Showers
James is sitting on his bed, legs crossed. He’s looking down at his gadget. He’s been watching Remus for the past hour while writing in his notebook.
It’s not something he expected out of Remus, falling inlove with someone so alike to himself, but James is happy for him. Remus is smiling, actually smiling, and laughing. Laughing and smiling and just being happy. James honestly thought Remus would never be happy again, especially with how hard the last year has been for Remus.
But part of James felt torn. His bestfriend, his brother, his Sirius has the love of this life with another man. But Sirius locked up for life, away from Remus.
Maybe, just maybe, this is what Remus needs. Maybe Remus needs a fresh start. A new friend. Someone to love him for being him.
Sirius did love him for being Remus.
James groans and drags his hands down his face. He really needs to stop thinking about people that are alive while he’s dead. He gets out of bed and picks out a pair of clothes for after he showers.
Okay, technically, you don’t need to shower in Passover, just like you don’t need to eat, drink, sleep, or literally anything to keep the human body alive. James knows that. James also likes to shower. He likes the feeling of being alive without actually being alive. He misses the constant reassurance of his heart beating and the air filling his lungs. His body still moves like he’s alive, his chest rising and falling, but oxygen never needs to enter his body.
James turns his gadget to blank and walks into his bathroom.
It’s literally his dream bathroom. Two sinks, one for him, one for someone else. There is a closet with every possible hygiene product he could need, towels of every possible color, and candles. James likes candles. His shower is gigantic, two shower heads pointing towards the middle. Each has a bundle of lavender and other plants hanging off the top. In the corner is a bath with every possible bath salt he could want. The toilet is closed off with a wall, separating it from the rest of the bathroom.
James fucking loves this bathroom. If it was socially acceptable, he would spend every waking moment in here.
Instead, he sighs as he walks over to the music player, turning on a CD. He adjusts it to just the right volume then sets down his clothes on the counter, which are neatly folded. He walks over to the shower, turning both shower heads to the perfect temperature so the water flow is in the middle.
If he was alive he would be worrying about water bills.
He’s not alive.
He’s dead.
Utterly and completely dead.
He sighs and starts to undress. The shirt dropping off his body. He pulls his pants down, pooling at his ankles.
James has never been ashamed of his body. Ever. He would walk around Gryffindor tower completely shirtless all the time.
“Really, Potter? Put a shirt on,” Frank had grumbled more than once.
James just didn’t feel ashamed. He was proud of his body. He worked hard for it and felt he could show it off.
But now, now that he’s dead, he understands being ashamed.
He feels ashamed of the little curse mark right next to his heart. Mocking him. Saying he’s not good enough. Not strong enough.
He’s ashamed of his happy trail down his navel. Once an upon a time, Regulus used to love it. He would place his cold hands over James’s stomach while cuddling, making James shiver.
Now it’s just a memory.
James is ashamed of the little weight he gained. It wasn’t much, just enough to make his hard worked abs less noticeable. He’s ashamed of it.
He’s ashamed of the little marks on his upper thigh. They are so small, actually, that you wouldn’t notice them on first glance. Little pale streaks on his muscular thighs. Ones he demanded to keep hidden from the world.
He’s ashamed of the little stick and pokes on his fingers and ankles. Ones Sirius did before Sirius would tattoo himself. Sirius would laugh before pressing a little dot of ink onto James’s finger. Then he turned it into a beautiful star.
He’s ashamed of the one crooked tooth in his smile. Everything else about it was perfect except for his left middle tooth, which swayed slightly to the right.
He’s ashamed of his bad eyesight. When he takes off his glasses, he can barely see a couple inches in front of him.
He’s ashamed of the way he looks without glasses. He doesn’t look like himself. James refuses to even entertain the thought that his friends had seen him without his glasses. The silver rims are a part of him now.
He’s ashamed of the way his hair won’t fall flat. He’s tried everything. Gel. Water. Mouse. Everything. Nothing, nothing, gets it to stay down.
James groans, shutting his brain off as he pulls down his boxers. He struts over to the candle and lights it. The smell of lavender and oak wood immediately fills the air. He steps into the shower, right in the middle of the two streams. He closed his eyes and let the water rain down his body, dripping in the divots of his chest.
