---
The music was too loud. James Potter hated that. Not the kind of loud that made you want to dance, but the kind that vibrated through your chest like an erratic heartbeat, leaving no room for thoughts to settle. It was the kind of party Sirius thrived at, weaving through the crowd like he owned the room—because, to be fair, he kind of did.
James nursed his drink, a cheap Firewhisky poured into a chipped glass, leaning against the kitchen counter of Sirius’s flat. The lights were dim, casting everything in a warm, hazy glow, masking the chipped paint and scuffed floors that came with living like you were too cool to care about rent deposits.
Lily was somewhere in the crowd, laughing with Marlene and Dorcas, her fiery hair catching the light every time she tossed her head back. She was beautiful, radiant in the way only Lily Evans could be—confident, sharp-tongued, and utterly out of place in this chaos, yet somehow commanding it.
James should’ve been with her.
Instead, his gaze kept drifting toward the door, his heart thudding for reasons he couldn’t name—or didn’t want to.
And then it happened.
Regulus Black walked in like the party had been waiting for him.
He looked the same and entirely different all at once. No longer the stiff, polished Slytherin with his perfect Prefect badge and carefully pressed robes. His dark hair was messier now, falling into his sharp gray eyes like it had a mind of its own. He wore a black button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tattoos faintly peeking from under the fabric—things James never thought he’d see on someone like Regulus Black.
James’s mouth went dry.
Their eyes met across the room. Just for a second. Long enough.
Regulus didn’t look away first. Of course, he didn’t.
Sirius was at his side in an instant, clapping a hand on Regulus’s shoulder, dragging him into the chaos of the party like they were…fine. Like years of bad blood had never existed. Maybe they were fine now. James had stopped keeping track.
He told himself to look away.
Didn’t.
Regulus’s smirk was slow, lazy, like he knew exactly what James was thinking. He probably did.
James downed the rest of his drink.
---
Later, when the party thinned out, and the music settled into something softer, James found himself on the balcony. The night air was crisp, cooling the heat lingering on his skin. He wasn’t drunk enough to blame this on the Firewhisky, though he wished he was.
Footsteps behind him. He didn’t turn. He didn’t need to.
Regulus’s voice was quiet, but it slid into the space between them like a blade.
"Potter."
James exhaled, slow. "Black."
A beat of silence.
"Didn’t expect to see you here," Regulus said, leaning against the railing beside him, not looking his way.
"Didn’t expect to care," James shot back, too fast, too sharp.
Regulus’s laugh was low, a soft huff of amusement. "Still the same arrogant prick, I see."
James finally turned to look at him. Up close, Regulus was unfairly beautiful—sharp lines, smooth skin, and eyes that held too many secrets.
"You’re one to talk," James muttered, annoyed by how his heart was racing.
Regulus tilted his head slightly, studying him with a curiosity that felt like it was peeling back layers James didn’t know he had. "You’re still with her, then? Evans?"
James’s jaw clenched. "Yeah."
"Good for you," Regulus murmured, but his tone was laced with something James couldn’t name.
They stood there, silent except for the distant hum of music and the city beyond.
Then Regulus said, softly, "You always did want things you didn’t understand."
James didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it didn’t matter.
All he knew was that Regulus’s mouth was on his, warm and demanding, tasting like Firewhisky and something sharp—something dangerous. James kissed him back like he was drowning.
It was reckless and stupid and addictive.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, James whispered, "This was a mistake."
Regulus’s smile was slow and dangerous. "Then why are you still here?"
James didn’t have an answer.
And he didn’t leave.
---
James woke up with a pounding headache, the kind that settled behind his eyes and made the world feel too bright, too sharp. The taste of Firewhisky lingered on his tongue, but it wasn’t what made his stomach twist with nausea.
No, that had everything to do with the person lying next to him.
Regulus Black.
His back was to James, dark hair a mess against the pillow, sheets low around his waist, revealing pale skin marked by faint scars and the curve of a tattoo snaking along his spine. James knew he should feel regret. He should be panicking, scrambling to piece together excuses, explanations—anything to make sense of what had happened.
Instead, he stared.
His mind replayed flashes of the night before: heated kisses against the wall, hands pulling, tugging, desperate like they were trying to tear each other apart. James couldn’t even blame the alcohol; he’d been drunk, sure, but not that drunk. He’d known exactly what he was doing.
