no shade in the shadow

“James, hi, I’m Frank, the manager.” A boy barely a few years older than him walks inside the locker room, there’s a stressed look on his face. Hair disheveled, one eye constantly on the packed room on the other side of the door.

James’ hands start shaking as he attempts to get his tie in order in time, and he desperately tries over and over again, only to abandon the attempts when Frank rushes out of the room and waves at him to come with.

“It’s a bit busy, sorry.” Frank apologizes and flashes him a smile.

“Oh, you must be glad to have me, then.” James replies, bumping his fist against Franks’ shoulder. That was weird, wasn’t it? They met, what? Ten minutes ago? And now James is touching him?

Franks lets out a laugh, “You have no idea, mate.” And James relaxes his shoulders. It’s fine, people like him no matter what he does, it’s pretty privilege as Lily would say.

After that call with his parents he decided to take their advice. More things to do in a day is more distraction. Sure, he’s so exhausted that keeping his eyes open takes such an enormous effort he thinks he’ll die, and gives him a cruel headache, but at least he’s never alone with his thoughts. There’s less of those moments where he sits in his dorm, all alone, and feels like he’s going crazy because he just doesn’t know what to do about himself.

So here he is, at his new job, in a fancy restaurant. Well, fancy is an understatement. This restaurant is chic. Only the richest people can afford going out for dinner here. The food is served on miniature plates and looks more like surrealistic art than something you’d want to eat, and all the waiters have to wear expensive suits and talk with posh accents to keep the guests at ease. The table cloths are perfectly white and the seats are a dark red velvet, there’s paintings on the walls and statues and palms in every corner, the light comes exclusively from candles. It wasn’t necessarily his first pick, but it’s close to his dorm, it pays well and it requires the kind of hard work where thinking is nowhere near possible and he can just turn off his brain.

“All right I have to go, but you’ll be in… err- good hands.” Frank frowns as he says it and James wonders what monster he’ll be left with today. It’s already terrible enough to start a new job and have to learn everything over, but at a place like this it’s worse, the fact that it’s a Saturday night doesn’t help, and now the person showing him around is apparently a complete asshole? Great.

“This is Regulus.” Frank points at a boy standing by a table, handing out menus with a dazzling smile. The second he hands out the last menu and turns away from the table his smile drops and his face transforms in the coldest, most heartless expression James has ever seen on a person.

“Hi-“ James starts, but Regulus walks right past him, not even looking at him, and grunts, “Follow me.” He looks around for Frank to save him, but he’s long gone, and when he looks again he can’t find Regulus either, so he starts winding through the tables, looking for him, a panic rising in his chest. Not even five minutes on the job and he’s fucking up already. He’ll never recover from the disgrace of having been fired on his first day.

The people seated at the tables look intimidating and more rich than a person should ever be allowed to be, they raise their hands at him and demand more wine in bland voices. He avoids their eyes and tries not to look too lost, running through the restaurant.

“Are you deaf.” A sneer comes from behind him.

He spins around and stands face to face with Regulus. They’re directly underneath one of the chandeliers that must’ve cost more than his parents make in a year, and now that the soft, warm light shines on Regulus he no longer looks so intimidating. His heartbeat picks up and he needs a moment to catch his breath. Must’ve been the stress of walking around the restaurant in a slight panic.

They’re in a secluded corner of the restaurant, close to the window that looks out over one of the fairytale-like little streets, the tables around them are empty and no elderly ladies are calling him over for help.

“Hello?” Regulus waves his hand in front of James’ face, looking for a reaction, and James realizes he must’ve been staring.

Heat rushes to his cheeks, he wants to hit himself in the head for not knowing how to behave. It’s just, Regulus has quite a nice face to look at.

Though, nice is an understatement, a criminal one.

Regulus is the most beautiful human James has ever laid eyes on. He’s not religious, and apart from holidays has never stepped foot inside a church, but maybe angels aren’t mythical creatures after all? At once the gears in his brain start turning, he’s imagining a halo around Regulus’ head, perfectly white wings shooting from his shoulders, like an Icarus flying in glee, approaching the sun with a fast beating heart, music is filling the air.

He shouldn’t dream this much, get so caught up in that addicting whirlwind of scenarios that will never truly happen, the dreams that only leave him yearning for things that are more, better, always better. He knows how it ends, as it does every single time, in heartbreaking disappointment.

Regulus looks younger than he originally estimated when he saw him waiting the tables. Maybe even a little younger than James himself. He’s got large, round eyes, sitting perfectly atop his razor-sharp cheekbones, with dark purple circles surrounding them, giving him an eccentric look, as if he’s a Tim Burton character. They’re green, with a little grey in them, or the other way around, he can’t tell in the dim light. James notices as his own breath hitches, his lungs screaming out for some oxygen, his brain getting all scrambled, and suddenly he’s sucking in air in the most humiliating way, feeling his body tip a little forwards to get a closer glimpse of those extraordinary eyes.

They’re not like Lily’s. Her eyes are bright and clear, like tropical waters infused with bright seaweed. His, on the other hand, are darker, reminding James of mysterious forests in the east of Europe, where the trees stretch out eternally, filled with looming dangers, beauty, creatures never before seen or captured. And the grey in them, oh the grey is like the fog, hanging low, adding to the fairytale-like feeling that his eyes call on in James. He could get lost in them easily as one might in an actual forest, walking in circles, hopelessly lost until the end of time, seeing a new tree or a fresh patch of starshaped moss, still dripping with the morning dew every few feet, he’d never get bored of walking and wouldn’t mind never finding his way out of there.

He’s got sharp features and looks as if he’s carefully and delicately carved from ages old marble, as the ancient gods were, belonging in the Louvre, standing among the other sculptures. There’s a splatter of freckles across his nose and he’s got reddish cheeks from the clammy heat in the restaurant. His hair is dark, pitch-black, and curly, perfectly cut and styled. James imagines him standing in front of a mirror with golden accents- judging from the mannerisms and accent Regulus comes from old money- putting his curls into place, pushing them this way and that until he’s satisfied with the way they sit atop his head. Art on itself.

Regulus’ face calls on something inside of him. He’s elegant, and timeless, and looks like a miracle, and if only he could, James would spend the rest of his life studying this face and painting it in the greatest detail like Basil did with Dorian. He’s not a poet, writes crappy diary entries about his pathetic life at best, but he so wishes he could whip out his notebook, grab an old-fashioned ink pen and write page after page on this beautiful boy, rearranging the words in the phrases, adding onto them, turning into Shakespeare and inventing entirely new words because truly, there’s not any existing words to capture just how breathtaking he is.

James blinks the thoughts from his head, first day of work, no time to fuck up. He needs a job, a distraction, and he cannot afford to lose it because he has the bad habit of falling in love with every slightly attractive person he lays eyes on.

Let’s hope he’s awfully mean, or unintelligent, illiterate! Even better! Or that he doesn’t like animals and steals from the poor, anything bad enough for James to be able to live in the vicinity of such a phenomenal being without losing his mind.

