James palm is facing upwards and Regulus hates him a little bit.
He hates what this single unconscious act does to his insides. He hates that James is far gone into the land of his dreams while Regulus has to face the demons of his nightmares all by himself, and still, that open invitation is right there, sitting between their close faces on the mattress.
He hates how his fingers twitch from the need of tracing soft patterns on palm of James' hand. He hates James' long, dark lashes and the way they touch his cheekbones. He hates the desperate need of touching that small faded scar on his right cheek that is left of playing Quidditch recklessly at the age of five. He hates the mole beneath James' earlobe that is now hidden due to dark wild curls' heated kisses upon his face.
He hates James Potter. But he loves him so, so much more.
And it leaves him feeling all terrified and irritated. Because that welcoming palm and the promise of warm hands cradling his own is right there and still, he can't reach for it.
Regulus knows that he doesn't believe it, not really, but some wounded part of him that is ill and a tad bit wild begs him to run, run and run.
He isn't familiar with this feeling and he wants out.
He wants the safety of his cold dorm with Barty's loud snoring.
But this? This is too much. Because James is here, right by his side and yet far, far away at the same time.
Because Regulus feels too light like a cloud in the seventh sky and heavy like a rock beneath an ocean.
He wants so many things and nothing at all. He wants to kiss James until he doesn't remember how to breath properly on his own, and he wants to scratch him into shreds until he isn't capable of understanding where he ends and where James begins.
He wants the beating of James' heart to be his lullaby and wants to never hear his own heartbeat racing up because he's pathetically seeking for a witty remark to say, so he can finally see the dimples blooming on James' stupid, stupid pretty face.
He always had his own weapon in hand; full of venom and bitterness but Merlin, James. Beautiful, beautiful James. He had lightnings in his.
And Regulus doesn't know what he has to do.
So he closes his eyes and imagines a place far away from here. Somewhere that is far away? Home, probably.
He thinks of a cozy house. A little pet. Morning kisses and slow dancing at midnight. Horrible homemade food and soft laughter in-between kisses. A big, lovely mess.
He dares to think about a boy with long, black hair and too loud laughter, too. A boy that is now a man but the shine in his bright blue eyes will always be the happiest memory of Regulus' childhood.
He opens his eyes because the growing pain in his throat is too much, and just like that, the dream vanishes.
Regulus looks at the window through his exhausted eyes and realizes the sun is slowly rising above. How long has passed? He can't tell. He can never do so in the presence of James.
Regulus knows he must wake James up so they can go back to hogwarts in time. The random hideaway in Hogsmeade is far from school, even with the undeniable help of the map; so he leans forward and press his forehead to James and sighs softly.
He kisses the tip of James' nose with a bit of hesitation and the more he kisses, the more courage he gains.
He loves the softness of James' dark skin under his chapped lips, he loves the ticklish feeling of James' curls touching his face while he his breath trembles between kisses. He loves the slight flatter of James' eyelids under touch of his lips. He loves how even before opening his eyes, James arms circle around Regulus' waist fisrt. He loves that James takes a deep breath while his face is hidden in the crook of Regulus' neck.
He loves the depth James' voice gains after sleep and the soft "Hi" he mumbles on Regulus' skin.
And Regulus still hates him a little bit, right then and there.
But he loves James Potter, too.
So, so much more.