.

Chapter Text

Those stars that glitter for the grove I love

will glitter too for me, where here I lie

alone, enraptured. . . and I think I might

drift evermore, enveloped by this night.

—-----

James knows something is wrong, he just doesn’t want to admit it. Admitting it would mean popping the perfect bubble that he and Regulus exist in. It would mean that he isn’t enough and all he desperately wants to be is enough.

He won’t be though. He never is.

Its raining again.

It feels like its always raining nowadays.

Regulus doesn’t like the rain. James knows that. It's what he tells himself all day as they stay locked inside, Regulus barely moving from the couch except to curl closer into James’s sweater.

He just doesn't like the rain.

Its been like this all week now, Regulus just existing and James trying to deny that anything was wrong. He knows deep down that something's wrong. He knows it from the way that Regulus barely eats and sleeps only when James is there. He knows it from the dark circles under his eyes and the pale, glossy look that is slowly overtaking his beautiful face.

Every day it gets worse, a steady decline, like a parasite had wormed its way into Regulus’s brain and was swiftly stealing the person James loved. It wasn’t fair.

He wants to talk about it, to help, to ease the burden but he can’t bring himself to find the words. So instead, they sit on the floor and listen to the rain.

James knows Regulus tried to kill himself. Remus’s words play on a loop in his mind now.

He’s going to do it again, you know?

Fuck him. James hates him more than before. Who did he think he was, showing up on James doorstep with a sad smile and a pamphlet, acting like he was god’s given gift to the world and that he knew more about James’ boyfriend than James did himself?

James had thrown a mug at his head.

It was one fucking meeting. Honestly if Regulus had met Remus there it was no wonder he never went back.

And yet, the words repeat over and over, clawing at his head trying to get out.

He doesn’t want to bring it up. He doesn’t want to pop the bubble but he can’t watch the life drain from Regulus anymore.

So when Regulus asks him what’s wrong he finally answers honestly.

And when Regulus throws his guilt back in his face he doesn’t question why the boy is shoving him away. He doesn’t question any of it until it’s too late.

—-----

Staying away is torture and a blessing all in one.

Days pass slowly for James. They pass in a blur or grey, colourless monotony. If he wasn’t so angry he might laugh at the way removing the Black from his life made the world more grey but he doesn’t. He’s too angry.

James fucking misses Regulus. He misses the way he smells, minty and slightly musty, but in a good way. Like old books. He misses the quiet conversation, the touch, the warmth, his cold hands pressed into James’ chest to suck the heat from him.

And at the same time he fucking hates him.

Regulus knew how to make it hurt. He knew just where to hit James. He knew all his weaknesses and fears and regrets and he used them against him.

Things said in confidence, things said under the stars, everything that James had poured out into the universe while Regulus listened, their hands intertwined like rope.

So he couldn’t forgive. Not yet.

James knows anger well. It's a comfort to him, a worn blanket he can drape over his shoulder and settle under the familiarity. He likes the anger. It’s a friend to him. A cloak to shelter under until Regulus apologizes.

That’s all he has to do, just apologize.

See, James knows he didn’t mean it. It was said in fear and shame. James knows that feeling intimately, he’s said many things in the heat of the moment and meant none of them. But he also just can’t accept what Regulus said. He can’t.

So until he apologizes, James is staying away, even if it’s slowly killing him.

—-----

“I’m making soup tonight,” Mum says with a strained smile, the sweet smell of ripe tomatoes permeating through the kitchen where James sits, absentmindedly playing with a stray bit of string.

She’s trying, they’re all trying. James just doesn’t know how to fix this fractured mess that Sirius broke. Maybe it’s unfixable. A broken plate, shattered into a million pieces that all the glue in the world can’t put back together.

“What kind?” He asks though he doesn’t really care. Food is the last thing on his mind.

“Gazpacho. I thought it would be good for trying to call down some of that summer weather we need. I’m sick of all this rain we’re having,” she smiles a bit too tightly again and for a moment the light hits her and he can see all of the ageing lines on her face.

“That’s good Mum,” he replies, really trying this time.

She nods back and they linger in each other's presence for a moment, all the words that bite at his tongue going unspoken once more.

—-----

Two weeks fly by in radio silence. It's the quiet that hurts more than the fight. Regulus should have cared. He should have cared more.

The anger is long since faded from James. He doesn’t have the capacity to carry it anymore. It’s too much, too strong. The cloak he hid behind for so long just weighs him down now but he still can’t shed it fully.

That’s why he goes to the watering hole instead of Regulus’ house. The watering hole could be a coincidence, his house would just be admitting defeat.