“Sorry, it’s a bit overwhelming here.” He says with a chuckle, but Regulus keeps staring at him with that soulless glare in his eyes. Glazed over, his face made of stone, like a mask.

There’s something behind the glaze, something haunted.

He remembers the mask in his old Latin classroom in school, the golden copy of Agamemnon’s death mask bought by the teacher on a trip to Greece. Sometimes in summers when the windows were opened and the sun was out, it’d act like a mirrorball, casting glimmering lights all over the classroom. They never got much work done on those days.

It felt important, that even all those thousands of years ago people wore masks to hide behind, like he does every day.

Like Regulus does, maybe?

Of course at the time they believed the mask was Agamemnon’s, that it was proof of the existence of the Trojan war and the heroes, little scraps that might indicate Homer’s stories were not all so mythical as they seemed at first. Everyone knows now that Agamemnon lived during a bronze age.

“Sorry, I’m James Potter.” He huffs out, he feels totally starstruck. Having heart palpations, tongue is dry, can he still swallow? Attempt… and, oh no. No he no longer can. His fingers feel swollen. Is that normal? Is this a sign of a heart attack? He can almost feel the ring he wears burst open.

“Stop apologizing.” Regulus snaps at him, and James already can’t remember what he said before. Did he apologize? Several times? Regulus’ eyebrows come together in a frown, creasing his pale skin. James can see the blue veins by his temples, disappearing into his pitch black hair.

Everything about him is extraordinary. And there he is, his name is James for fuck’s sake, he’s on the football team, goes to parties every weekend, nothing about him is special.

“Oh, s- nice to meet you, Regulus.” He grins at him in his most charming way and shrugs off the weirdness, let’s just be his attractive, loveable self, and maybe Regulus won’t be an asshole and they can have fun if they’ll be working together more often.

Regulus’ face relaxes a little and he nods at him as if they’re royalty- is he royalty? In contrast to his ghostly skin his lips look extremely vibrant. He watches intently as Regulus parts them to speak. “Potter.” Is all he says, and then he turns around and starts walking. His hands clasped together behind his back, shoulders straight, chest forward, chin lifted. Are they supposed to be walking like that or is that just how Regulus walks? Did they stitch a stick into his spine?

He follows Regulus into the kitchen, where he starts loading James’ arms with plates. “Have you ever done this before?” How can a person talk with such little emotion? Is Regulus secretly a robot? James looks at him with utmost concentration, trying to find signs he’s fake. He might just be some experiment. Technology is so advanced, who says they can’t make lifelike robots like this? No actual human can be this beautiful, right?

A chill comes over him and he starts looking around him at all the other people in the kitchen, walking around at fast paces and not looking at each other. Are all these people robots? Has his childhood fear come true? Or has he been right all these years. He has, hasn’t he? It’s confirmed now, he’s the only real person on the planet and everyone else is just fake, here to fill up his life.

“Not that I can remember!” He jokes, maybe too loudly.

Regulus glares at him and puts another plate on his arm, he’s fully packed up to his shoulders now.

“Um-“ He wants to ask Regulus to take away some of the plates because there’s no way he’s ever going to be able to walk around like this and visions of future him dropping all these plates on some CEO who will sue him are the only things he can think of now.

“You look a mess, Potter.” Regulus looks personally offended by James’ appearance and narrows his eyes as they travel all over James, taking everything in. There goes the heart again. Has his obsession with sugary drinks caught up to him? If only he didn’t have issues with authority he might’ve had it in him to stop drinking them, instead of continuing out of pure spite. No, he’s certain, his heart is pumping his blood throughout his body much faster than what’s good for him.

He should get tested for diabetes as soon as he can.

“Did you ever wear a tie before this?” Regulus asks him, and James gets the feeling that if he says no Regulus will take one of those big kitchen knives and stick it right in between his ribs.

“Why yes, as you might’ve deduced from my stunning appearance I go on dates all the-“

“Ah, so you’re one of those jokesters.” Regulus looks close to vomiting now, lips curling in disgust. “The horribly annoying guy who sits in the back of the class and makes inappropriate comments while disturbing everyone, yet the teachers still adore you. That’s you, isn’t it?” His hands move up to James’ neck and for a moment he feels his cheek flush as bad thoughts that may or may not have to do with Regulus flood his brain.

Regulus destroys all his hard work and takes off the tie, then puts it back around James’ neck and starts to put on his tie with powerful motions. He’s doing it way too tight and James feels the blood flow to his head being cut off as the tie cuts into his neck and his heartbeat drums against it.

Well, great. Not like he wasn’t dying anyway.

His arms start to tremble from having to hold all those plates for such a long time and he doesn’t even mind carrying them around anymore because he just wants to be rid of them soon as possible, if that means dropping them on someone, so be it.

“That good?” Regulus gives one final pull at the tie and James nearly chokes, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks once again.

“That’s perfect!” He squeals, blinking heavily against the dizziness and feeling like he’s going to pass out any moment.

“And a people pleaser, too.” Regulus mumbles softly, dramatically rolling his eyes, then takes off James’ glasses and starts cleaning them carefully, taking his time while James prays for his arms not to fall off.

James is about to drop all the plates, quit, and run home crying, when Regulus places his newly clean glasses back on his face and takes half the plates, carrying them himself and running out the kitchen.

“Will you follow me this time?” He yells over his shoulders, taking large strides through the restaurant, carefully avoiding bumping into tables and ignoring every single person who tries to catch his attention. James hurries on after him, less skilled in the professional way in which Regulus moves himself through the room. It’s almost comical, to see someone so proud work as a waiter. James wouldn’t be surprised to find out Regulus is secretly a prince of a faraway miniature country that no one’s ever heard of.

When they arrive at the table Regulus’ whole attitude shifts again, he smiles sweetly and sets down the plates with jokes told in a gentle voice, complimenting the ladies’ dresses.

His eyes remain cold and empty.

The mask is strong, James can respect that, he knows how much effort and practicing it takes to be so good, but it’s not perfect. His eyes are too easy to figure out for people that are skilled enough to read them, people like James, who have observed others most of their lives and can find out everything about a person within five minutes of meeting them.

“Regulus, dear, who is that there, behind you?” One of the women asks, grabbing Regulus’ wrist. James notices the slight flinch as her bony hand wraps around Regulus’ wrist, and the way his eyes momentarily widen, but he’s back to smiling before anyone at the table can tell.

“Oh, just some new guy.” Regulus looks back at James with disgust in his eyes, “Doubt he’ll still be here by the end of the night.”

Usually this would be the moment where James feels the crushing sadness weighing him down, which will turn into rage before he has the chance to realize he’s not happy. A comment like this, in any other setting, would’ve ruined him for a long time. Except, there’s something about Regulus. Something familiar in his behavior, the cold look in his eyes and the sound of his voice, as if he’s looking in the mirror. He doubts other people would ever find out, and it probably works well enough, this act, or he would’ve dropped it long ago. But James knows that’s all it is.