—
“No.. I don’t.. need you to hold me, James. I’m fine,” Regulus snapped, his eyes full of unshed tears. James walked in on him sobbing on the ground, violently shaking. A panic attack. One like James has never seen.
“That’s fine, baby, just talk to me,” James kneeled down next to him.
“I don’t want to talk.”
“That’s okay. Can you get up and into the shower for me?”
“James-“
“No, shut up and let me take care of you,” James said, his voice a stern tone that Regulus had never heard.
Shakily, Regulus stood up, standing before James. He felt naked without even taking his clothes off. He felt so vulnerable and small. He directed his gaze at the floor.
“Baby, look at me.”
“J-“
James gently tilted Regulus’s chin up, “you don’t have to talk, okay? Just.. let me take care of you.”
Regulus didn’t protest as James started the water. He didn’t protest as James lifted his shirt off of Regulus’s chest, or kneeled down in front of him to pull down his trousers. He didn’t protest as James stripped down as well. He didn’t protest as James pulled him into the shower, only in boxers. He didn’t protest as James gently washed his hair, running his strong fingers through the curls. He let James pull Regulus to his chest, wrapping his strong arms around his middle.
“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you.”
Regulus listened as James whispered soft words into his ear, the words sounding like a melody to his broken heart. Regulus found himself melting into James.
He’d never let someone see him like this, so broken and wrecked, but he felt like he couldn’t hide it from James, no matter how hard he tried.
Regulus was a mystery to everyone expect for James Potter. James Potter put the puzzle pieces of Regulus Black together, over and over again.
Regulus was human putty when James shut the water off. He let James sit him down on the toilet seat, patting him dry with a towel. James’s glasses were fogged up. He never took his glasses off.
James had grabbed one of his own hoodies to give to Regulus. Regulus didn’t realize how much bigger James was until he put the sweatshirt on. It hung well past his hips and the sleeves had to be rolled.
James handed him a pair of fresh boxers then turned his back, giving Regulus much needed privacy to change his underwear. Regulus tapped his shoulder once he was decent and then James had kneeled down between Regulus’s legs, pulling a pair of sweats over each leg. James then pulled on a pair of socks over each foot.
He did all of this without talking, silently respecting Regulus’s wishes of not wanting to talk. James gently stroked his knee before standing up and getting dressed.
Regulus stood up and walked over to the sink, brushing his teeth. He closed his eyes and hummed as James came up from behind, wrapping his arms around Regulus’s waist. James rested his nose in the crook of Regulus’s neck.
Once Regulus was done, James took his hand and led him to the Slytherin bedrooms. James laid down on the bed next to Regulus, close enough to be comforting, but far enough away to give Regulus space.
Regulus only hesitated for a short moment before wrapping himself around James like a koala. James let out a soft chuckle but didn’t protest, instead, his muscles relaxed under Regulus. James brought his hand up to run through the dark curls that lay across his chest.
“Get some sleep, sunshine.”
Regulus went to sleep that night wondering how someone was so perfect. How someone could always be there for others and not break. James was so perfect. Everything about him was perfect.
—
James fell to the floor of the shower, sobbing.
He didn’t even realize he was crying until it fell out of his eyes in sharp, hot-white rivers.
He doesn’t know why he’s crying. He hasn’t cried like this since the day he died, but it just spills out of him. Over and over again and until he can’t breathe. The air won’t fill his lungs. Literally, the air won’t fill his lungs. His chest is rising so rapidly it almost hurts.
He does it subconsciously, but he digs his nails into his palms.
Calm down, James, you’re fine.
James sobs covered up the sound of the door opening.
“James?!” Lily sounds so nervous, her voice cutting right through James’s emotions. It’s like a switch flipped in his head. He turns his gaze over to her. “James? Oh, Merlin, what happened?”
James didn’t want her to him like this. He didn’t want anyone too-
Lily cupped his face in her hands, and he just broke. She was so gentle. So loving. So.. Lily. He couldn’t fake around her.
Lily slowly reached up and turned off the water. She wrapped her arms around her husband’s body, cradling it to her chest.
“It’s okay, James. It’s okay.”
