Unchained Melody
The club felt different in the daylight—quieter, almost intimate without the usual crowd and haze of cigarette smoke. James stepped inside, his footsteps echoing slightly against the wooden floor. At the center of the empty room, Regulus stood by a Victrola, a small stack of records beside him.
James stopped in his tracks for a moment, caught off guard by how different Regulus looked outside of performance. Gone was the slick stage presence, the polished performer. Instead, he was dressed casually, looser trousers, a button-down with the sleeves lazily rolled up, his dark hair slightly mussed.
James swallowed, suddenly aware of how easily his breath caught in his throat. Without the thick air of the club masking everything, he could smell Regulus now, something warm, like faded cologne and the faintest trace of tobacco, mixed with something distinctly him. James wanted to step closer, to breathe him in properly.
Regulus glanced up then, catching sight of James. He smiled, easy and inviting. “Didn’t think you’d be on time, English,” he said, amused.
James forced himself to move, to close the space between them. “Thought I’d make a good impression,” he replied, grinning. And because I couldn’t wait to see you. But he didn’t say that part.
Regulus chuckled, tapping the top of the Victrola. “You ever hear of any of these?” He gestured toward the records, his silver eyes bright with something unreadable.
James glanced down, scanning the names. Big Mama Thornton. B.B. King. Muddy Waters. His fingers hesitated over one before he looked back up at Regulus. “Not yet,” he admitted. “But I’m a quick learner.”
Regulus smirked, setting a record onto the player. “Good,” he said, dropping the needle. “Let’s get you educated.”
The record spun, filling the empty club with a deep, soulful rhythm. Regulus swayed slightly, eyes half-lidded, feeling every note in his bones. James watched him, utterly transfixed. There was something almost hypnotic about the way Regulus moved, unapologetically at ease, completely lost in the music. James found himself enjoying just being there, watching, listening, soaking it all in.
When the song ended, Regulus sighed, satisfied, and reached over to pull the needle off the record. The silence that followed felt heavier than before. Regulus turned to James, his silver eyes sharp with curiosity. “Well?” he prompted. “What’d you think?”
James looked at him, his gaze lingering. I think I want to kiss you. The thought came so suddenly, so forcefully, that he had to shake himself free of it. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “It was… nice.”
Regulus blinked. His expression twisted into something almost offended. “Nice?” he repeated, his accent thickening with his disbelief. “That’s Big Mama Thornton you just listened to, and all you got to say is ‘nice’?”
James chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, maybe that was the wrong word,” he admitted.
Regulus scoffed, but there was a smirk tugging at his lips. “What kinda music y’all got over in England that’s got you unimpressed by that?”
James leaned back slightly, smiling. “Well, we’ve got a bit of everything,” he said. “Lots of jazz, swing’s still hanging around. But if you’re asking what’s popular? You’d probably laugh.”
Regulus raised a brow. “Try me.”
James thought for a moment. “Vera Lynn’s still getting played all the time. You ever hear We’ll Meet Again?”
Regulus rolled his eyes. “Course I have. War songs. That’s what y’all are still listenin’ to?”
James laughed. “Not just that! We’ve got some good American stuff too—Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole. But people still love a slow tune.” He smirked, tilting his head. “What, you don’t like a good love song?”
Regulus sniffed, crossing his arms. “I like a song with soul.”
James, still grinning, leaned in just a fraction closer. “So do I,” he murmured.
Regulus’ smirk faltered just slightly, his gaze flickering over James’ face. The space between them felt smaller than before, electric in a way James couldn’t quite name. But then, just as quickly, Regulus broke the moment.
"Alright, English," Regulus said, nodding towards the piano. "Let’s hear it."
James flexed his fingers over the keys, exhaling slowly as he tried to recall the rhythm and melody he had just heard. It wasn’t second nature to him, this was different from the music he grew up with, but he had a good ear, and he was determined to get it right. He pressed down, letting the notes flow, hesitating at first, then easing into the tune.
Regulus' face lights up the moment he recognizes the tune. A slow smile spreads across his lips, and before he can help himself, he starts to sing along, his voice rich and effortless.
James’ hands moved more confidently now, his smile growing as he played. And when Regulus called him sugar in a soft, pleased drawl, James’ stomach flipped.