He calls Regulus’s name softly while pushing through the treeline, not expecting a reply but knowing that Regulus at least will hear him.

So when he finally does get through the trees it’s wrong. Its so fucking wrong that there’s no one there. The water is calm and still, rippling slightly in the breeze. It's shocking to find it empty. As naive as it sounds he hadn’t expected Regulus to not be here.

It just feels fundamentally wrong to be in this place without him.

He's just about to turn and leave when something catches his eye. It's miniscule, half hidden by the brush and barely anything noticeable but there’s something off about it.

A small pile of black cloth, a cellphone in a bag and a folded note all weighed down by a chunk of rough granite. It wasn’t here before.

James doesn’t want to read it. Some part of him already knows. Regulus loved this watering hole, he loved the prospect of infinity.

His fingers are cold like ice as he opens the bag and unfolds the wrinkled paper.

I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you. I loved you more than anything else in this world. You were everything to me, the only damn thing in this world that ever mattered. You were the sun and I lived for the days that you shone upon me.

No.

I wasn’t meant for this world. I’ve known that forever I think. Deep down, I’ve always known there was something irreparably wrong with me. I didn’t exist the way other people did. I lived on a clock, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

No. Why is he talking in past tense?

Some days it was okay. Most days, I was suffocating under the weight of being alive. I didn’t know how to fix it and god, believe me I tried.

James wants to puke. He wants to run and scream and tear up this fucking note and act like it never existed in the first place. It can’t be what he thinks. This is just some cruel, sick joke and any second now Regulus is going to pop out from behind those bushes.

Except he doesn’t.

The treeline remains the same, the gray, pale rocks stare on with unyielding indifference, and the sun bleached pages remind James that this note has been waiting for him. Maybe for a long time.

Especially for you. When I met you, I really started trying. It just wasn’t enough and I’m sorry for that. If anyone could have saved me it would have been you. I need you to know that. You were my sun, the only thing in this whole damn world that ever mattered. The little sliver of happiness and light in a constant storm of rain.

No. No, he got that wrong. Regulus saved him, not the other way around. Regulus had saved him and James wasn’t good enough to do the same.

It takes a minute for the water to clear from James’ eyes enough to continue reading.

But I can’t live in a world full of rain.

I wish I had something more profound to say, something to make it hurt less, something to take away the pain. I don’t and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for all of it. I don’t want to hurt you but it’s hurting me to stay.

I’m off to find infinity now. Maybe it exists, maybe it doesn’t. I’m going to find out. I hope there is something afterwards, after all this. If there is, I’ll find you there.

Don’t look for me in the sunsets, those were always for you anyways.

I’m sorry.

It’s not fucking fair.

—----

James stays at the watering hole for a long time. He doesn’t move, doesn’t cry, and barely breathes. The hurt is too much. It’s all-encompassing, like a full body burn it just fucking hurts.

At some point it starts raining again. It does nothing to soften the burns.

They can’t be softened. There is nothing at all that could ever even come close to helping. Somewhere below James is the body of the person he loves and nothing in the world could ever change that.

He isn’t sure how long he’s there for, only that the sun is gone by the time a pair of soft hands reach out to grab his shoulders. At first he thinks it’s Regulus and for a split second, he allows himself to feel hope.

Until his Mum pulls him into a hug and he’s startled back into a reality in which Regulus Black is dead.

He doesn’t know how she got there or what she knows, only that she’s here and her warm embrace does nothing to ease his pain. Slowly, she guides him up with steady hands and they walk forwards into the haze of flashing lights and commanding voices.

If there is a hell, James is sure he’s in it. Every step brings a fresh wave of grief, a new reminder of what he’s lost and continues to lose.

He’ll never hear Regulus’ voice again, never hear his laugh, never read to him again, never…..

There are too many nevers. He can’t allow himself to dwell on it. If he stops for one moment to think about something other than keeping his feet moving forwards he is sure the world will swallow him whole.

If he stops he will never get back up.

A soft thunk snaps his fractured mind back to reality for a moment. Just long enough for a semblance of normal to peek through the haze and point out that he is in a car.

A car.

James hasn’t been in a car in months. Not since the accident that was his fault. He wonders briefly if this accident was also his fault. For staying away.

Probably. Everything bad usually is.

The engine roars to a start and James can feel the prickle of anxiety start to tingle in his chest again. It happens every time, a tingle that swells to a pressure and builds upon itself till it’s crushing James with the weight of guilt.

He doesn’t ride in cars anymore.

Today though he lets the guilt swallow him. He lets the anxiety fill his bloodstream and envelop him whole. Its a small price to pay for what he’s done. He doesn’t deserve the comfort of walking or biking. He needs to feel it all.