James feels like nothing has ever been okay in his life.
It takes James a full twenty minutes to fully calm down. A full twenty minutes of Lily just holding him, her presence soothing his soul.
“I’m sorry,” He mumbles, pulling himself up so he can get dressed.
“For what?”
“For you seeing me like this,” James mutters, pulling his shirt over his head.
Lily didn’t say anything but she pulled him to her chest, running her hands up and down his back. “I’m your wife, remember?”
James softly smiled into her shoulder, “love you, Lily.”
“Love you too, Potter.”
——
Sirius feels sick while looking at Barty. It’s been two years, he thinks. Sometimes, if he’s lucky, he can snatch a prophet from an auror who’s walking by. It’s November of 1983, Sirius thinks. He got the last prophet a couple weeks ago, so it’s nearly November now.
Barty doesn’t really talk anymore, just stares. He stares at the wall. He still curls into Sirius’s side for comfort, but he doesn’t open his mouth. He sometimes will whimper in his sleep or hum in approval when Sirius’s fingers brush over his hair, but he doesn’t talk.
Sirius finds himself missing Barty’s voice. Everything in Azkaban is oddly quiet now.
So, when Barty opens his mouth to talk, Sirius finds himself surprised.
“Sirius?” Barty croaks, shifting onto his side so he can see the other man better.
“Hm?”
“What’s his name?”
“Whose name?” Sirius asks, eyebrows furrowed. He couldn’t think of anyone Barty could be asking about.
“The one I liked.. yknow.. err.. blonde?”
“Evan?” Sirius’s heart dropped out of his chest. All Barty ever talked about was Evan. How could he forget?
“Was he.. yknow.. real?” Barty asks.
Sirius just stares into his eyes, mouth slightly open. He knew that Azkaban was taking a large toll on Barty.. but forgetting Evan? That’s not like him at all.
“Yes, he was real. Are you okay, Barty? Are you getting sick again?”
“No, m’ fine,” Barty mumbles, placing his head on Sirius’s chest. After a moment, he speaks again. “I think I’m losing it.”
“You’re not losing it.”
“I don’t remember anything from before this. It’s all.. a blur.”
“You don’t remember anything? Not even Regulus? Or school? Or Pandora?” Sirius automatically reaches down to stroke Barty’s hair.
“I remember some of it.. the bad stuff. My dad and everything,” Barty mumbles, tilting his head back into Sirius’s hand like a cat. “Tell me about it?”
So, Sirius went on to explain everything Barty had told him about the past. The secret kisses and lingering touches him and Evan shared. His late night smoke breaks with Regulus. Studying with Pandora until early morning.
Barty didn’t notice the tear fall down his face until Sirius wiped it away.
“I don’t want to forget.”
“I know.”
“Will you help me? Not forget?”
“I will.”
—
“Fuck you, Rosier,” Barty snapped, dropping his bottle of alcohol onto the floor. It spilled all over his fancy new shoes but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“You’re hurting yourself,” Evan said, taking the next bottle away.
“I don’t care.”
“You’re hurting me.”
That, struck a cord deep in Barty’s chest. He never meant to hurt Evan. He just.. Barty couldn’t deal with the pressure pounding down on his back from his father. So if he needed a drink, so what?
Evan, so gently, took the bag full of bottles and put it aside, stepping next to Barty.
They were on the astronomy tower. Barty can feel the wind burning his nose and cheeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Evan brought a hand up to Barty’s cheek, cradling it in his hand. “I can’t let you hurt yourself like this.”
Barty felt himself crack in half, his heart being ripped out of his chest, “I don’t deserve you.”
“Oh, love, you deserve so much better than me,” Evan mumbled, a sad smile on his face. He wrapped his arms around the taller boy, coaxing Barty’s head to his shoulder. “It’s okay, Barty, you don’t have to talk. Just let me hold you. Feels nice, right?”
“Mhm.”
Barty buried his head into Evan’s shoulder, relishing in his scent. Wood, tobacco, and leather. It’s so comforting.
Evan feels like home.
“I love you,” Barty mumbled before he even realizes what he said.
Before he even got the chance to panic, the words fell from Evan’s mouth like a lullaby.
“I love you too.”