A mask.

Not a single cell in his body believes Regulus is actually this mean, it’s just a form of self-defense. Where James chose to be the sunny, happy guy, Regulus went for the dark, moody one.

The woman chuckles, delighted with the entertainment provided for her, “But what’s his name!”

Regulus looks down at his wrist, still trapped, and starts moving around candles as an excuse to free himself, “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten.” The women at the table gasp, clutching their pearls.

That same woman opens her mouth again, but Regulus is faster, “Enjoy your meal.” He flicks his fingers at James, a sign to get moving, and starts walking away himself.

“Regulus, I’d like to know his name!” The woman demands, sounding like a toddler, just barely not stomping her feet. Regulus turns slowly, and when his eyes meet James’ he smirks.

“Go on.” He whispers at James, raising his eyebrows in a daring way.

“Uh, I’m James.” In one swift motion the woman stretches out her arm and takes James by the hand, pulling him closer to the table until he’s hovering over her. “And how old are you?” There’s pure evil in her eyes.

“Twenty- I’m twenty years old.” He smiles as politely as he possibly can and tries to remove himself from the table, understanding now why Regulus smirked.

“Ah, when you’re that mature age gaps no longer matter, don’t they!” She looks around the table, gathering laughter from her friends like some hyena, and James looks at the dark spots on her hands, she’s probably old enough to have waved off her husband during the war.

“Don’t you think he’s just the handsomest boy you’ve ever seen!” She wraps her arm around his waist, pulling him closer to her as if he’s her trophy which she shows off to her friends. James has never felt this uncomfortable in his life and is desperately looking for ways to get out of this.

“Regulus I’ve tried to set up with my granddaughter, but you, I think I’d like you for myself.” She says, and her brown, crooked teeth make an appearance when she smiles up at him. Her hand is flat on his stomach now and he feels the urge to throw up all over her.

Out of options, he looks at Regulus, hoping to be saved. Regulus’ smile slowly fades as their eyes connect, and James hopes he’s making it clear enough how awful he’s feeling right now.

“Then I’m sorry to tell you I’m stealing him back.” Regulus flashes that smile again and all the women sigh, discussing his angelic face, but the woman doesn’t let go off James and he’s not sure what to do. Move? Cut off her hand? Run away? He’s starting to feel the beginnings of a panic attack in his chest and starts to gasp for air, hoping to keep his head cool and breathe through this before it can get too bad.

The table stills and everyone seems to be holding their breaths. James doesn’t think this is the first time something like this has happened with this group of people, he’s simply their next victim. His stomach contracts thinking of all the times Regulus has been in this position and when he looks around the restaurant and sees the rich old men staring down the young girls he feels even worse.

“C’mon.” Regulus takes his hand, it’s unexpectedly warm, and gently leads James away from the table without saying a thing to the guests.

“Does this happen often?” James asks in a whisper, seeing how the other waiters give him sympathetic looks.

“People with this kind of money think they can do anything.” Regulus replies coldly, his eyes dark. “But now that it has, you’re not going to let it happen again. You have to learn how to act around them, lucky for me I’ve had an entire lifetime of practice.” He says sarcastically. James has never been so intrigued by a person in his life.

Who is this Regulus? Where is he from? If he grew up in rich societies, what is he doing here? Why does he need the mask?

What happened to him?

It’s not until they’re in the safety of the kitchen that they realize Regulus is still holding James’ hand.

“Goodnight!” James calls after Regulus once their shift is finally over. Sophia is waiting for him by the exit and he grabs her face, pulling her close and kissing her as soon as he sees her because he’s so happy to be out of that place.

“Fuck off.” Regulus grunts back, sprinting off into the opposite direction and disappearing out of sight quickly. James opens his eyes mid-kiss to watch him go.

For a moment there, he thought he and Regulus might be friends, after that whole thing with the rich lady, but the moment they returned to the kitchen he went back to being a mean bitch, and continued to behave like that the rest of the night. James could do nothing right in his eyes, walked too slow, talked in an annoying way, was too polite, not polite enough, made too many jokes, smiled too much, seemed too happy and the list goes on. He took the order to follow Regulus very literally, and accidentally stepped on the back of his foot once, and Regulus truly nearly killed him, James swears he saw it in his eyes.

“He seems like a nice guy.” She says, sarcastically, her hands disappearing underneath James’ shirt.

“Hmm, yeah.” He mumbles, in between kisses. “Can I sleep at your place tonight?”

“Don’t want to face Sam?”

“We had a rat crawling over the floor the other day, so I’m going to avoid that place as much as I can.”

She runs her hands through his hair, curling her fingers around strands of it, a little out of breath from the kiss, “Sure, you can sleep at mine.”

“You’re an angel.” He tells her, and when she smiles at him he doesn’t feel a thing, thinking of another angel.

“Are you a student here?”

“There’s glitter on your face.” Regulus takes one last look in the mirror, flicks at one of his curls, and slams his locker shut. “Are you a toddler, Potter?” He drags out James’ name, pronouncing it in a certain way that even makes James think he’s talking about a disgusting disease, rather than just calling him by his name.

“Oh, I had a party last night.” He rubs at his face, not sure where exactly the glitter is but hoping he’ll catch some of it. He wasn’t in the mood to join Lily for their weekly Sunday afternoon walk, knowing she’d only ask annoying questions and try to get him to reassure her he didn’t hate her. He just can’t bear to look at her now, knowing she’s with Mary instead of him. He’s determined to get over his stupid little crush, and wants nothing more than to like Sophia back, but he can only achieve that by taking some distance from Lily.

He can’t possibly like two people at the same time, and won’t fall in love with Sophia when he’s infatuated with another. So, instead of seeing her, he accepted Sophia’s invite to go to some rave.

To be fair, he hated it. Everyone there was scary, wearing dark make-up and behaving strangely, all were doing hard-drugs, and handing them out happily, and James was forced to flee the creepy abandoned building before he had the chance to make a mistake that would cost him his life.

He knows the effect alcohol has on him, and can’t imagine what those pills would’ve done.

“So?” He repeats, Regulus is still staring at his face with that evil glare, and James keeps rubbing at what he hopes is glitter. “You’re a student?”

Regulus defiantly sticks his nose in the air and walks into the kitchen to get their first orders, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He snarls. Yes, yes I would like to know. He thinks, why else would he ask in the first place?

“I can always just ask Frank, sure he knows.” James proposes, something about Regulus just spurs so much curiosity inside of him. He’s a total ass, the few times they’ve worked together since last week have not been fun, but James still thinks there’s something else to him, though, he’s slowly losing faith in that theory. It might be Regulus is just actually a bitch, but he’d at least like to try and find out.

“That’d be pathetic.”

“We’ve already established you think I’m pathetic.” James says sullenly, remembering the things Regulus has been saying to him.

“Exactly, it’s about time you leave me alone.”

