James answers the call with “Regulus?”, a smile in his wrecked voice.
“You haven’t messaged me back all week. What the fuck?”
Swallowing, James is silent for a moment before he says, “Sorry.”
“And I feel fucking desperate, asking for attention like this- because this isn’t- this isn’t me. I don’t want attention. I pull away from things- people. But I want you James, for the first time in my fucking life i want something, and you’ve decided to act like I don’t exist.”
“I want to give you attention Regulus. I’ve missed you too. I just- I'm ill at the moment. Caught a cold, been in bed all week.”
Regulus loses all bite in his voice immediately. He goes quiet for about half a minute, James waits quietly, hoping for something he can’t quite put his finger on. He pulls himself further into the covers, letting the screen of his phone light up his room.
“Sirius says he hasn’t got a text back either. You haven’t been answering his calls. He figured you were with me, or distracted.”
“I’m a shitty texter Reg. I’m sorry I made you feel alone.”
“No, you’re not. And, I'm not alone, I've been with my friends... I just, I like being around you.”
James inhales sharply, a single tear falling from his cheek. He doesn’t notice it.
“I like being around you too.”
“Then why haven’t you been?”
“I’m ill. Like I said.”
Regulus pushes his tongue into his cheek, choosing his words carefully.
“I can’t believe that James. You know I can’t believe that. You came out of an operation room calling me, you had the flu while messaging me constantly. What is this?”
“I’m ill.”
Then something clicks for Regulus, and almost immediately he jumps to his feet.
“I’m coming over.”
Looking around his room in a panic, James hurries to say, “No. No Regulus please. I can’t have you over right now. My room’s messy.”
“I don’t mind. You know I don’t mind-”
“But I do.”
“Okay, then tidy up. I’ll be over in five.”
Tears welling at James’ eyes, he tries a different approach.
“I don’t want you here. I don’t want to see you.”
Regulus falters as he walks to his car. But James has never been a good liar, and the keys turn the ignition on only a moment later.
“I don’t care. I need to see you. I’m worried, James.”
‘Please don’t worry. There’s nothing to worry about.’ Thinks James as he gets up for the first time in days to change underwear and shrug on some baggy clothes. The cuts on his arms catch on his hoodie and he grits his teeth before he says, “Reg, honestly, I just don’t want to get you ill. I’m all good. I’ll be back at uni tomorrow.”
Liar. Fucking Liar. You might not even be alive tomorrow.
“Then I’m all good to come over? My immune system is insane don’t worry about me getting poorly.”
“Regulus.”
Trees blur along the sides of the road as Regulus drives. He says nothing, checking his wing-mirror.
“Regulus, Baby, please.”
James has to bite his lip, his eyes threatening to spill. Or, no- he's already crying. He wipes the tears away, feeling awfully like a child.
“Just hang on, I'm almost there.” There’s an urgency in Regulus’ voice that makes James anxious. Is there something wrong? Maybe Regulus needed to tell him something bad.
He worries his lip until it bleeds, likes the metallic taste, before he shoves all the clothes on his floor into his wardrobe and bins all the packets and plates of rotten food smattered across his floor and desk. Except it’s probably not normal to have ceramic plates in his bedroom bin. Oh well, he’ll buy more.
Knock. Knock.
Fuck. Then after a second, the sound comes again.
Knock. Knock.
He better be okay. He better answer the fucking door. Regulus brings his knuckles to the wood again.
Knock. Knock.
Regulus pulls his hand up to go again, he can knock all night. And he will. But the door swings open and there’s James.
Regulus’ hand falls limply to his side.
“Shit.”
James looks at the ceiling from where he stands in the doorway, as if pleading for something. A tear makes its way down the column of his throat and Regulus tries to speak again but there’s only a scratching of his vocal cords.
When James looks at Regulus again, it’s with fear and anger, and the underlying sadness deep inside his veins that threatens to spill.
All at once, with neither moving first towards the other, they fall into an embrace. James falls apart in great gasping sobs, Regulus makes kind shushing noises and cards fingers through greasy hair.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Is it? Regulus asks himself despite the soft words. He doesn’t know what to do, he’s never known this James. He’s never before held this boy and not had complete confidence that he had his shit together. He makes a list in his head as he rushes to press kisses to the side of James’ face with reverence and relief.