The worst part? He didn’t feel sorry. Not yet.
Guilt crept in slowly, like cold seeping under a door.
Lily.
James sat up carefully, dragging a hand through his hair. The room was unfamiliar—Regulus’s flat, probably. Sparse, minimalist. No personal touches, just dark walls, simple furniture, and a faint scent of mint and something smoky.
Regulus stirred, his voice raspy from sleep. "You’re still here."
James flinched, not expecting him to speak. "Yeah. Guess I am."
Regulus rolled onto his back, squinting up at him. His expression was unreadable, all sharp edges and cool detachment, like none of this meant anything. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe that was the point.
James swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his clothes scattered across the floor. His shirt was inside out, his jeans creased. He didn’t care.
"Leaving without the awkward small talk?" Regulus asked, amusement flickering in his voice.
James shot him a glare. "There’s nothing to talk about."
Regulus raised an eyebrow, lazily stretching like a cat. "Sure there is. Like how you kissed me first."
James’s face burned. "You kissed me."
Regulus smirked. "Keep telling yourself that."
James yanked his shirt over his head, muttering, "This was a mistake."
Regulus’s smile faded, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You keep saying that, but you didn’t stop me."
James didn’t have a comeback for that.
He left without looking back.
---
The walk home felt longer than usual, each step heavy with regret—or maybe confusion. His flat with Lily was quiet when he pushed the door open. She wasn’t there. Relief and disappointment tangled in his chest.
Dropping onto the couch, James buried his face in his hands. What the hell had he done?
It wasn’t like him. He wasn’t that guy. He’d spent years chasing Lily, convincing her he was serious, that he wasn’t just some arrogant Gryffindor who thought he could have anything he wanted. And now… this.
His phone buzzed. A text from Sirius.
Sirius: Mate, you alive? Party wiped me out. You left early.
James stared at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He could tell Sirius. Make a joke of it. Pretend it was nothing.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he tossed his phone aside, guilt gnawing at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.
When Lily came home later, smiling and talking about her day, James kissed her. Too softly. Too carefully.
And all he could think about was Regulus.
---
James tried to be normal.
The days after the party blurred together, filled with the mundane routines of life with Lily: morning coffee, shared glances over newspapers, her laughter echoing through their flat like it belonged there—which it did. Which it always had.
But James wasn’t normal.
Because every time Lily tucked her hair behind her ear, James saw Regulus’s hand in his hair instead.
Every time she kissed him, he tasted someone else.
Every time she said, “I love you,” he hesitated.
He told himself it was a one-time thing. A mistake. A slip in judgment, fueled by Firewhisky and poor decisions. But that lie unraveled faster than he wanted to admit.
---
It happened again a week later.
James found himself at another party—Sirius’s idea, of course—packed with too many people, too much noise, and not enough space to think. Lily stayed home, citing exhaustion. James had almost done the same.
But Regulus was there.
James felt him before he saw him, that magnetic pull like gravity had decided to rearrange itself just to ruin his life. Regulus leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing a drink, looking effortlessly disinterested in everything around him.
James hated him.
Or maybe he hated himself.
They didn’t talk at first. Just exchanged lingering glances across the room, a silent conversation thick with tension. James could’ve left. Should’ve. But he didn’t.
Later, when the party dwindled and the buzz settled low and warm under his skin, James found Regulus on the balcony again—because apparently, that was their thing now.
“You following me?” Regulus asked without turning around.
James scoffed, stepping into the cool night air. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Regulus glanced over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re really bad at pretending you don’t want me.”
James’s jaw clenched. “You’re an arrogant prick.”
Regulus shrugged. “Takes one to know one.”
It was stupid. Reckless. Inevitable.
James crossed the space between them, grabbed Regulus by the collar, and kissed him like he wanted to erase the memory of him—but only managed to carve it deeper.
---
They ended up at Regulus’s flat again. Clothes scattered, breathless touches, desperate and angry, like they both knew this was wrong but didn’t care enough to stop.
James’s phone buzzed at some point—Lily’s name lighting up the screen. He ignored it.
Afterward, James lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, chest heaving. Regulus lit a cigarette, the glow of it casting soft shadows across his face.
“This is a bad idea,” James muttered.
Regulus exhaled a thin stream of smoke, his expression unreadable. “Then why does it feel so good?”
James didn’t have an answer.