James taps Regulus’ back, getting him to turn around and look back. He grins at him in the most charming way he can mold his face, tipping his head so that the light hopefully bounces off his eyes, making himself irresistible for Regulus. “Reggie, listen, it’s really no problem if you admit you just have a massive crush on me and it makes your brain all crazy when you see me and then you behave like… well, like you do. And, though I think you’re wonderfully nice, such a sunshine personality, so kind too, I’m just not sure-“

“My life was so much better last week when I didn’t yet know you.” Regulus’ gaze lingers on him, glaring as he always does, and he hisses, flinching when he grabs a plate at the bottom of it and burns his fingers. The plate clatters back on the counter, miraculously not breaking, and Regulus bumps into people, shoving them aside as he makes his way to the tap, putting his hand under the cold water.

James follows him and leans against the sink, his arms crossed over his chest. “Want me to get an ice pack, or something?” He asks, eying the reddening spots on Regulus’ fingers.

“I’d rather you trip on a knife.” He’s like a wounded dog, James thinks. That’s why he snarls and grunts, that’s why he’s aggressive all the time. James isn’t too sure he has the energy to wait for him to lose the attitude and get nice.

“Fine.” He returns, sounding as sweet as he can force himself to. He’s made countless attempts now, to try and get Regulus to at least tolerate him, but he won’t even do that. So he leaves him with his hands in the cold water and starts bringing around orders, flirting with the elderly ladies, making drinks and joking with his colleagues who, unlike Regulus, are lovely people.

“Is it psychology?” James asks Regulus when they brush past each other by the bar. “Because only spawn of the devil, looking for answers on their horrifying personalities study that. Fits you perfectly.”

“Oh, so that’s what you do, then?” Regulus returns, purposely bumping into James and nearly knocking him off his feet. The glasses on his tray wobble dangerously and he balances them around with dangerous movements, cursing at gravity, to keep them standing.

“I’d rather fall on a knife.” James jokes, to quote one of Regulus’ most preferred phrases.

“Maybe you should do that.”

“It’s something with computers, because you look like you’ve never seen the light of day and you clearly don’t know how to act in society.” James says a little later when they’re both waiting for an order in the kitchen.

Regulus sighs, staring straight ahead, “Fucks’ sake, it’s English literature and creative writing, can you stop now?” James looks to his side, observing the pale face with the cruel sneer and the large green eyes. Fuck you. He thinks. And it all makes sense now. These rich people, that Regulus claims to despise so, he fits right in. He’s like them, he comes from a similar family, rich enough so that it doesn’t matter what he does in school.

James used to want to be a writer, he was often called out in class for being stuck in his own imaginative world. Teachers had endless talks with his parents on his distant eyes and the way he never had his head in the classroom. For a while it was cute, he was young, and the stories he wrote often won competitions, putting the school in a good light.

But it was no longer cute when he was ten years old seeing things that weren’t there. Unable to focus on school work because he got too caught up day dreaming. His teachers taught him to concentrate and told him to pick a different career path, one that wouldn’t have him ending up living underneath a bridge, or working as a barista until his death.

He was smart, capable of doing big things, it would’ve been a waste of a good brain for him to pursue his dream.

Besides, James has always loved nature and wildlife a lot, more than most people, he thinks. As a child animals were his only comfort and friends and having to watch news report after news report of species dying out made him very depressed. It’s quite cruel, he always thinks, to have been born at the beginning of the end of the world while being such an admirer of wildlife. It’s why in the end it was easier to set aside his own dreams and focus on what needed to be done, the animals that need saving. If there’s even a planet left to be saved at all by the time he’s got his certificate.

He tries not to sound too bitter when he speaks, “Aw, that’s cute, do you sit in your room with the curtains shut, candles burning and write sad boy poetry in a cursive handwriting that takes you embarrassingly long to write in?”

Regulus scoffs at him, “At least I can read.” And snatches the upcoming plates away before James has a chance to reach for them. James stands impatiently, tapping his foot against the floor, and rushes after Regulus with his plates once he’s got them.

“What’s your favorite book?” He whispers at Regulus’ back, as he looks around to find the right table.

“I’ll never tell you.” Regulus says when they meet again by the bar, waiting for one of the guests to call them over and give them something to do.

“Can I read some of your work?” James is just dying to know what Regulus writes about. Vampire stories, he guesses. Something dark and gothic. Yet pretentious, or maybe not. Regulus is hard to figure out, James has never had such difficulty with anyone ever before.

Regulus looks up at him for the first time that night, his mouth slightly falling open in pure, undisguised astonishment. Has no one ever asked to see something he’s written before? There’s a hint of a smile on his face and he seems to melt for a moment. “It’s not targeted at children, you won’t understand half the words.” Will this ever stop? Every time James thinks he’s had a break-through, that Regulus and he might finally be okay with each other’s presence and can have fun together here at work, it all crumbles down again.

“Do you write about me?” He asks in a flirty voice, putting his one hand on the bar behind Regulus’ back and leaning in closer, while his other hand pokes at Regulus’ arms.

“What!” Regulus spits out, stepping away from James and swapping at his arms. His cheeks rapidly turn a bright red, and it spreads all the way down to his chest even, his eyes widened, avoiding contact. If he was a girl James would’ve swooped in and kissed him now, but he won’t do that, that’s a weird thought. Still, his stomach tingles when he sees the red spots in Regulus’ neck.

“You’re blushing, love.” James scratches at the side of his mouth to disguise the wide smile he feels tugging at the corners of his mouth. He watches as the blush on Regulus’ neck slowly fades and tries to remember the feeling of Regulus’ fingers on his own neck, when he put on his tie that first day.

Something reminds him strangely of Lily, did anyone with the same perfume as hers just walk by?

“I’m going to stick your head in the oven, Potter.” Regulus takes another step away from him, looking furious.

“So it’s ‘The Bell Jar’?” James just can’t stop teasing him, it’s his newfound passion. The look on Regulus’ face is priceless, and he’ll tease him every day of his life is he gets to see that nervous blush on him.

He throws up his hands in despair, groaning, and turns his back to James, “I beg you to leave me alone.”

“Can’t, we both work here, Reggie!” James calls after him.

“I’ll fucking quit in that case.”

“Why can’t we walk there together?” Lily barks into the phone, James winces and removes it further from his ear, preventing permanent damage. He’s got glasses already, and doesn’t feel a strong need for a hearing device.

“Because!” He glances at his reflection in the mirror, wondering if he’s dressed appropriately for the occasion. Simple baggy jeans and a bright red knitted sweater, that should do, right? Or will the others be dressing more fancy? Is this too casual? He moves closer to the mirror to inspect his face, but it’s just the same as it always is. An annoying voice in the back of his mind tells him to wear that white blouse, and leave the top buttons undone the way Lily always liked it, but he knows deep down that he shouldn’t.

He’s trying to get over her, not win her back. That ship has sailed, this is a new era, a new James, they’re older, in a new environment, he can do this. He can be mature and watch her fall more and more in love with Mary every day.