Regulus made his way to the stage, climbing up with effortless grace, and then onto the piano itself, leaning down on his elbows as he gazed at James with a grin.
When the song ends, Regulus chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sugar,” he says, the nickname slipping out naturally, “I can’t believe how lucky I am.”
James laughed, ducking his head slightly.
Regulus rested a hand on the piano, shaking his head. "I been tellin’ Dorcas I needed a pianist, and you just fall right into my lap. A pianist with perfect pitch." Regulus tilted his head, eyes shining. “Where you been all this time?”
James looked up at him, heart stuttering at the way Regulus leaned in, grinning at him like he was something special.
Regulus clicked his tongue, eyes gleaming. "My brother always says, when somethin’ good comes easy, it’s ‘cause it was meant to be.” He flashed James a knowing look. "With you playin’ for me, sugar, we could be famous. We could go anywhere—even Hollywood."
James chuckled, shaking his head. “Hollywood, huh?” he mused, but the truth was, he’d go anywhere with Regulus. Anywhere, really.
Regulus grinned at him, eyes bright with something electric. “Alright, sugar, play it again,” he said, tapping the piano lightly. “But different this time.”
James raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”
Regulus leaned in, voice smooth as honey. “Music ain’t just notes on a page, English. It’s a living, breathing thing. You gotta bend it, stretch it—make it yours.”
James exhaled, turning back to the keys. He let the melody settle in his mind, then let his hands take control. This time, he jazzed it up, shifting the tempo, throwing in flourishes that hadn’t been there before. The rhythm took on a new life, a little looser, a little wilder.
Regulus let out a laugh, his excitement unmistakable. “That’s it!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands once. “Hell, James, I knew you had it in you.”
James barely heard him over the pounding of his own heart, over the warmth spreading through his chest. Regulus was happy, he had made Regulus happy. And right now, in this moment, James felt like the luckiest man alive.
Regulus returned to the Victrola, humming to himself as he flipped through the records. He pulled a couple out and glanced over at James. “"Alright now, sugar," he drawled, "these are some of my favorites. Let’s see what you can do with ‘em."
James nodded and sat at the piano, his fingers lightly resting on the keys. As the records began spinning, James listened carefully, his fingers slowly picking out the melody that matched the soulful sounds coming from the Victrola. Regulus stood by the record player, moving to the beat as James played along, a smile tugging at his lips.
After a few more songs, James felt the weight of the afternoon settling on him. His fingers were sore from the piano keys, and his mind was slowing down. He let out a quiet sigh, wishing for a break, maybe to head out for a soda with Regulus. Just the two of them, like any ordinary couple. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, it hit him hard, he couldn’t do that. Not in Memphis. Not with the way things were. He couldn’t sit at the same table as Regulus, couldn’t just enjoy a drink together. And that frustrated him more than he cared to admit. He felt like he was suffocating under the weight of it all.
Regulus, who had been watching him closely, noticed the shift in his expression. “What happened, sugar?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his eyes searching James' face for an answer.
James paused for a moment, trying to hide the frustration that had been growing inside him. "I'm just getting tired I suppose." he said quietly, not wanting to say too much. He didn’t want to explain the deeper frustration he felt, the quiet ache of not being able to spend more time with Regulus.
Regulus seemed to understand, his expression softening. He walked back to the stage and crouched down, sitting on the floor beside James, not too close, not close enough. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Regulus simply watched James, his gaze thoughtful, before he broke the silence with a small smile.
“We should rest a bit,” Regulus said quietly, his voice easy and calm. "Take a breather."
James nodded, grateful for the break. He stretched his arms over his head and trying to shake off the tension in his muscles. For a brief moment, everything felt still, the music fading into the background as they sat in comfortable silence.
After a while Regulus leaned back on his hands, stretching his legs out as he looked over at James. “Alright, English,” he drawled, a slow, easy smirk on his lips. “What kinda food y’all got over there? Y’all eat like us, or is it all fancy little plates with forks and knives?”
James huffed a laugh, adjusting his glasses. “Well, we do use forks and knives, yes. But no, it’s not all fancy. We’ve got things like fish and chips, shepherd’s pie—hearty food.”