---
The next morning, James went home to Lily like nothing had happened. He kissed her on the cheek, made her tea, asked about her day.
But Regulus’s touch lingered like a bruise beneath his skin.
And James knew this wasn’t the end.
It was just the beginning.
---
James was drowning.
Not in the obvious way—no flailing arms or desperate gasps for breath. On the surface, everything looked fine. Normal. He woke up next to Lily, went to work, met Sirius for drinks, laughed when he was supposed to, kissed Lily when it felt right.
But underneath, the weight of what he’d done pressed down on him like stones in his chest.
Because it wasn’t just one mistake anymore. It wasn’t even just two.
James kept going back.
To Regulus.
To the sharp curve of his smirk, the way his hands knew exactly where to touch, the way his mouth tasted like defiance and disaster.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
---
It’d been a few weeks since it started—whatever this was—and James had become an expert at pretending.
He sat with Lily on their worn-out couch one evening, her legs tucked under her, a book resting in her lap. She looked peaceful, her hair falling in soft waves around her face, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her tea mug.
James felt sick.
She glanced up, her green eyes meeting his. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he lied, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”
She smiled back, warm and trusting, and James wanted to punch himself in the face.
His phone buzzed on the coffee table. A simple message.
Regulus: You’re shit at goodbyes. See you tonight?
James’s pulse spiked.
“I’m going to meet Sirius later,” he blurted, standing too quickly.
Lily didn’t even question it. She just nodded, turning back to her book. “Tell him I said hi.”
James left with guilt clawing at his throat, but he didn’t stop walking.
---
Regulus’s flat was dim, the faint glow of city lights bleeding through the blinds. James barely got through the door before Regulus grabbed him, pulling him in with the kind of urgency that made James forget his own name.
It was rough this time—kisses more like bites, hands leaving marks. James didn’t know if he hated Regulus or if he hated how much he wanted him.
After, they lay tangled in silence. James stared at the ceiling, the words he couldn’t say hanging between them.
Regulus finally spoke, voice low. “Why do you keep coming back?”
James didn’t answer.
Because he didn’t know.
Or maybe he did. And that was worse.
---
A few days later, it all started to fall apart.
James was with Lily at a café, her hand resting on his, warmth seeping into his skin like an accusation. She was talking about something—work, maybe—but James wasn’t listening. His mind was elsewhere, tangled in memories he had no right to hold onto.
Then Sirius walked in.
With Regulus.
James froze.
Regulus’s eyes found his instantly, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. But it was different now—sharper, like a blade hidden in plain sight.
Sirius plopped down at their table, oblivious. “Evans! Potter! Fancy seeing you here.”
Regulus slid into the seat across from James, his knee brushing against James’s under the table. James flinched.
Lily smiled, completely unaware. “Regulus, it’s been a while.”
Regulus nodded, his gaze flicking to James. “Hasn’t it?”
James wanted to disappear.
---
Later, when they were alone, James cornered Regulus outside, his heart racing with panic.
“What the hell was that?” he hissed.
Regulus shrugged, lighting a cigarette. “What? Sitting at a table? Making conversation?”
“You’re playing with fire.”
Regulus stepped closer, smoke curling between them. “Maybe I like the heat.”
James clenched his fists, his chest tight. “This has to stop.”
Regulus’s smile faded. “Then stop.”
But James didn’t.
Couldn’t.
Because the worst part wasn’t that he was cheating.
It was that he didn’t want to stop.
---
James couldn’t sleep.
He stared at the ceiling, counting the faint shadows cast by the streetlights outside their bedroom window. Lily’s soft breathing beside him was the only sound, steady and familiar, a rhythm he’d once found comforting. Now, it felt like a metronome ticking down to his inevitable downfall.
He turned his head slightly, watching her face in the dim light. She looked peaceful, her freckles soft against pale skin, lips slightly parted in sleep. She trusted him.
And he was breaking her without even trying.
James squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the ache in his chest, but Regulus’s voice echoed in his mind:
“Then stop.”
But he hadn’t.
---
The next time was different.
It wasn’t planned, not that it ever really was, but this time felt sharper, messier.
James had gone to meet Sirius under the pretense of grabbing drinks, needing a distraction. They ended up at some dingy pub tucked away in a quiet corner of London. But Sirius, ever the social butterfly, had dragged half their old friends along, and James had spent the entire night feeling like he was suffocating.
And then Regulus walked in.