“Because what?” She demands, he wants to peek out the window to see if she’s there, waiting on him outside, but he’s too scared she actually is and will see him.

“Because I need to… charge my social battery.” He frowns at himself, what a lame excuse.

“You know you don’t have to talk and be all funny and perfect and entertaining around me, James.” Her voice is stern, he rolls his eyes.

“I’d just rather not!”

“I know you’re avoiding me, James Potter.” The way she says Potter reminds him of Regulus, and he’s already looking forward to tomorrow- more like, not at all- when he has another shift. He texted Frank, pretending he needed to know to mentally prepare himself, or, no, no that’s exactly what it is, mentally prepare himself for how rude Regulus will be. No other reason. The boy is a bitch and James does not enjoy being in his company, not in the least. In fact, he’s already got a stomach ache just thinking of being near him. Anyway, Regulus will be there as well, tomorrow, Frank said.

“No fucking way, you’re a true Sherlock Holmes!”

“Fine, I’ll see you there.” She gives in and hangs up the phone.

James feels relieved, and is even brave enough to check whether she’s outside or not. He moves the curtains a little and finds the street empty of any redheads who make his heart feel heavy and his soul sad, and whistles a tune as he runs downstairs and heads to the theater.

There’s some historical play, super popular or whatever, that Lily and Remus are dying to see. If Lily’s going to be there, so is Mary, and then Marlene will want to come, which causes for Peter to feel left out and join, and according to them, even Sirius, after lots of protesting, agreed, so they invited James to come, too. He was thrilled, when Remus stopped him in the library and told him, and had a hard time hiding his excitement. Remus assured him he’d not be bored to death and James was too scared to turn the invite down because they might not invite him the next time.

The problem is, he didn’t anticipate to do something today. James likes to plan his entire life, to the hour, minute, the second even, running it over in his mind on a loop all day, it gives him comfort. He knows what to expect and can prepare for it.

This he hadn’t prepared for, and the sudden change in his schedule is honestly killing him.

He’s sick with anxiety, and had to rearrange his entire week to fit this in. Moving up the rotting in bed for several hours, finishing reading his book tomorrow instead of today, less sleep because there’s still homework. Although, he might just not do that and take a little extra time to stare at the wall and have his daily existential crisis.

I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. Why do I have to go. I hate myself. Why did I say yes. Why can’t I just go. Why can’t I be like everyone else. I hate who I am. It drums inside his head with every step he takes down the stairs.

The unease inside of him is growing.

He is dressed too casual, isn’t he? What if the others are all in suits and dresses? Maybe he should have met up with Lily, she could’ve told him to change in something else. Did he lock his door? He stops on the street, and looks back at the house. He thinks he did, but maybe that’s his memory from this morning. But he must’ve, right?

The keys are in his hand, that’s a good sign. It’s not possible to take the keys out without locking. He thinks. Or is that his lock back all the way home? All his other roommates are out, and won’t be coming home for a while, they told him to lock up. What if someone robs them all because he fucked up?

From here he can see the door is closed, but that doesn’t mean it’s locked.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He repeats the word inside his mind with each step he sets back in the direction of his house, overpowering all other thoughts that he tries to conjure to calm him and promise himself the door is locked. He’s just going to check, that’s all. Just to be sure.

Lobotomies are rumored to help with this type of stupid behavior, but they don’t do those anymore. How weird, to stop doing something that helps. James craves one at the moment. The satisfaction of feeling the drill go through his eye and damage whatever dysfunctional part of his brain it is that puts these thoughts in his head makes him nearly drool.

He jams his key into the lock, twists it in the direction that locks it, and finds it won’t turn any further. Of course, he knew this, the door is locked, it always is.

Just breathe, the door is locked, Lily wanted everyone to meet outside the theater a while before the play starts to calmly find their seats, get snacks, have time for the bathroom, all for him. So he can feel at ease sitting in that room. They’ll be waiting if he doesn’t hurry, the door is locked.

Is it?

He looks around the street, doing a little round, and wonders if there’s someone behind that tree, a criminal of sorts, or watching him from the windows, awaiting the perfect moment, watching him leave so they can go inside knowing it’s empty.

His nails dig further and further into his skin each time he scratches at his shoulders, he’ll have a rash tonight. He’s certain there’s someone watching him.

A cat crosses the street, a black cat, and his heart drops. When it’s brought up in moments of calm, superstition makes him laugh, wondering how naïve and easily influenced someone would have to be to actually believe that nonsense. In moments of weakness he tends to believe every last one of those beliefs with all his heart.

Fuck this. He turns around, in the direction of the theater. All the doors are locked. He just checked. He put the key in his lock, he shouldn’t have  put the key in the lock. What if he accidentally unlocked while checking?

No, but he can’t give in to these thoughts. Each time he does, the next time he leaves the house will be a little more difficult. He has got to learn to accept that this is how his brain works, while also being able not to give in to it.

It would be fitting, though. For him to get robbed. Just his luck.

Is this why all those psychiatrists have been begging him to go on medication all those years? Why did he have to be stubborn and refuse? So what if it turns him into a zombie? At least he’ll be a happy zombie. A zombie not troubled by the dangers of his own mind. That seems like it’s worth it.

He’ll call his doctor, tonight when he’s back home, and ask for a prescription. He can’t keep on living life like this.

Step, step, step.

Almost out of the street.

Sam tends to leave the water running, or not take his chargers out of the wall, and one of his other roommates left the oven on the other day. He didn’t check anything, just the lock.

His legs disobey his mind, desperately begging them to just keep walking. They stop. He stands still, feeling stranded, forever stuck on this island of despair in his own mind. If only he had the strength to swim to some place better. He’s no hero, just his weak-minded self.

Don’t go back there. But the house could burn down. A power-bank could explode. It’s not even summer? The neighbors will notice if someone tries to get in. But all their neighbors are students, none of them sit outside the window watching the street all day long. It’s fine, he won’t go back. If one of them left the lights on, or the window open, it’s their fault for whatever happens, not James’. But it’s his property that will be destroyed. His books he spent all his money on. His clothes, the hard-drive with all his pictures.

Before he knows it, he’s walking back.

What will people think, if they see him walking back and forth several times a day?

Those medicine, he needs them.

People will stop liking him. That’s what the medicine do. He thinks of the dead look in one of his high school friend’s eyes. She’s been on a bunch of medication since they were about ten years old. She’s an empty hull of a person, there’s nothing she likes to do, the extreme highs and lows that James knows, to her it’s all just a flat line of boredom and lack of brain activity. She can’t cry, or stress, or feel bad, but she can’t laugh either. The pills fucked up her brain and she’ll never be who she used to be again. Just a shadow image of the lively child she once was.

Can he live with that? Is that better than this?

It would be even better if he didn’t have to be like this at all. If he’d been born with a normal, functioning brain, and could leave the house while not locking the doors.

Why am I like this?

Why me?

