Oh, Golden Boy
James Potter was a wee twelve years old when he found out that he liked girls and boys and it was all rather overwhelming, unbelievable and shameful. He was fourteen when he held his first digital camera and took pictures of grass, butterflies, books, flowers, wood, fire, and Lily, Lily, Lily. Lily was wonderful, truly, and so were all the pictures (they’d met one day in 9th grade when James was only taking pictures of the fountain in school when Lily walked into his frame and posed for him). When he was seventeen and kissed Brad Hawshire, the captain of the football team, under the bleachers in boarding school, he felt like the king of the world and just a twinge of shame.
In school, he met people like him. Sirius Black, who listened intently to all of his wants and dreams and desires and never judged him. He had long black hair and grey eyes and a straight nose and horrible parents, and his mother loved him so much and so very much that he spent all his summers with James’s family. James was convinced Sirius was his soulmate, or at the very least, his brother.
He also met Remus Lupin, who, much like Sirius, didn’t have the best family life - or any at all. As a result, he too, ended up at James’s place most of his summers. Remus was tall, lanky and sharp in every way possible. He was quiet and brash, wore the coziest, comfiest sweaters and took his tea with an abysmal amount of sugar. Remus was sweet and angry - rage and fury wrapped up tightly into the gentleness of a bunny.
It was only after Brad had called James a faggot, did the reality of the situation he was in dawn on him. Yes, his friends were phenomenal and like him in the greatest ways possible, yes, they were close and gentle and funny and supportive, yes, the world could be good to him - the likelihood of it happening was low, in any case.
He was sixteen when he met Peter Pettigrew. They’d moved in just down the street and he and his mum had come over with the best batch of cookies he’d ever had. He had gone over to help him and Mr. Pettigrew unpack the first day they were in town and since then, it’s surprising how little time Peter and James had spent apart. Peter was the only one out of the four who wasn’t queer, at least not in a way they knew it. Peter was shy, he hid behind his friends and listened to them talk, only ever interjecting when they were truly glossing over something or going way overboard.
They were seventeen when Remus and Sirius finally got together. Ten years in the same school and it took for the telephone chords between Trinity and NYU to become rusty that they finally admitted to being besotted with each other. During this time, James was, of course, entirely too happy to see his two dearest friends come to their senses, but he couldn’t quite get past the feelings of loneliness that came with.
And so, in college, he spent his days lazing around and his nights with men and women who always made him laugh, but rarely saw him twice. He kept his cameras, he had bought more by this time, and he took pictures of them, always. He would immortalise people who were barely people to him and push his skeletons into his closet and hushed further to never let anybody know. His friends were scattered across different hemispheres of the world entirely and there he was, in his room, always waiting for more, more, more.
And now, here they were, in New York City. After days, months, years of Sirius begging his friends to please, please, please just look at the place! All four were finally here. Sirius led them to ‘the best gay club in the city’ and so, James ended up here. Here, meaning of course, two flights of stairs underneath fifth avenue, his third G&T in hand and his sad bowl of olives next to his camera.
The music starts. James is mesmerised by the man on stage. The glitters sparkles off his pale skin. The light hits him just right - he looks as if he has to be fought for. He looks like he's worth fighting for. The camera clicks, the moment is immortalised, so is he.
James loves it. Loves his job, loves glitter sticking to the skin, loves elbows against elbows against elbows, loves the soft glow that sweat leaves on skin. He loves it. He cannot help but capture it the only way he can.
Bowie plays loudly in the background, the sheer veracity of the man on stage, his confidence, his aura, everything about him is so very intoxicating. James cannot be arsed to look for Sirius or Remus or Peter, because he is solely focused on the man with the pale glittering skin, stage-man, thinks James. That’s what he’ll call this piece.
He's transfixed. James was not aware that men could move their bodies like that. He picked up his camera, because who cares if there was a ‘no cameras allowed’ sign outside? The camera clicked again, and this time, the shutter did not go unnoticed. The man on stage looked at him and signalled to one of the men in the back. James put his camera back in.
After his performance, when James turned back to his pathetic little G&T, did a man who looked scarily similar to the man with the glittery skin come by - only he had glittery green hair and his arms were lined with tattoos.