Regulus made a face, shaking his head. “Fish and chips, huh? That just sound like fried fish and fries to me.”
James chuckled. “That’s exactly what it is.”
Regulus hummed, considering it. “Guess that don’t sound too bad."
James tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his hazel eyes. “What about you?
What’s your favorite food?
Regulus grinned, like he’d been waiting for the question. “Now, that’s easy. Nothin’ better than a plate of biscuits and gravy.” He glanced at James with an expectant look. “Tell me you’ve had biscuits and gravy before.”
James grinned. “Of course, I have. My grandmother makes it.”
Regulus nodded approvingly. “Good. I was ‘bout to feel real sorry for you if you hadn’t.”
They kept talking, their words flowing easily between them. James told Regulus about his family back home, about how his father was always busy with work and how his mother had wanted to come back to Memphis for the summer. Regulus, in turn, talked about growing up in the city, about how music had always been in his blood.
James found himself watching Regulus as he spoke, the way his mouth curled when he got excited about something, the way his deep voice carried every story with a kind of warmth that made James feel like he could listen to him forever.
If only he could read Regulus’ mind. He wanted to know if Regulus felt it too, this connection, this pull between them. But for now, all he could do was keep talking, keep soaking in every word, every moment, hoping that time wouldn’t slip away too quickly.
Through the rest of the weekend, James and Regulus fell into an easy rhythm. They would rehearse in the afternoons, James at the piano and Regulus singing, the sound of their music filling the empty club. But once their fingers were tired and their voices worn, they’d sit on the stage or lean against the piano, letting conversation take over.
One afternoon, as James stretched his hands after a long session, Regulus smirked at him. “Ain’t never seen someone play like you do, Sugar. Feels like you pull the notes right outta thin air.”
James huffed a small laugh. “That’s just how my ear works, I suppose.”
Regulus gave him a considering look. “That perfect pitch thing, how’s it work, exactly?”
James thought for a moment. “It’s like... everything has a sound, and I can tell what note it is playing. I don’t need a reference; I just know.”
Regulus let out a low whistle. “Damn. Are you some kind of wizard?”
James grinned. “If I were, I’d have a lot more money.”
Regulus laughed at that, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t mind a little magic myself. Make folks stop tellin’ me I ain't got no business singin’ like I do.”
James frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
Regulus leaned back on his hands, his gaze drifting toward the empty tables. “My father’s family thinks I should sing like a white man, nice and proper. And my mother’s side doesn’t think I should be singing at all.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “But I never cared much about what people think.”
James watched him, taking in the way Regulus’ expression shifted frustration, defiance, something softer underneath. “Well,” James said, voice quieter now, “if you ask me, I think you sound like you belong right where you are.”
Regulus glanced at him, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes before he smirked. “That so?”
James felt his face warm. “Yeah.”
Regulus chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ else, Sugar.”
James swallowed, looking away as he fidgeted with his hands. He wasn’t sure what to do with the way Regulus was looking at him, with the way his own chest ached in response.
They kept talking, about music, about the places they’d been, about the things they wanted. James listened to Regulus talk about Memphis, about the streets he’d known all his life. Regulus listened as James spoke about England, about the gray skies and the way the rain always seemed to settle in his bones.
And James, despite himself, kept wishing time would slow down.
...
James sat in his grandmother’s living room, the soft murmur of the radio filling the space as he sipped his Earl Grey tea. His mother sat beside him, flipping through a new volume of the Ebony, while his grandmother hummed along to a gospel tune, her hands busy with her knitting. It was a peaceful evening, and James was content, until a knock at the door startled him.
He set his tea down and stood, smoothing his shirt before heading for the door. When he opened it, he felt his breath hitch.
Regulus stood on the porch, looking as polished as ever, but tonight, there was something different about him. His hair was perfectly slicked back, his sharp features accentuated by the dimming evening light, and his eyes lined just enough to make them more striking. The faintest hint of powder softened the shine of his skin, and his lips, James swallowed hard, were just a touch darker, like he had pressed them together after applying something.
For a moment, James forgot how to speak.
Regulus arched a brow. “Well, hey there, English.” His lips curved into a knowing smirk. “You plannin’ on lettin’ me in or just starin’ all night?”
