“I can’t.”
It looped over and over in his head, warping like an overused record. Those two words rough and harsh, tumbling from his tongue like sandpaper.
“I can’t.” “I can’t.” “I can’t.” “I can’t.”
Of course, they both understood the unspoken truth.
I won’t.
James didn’t understand. And why would he? James refused to see what this was. What was right in front of him. Weighting fanciful delusions over harsh realities, living in a blissful denial.
Soft hazel glistened down at him through unshed tears. James’ voice was barely audible as he begged for clarity, reassurance, understanding - something.
“Why?”
And, oh, wasn’t that the worst part. Regulus couldn’t give him an answer. Wouldn’t give an answer. Nothing would satisfy the other boy, anyway.
But, if Regulus was honest with himself, if he peeled back defensive layer after layer and shared the honest truth, it would only destroy him.
James was the best thing that ever happened to him. That ever would happen to him.
He remembered those moments where nothing else mattered, the world slipping away to leave behind two exposed souls, laid bare for them and only them. How James’ warm hands had graced his cold skin in deserted corridors, tracing his scars, mapping his freckles like constellations that only James could decipher. How each soft caress, every gentle brush soothed some deep torment raging within his very being. Regulus thought they were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Those same hands that were now clenched tightly in fists, balled at the boy’s side.
And it sent him crashing back to earth, to the reality of their situation.
Because Regulus wasn’t free to love James. And he never would be.
But even if, just for a minute, he could pretend. If he wasn’t Regulus Black. If he wasn’t a Slytherin. If they weren’t doomed from the start, fighting from opposing trenches. If, if, if, if. It wouldn’t matter.
James wouldn’t want him.
Because the only thing James truly loved was the chase. Though he’d loathe to admit it, James would get bored, restless, the roaring fire between them would dwindle down to nothing but a mere ember, extinguished by a soft gust of wind. And then he’d leave.
Unavailability was the only thing that turned him on.
That’s why he relentlessly pursued Lily Evans for five years, regardless of her own opinions on the matter. There must have been something addictive, always running towards the dangling prize, that rush of adrenaline. But you can only run so far, cover so much distance before a course correction is required and your attention turns to the next shiny toy in the box.
That’s why this relationship - if you could even call it that - was so attractive. Deep down, in the back of his mind, James knew this would never last. It was new, exciting, risky, everything that Regulus couldn’t maintain. No one could.
No matter how much a small part of him was desperate for James to turn around and tell him that he was being silly. Tell him he was wrong. That he loved him just for him. Nothing else.
But Regulus wasn’t enough and was never going to be. James was destined for better things. Someone out there could give him what he chased after, someone else would be enough. He couldn’t help but feel bitter towards the person who could provide what he couldn’t.
Regulus had blown apart his life for James.
Everything he thought about the world had been flipped on its head. He’d discovered things about himself that never would have emerged had it not been for James Potter. Regulus never questioned his life. The plan was clear cut, laid before him with no other options.
And, even though he regained autonomy of his mind, it would be useless to protest the path in front of him. He was never as brave as Sirius. There was nowhere for him to go. His parents would hunt him down and drag him back. There was no escape for him. And Regulus had long since made peace with that.
His first love was destruction.
Before James, buildings falling was the only thing that turned Regulus on. He loved the bomb. The explosion. The chaos.
The destruction.
There was a comfort in the power he gave him, burning throughout his body, stretching to the tips of his fingers. It couldn’t compare to the gentle warmth of James’ hands, but it heated his brittle bones regardless.
And now that he was facing the next phase, the ‘after James’, he could watch what they had wither and burn. It had to be done. Because that destruction was all he had left.
Regulus may have been in ruins, but that debris was scattered by his own hand.
If he kept some small, splintered pieces woven into himself, no one else needed to know.
…
Years later, Regulus finds himself in a cave, determined to destroy all he can. He’d spent months researching, planning and preparing for this moment.
It’s all he has left.
When the icy water chills his skin, cutting deep and freezing his withered, decaying bones, he thinks about him. How he made him feel. It lingers in his mind as the sky crumbles open and a white bundle of light bursts through the seams.
It’s warm, burning bright. Like the sun.
Like James Potter.