The door is locked, no surprise. He runs through the house, turning off all the lights, checking the taps and plugs, the oven and the stove, all the windows.

Everything was fine.

He doesn’t think he can leave today.

He doesn’t think he can walk out that door.

Defeated, he lies on the couch, staring at the cracked ceiling, tracing the outlines of the yellowish spot where water soaked through the old house. Maybe it’ll fall down, right on him.

The clock indicates he has just ten more minutes to be in time.

Lily will be understanding, but what if he fucks up his chance at a friendship with the others?

Groaning loudly, he gets up from the couch. Mad at himself, sad, disappointed, feeling like a great injustice has been done to him, then ashamed for feeling like that when there’s people dying, thinking of his parents who would’ve locked the door for him, then feeling stupid because he’s twenty, they can’t baby him like that any longer, he needs to become his own person.

If every day of his life will be spent like this, is it even worth living?

He locks the door, again, again, again. Walks down the path to the street, but then back to the front door, just to check the lock again.

Just to be sure of it, and not have to go back and check another time, he takes out his phone. He clicks on the red recording button and watches for a moment as the seconds tick by, to make sure it is recording. His hand is shaking and the image is blurry, but he points his camera at the lock when he turns the key, and turns it again, again, just once more, did he turn the key in the right direction? Still filming, he locks the door one last time, putting all his weight on the key to make sure it really won’t turn any further. It might be stuck. There could be some dirt in it. An old leave, dust, rain water could’ve rusted the mechanics. But it’s locked now, he’s filmed it.

While he walks he plays the video. He can feel the cramp in his airways go away, his shoulders relax. See, he’s not a lost cause after all. It’s the little victories like this that keep him going. That prove he can move from one day to the next. With difficulty, sure. Feeling miserable, that too. Unsure of what he’s done to deserve any of this, naturally.

Except, he has always struggled with telling the difference between real and fake. The line between dreams and real life blur too often. He pauses the recording and holds it closer to his face, inspecting the details of the still image.

There’s no way to know if this moment is a hallucination. If the recording is. Or the moment by the door was. The recording could very well be fake, not real, made up by his mind or manipulated by some higher power.

Yes, yes of course that recording is real. How could a recording be fake?

Because he maybe lost his mind and tells himself he’s looking at a recording. For all he knows he’s looking at a picture of the sky, his mind warping the image until it suits his current fears.

But that’s a weird thought. That’s not a thought that’s ever crossed Lily’s mind. Nor his parent’s. It’s put in there, planted, by whatever thing it is that started living inside him when he was younger. The thing he hasn’t been able to identify. Kill. Get rid of.

He’s just easily freaked out, without reason. He’s fine. The door is locked.

He’s tired.

The door is locked, he’s walking on the street, unsure whether he locked the door.

When he’s back at the front door, his keys sticking from the lock, his phone starts to ring and his head overflows. The sound of the ringing phone, the warmed material of the key, the fucking lock, the voice in his head that won’t leave him alone. It’s all too much. He can’t do this anymore.

He sits down on the grass in his front yard, clutching the keys, digging the jagged edges into his skin, telling himself everything’s fake anyway, so what does it even matter he can’t walk out that door? What does it matter if he can’t live life normally? He can just sit on his bed, stare at the wall and dream, or read a book, listen to music, for the rest of his days, and it won’t matter. None of it matters. He’s not getting up again, never, ever. This grass is where he’ll sit until the dehydration or the cold or the heartbreak of being who he is gets to him.

His phone keeps ringing. He un-focuses his eyes, sitting silently as the world around him blurs into shapes and colors he can’t make sense of. His head hurts and it feels loud. Overwhelming.

When it stops the phone starts ringing again. Lily must be freaking out by now. He knows the feeling of waking up every morning, unjustified of course, the fear instilled by his mind only, walking down the stairs and wondering in what state he’ll find his parents. The sickening fear of starting up his phone and going through the texts. The way his throat closes when he sees a missed call from someone he loves and fears the worst.

So why is he doing it to Lily? Why can’t he just get the phone from his pocket and pick up?

Is he enjoying this? Making her feel only a fraction of one of the many things keeping him up at night. Introducing her into his world of terrors that he calls his life.

Is he a monster?

“Something’s wrong, Mary.” Sirius follows Lily and Mary outside, she’s cracking her knuckles and looking around anxiously. He doesn’t know her that well yet, but the horrified look on her face combined with the fact her friend James hasn’t shown up yet makes him walk after them, curious to see what’s going on.

“Are you going for a smoke?” Remus steps in his way, towering over him, smelling of the old second-hand books he religiously reads and the cigarettes he smokes.

“Y- err…” He can just feel the heat in his cheeks, only growing hotter when Remus bends down a little and Sirius can actually smell the cigarettes and coffee on his breath.

“You weren’t going to listen in on Lily and Mary, were you?” How is it possible Remus is always onto him, no matter what he does? It’s as if he can see right through skin and bone and know everything running through Sirius’ mind. Except, if that was the case, there’s no way they’d still be friends. Sirius has weird thoughts about Remus he doesn’t understand, thoughts of which he can’t explain the source to himself.

He puts on his leather jacket, shaking his head, but Remus just chuckles softly, making Sirius’ stomach spin like crazy, and wiggles his eyebrows at him while putting his finger on his lips. If only it were Sirius’ lips he’d put his finger on.

Remus nudges with his chin, exposing the fuzzy, light stubble on his chin, growing to his neck. They tip-toe outside, Sirius stealing glances and Remus looking straight ahead. He should start paying attention to find out whether Remus naturally avoids looking at others, or if it’s just Sirius.

“You’re a bad influence, Sirius.” Remus’ soft, raspy voice sounds as if he’s just rolled out of bed and Sirius’ head starts spinning as he fights the urge to get closer and closer to him.

His shoulder is touching Remus’, he can feel the heat between their bodies and feels paralyzed, he slowly turns his head and looks at Remus’ old trench coat crinkling against his leather jacket. Involuntarily he shifts his weight on one leg, the one closest to Remus, and he’s almost leaning on him now. It’s nice, really nice, to have such a good friend. Though friends have never been sparse for him, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt about one the way he does about Remus.

“He’s never late for things like this.” Lily’s voice says, they’re just around the corner and can’t see them, but she sounds worried, very worried.

“James?” Remus whispers, Sirius nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels Remus’ hot breath on his neck and whips his head around so quick they nearly bump together. Their faces are just inches apart, Remus’ eyes stare down at him and Sirius can’t help but drop his gaze, just for a millisecond, to Remus’ lips, it’s an uncontrollable urge. Muscle memory kicking in. He’s never this close to someone unless he’s about to kiss.

He tilts his head, not able to resist the urge to have another look at Remus’ lips, and wonders what it must be like to kiss him. His fingers twitch with the longing signals his brain is sending out as if it’s a fire alarm, blaring throughout his body. Stupid muscle memory.

“Is it James they’re talking about?” Remus steps back, looking at Sirius weird.