James blinked, heat creeping up his neck. “Oh—hell,” he muttered, realization hitting him like a freight train. The gig. He had completely forgotten.
Regulus chuckled, clearly amused. “Forgot, didn’t ya?”
James grimaced. “Can you give me a few minutes to get ready?”
Regulus leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Sure thing.” Then, glancing past James into the house, he added, “Mind if I wait inside?”
James hesitated for only a second before stepping aside. “Yeah, come in.”
As he turned to bolt upstairs, he caught sight of his grandmother looking up from her knitting, her eyes settling on Regulus. Regulus, ever the charmer, tipped his head and greeted her politely. James didn’t have time to linger, but as he rushed up the stairs to change, he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly they’d talk about while he was gone.
When James came back downstairs, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, he paused at the sight before him.
Regulus sat comfortably beside his grandmother, laughing, his whole face lit up with amusement as she finished telling a story. His mother, too, was smiling, watching the exchange with a fondness James rarely saw directed at anyone outside the family. It was strange, this white man from Memphis sitting so easily among them, like he belonged. Like the world beyond this house, with all its rules and restrictions, didn’t matter.
James felt something settle deep in his chest, a quiet sort of awe. Regulus was like a force beyond all of it, stronger than the stupid laws, more powerful than the lines people thought couldn’t be crossed. And James wanted to keep this image forever, to hold onto the way Regulus fit here, as if he had always been part of the picture.
Regulus must have sensed him standing there because he looked up, his lips curving into that knowing smile. “Well, there’s our star pianist,” he drawled.
He pushed himself up from the couch with an easy grace, then turned to James’ mother and grandmother, reaching for their hands. He pressed a kiss to each, a charming farewell. “Ladies, it’s been a pleasure,” he said smoothly. “But I gotta steal your boy for the night.”
James’ grandmother chuckled, shaking her head. His mother gave Regulus a look of quiet amusement, but James could already tell. Regulus had them both wrapped around his finger just like he was.
As they stepped outside, the warm night air wrapped around them, thick with the scent of the city. Regulus led James toward a sleek black car parked by the curb.
James pulled open the back door, only to pause when he saw a drum set taking up most of the seat, along with a few other instruments crammed into the space. With a sigh, he shut the door and moved to the passenger side instead, sliding in next to Regulus. The car wasn’t big, and the closeness of their shoulders, the heat of their bodies in the small space, made James sweat behind the knees.
He turned to Regulus, raising an eyebrow. “Thought the band was ridin’ with us.”
Regulus glanced at his watch, then smirked. “They’re meetin’ us at the venue. Figured we’d get there a little early.”
James nodded, trying to ignore the way his skin felt too tight just sitting this close to Regulus. The car smelled like smoke and leather, but beneath it all was something distinctly Regulus, something James had noticed before but never this strongly. It made his head feel light.
Regulus started the car, and as they pulled onto the road, he began to sing, his voice smooth and low, filling the space between them. James leaned back, listening, letting himself get lost in the sound.
The drive passed in a blur of music and conversation, James soaking in every moment. By the time they pulled up outside a jazz club in a city just outside Memphis, James’ nerves had settled into something steadier.
As they stepped out of the car, Regulus shot him a grin. “Welcome to the real thing, Sugar.”
And with that, they walked inside.
ames stood there for a moment, trying to take in the scene before him. The band, his new band, was full of surprises. There was Dorcas Meadowes, a black girl with a harmonica and an easy, confident smile. She was the second vocalist, but the way she handled that harmonica, he could tell there was more to her than just singing.
Then, there was Evan Rosier, blonde, well-dressed, and impeccably groomed, his clothes sharp enough to cut through the air. Regulus introduced him as the drummer, but James was too distracted by his appearance to fully take in his role. The man didn’t look like he belonged in a blues band. He looked like he belonged in a fancy parlor somewhere, with a glass of whiskey in his hand.
And then, Barty Crouch. He was standing close to Evan, his arm draped around his shoulders in an easy, almost possessive way.
“Barty Crouch Jr.,” Barty said with a grin, before James could ask what he played. “But, uh, I don’t play anything.” He chuckled as if it was the most casual thing in the world.