Like gravity had shifted again, pulling James off-balance without warning. He was with someone—some guy James didn’t know, laughing at something he said, his hand resting casually on the other man’s arm.
James felt something sharp twist in his stomach.
Jealousy.
Which was ridiculous. James didn’t have the right to feel jealous. Regulus wasn’t his. This wasn’t that.
But that didn’t stop him from downing his drink and finding Regulus outside a little later, alone, lighting a cigarette in the cool night air.
James didn’t say anything. Just grabbed him, fingers twisting in the collar of his coat, and kissed him like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
Regulus kissed him back without hesitation. Like he’d been waiting for it.
---
They ended up at Regulus’s flat again.
It wasn’t rough this time. It wasn’t angry.
It was slow.
James hated that more than anything.
Because it felt real.
Afterward, they lay tangled in sheets, the silence heavy and intimate. James stared at the ceiling, his heart pounding for all the wrong reasons.
Regulus’s fingers traced lazy patterns along James’s chest. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”
James swallowed hard. “No.”
Regulus’s smile was small, almost sad. “Didn’t think so.”
---
When James got home, it was late—early, really. The sky was just starting to lighten, casting a faint blue hue through the windows.
Lily was awake, sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. She looked up when he walked in, her eyes sharp and tired.
“You’re late,” she said softly.
James forced a smile. “Lost track of time.”
She didn’t respond. Just stared at him, her fingers tightening around her mug.
For the first time, James felt something crack—like the fragile façade he’d been holding together was finally starting to crumble.
But he still didn’t stop.
---
James was unraveling.
Not with the dramatic flair of someone falling apart publicly, but in small, insidious ways—misplaced keys, forgotten plans, the hollow echo of Lily’s voice when she asked him a question he didn’t fully hear.
The worst part was that he noticed.
And he still didn’t stop.
---
Lily wasn’t stupid.
She started noticing the late nights, the way James’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. The way he smelled different sometimes—not like the faint cologne he always wore, but something else. Smoke. Sharp, unfamiliar aftershave. A hint of something James couldn’t explain without unraveling the whole mess.
She didn’t say anything at first. Just watched. Waited.
But James could feel it—her gaze lingering too long, the careful way she asked, “Had fun with Sirius?” like she already knew he hadn’t been with Sirius at all.
And then came the question that made his heart stop.
“Are you seeing someone?”
It was late. They were in bed. She’d asked it quietly, like she didn’t want to wake the ghosts already creeping between them.
James froze. His mind raced for the right lie, the one that wouldn’t taste like ash on his tongue.
“No,” he said too quickly. Too easily.
Lily nodded, but she didn’t believe him.
He could tell.
---
James met Regulus the next night.
“I think she knows,” James muttered, running a hand through his hair, pacing the length of Regulus’s small flat.
Regulus lounged on the couch, completely unfazed, like this wasn’t the collapse of James’s entire life. “Of course she knows. You’re terrible at lying.”
James shot him a glare. “Not helping.”
Regulus shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Then stop lying.”
James let out a bitter laugh. “Oh yeah, great idea. ‘Hey, Lily, by the way, I’ve been sleeping with your ex’s little brother.’ That’ll go over well.”
Regulus’s jaw tightened slightly at the mention of Sirius, but he didn’t respond to it. Just blew out a slow stream of smoke and said, “You’re the one who started this, Potter. You can’t expect it to stay neat.”
James collapsed onto the couch beside him, burying his face in his hands. “I never wanted this to happen.”
Regulus’s voice was quieter this time. “Then why did it?”
James didn’t have an answer.
---
A week later, it all came crashing down.
James was in the shower when Lily found the text.
His phone lit up on the bathroom counter, a message from R—no full name, but Lily wasn’t stupid.
R: Missed you last night. Your side of the bed’s cold without you.
Lily felt her heart stop.
She didn’t say anything when James got out of the shower. Just handed him his phone, her face a mask of quiet devastation.
“What’s this?” she asked softly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.
James’s blood ran cold.
There was no escape. No lie smooth enough to cover this.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Because he wasn’t sorry.
Not really.
Lily’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. “It’s Regulus, isn’t it?”
James felt the ground shift beneath him. “Lily—”
She held up a hand. “Don’t. Just… don’t.”
She didn’t scream. She didn’t throw things.
She just packed a bag.
And left.
---
James sat on the floor of their empty flat, staring at the door long after it clicked shut.