After a long moment, Regulus starts to make his way down the list.
“James, I need to come in.”
Stepping back, James confesses, with a look of shame that strikes the centre of Regulus’ being, “It’s not pretty.”
“I don’t love you for pretty. I need to come in.”
And he moves out the way, letting Regulus see and leave if that’s what he decides. But Regulus walks right into the room filled with laundry and food waste and a pillow and a broken Lego flower and a laptop and empty mugs and one, just one, empty bottle.
He says, “You need to take a shower.”
“Wow thanks.” James attempts humor, but Regulus looks at him with something like pity and something like pain.
Without hesitation, Regulus navigates his way into the bathroom, and- Fuck. James forgot to clean up in there. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“James. Why’s there a blade in the sink?” It’s the sound of a quaking voice that knows the truth and is hoping, praying, wishing with all its being that it is wrong.
Biting his knuckles in frustration, James is unable to respond. He’s shaking. He’s crying. Everything is too much. Everything is- And everything- And-
“Baby.” And there’s Regulus, clean blade in hand. It wasn’t clean when James left it there, he hates that Regulus needed to rinse it. “I need you to keep the door open.”
“You don’t have to look after me.”
“We look after each other.”
“You didn’t sign up for...” He gestures to the room, to the blade, “for this! You should leave. I can’t- I’m ill.”
“I signed up for you, I didn’t know what that meant in its entirety, but this changes nothing. I need you to take a shower now James. I’ll clean up in here.”
Breaking down in tears again, James sits on his bed, head in his hands. Fuck. He needs Regulus to hold him.
“Will you hold me again?”
“Yeah, one moment.” And with James’ eyes covered by his hands, Regulus wraps the blade in some toilet paper- quite a lot actually- and he bins it. It lands softly on a broken plate.
Then he walks over, touching James’ shoulders and rubbing back and forth until James looks up at him. And all of a sudden, time pauses, and it’s only them. James looks at Regulus like he’s realising he’s a god, and Regulus looks at James like he’s realising he’s a human. Everything is different. Everything is going to be okay.
Regulus sits next to James and lets his hand rest on the nape of the other boy’s neck, gently squeezing to reassure him of his presence. Then James is folding over onto Regulus, and they are one entity, one person, one star destined to fall back together.
James isn’t sure how long they stay like that, but at some point, Regulus pulls away. He stands up, and wordlessly James follows him to the bathroom. James knows that Regulus got rid of the blade he used this morning, but he’s acutely aware of the other two in here.
He tugs Regulus’ sleeve and takes him to the medicine cabinet, showing him the shelf that holds only two razors in all their separate parts.
“Thank you, baby.” And Regulus kisses James’ forehead before taking each blade carefully into some tissue. He walks out of the room and drops it into the bin.
When he walks back in, James is stripped down to his boxers. It’s a sign of vulnerability, and a plea. It’s him asking Regulus to see him as he is, and to love him anyway. Ripped scabs, and open cuts lining the outside of his arm. Could Regulus still love him? Should he?
Regulus steps up to James with a damp cloth, wipes his arms down gently and then brings each to his mouth and presses kisses to every scar and every scab and every cut. His eyes do not leave James’ once. James doesn’t blink, despite the tears.
Regulus turns the shower on and asks, “Do you want me to shower with you? Wash your hair?”
“I’m okay- I mean. No. I can do it.”
Regulus only nods and says, “Okay, I'm going to the other room. Will you leave the door open? Please.”
James sniffles.
“Yeah, okay.”
Then warm water falls over him, not hot enough to scald. His shower doesn’t reach high enough temperatures to hurt- James has checked. But this is warm enough to sting his cuts in such a way that feels right. James tries not to find pleasure in his pain.