Regulus, seeing James' confusion, added with a half-smile, “Barty’s not part of the band. He’s... with Evan.”
James blinked. “With him?” he asked, still not quite understanding. The words sounded innocent enough, but there was something about the way Regulus said it that made him hesitate.
And then, the silence grew.
Barty, noticing the direction of James’ thoughts, quickly removed his arm from Evan’s shoulder, pulling back like he’d been burned. His eyes darted between James and Regulus, the unease clearly evident in the way he fidgeted.
Evan stiffened, his hand gripping his own shirt like he was trying to keep control of something. James noticed the sudden discomfort in Regulus’ posture, the way he looked like he was bracing himself for something. It all came crashing down.
James’ heart skipped a beat. He didn’t need to hear more to understand. Barty wasn’t just with Evan in the way James had initially thought. No, he was with him in a way that meant more, something more intimate, something forbidden. They were together, as a couple, and the fear in their eyes confirmed it.
James’ pulse raced. He could feel the weight of the secret pressing down on him. His gaze flitted between Evan and Barty, each of them looking at him as though waiting for his reaction, waiting to see if he would be disgusted, horrified, or even angry. The room felt colder, heavier, and his mind spun in circles as he tried to process the situation.
James couldn’t even imagine the risks they were taking by being so open, even if just with each other.
And then his eyes found Regulus. Regulus, who stood there with his face unreadable, his lips pressed tight together, as if he were waiting for James to say something, anything, that would confirm he could still be trusted with the secret.
But instead, James just stood frozen, eyes wide, heart hammering in his chest.
And in that silence, James realized he’d been let in on something deeply personal, a truth that both terrified and intrigued him. Because, despite the shock, despite the danger in the air, James found himself wondering about the feelings he’d been suppressing, feelings he hadn’t fully come to terms with yet.
James felt a knot twist in his stomach as he looked from Evan to Barty. He couldn’t deny the jealousy creeping in, he wanted what they had. He wanted to throw his arm around Regulus, just like that. He wanted to show everyone in the room that it wasn’t all that different from what he was feeling. The way Regulus looked at him, the boy was so damn handsome it made James ache to kiss him right then and there, to show Barty and Evan that he could be like them. He could make his own choices. But he didn’t.
Regulus swallowed hard, his voice breaking through the tension. “James?”
James blinked, realizing everyone was watching him, waiting for his reaction. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He glanced back at Barty, then stood. With a genuine smile, he extended his hand. “Nice to meet ya,” he said, his voice steady.
The room seemed to exhale collectively, and James knew in that moment that everyone understood. He would keep the secret. Barty and Evan were safe with James.
As the group settled in the backstage area, Evan and Barty left to grab the rest of the instruments from the car, leaving Regulus, James, and Dorcas alone. The club was quiet for a moment, the soft hum of conversation drifting from the bar as the anticipation of the show filled the air.
A tall, well-dressed Black man approached them, his eyes focused on Regulus. He had a calm, authoritative presence, and Regulus gave him a nod of acknowledgment.
"I thought you'd be here sooner," the man said, his voice low but friendly.
Regulus chuckled, a little sheepishly. "Had a small delay with my pianist," he explained, glancing toward James. The man’s eyes flicked over to James, and James offered a friendly smile. The man gave him a nod before returning his gaze to Regulus.
"Y'all are up next. Get ready," the man said with a slight smile, motioning toward the stage.
Regulus gave a quick nod in agreement. "Thanks, Louis," he said, his voice light.
As the man walked away, Regulus turned to James, his expression shifting into a more serious one. "Alright, kid, looks like it’s showtime."
James nodded, his nerves kicking in again. The excitement of performing with Regulus, of being in front of the crowd for the first time, was quickly overtaking the nervousness that had started to creep up.
Soon, Evan and Barty returned, carrying the drum set and other instruments. Barty quickly helped set up the drum kit, adjusting the microphones as he made sure everything was in place. Once the stage was ready, he stepped down and walked toward the crowd, eager to enjoy the show as a spectator for now.
James followed Regulus onto the stage, his heart pounding in his chest. He’d played in front of others before, but this felt different. This was a real performance. He could feel the weight of Regulus’s gaze, and the pressure to make the band look good felt like a heavy weight on his shoulders. Still, he was determined not to let the nerves get the best of him.