He didn’t cry.
Because he’d done this to himself.
---
The flat was too quiet.
James had never noticed how loud Lily’s presence was until it was gone. The faint hum of her humming while making tea, the soft shuffle of her footsteps in the morning, the way her laughter filled up the space like it belonged there.
Now it was just silence.
And regret.
James sat on the floor, his back against the couch, staring at the door like she might come back through it. But she wouldn’t. He knew that.
Because there were some things you couldn’t fix.
---
Sirius showed up two days later.
James hadn’t answered any calls, hadn’t replied to texts. He’d just… existed in the aftermath, trying to pretend the pieces of his life weren’t scattered around him.
But Sirius had always been too stubborn for his own good.
He banged on the door until James finally opened it, squinting against the harsh afternoon light.
Sirius took one look at him—disheveled, unshaven, a ghost of himself—and pushed past him into the flat.
“What the hell happened?” Sirius demanded, dropping onto the couch like he owned the place.
James didn’t answer. Just closed the door and leaned against it, his heart pounding like it had been for days.
Sirius glanced around, frowning. “Where’s Lily?”
James swallowed hard. “She left.”
Sirius’s frown deepened. “Why?”
James didn’t answer.
But he didn’t have to.
Because Sirius was smart. He’d always been able to read James like an open book, even when James wished he couldn’t.
Sirius’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”
James felt his throat tighten. “I—” He couldn’t say it. The words wouldn’t come out.
But Sirius was already putting the pieces together. His face went from confusion to disbelief to rage in the span of a few heartbeats.
“You cheated on her?” Sirius’s voice was sharp, cutting through the thick silence like a blade.
James flinched but didn’t deny it.
“With who?” Sirius pressed, standing now, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
James couldn’t look at him.
But silence was its own answer.
Sirius stared at him for a long moment, realization dawning like a slow, burning fire.
“Regulus.”
James finally looked up, his chest tight. “Sirius, I—”
Sirius didn’t let him finish.
He punched him.
Hard.
James stumbled back, his lip split, the metallic taste of blood sharp in his mouth. He didn’t fight back. He deserved it.
“You absolute bastard,” Sirius spat, his chest heaving. “My brother?”
James wiped the blood from his lip, his jaw aching. “It wasn’t—” He stopped. Because what was he supposed to say? It wasn’t like that? Because it was. It was exactly like that.
Sirius shook his head, his face twisted in disgust. “I don’t even know who the hell you are right now.”
And then he left.
Just like Lily.
---
James didn’t call Regulus that night.
But Regulus showed up anyway.
Like he knew.
James opened the door without a word, and Regulus stepped inside, his sharp eyes scanning James’s bruised jaw and split lip.
“Let me guess,” Regulus said dryly, closing the door behind him. “Sirius found out.”
James didn’t respond. Just sank onto the couch, exhausted.
Regulus sat beside him, too close, like he always did. Like proximity made the disaster easier to ignore.
“You okay?” Regulus asked after a while, his voice quieter now.
James let out a hollow laugh. “No.”
Regulus didn’t say I’m sorry.
Because he wasn’t.
And James didn’t want him to be.
They sat in silence, the weight of everything they’d destroyed hanging between them.
James didn’t know what this was anymore—whatever this was between them.
But he knew one thing.
It wasn’t over.
---
James woke up with Regulus’s arm draped lazily across his chest, the morning light creeping in through the cracked blinds. The weight of it—both literal and metaphorical—felt suffocating.
Not because it was Regulus.
But because it wasn’t supposed to be.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling, counting the faint water stains like they held answers. But there were no answers. Just consequences.
Regulus shifted beside him, pressing his face into the curve of James’s neck, his breath warm against his skin. It was intimate in a way that made James’s chest ache. This wasn’t supposed to feel like comfort.
But it did.
---
Later, when Regulus left without a word, James found himself staring at the door again. The silence was deafening.
His phone buzzed on the counter. A text from Sirius.
Sirius: Don’t bother trying to fix it. Some things can’t be unfucked.
James didn’t reply.
Because Sirius was right.
---
Days passed in a blur.
James didn’t go to work. He didn’t answer calls from friends who noticed Lily was gone. He just existed in the wreckage, surrounded by reminders of a life he’d shattered.
Lily’s mug was still in the sink. Her sweater still draped over the back of the chair. Her ghost lingered in all the places she used to be.