“No cameras allowed. Did you not see the sign?”
“Oh um, sorry?” James was blushing, was that G&T strong? In any case, he didn't see why he couldn't clock pictures - he'd bribed the bouncer at the door, he wasn't above it. He paid his ten dollars!
“Are you some kind of creep?” Glitter-man asked, his eyebrows furrowed. James wanted to reach over and smooth the wrinkles on his temple.
“Pfft. Look at him, Barty. Too pretty to be a creep, I reckon.” Said stage-man, and James realised he hadn't noticed when he came over.
Glitter-man, Barty(?), hummed in approval and went back toward the stage, stage-man sat down next to him. He put up two fingers and asked for a Cosmo.
Fitting.
It was only when James had popped another olive into his mouth that Stage-man started talking to him.
“You aren’t, right?”
“What?”
“...A creep. You aren’t a creep, are you? Because if so, I just put my arse on the line for you and I swear to God if it wasn’t the right decision I will actually gouge my eyes out, go back to my parents’ house and play straight for whichever high-class bint they decide for me to marry.”
Stage-man downed his cocktail in seconds and James laughed.
“So, you’re high class then are you? And as for your question, no, I’m not a creep. Just a photographer.”
“And a fit one at that.” Stage-man winked and signalled with his fingers for James to follow him.
They landed up in a dark little corner next to the bar, and James could barely believe how well this night was turning out to be. Stage-man’s mouth was warm, his lips had red lipstick all over them.
Oh, he’s fucked.
“Reggie, that had better not be you flirting with James over there!” Sirius’s voice sounded out, and holy shit, James wasn’t the sharpest one in the toolbox but he never remembered being this dense, not even in school when he'd shouted Belgium,1831 in maths class.
Of course the fittest man here was his best friend’s brother. Of course it was! Regulus Black, who chose not to join his brother when he came over to James’ for the summers, and chose, in fact, to stay with Walburga and Orion Black, who were of course, hellspawn. Regulus did not, in fact, run away from Black Manor when his brother begged him to, and instead chose to be completely brainwashed into the hopes and dreams Walburga and Orion had for him. He was rather young at the time, so. Regulus was, in fact, the same little brother that James had to comfort his best friend, his soulmate, about, when Sirius would cry relentlessly about how guilty he felt. James had always wanted to meet the prodigal brother, he’d always wanted to reunite him with his big brother and when last February Sirius did talk to him after eight years and six months of not even looking at each other, James was so happy for them, he cried.
So, it rather surprised him that he couldn’t recognize the brother in question. And it wasn't like they looked dissimilar either. They looked like brothers. Classic, traditional brothers, with the same pointed nose and the green-grey eyes and the slight purse of lips just before laughing.
“Siri!” Regulus yelped before he melted into his brother's arms. Sirius ruffled his hair and Regulus flipped him off. And as he and Sirius walked away, James couldn’t help but feel just a twinge of guilt bubbling inside him.
Shit.
The plate broke rather unceremoniously the night Sirius asked James and Peter and Regulus to come over for dinner to his and Remus’s. The plates were fine china, because what else would you expect from Sirius fucking Black. And okay, if James was to be honest - it wasn’t even his fault! Who shows up to dinner - a dinner! - in a crop top and shorts? No really, James wants to know if this was the universe punishing him for all the pranks that he and Sirius would pull on the teachers in school.
Regulus had grownup, the fact dawned on James. No longer was there the quiet, shy boy James saw in school.
“Sorry, sorry everyone. Got caught up with Barty at the bar!” Regulus came in a mess, stumbling over his shoes and trying to fix his curls, he looked at everybody and decidedly, winked at him. James gave him a lazy smile and went back to the kitchen to help Remus bring out all the food, with the addition of his mum’s special chicken biryani.
Regulus looked different when he wasn't on stage, almost human; almost divine.
Dinner went well. Everybody loved his mum’s biryani and thanked him, and Marlene, Sirius's neighbour, even asked for her number, which – what else was he to expect.
The evening turned into the night and dinner turned into being sprawled in the living room with several beers being inhaled. Eventually, Sirius and Remus slipped away, Marlene took Peter back to his place, and well, here were Regulus and James.