Lights fade out in the rearview mirrors as his Mum drives towards home. James watches them go in the distance and wonders just how much misery a person can take before they cease to exist.

Not much more, he thinks.

It could have taken years or seconds to get home. James doesn’t know, nor does he care. Time is irrelevant from this pit of misery he’s fallen into.

“James we should go inside,” Mum ushers with guiding hands, opening the car door and reaching for him.

Her outstretched hand makes him wonder if Regulus reached for the surface in his final moments.

No one was on the other end of his.

James ignores the hand and climbs out of the car on his own. His legs feel weak. Everything feels weak. If he could just lay here in the rain and die would the water wash away his body? Would he finally stop losing people?

Probably not.

—-----

Time continues to pass. He watches it fly by from his window. Minutes turn into hours which turn into days and eventually weeks. School ends and he doesn’t realize it for weeks.

Oh well.

He never went anymore anyways. He didn’t think he could stand walking those halls and knowing that Regulus would never be in them again. Everyone just allows it too. They allow him to stay home, they allow him to rot in his bedroom, they allow him to fall apart at the seams and no one offers so much as a fucking safety pin.

Maybe they think it's for the best? Like those stupid fucking pamphlets in Pomfreys office with those stupid sayings ‘grieving is a process’ or ‘the five stages of grief and how to work through it’. Fuck them all. He wishes someone would just come and yell at him to get up.

No one does though.

He doesn’t go to Regulus’ funeral. No one makes him so he doesn't go. That doesn’t matter either. Regulus isn’t there. James doesn’t know where he is but it isn’t there, sitting in that closed casket never again to see the sun.

James tries hard not to dwell on the fact that it was a closed casket. He tries hard to think about things other than Regulus’s swollen skin and waterlogged limbs. He ignores the things that lurk in the background in his dreams, drowning eternally just out of reach.

It's a hard thing to put into words, how grief feels. It physically hurts. There’s no true way to describe the feeling of acute loss. There’s no way to continue living when everything around you has turned into pale shadows of what they used to be.

Every day is a fresh reminder of what could have been. The view from his window to the yard where he and Sirius used to play as children. The red converse that sit gathering dust beside his bed, even the fucking stars in the night sky.

None of it is fair.

He grieves the loss of two, grieves the loss of a life he never got to live and a life that he will have to live.

At some point Remus starts coming over. James isn’t sure exactly when it starts but they sit together in silence, staring out the windows.

James allows it. He doesn't have any fight left in him so what does it matter really? He had been right, if he wanted to come and gloat he could do so over the desecrated shell that James was. It wouldn’t give him any satisfaction, James was sure of that. Fighting was never any fun when they didn't hit back.

To his credit Remus never did say any of that. He just sits there, allowing James to glare at him while he drinks tea out of the same red mug from their kitchen.

It's his mug.

That's what finally breaks the silence.

“You can’t just take everything,” James spits out after days of watching him sip from it like he owned it. He didn’t and Remus needs to know that.

“What?” Remus asks, confused. His eyes snapping onto James instantly.

“It's my mug. Not yours. You can’t just take everything from me.” He hates how his voice sounded, rough and cracked after weeks of not being used.

Remus clears his throat slightly and sets the mug down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was yours.”

James sat up, his muscles aching with the sudden movement. “You never fucking asked.” And it all came spilling out, the hatred, the anger, the boiling rage. “You never asked. You just take and take and take. Sirius, my mug, my parents. And then,” he laughed, a cold bitter sound, “ and then you try and take Regulus too. Acting like you know him. Like maybe you could have saved him because I couldn’t. Fuck you Remus. You were right. I couldn’t save any of them but guess what? Neither could you.”

There is pity in his eyes as he stares back, his face unyielding against the barrage of emotion James had flung at him. A moment passes quietly before Remus picks up the red mug and leaves.

The next time he comes over his tea is in a pale yellow one.

Remus speaks to him now. It's never a conversation because James never replies but he listens. There’s nothing to do but listen and he’s so fucking tired of his own mind.

It starts with stories of Sirius. A tale of them breaking into the old movie store downtown and running from the cops. A quick story of them fishing at the river and Sirius getting smacked into the water by the fish he had caught.

James can picture it all and some small part of him is grateful to Remus for it despite his hatred. The pictures are so beautiful and in some ways it’s easier than thinking about Regulus. That pain is still too fresh.

On the third day Remus tells him about the time they went ice skating and Sirius had to use one of the skating aids for kids. James laughs aloud at this, the mental image of loud, abrasive Sirius having to clutch at the tiny walker is too much. It shocks both him and Remus and the boy stops his story for a moment to give him a small smile. James looks away as Remus continues talking.