Regulus took his place at the microphone, flashing a grin at James. “Ready, Sugar?” he mouthed.
James smiled back, his fingers lightly tapping on the piano keys. “Ready,” he said, his voice steady, though his heart was racing.
The band started with a familiar tune, one Regulus had taught James in the last few days. The rhythm was strong, the bluesy tune alive and vibrant as it echoed through the club. The music wrapped around James like a comforting embrace, his hands gliding over the piano keys, filling in the gaps as Regulus’s deep voice sang out.
Dorcas’s harmonica played off Regulus’s voice beautifully, adding a touch of grit and soul to the performance. Evan’s drumming was crisp and sharp, the sound of the snare drum echoing like thunder. Barty, now positioned in the crowd, clapped along to the rhythm, his eyes locked on the drummer.
The crowd reacted immediately, applause and cheers filled the room as the first song came to a close. James couldn’t help but smile, the rush of performing for people fueling his energy. He looked over at Regulus, who was grinning back at him, as if he were proud of the way James was playing.
Regulus stepped up to the mic again. “Thank you,” he called out, his voice dripping with charm. “We got a lot more where that came from, so sit back, relax, and let’s have some fun.”
The second and third songs followed in quick succession. The crowd was more than just a passive audience, they were living, breathing participants, moving to the rhythm of the music. James lost himself in the music, his hands flowing naturally over the keys, completely in sync with Regulus’s voice.
By the time the last note of the third song rang out, James was buzzing with energy. His palms were sweaty, and his heart was still racing, but he couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt more alive. The audience was on their feet, clapping and shouting for more, and Regulus gave James a nod, as if silently congratulating him.
As they left the stage, James felt like he had just experienced something life-changing. Regulus clapped him on the back, a broad smile on his face. “You did good, Sugar. Real good.”
James laughed, his face flushed with excitement. “Thanks, Reg. That was amazing.”
They both walked off the stage, the sounds of the crowd still echoing in their ears. James couldn’t help but feel a little proud of what they’d just accomplished, but more than that, he felt like he was one step closer to becoming a real part of this world, Regulus’s world.
After the show, the club owner came around, handing out the pay for the night. Each member of the band received seven dollars, and James felt a swell of pride in his chest as he accepted the cash. It felt like a milestone. It was real now. He was part of something.
James helped Evan and Barty carry the instruments back to Regulus’s car, still buzzing from the performance. Barty was talking animatedly about the crowd's reaction, his usual smirk plastered on his face. Evan was quieter, but there was a playful gleam in his eyes as he adjusted the drum kit.
As they finished loading everything, Regulus glanced at his watch, then looked over at Barty with a raised eyebrow. “It’s only 11,” he said, his tone casual but with a note of curiosity. “Where you all headed?”
Barty, his arm draped around Evan’s shoulder, smirked and leaned in with a knowing look. “We’re gonna have some fun, Reggie,” he said, his voice thick with mischief.
James could sense the meaning behind Barty’s words without needing them to elaborate. A heat rose in his cheeks, and he quickly looked away, focusing on adjusting his glasses.
"He could almost feel the sexual tension between the two men, but he didn’t know how to react to it."
Regulus, seemingly used to Barty’s teasing, just gave him a half-smile before turning to Dorcas. “You need a ride back to Memphis?” he asked, his voice softer, more considerate than it had been with Barty.
Dorcas shook her head with a smile. “I’m meeting my girl soon,” she said, her tone easy and light. “No need to worry about me.”
Regulus gave a small nod and shrugged his shoulders, the briefest flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Alright then. Guess it's just me and James tonight.”
James followed Regulus to the car, the performance still swirling in his head. He glanced back over his shoulder at Barty and Evan, who were already heading in the opposite direction, and felt a mix of curiosity and discomfort at what they were about to do.
He climbed into the passenger seat of Regulus’s car, the door shutting with a soft thud. Regulus started the engine, the car rumbling to life.