And James couldn’t breathe without feeling it.
---
Regulus showed up again.
No warning, no pretense. Just walked in like he belonged there, like James hadn’t completely destroyed his own life to be with him.
“You look like shit,” Regulus said, dropping onto the couch with casual indifference.
James didn’t respond.
Regulus lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly. “You’re not going to talk to me, then?”
James finally looked at him, something sharp and bitter rising in his chest. “What’s there to say?”
Regulus arched a brow, unbothered. “Plenty. But you’d rather sit here and sulk like a child.”
James’s temper snapped. “I ruined everything because of you!”
Regulus didn’t flinch. Just took another drag, his expression unreadable. “No. You ruined everything because you couldn’t admit you wanted me.”
Silence.
James felt like he’d been punched in the gut.
Because it was true.
This wasn’t just about mistakes or bad decisions. It was about want. The kind that seeped into your bones and refused to be ignored.
James’s voice was quieter when he finally spoke. “I hate you.”
Regulus’s smile was slow and razor-sharp. “No, you don’t.”
And then he kissed him.
James kissed him back.
Because Regulus was right.
---
James didn’t sleep that night.
Not really.
He lay awake long after Regulus drifted off beside him, the weight of it all pressing down on his chest. The quiet was louder in the dark—memories echoing in the spaces between heartbeats. Lily’s laughter, Sirius’s anger, the shattering of everything he thought he knew about himself.
Regulus shifted in his sleep, his fingers brushing against James’s arm, grounding him in the present. But James didn’t feel grounded.
He felt like he was drowning.
---
The next morning, Regulus was gone. No note, no text. Just the faint scent of cigarette smoke lingering in the sheets.
James stared at the empty space beside him, wondering if Regulus’s absence was supposed to hurt more than his presence did.
But it didn’t.
It just felt familiar.
---
Later that day, he found himself outside Sirius’s flat.
He didn’t know why he was there—maybe out of habit, maybe out of hope. But his hand was trembling when he knocked.
The door swung open, and Sirius stood there, his face a mixture of exhaustion and fury.
“What do you want?” Sirius snapped, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms.
James swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”
Sirius let out a bitter laugh. “Brilliant. You ruin your relationship, screw my brother, and now you don’t know what you want.”
James flinched. “I didn’t come here to fight.”
“Then why did you come?” Sirius’s voice was sharp, but there was something underneath it—something raw and brittle.
James didn’t have an answer. So he said the only thing he could.
“I miss you.”
That was the crack in the foundation.
Sirius’s anger faltered, just for a second. But then he shook his head. “You don’t get to miss me, James. Not after this.”
James felt something twist in his chest. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Sirius’s laugh was hollow. “Yeah, well. It did.”
And then he slammed the door.
---
James didn’t cry.
He just stood there for a long time, staring at the closed door, feeling like the walls of his life were caving in.
Because they were.
---
That night, Regulus showed up again.
He didn’t knock. Just let himself in, like always.
James was sitting on the floor, a bottle of whiskey beside him, his eyes hollow.
Regulus sat down across from him, stealing the bottle without asking.
“Rough day?” he asked, his voice light, like this was nothing. Like James wasn’t breaking apart in slow motion.
James didn’t answer.
Regulus took a sip, then set the bottle down between them. “You went to see him.”
It wasn’t a question.
James nodded.
Regulus leaned back on his elbows, studying him. “And?”
James let out a shaky breath. “He hates me.”
Regulus didn’t say good or you deserve it—which James expected. Instead, he just nodded like he’d already known the outcome.
After a long stretch of silence, Regulus said quietly, “You can’t have both, you know.”
James looked up, confused.
Regulus’s gaze was steady. “Lily. Sirius. Me. You can’t keep pretending like you can exist in all these worlds without burning one of them down.”
James’s throat felt tight. “I don’t know who I am without them.”
Regulus’s smile was sharp. “Maybe it’s time to find out.”
And that was the scariest part.
Because James didn’t know if there was anything left to find.
---
James didn’t recognize himself anymore.
It wasn’t just the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave, or the dark circles under his eyes. It was deeper than that—like whatever had once held him together had unraveled, thread by fragile thread, until there was nothing left but frayed edges.
And Regulus Black was the match he’d struck against his own skin.
---
Regulus wasn’t soft.
He wasn’t patient.