Sirius clears his throat and looks away, can he just get a grip? Why does this happen, every, single, time, that he’s near Remus. He gets all weird and makes a joke that doesn’t come out the intended way, or he’ll do something, and there you have it. Another awkward moment, where likely, both of them are thinking about what a strange way of socializing Sirius has. “Think so, yeah.” He utters, stepping back as well.

“If he can’t take the time to settle in, look for all the exits… and now that he’s away from home, I don’t know what’s going to happen- I really don’t.” Lily’s voice trembles and she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. He hears Mary’s sweet calming words and wonders what it is about James that makes Lily so scared.

“Sirius.” Remus nudges him and Sirius flinches at the sudden touch, not having expected it. He mouths at Sirius to go help them out. His eyes flick around Sirius’ face, they’re so close, too close, and he has to bounce from one eye to the other. Sirius looks down at his chest, almost worried there’ll be a clear outline of his racing heart hammering against his shirt.

“Bye.” He whispers, waving at Remus like a the idiot he is.

Remus grins at him and he quickly turns away so he won’t notice that cursed blush.

Is he this desperate for a nice, brotherly friendship?

“I’ll just go get him with my bike, we can be back in time for him to… do whatever he wants to do before the play starts.” Sirius steps out from behind the wall and sees both girls fall silent as they turn towards him, he can’t even feel excited to finally meet James now, because all he thinks about is his interaction with Remus. Playing the memory in his head and scrutinizing every last detail, getting more and more confident he doesn’t know how to behave in public settings.

“Were you listening in on us?” Oh no, he’s done it now. There’s no one on this planet who can enrage Mary like he can. And he was just trying to help out!

“I have the freedom to stand wherever I want!” He shoots back, knowing he has to own his place in this world now, or she’ll tear him apart. They’ve known each other way too long, and are more comfortable than any two people should ever be with each other, there’s no knowing what she’ll do if he pisses her off. The options range from her ignoring him for as long as she feels is fit, to attempting murder.

“What’s his address?” He directs the question at Lily, her usually cheery face is red with panic and her eyes are blown. Surely it’s nothing. Lily and James have the same kind of relationship he has with Mary. There’s too much history and love, and it’s easy to misinterpret signs and twist them into something ugly, unnecessarily. Sirius sees it all around him, the first weeks of university, independency and adult life have been hard on most. No doubt James is just a little tired, they all are.

Sirius knows what real problems look like, and from the many stories he’s heard about James he’s been able to conclude that James is not familiar with any of such things.

The bike roars underneath him as he races off in the direction of James’ home, the wind whistles around his body and he likes the way the trees blur together as he speeds past them.

Maybe, and this is a much more likely probability, it’s not Sirius, but it’s Remus who’s weird. Sirius has always been charming, flirty, and easily liked and accepted. Never has he had interactions that make him scratch his head like these. Remus on the other hand has obviously lived a secluded life. He’s awkward not just with Sirius, but with them all.

Sirius snorts, laughing a little in himself. Remus is totally a strange bird. He remembers their meeting, that very first day he was here in Edinburgh, and the instant hunger for more that Remus spurred in him and the desire to take him in at once and care for him the way Mary did for him when he needed a place to stay.

His bike won’t start and he kicks at the starter with growing frustration, roughly pulling at his shirtsleeve to try and get a glimpse at the time. There’s not the slightest chance he’ll make it in time now if he has to walk. He kicks once more, just out of anger, and the engine does nothing but sputter slightly, without starting.

Pissed off now, he throws his bag to the ground and goes to sit next to it. The drive from the airport to his house isn’t outrageously long, but walking on the other hand? That might take him several hours. And that with all the bags he’s got with him?

He sighs dramatically. A childish thought creeps up to him as he watches all the other people his age walk out the airport with their parents, walking to rental cars or taking buses. It’s one of those rare moments of weakness where he wishes his parents were here. That they’d just drive him to the house, kiss him goodbye, leave him presents, get all teary and call at once in the car. He wishes he could give them a call and ask for advice on what to do now that his bike’s broken. It’d be so nice to have someone to hold his hand throughout these moments.

Except he hasn’t spoken to his parents since he was sixteen and got so fed up with their bullshit he impulsively ran away, leaving everything behind, not even taking a bag with his stuff, and knocked on Mary’s door. He’s lived with her ever since, and though her parents urged him several times to just travel with them, he wanted to go here on his own.

For nearly five years now he’s been taking care of himself. This he can do too. It’s just a part of life. He takes his phone out of his pocket and calls a company to come get his bike and take it to a repair shop. Once that’s taken care of he buys himself a bus ticket and plops down on the bench by the stop.

It’s evident the bus will be crowded, and the more time passes the more people come out of the airport and join him. All of them heading to campus for the start of a new year. It’s exciting, and he glances over the faces, wondering how many of them he’ll get to know. Maybe there’s a classmate of his here. His best friend. The girl he’ll marry. The possibilities are overwhelming, but in a good way, and he bites his lips to keep from creepily smiling into the distance.

This is what he’s longed for all his life. Independence, friends, a new family, one he actually loves. Making something out of himself for once. Turning his hobby into something that will hopefully pay his bills several years from now.

He hears a loud, constant buzzing kind of sound, and when he turns around he notices the bus is pulling into the street. At once people start to push and crowd together, like a pack of animals, taking out their public transport cards and their tickets, holding their phones ready. Sirius frowns at the weird behavior but realizes his mistake when the doors open and they all run inside, fighting for a place to sit. By the time he’s at the doors and can walk inside it’s already so crowded he’s lucky to be able to have a standing place. Nevertheless, he looks around, squeezing himself through the sweaty bodies in a useless effort to find a seat. He doesn’t even have to grab on to something because he’s so stuck, he couldn’t even fall over if he wanted to.

The bus sways around, people stumble and bump into him, bags slip out of hands and there seems to be a collective feeling of misery in that too hot bus. Everyone’s desperately avoiding eye contact in the overly full bus and counting down the seconds until it will arrive at campus and they can get out and breathe some air. With great effort he manages to get himself a place to stand near the window, and he lays his head against the cool glass while looking outside. It’s nightmarish, but it’s just for this one time. He can manage to stand for a small hour. To clutch his bag in his hand and force himself to breathe the air that he can just tell is depleting in oxygen resources awfully fast.

He’s just thinking he might faint due to the lack of fresh air and the abominable smell of sweat all around him when the bus comes to an abrupt stop and several people are thrown forwards. Like a game of dominos, everyone fighting for their lives in the aisle are knocked off their feet and Sirius can’t do a thing but let it all happen to him.

He's starting to feel a little murderous.

If this is going to happen at every single bus stop he thinks he’d rather walk than do this. With an angry frown forming on his face he shoves people away from him, creating a little space, tipping his head backwards in hopes of finding clean air to breathe and waiting for the stupid doors to open and close so they can continue on riding. His legs are already getting sore from the lack of movement on the plane and this standing still and making sure the tiniest bump in the road won’t send him flying through the aisle is exhausting.