On the drive back to Memphis, the mood in the car felt different. The usual electric tension between them was there, but this time it was accompanied by a comfortable ease, as if they were settling into something familiar. Regulus was driving, his hands on the wheel steady, but his eyes often flicking to James as they spoke. The late-night road stretched on, the only sound between them was the hum of the engine and the occasional laugh or comment.
James glanced at the darkened houses passing by the window and then turned to Regulus. "I'm quite sure my mother is asleep by now," he said, his voice a little tired from the long night.
Regulus gave a small, almost wistful smile, his tone laced with something James couldn’t quite place. "I wish mine was."
James raised an eyebrow, curious but hesitant to probe too much. "Does she stay up this late often?"
Regulus’s jaw tightened just a bit, and his eyes stayed focused on the road ahead. He was quiet for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air before he spoke again. "Well, since my brother took off a few years back an' my daddy passed... I'm all she’s got left. Gets a little... smotherin' sometimes, y’know? Always worryin' 'bout somethin'." He gave a half-hearted shrug, as if tryin' to shake off the discomfort, but James could still hear the tension there, feel it hangin' heavy between them.
James couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him, but he also admired the way Regulus tried to maintain his composure. He leaned back in his seat, considering his words carefully. "Sounds tough. Must be hard to have someone all over you like that."
Regulus let out a short, soft laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, well, you get used to it. I reckon I’m a big disappointment in her eyes anyway, so it’s just one more thing to deal with."
James thought for a moment, then half-jokingly said, "Well, if you want, you can always spend the night in my room. I wouldn’t mind."
Regulus glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Now, you offerin' a place to stay, James?"
James grinned but there was an underlying sincerity in his voice. "I mean it. You could get away from all of that for a night."
Regulus chuckled, shaking his head but not with his usual humor. "You don’t want me taking up space in your room. Besides, I’d probably just end up doing more of what I’m doing now, worrying about things I can't change."
But James’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t just the humor in Regulus’s voice, it was the quiet longing underneath it. He glanced at Regulus, feeling that familiar tug in his chest. He meant it. He wished he could offer Regulus more than just a night of conversation. He felt like he needed him, like Regulus was the air he’d been starved of for so long, and without him, it was hard to breathe properly.
Regulus seemed to sense the shift in James’s tone. He turned to look at him for a moment, eyes lingering, before he cleared his throat and turned back to the road. "Maybe next time," he said, voice quieter now, as if the subject had already left the air between them.
But James knew that in that brief moment, something had passed between them. Something deeper than just their shared love for music, something that made his heart race and his mind spin. He just wasn’t sure what it was yet.
The car rolled quietly through the empty streets, the soft hum of the engine the only sound between them. James kept his gaze out the window, watching the familiar, dark houses slip by.
They pulled up to the curb outside his grandmother’s house, and everything was still. The lights were off inside, and the quiet street outside felt like it was holding its breath. James barely had time to unbuckle his seatbelt when he noticed Regulus was already looking at him, that same intensity in his gaze. James’ throat tightened. He could feel it now, the space between them thick with some sort of tension.
James didn't know what to do. How was he supposed to say goodbye? He played out a few scenarios in his head, each one more awkward than the last. A simple "see you later" felt like the safest, the least embarrassing. It was casual. But when he turned to Regulus, he realized it didn’t matter how simple he tried to make it, there was no escaping the weight of what was between them.
"Well," James started, his voice softer than he meant, trying to fight the growing urge to do something more than just leave. He had to stop overthinking. "Guess I’ll see you next time," he said, attempting a light tone, but his eyes lingered on Regulus’s lips as the words slipped out.
Regulus gave him a slow, knowing smile, and James saw him shift closer, just a bit. James swallowed hard. He had no idea why his heart was racing, but he couldn’t look away. Regulus leaned in ever so slightly, like he wanted to taste the words James had just spoken.
Time seemed to stretch as their faces grew nearer, and James’ breath caught in his throat. The tension between them was electric, a crackling, unspoken thing that neither of them could ignore.
Then, before James could even process what was happening, Regulus closed the gap between them. His lips brushed against James' in a soft, almost tentative kiss. It was everything. It was nothing. The world around them stopped, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. The kiss deepened, and the storm that had been brewing in James’ chest finally broke free.
It wasn’t like he had imagined. It was better. It was everything.