He wasn’t kind in the way Lily had been, or loyal in the way Sirius had been.
But he was there.
And sometimes, that was enough.
James found himself drifting in and out of Regulus’s orbit like a planet with no gravity. They didn’t talk about what they were—didn’t label it, didn’t define it. They just were.
Sex.
Silence.
Cigarettes.
Repeat.
---
But denial had an expiration date.
And James hit his when he walked into the pub one evening and saw Lily sitting there with Marlene McKinnon.
She looked good.
Happy.
Like losing him hadn’t shattered her the way losing her had shattered him.
James stood frozen, his heart pounding like it was trying to escape his chest.
Lily glanced up—and their eyes met.
For a moment, the world tilted.
But then she looked away, laughing at something Marlene said, like he was just another stranger in a crowded room.
And maybe he was.
---
Regulus found him later, drunk and angry, pacing in his flat with half a bottle of whiskey in his hand.
“Let me guess,” Regulus said, dropping his keys on the table. “You saw her.”
James glared at him. “How do you do that? Just act like none of this matters?”
Regulus shrugged, unbothered. “Because it doesn’t.”
James’s temper snapped. “It matters to me!”
Regulus didn’t flinch. Just walked over, plucking the bottle from James’s hand like he wasn’t seconds away from imploding.
“Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it?” Regulus took a sip, his gaze sharp. “You keep trying to make sense of something that doesn’t have to make sense.”
James felt something hot and bitter rise in his chest. “You don’t care about anything, do you?”
Regulus set the bottle down with a soft thud, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them.
“You think I don’t care?” Regulus’s voice was low, dangerous. “I care more than I should. That’s the problem.”
James laughed bitterly. “Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”
Regulus’s hand shot out, gripping the collar of James’s shirt, yanking him forward until their faces were inches apart.
“You’re such a fucking coward,” Regulus whispered, his breath hot against James’s mouth. “You’d rather drown in guilt than admit you want me.”
James’s pulse was a drumbeat in his ears.
And then he kissed him.
Hard.
Because he didn’t have an answer.
---
Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, the room thick with smoke and regret.
James stared at the ceiling, his chest hollow.
“This isn’t love,” he whispered.
Regulus exhaled slowly, his voice flat. “Did I ever say it was?”
James didn’t respond.
Because maybe that was the worst part.
It wasn’t love.
But it felt like it.
---
James Potter didn’t go home that night.
Home had stopped being a place. It was just a collection of walls, furniture, and memories he didn’t know what to do with. The couch still smelled like Lily’s perfume, faint and ghost-like. The photos on the walls captured smiles that didn’t exist anymore.
So he didn’t go there.
Instead, he found himself at Regulus’s flat—again. The place was dim, cluttered with half-empty glasses and cigarette butts. The air smelled like regret masked by cheap cologne.
James didn’t speak as he walked in. He just dropped his keys on the counter, pulled Regulus close, and let the silence be enough.
Because words were dangerous. Words had consequences.
Touch? Touch could be temporary. Fleeting.
Or so he told himself.
---
But nothing stays temporary when you repeat it enough.
Weeks blurred together.
James woke up.
James existed.
James fucked Regulus because it was the only time he felt something other than numb.
But the thing about numbness is—it’s not the absence of pain. It’s the pressure building beneath, waiting to crack you open.
---
The fallout wasn’t explosive.
It was quiet.
Like a window left open during a storm—you don’t notice the damage until the floor’s soaked.
James showed up at Sirius’s flat, standing at the door like he didn’t belong anywhere else.
Sirius answered with a scowl, his hair a tangled mess, wearing an oversized T-shirt that wasn’t his. Probably Remus’s. “What do you want, James?”
Not Prongs. Not mate. Just James.
It stung more than it should’ve.
“I—I don’t know,” James admitted, his voice thin, stretched too tight.
Sirius snorted, crossing his arms. “Of course you don’t.”
James stepped inside without being invited, like muscle memory had dragged him there. The flat was warm, cluttered with books and forgotten mugs. It smelled like home in a way James’s own flat never did.
“I don’t love him,” James blurted.
Sirius tilted his head, unimpressed. “No shit.”
James blinked. “I—what?”
Sirius shrugged, flopping onto the couch. “You don’t sleep with Regulus because you love him. You do it because you hate yourself.”
The words hit like a slap.
James laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “You’re a real arse, you know that?”