An uncomfortable silence fell upon them. Regulus broke it.
“Did you like it?”
“Did I like what?”
“You know…my set? Last night.”
“Oh-ho-ho I did much more than just like it, sweetheart.” James winked at him, grinning, his head tipped back into Sirius's couch.
“Yeah?”
James hummed tiredly. “The green guy too. He was great with you.”
Regulus’ features were furrowed, and James could almost pinpoint when it clicked for him that he'd been talking about Barty.
“Oh! Barty, you mean? He's one of my oldest friends, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, Barty;” James paused, “Are you guys together?”
“Fuck no, and thank God for that. He's engaged to Evan. You remember Evan? He was in your year, although maybe he lived in a different wing.”
Regulus looked almost sad as he took a swig out of the bottle of beer that should've been warm by now.
“Can I take a picture of you?”
“What? Last night wasn't enough for you?”
“Is that a yes, then, sunshine?”
Regulus laughed.
“Fucking fine. Never ever call me that again.”
“Fuck okay;” James laughed as he got up, “stay like that, I'll get my camera. DO NOT MOVE!”
Regulus looked at him, and laughed again. James had never seen anything more beautiful.
“Can I kiss you?” James found himself saying, inches away from Regulus's face (which — how????), and Regulus agreed and then James’ lips were on his and James felt like the king of the world for a total of three minutes. Regulus pulled away, flushed and grinning, “Can I have your number, James?”
“Maybe. How bad do you want it?”
“Oh fuck off! I am NOT begging for this, it’s taken you all fucking night to kiss me!”
James’ hands made their way to Regulus’s midriff - his crop top didn’t do the best job at covering him up.
He sighed, “Give me your phone, please.” And when Regulus handed him his phone, he typed in his number.
“Fucking finally. You know, for someone who flirts as much as you do, you really are quite infuriating.”
“Mm. You know, for someone as posh as you are, you sure are quite hot.”
“Where was this confidence last night? If you’d talked to me like this, I could’ve been fucked stupid by now.” Regulus pouted.
“Mhm – overworked and underfucked: Baby Fucking Black, everybody!”
“It’s Regulus. I will not hesitate to kick you in the balls if you call me Baby Black again.”
James laughed.
“In any case, sunshine, you should go back home now. Sweet dreams, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Regulus smiled at him, he waved and walked out.
James is panicking. Not because of Sirius or Regulus or Remus or Peter - but because he's just received a call from Uni, informing him his end of year exams have in fact, been preponed, and therefore, the possibility of James ever making it out of school looks slimmer and slimmer by the minute. Thankfully, though, since he'd submitted his leave applications before this absolute fucking disaster, they're letting him sit for the exams and take them online - which is supposed to be good news.
Unlucky for him though, seeing as all three of his friends were currently on break, they may have planned a little bit of a getaway.
That may or may not have, now, been in the same week as James’ exams.
And this getaway may or may not have involved Europe. But, alas.
“So, Jamie, Siri tells me you guys are supposed to go on a trip?” – Regulus’s voice rings out of his phone, he’d called him, you see.
“Yeah. Yup. That’s the plan.” Replied James, voice clipped.
“Well, you seem fucking ecstatic about it.”
“Regu- Reg, my Uni’s just preponed exams. I dunno if I’ll even go.”
“What are you studying?”
“Photography.”
“Well, I assume you’re supposed to submit your portfolio for your finals? Just ask them if you could take your exams after you’re back, but that you’ll submit the portfolio on time.”
“And how do you suppose I’ll do that when my work from the entire year is back home on my laptop?”
“Christ. You really are thick, aren’t you? You’re going to Europe! Europe! Just take more pictures there. Or, you always have me as a model.”
“Yeah. Holy shit. You’re saving my life right now, Reg. Thank you – fuck!”
“It’s why they call me the love of their lives”
“Who does?”
“Well, you will, in a few weeks.”
“I’m so confused right now. We leave in two weeks. Sorry Reggie, I’d love to fall for you but I fear there just isn’t enough time.”
“Good thing I’m going with you too then, huh?”
“WHAT?! WHEN DID THIS-”
Regulus giggles and hangs up, and holy shit.
Yeah, James is fucked.