Their bond builds slowly after that. When Remus has finally exhausted every possible story about Sirius he starts talking about grief. Its fucking insufferable so James shuts him up with his own story about Regulus.

It's hard at first, saying his name, knowing it belongs to no one now and a few times he has to stop and allow the lump in his throat to dissipate before continuing but he gets through it. He tells Remus about the coffees and how Regulus could never order his own. Remus just listens intently as he sips his tea.

James hates that it helps. He hates that Remus is the one to help but he can't seem to stop. He needs to talk about it, he needs someone to listen and there is no one else.

Their conversations slowly morphe into other things too. Music, art, movies, they talk about it all. They start going on walks around the town though James makes it a point to avoid the Runcible Spoon. He joins that support group Remus talks about and tries. Really tries.

It's a tedious process, one that takes longer than James could have ever expected. And it never really goes away fully. The hurt is always there, lingering in the back of his mind. Somehow though it became a whisper instead of a constant scream.

—-----

Nothing can stay the same forever really.

James let the months slip by slowly, taking one day at a time just like McGonagall says. It usually works. And on the days it doesn’t he knows there’s support. There’s meetings and friends and family and so many options for help.

He wishes Regulus had those options too. Maybe things would have ended differently for him. He tries hard not to dwell on the what-ifs.

Leo helps with that. He was just a small stray when James met him. Scrounging in the garbage bins for a scrap of food and looking downright pitiful. It had been Remus to point him out but James had wasted no time in scooping the small thing into his sweater, letting the muddy fur stain the fabric without a care.

James had never liked cats. He didn’t hate them, he was just indifferent to them. Until Leo.

That stupid cat stole his heart from the very moment he appeared dripping wet, skinny and definitely flea-ridden.

James had snatched the creature up and marched it home, ignoring the hissing and feeble attempts at escape. It was love at first bath after that.

The creature was a spoiled one, only eating premium wet food and demanding attention whenever he pleased. James was always happy to give it though. It helped immensely, having something to focus on, a reason to stay alive and moving forwards. And on the days where it all felt like too much and getting out of bed was an impossible feat, Leo would crawl in with him, press his tiny black nose James skin and remind him that being alone wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Recovery isn’t linear. Those words had been drilled into his head time and time again just after he had lost Sirius but it was only now that he began to understand them. It’s not a steady process, there’s no rhyme or reason to it.

Some days he can laugh at the TV and begin to see the colour bleed through the edges of life again and others the mere smell of a particular food brings the waves crashing down full force once more.

This time though, he gets back up. He doesn’t let the water hold him down and drown him.

—-----

ONE YEAR LATER

James hadn’t been back to the watering hole since that day.

It’s odd, seeing it now. Like nothing has changed but at the same time everything has.

The grey rocks are the same flat tones they used to be, the water is still and quiet, only slightly moving with the autumn breeze. It’s peaceful. The only trace that anything had ever happened was a thin sliver of yellow caution tape half buried in the falling leaves.

He avoids that area, instead choosing to sit where he had on the first visit here all those lifetimes ago. Even in the wake of everything that had happened he still half expects Regulus’ head to pop up from the surface, grinning ear to ear.

He doesn’t though. And while James sits quietly, watching the sun make its way back to the earth, the day grows colder and the steaming cup of sweet coffee in his hand goes untouched.

“I never told him this but Sirius was his brother you know?” James says quietly as the deep blue water ripples in front of them.

Remus turns in shock, his eyebrows questioning.

“Sirius was adopted when he was three months old. It was a closed adoption but we looked into it years ago and found out that his first family lived in this town and had another kid. Sirius didn’t want anything to do with him. I think he was hurt that they wanted Regulus but not him, you know? I never told him that and now he’ll never know.”

Remus nodded in understanding. “They’re from the same constellation. Sirius and Regulus.”

James smiled slightly. He knew that.

The Leo constellation.

A cool wind blows through the clearing suddenly and James wraps his sweater tightly around himself. Fall was upon them.

“Ready to go?” Remus asks later after almost two hours of sitting, his voice soft and full of careful concern.

James nods finally. His mum was making dinner at home and he didn’t want to miss it.

It took a long time to get there. It would never be the same again. Nothing would. But it didn’t feel quite so broken anymore. The pieces were beginning to mend slowly. Maybe the image would never be as pretty as it had been but there was a certain beauty to the fragility of it.

As they get up to leave, James looks back one final time. In the dim of the setting sun he can see a singular star winking into existence.

It's a small one, so bright that James can’t picture the night sky without it. After a moment it’s joined by another.

Slightly brighter than the first but no less beautiful.