Sirius smiled, all teeth. “Takes one to know one.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid things.
James sank into the armchair, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t know who I am without her. Without you. Without—” He didn’t finish the sentence because admitting it felt like peeling his skin off.
Sirius’s expression softened just a fraction. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’ve been someone’s for so long—Lily’s husband, Harry’s dad, my best mate—you forgot to be your own person.”
James didn’t reply.
Because Sirius was right.
After a long pause, Sirius added quietly, “I don’t hate you, you know.”
James’s throat tightened. “You should.”
Sirius exhaled, leaning back. “Maybe. But I don’t. I’m too tired for that.”
James stared at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
Sirius didn’t say it was okay.
Because it wasn’t.
But he didn’t tell James to leave either.
---
James did leave eventually.
Not because Sirius asked him to—because James knew when to stop pushing.
He found himself outside Regulus’s flat, staring at the door like it might bite him.
When Regulus opened it, he didn’t look surprised. Just tired. His hair was damp, like he’d just gotten out of the shower, and he was wearing an old sweatshirt James recognized from weeks ago.
James stepped inside without thinking. Sat on the edge of the bed. Rubbed the back of his neck.
“This isn’t enough,” James whispered, the words tasting bitter.
Regulus didn’t flinch. Didn’t ask why or what changed. He just nodded like he’d been waiting for it. “I know.”
James felt like he was unraveling, piece by piece. “But I don’t know how to stop.”
Regulus sat beside him, not close enough to touch. His voice was soft but sharp. “You don’t have to know. You just have to decide.”
That was the end.
No screaming.
No dramatic finale.
Just quiet acceptance that whatever they’d built wasn’t built to last.
---
Six Months Later
James didn’t realize he’d healed until he wasn’t thinking about it anymore.
It wasn’t a single moment. It was a collection of small ones:
Waking up without feeling like the walls were closing in.
Laughing at something stupid Remus said without it feeling forced.
Walking past Lily in the street and smiling without his chest caving in.
He saw her holding hands with someone new. She looked happy.
And that was enough.
---
It was raining. Not the dramatic kind, just that soft, relentless drizzle London was famous for.
James ducked into a bookstore to escape it, shaking water from his hair. The place smelled like old paper and coffee—comforting in a way he didn’t expect.
He was flipping through a poetry book he had no intention of buying when he heard the voice.
Low. Sharp. Familiar.
Regulus.
James froze, his heart skipping like it didn’t get the memo.
Regulus was standing in the poetry aisle, flipping through The Waste Land, looking effortlessly indifferent. His hair was shorter now, his face a little leaner. But his eyes were the same—sharp and unreadable.
Regulus looked up like he felt the stare. Their eyes met.
James’s heart did something stupid.
Regulus arched an eyebrow. “What, stalking me now?”
James snorted, the tension cracking slightly. “You wish.”
Regulus’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Still arrogant, I see.”
James shrugged. “Still insufferable.”
It wasn’t much.
But it was something.
---
They didn’t plan to get coffee. It just… happened.
The café was small, tucked between shops like it didn’t want to be noticed. They sat across from each other, mugs between them, the air thick with things unsaid.
“So,” Regulus said, stirring his coffee. “Still an idiot?”
James smirked. “Oh, absolutely.”
Regulus’s lips quirked. “At least you’re consistent.”
---
They didn’t jump back into it.
There were dinners. Walks. Late-night texts that started with “Did you see this?” and turned into “Can’t sleep. You up?”
James wasn’t sure when it changed.
When friendship blurred into something else.
Maybe it never stopped being something else.
---
The Sirius Conversation
James told Sirius over drinks.
“It’s Regulus,” he said, casual like it wasn’t the scariest sentence he’d ever spoken.
Sirius blinked. Then burst out laughing.
“You’re still a bloody idiot,” Sirius wheezed, wiping his eyes. “But at least you’re predictable.”
James blinked. “You’re not mad?”
Sirius shrugged. “Nah. If he kills you in your sleep, I get your record collection.”
James snorted. “Deal.”
---
Epilogue: Home
James woke up to sunlight and Regulus’s hair in his face. Their flat smelled like coffee and old books.
Regulus stirred, groaning softly. “Why are you staring at me?”
James grinned, tucking closer. “Because you’re pretty.”
Regulus rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away.
And that was enough.
Not perfect.
Not dramatic.
Just enough.
---