In the other room, Regulus fills the bin with rotting and molding food and makes the bed. He takes the clothes on the floor of the wardrobe out and lays them on the bed, before hanging each up in order of darkest to lightest. James didn’t grow up doing this, but Regulus started rearranging his wardrobe a few months ago, and now it’s just like this. Next, he picks up some pieces of shattered glass from the floor, the majority gone and only shards being left. Then he changes the bed sheets and begins hoovering the floor when James comes in, wearing only a towel.
Regulus offers him a kind smile, and James looks back with such gratitude that Regulus wouldn’t be surprised if he got to his knees to start praying.
“I love you.” Says James.
“I know.” Says Regulus, the same words obvious in the low hum of the hoover over his bedroom floor.
James picks out an outfit from the wardrobe, something with short sleeves- Regulus is glad to note. He pulls it on slowly, as Regulus moves on to wiping down James’ desk and binning any rubbish, saving the couple of mugs that James didn’t get rid of earlier.
Then James sits on his bed, legs crossed and watching Regulus. Regulus goes to the bathroom and takes some bandages and medical tape from the cabinet. He sits next to James and bites the inside of his cheek as he takes James’ arm. James lets his limbs move with no resistance. Slowly, Regulus covers all the cuts, pressing kisses every now and again to them.
The list is done. Regulus looks at James. James looks at Regulus. There’s a heaviness in the tension between them that never existed before. Their hearts beat in tandem.
“Are you on medication James?”
“I’m not actually ill. I thought-” But he cuts himself off. His lips twist as he tries not to cry.
“I meant antidepressants, or something for this. I think you are ill, darling.”
“I don’t need those. I’m not, er- depressed.”
“Have you- Has something recently happened, to make you feel like this?”
“Feel like what?”
“Like hurting yourself, James.”
He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Struggling out a strained breath.
“I don’t feel like anything. Antidepressants stop you from feeling depressed; that’s not me.”
Regulus swipes a tear from James’ cheek. “I think you should see someone.”
“I know, I should have left the house. I should have asked for help. I know, I’m sorry.”
“Baby, I meant a professional. A therapist.”
“What would I say? I don’t want to do shit; I don’t want to eat or move or shower or talk to the people I love. What does someone say to that? There’s nothing anyone can do.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you.”
“I’m in therapy, James.”
Then there’s a sudden urgency and fear in James’ eyes, “What?”
“I see her every two weeks.”
“What’s wrong, are you...?”
“I had a shitty childhood, you know that, and it still hurts me. And I got close to suicide when I was fourteen, and when I found happiness away from that house, I promised myself I'd never let myself get that close to killing myself again. So: therapy.”
“Fuck. I can’t believe you’ve come over to help me and I'm just complaining when you’re in therapy and everything. Fuck.”
Regulus shakes his head minutely, saying, “We look after each other.”
“I don’t need- I don’t want to need help.”
“I know, I don’t want you to feel like this either.”
Taking in James’ form, Regulus realises that this isn’t only the body of a tired James, but also a hungry one.
“James, when was the last time you ate?”
He thinks for a second, before deciding on the truth. “Tuesday.”
“Baby, people that don’t need therapy don’t starve themselves for two days.”
“I wasn’t starving myself.” Regulus raises a disbelieving eyebrow, “I couldn’t leave my bed. I just couldn’t be bothered.”
Something plummets in Regulus’ chest.
“You couldn’t be bothered to live; that’s not normal James.”
James swipes a hand over his face, his eyes becoming increasingly irritated. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can I-”
Regulus interrupts, “-One session. Then you never need to go again. But I need you to go just one time.”
“Fine, whatever, can we just talk about something else.”
Regulus’ eyes fall to James’ forearms. He presses a quick peck to his mouth. “Thank you. Can we eat while we talk about something else?”
“I have a feeling I'm not getting a choice in this.”
“You’re an adult. You have a choice; you always have a choice. But I'm your boyfriend, and I want to eat with you. That’s all there is.”
James thinks for a long moment before, “Okay, will you order something?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll get us Chinese.”
Regulus pulls out his phone, and James peers over at it pointing as he says, “Ooh my favorite, can I have that one?”
Regulus smiles into his, “Yeah.” and kisses James’ cheek.
Things are very far from perfect, but they’ll be okay. Things will be okay.