Still, the doors don’t open. He longingly looks outside, at the trees at the side of the road, the shadow they provide and the wind making the heat bearable. Could he walk? He guesses it’s around two hours, as long as there’s trees he can walk under it should be fine. No, that’s not wise. He doesn’t want to exhaust himself too bad. Mary and he have people coming over that night so they can choose roommates, he wants to be at his best for that occasion.

There’s a static crackling and then, finally, the doors open with a sigh of relief, and the fresh air streaming inside feels like heaven. A deep voice talks at the front of the bus, and that of a woman over the phone talk back. Whoever’s standing closest to the doors take a step outside, look around, and then walk back in with confused faces. A nervous air starts to build up inside the bus.

Someone clear his throat and then the bus driver speaks over the intercom, “The bus won’t drive any further.” He says briskly.

Chatter breaks out. They were only on the road for ten minutes. Campus is far, far away.

“Go on outside!” The now angry bus drives yell into his speaker.

One by one the passengers file outside, dragging heavy bags behind them and calling friends and family in the hopes they’ll be picked up. Sirius is honestly too hot and tired to care about this. Surely there’ll be another bus soon. As long as he gets to campus by the evening he’s fine.

He wipes the beads of sweat from his face and looks for a place in the grass at the side of the road where he can sit in the shade of the trees. More people start to sit next to him and he politely smiles and nods at all of them, the possibilities in the back of his mind, and watches with amusement as the bus driver curses and kicks at the vehicle, trying to get it to work.

By the unbothered looks on many of the faces around him he can tell this isn’t too rare a thing to happen, and he’s comfortable sitting here waiting for the next bus. It’s quite a treat, actually, to enjoy the midday sun and watch the butterflies go from flower to flower.

The smell of smoke makes his way to his nose and Sirius’ mouth fills with water. Oh he so wishes he hadn’t let Mary persuade him to stop. A cigarette would just be the perfect thing right now, sitting here in the grass, his possible soulmate nearby. Or a teacher. Or his academic rival.

He looks around to try and see where the smoke is coming from and sees a tall boy in an old sweater leaning against a tree. With a groan he gets up, stretches his sore limbs, brushes the grass off his jeans and starts walking to his desired goal.

“Right when I needed you, here you are.” Sirius says, tapping the tall boy on his shoulder and pointing at the pack of cigarettes in his other hand.

“Excuse me?” The boy turns, his body staying where it was, just his head moving so it can have a look at Sirius.

He opens his mouth, expecting a witty comment or funny joke to roll out automatically like always happens, it doesn’t even require any thinking, just something that happens to him naturally.

Nothing comes out of him.

The freckles, he notices those first. Tiny dots, under his eyes, on his nose, there’s one on his chin and a few on his cheeks. The kind of freckles that only come out in summer, after having spent hours in the sun.

Canis maior.

The constellation is right there, spreading from one cheek, over the curved bridge of his nose, all the way to his other cheek.

Sirius recognizes his own star, right underneath the boy’s left eye. He frowns, and becomes of aware of his mouth still hanging opened. He’s never seen anything like this before. The dots match perfectly.

Bits of sunlight stream through the leaves, creating a beautiful pattern of light, a work of art projected his face, the boy’s eyes look yellow, specked with darker bits of hazel, like a full two full moons staring down at him.

As if he’s fallen right out of space.

“Did it hurt?” Finally, there it is, the joke he can always rely on will come out when he needs it to. But this isn’t the right one, or the right time, or the right person. “When you fell from-“

“I think my friend’s calling me.” He cuts in, sounding agitated. Sirius feels his stomach clench as if he’s done something terribly wrong, no one is calling anyone, all the people on the side of road wait in silence or make hushed phone calls, and he doesn’t want to see the boy go.

“Wait! Can I get a cigarette?” Sirius yells after him, watching the tall frame turn slowly as those piercing eyes find him once more. Where the fuck did his natural charisma go? Why is he stuttering and blushing like a fool?

The boy stops, he lifts his hand to his mouth, where his own cigarette sits, the end of it shining orange, a whirl of smoke dancing up into the clear blue sky. He removes it from his lips and exhales, Sirius feels as if in a trance as he watches the smoke move his way. He sees now, that the boy has many more freckles, there’s a little trail of them on his jaw, moving into his neck, going lower until the last visible ones dip into his sweater, decorating his collarbones.

Shit, this guy should be a model. Mary would love to have him for a shoot, or a show.

Sirius looks at him better now, boldly gazing at him, unbothered by what the boy might think of it. His hair looks dark but whenever the light from the sun grazes it, it turns golden. He’s got high cheekbones and low brows, adding to the theatrics of his piercing eyes. Unwillingly, Sirius has a look at his lips. Plump, naturally darkly tinted, ironically looking like a perfect match to his own lips. Add that to the constellation of freckles and Sirius would almost joke this man is his soulmate.

“Sure.” He’s being thrown a cigarette and catches it effortlessly, putting it between his lips and holding his hand out for a lighter when, against his expectations, he isn’t being tossed the lighter, but the boy leans in. In a reflex, wondering why a guy would step closer to another one, Sirius sets a step back. A small one. One so small the boy doesn’t notice and comes closer yet, leaning down until the butt of his cigarette touches on Sirius’.

A burst of warmth spreads through his insides, he looks up, staring into the face of the boy, the soft glow of the orange light cast on his face. His eyes look as if they’re on fire and for a moment a spark rushes through both of them, like electricity settling itself.

He can almost swear he’s seen him before.

“Thanks.” He sounds breathless, like he’s just ran a marathon.

“No problem.” The boy inhales, hollowing his cheeks as he leans against the wall and it’s by far the most attractive thing Sirius has ever seen anyone do in all his life.

“I’m Sirius.”

“I could tell.” The boy says, a grin growing on his face. He leans back against one of the trees, cigarette sitting between his fingers, gazing at Sirius.

Sirius desperately sucks at his cigarette, looking anywhere but at the boy, why the fuck is he feeling so nauseous? His fingers are shaking a little.

“What?”

“Brightest star in the sky, fits you, that’s all.” The boy shrugs, giving Sirius a charming smile, the skin at the sides of his mouth crinkle, some of the freckles disappear into them. Sirius hates to see them go.

“Oh.”

He extends his arm, “Remus.” Sirius grabs it, his hand is calloused, rough to the touch, freakishly large compared to Sirius’, and his shake is firm and confident, like Sirius usually is, but doesn’t really feel right now.

“Nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

They’d spent nearly an hour waiting there together. Talking about what they would study, their dream jobs, all their hopes for the future. Remus had told him he hadn’t found permanent housing yet. For now he could sleep on someone’s attic, and he’d figure the rest out later. Sirius offered him a room in his house, and the rest is history.

He stops in front of James’ house and sees him sitting on the grass next to the front door, knees pulled up to his chest and hands in his head. Sirius can’t see his face but he doesn’t think a person doing okay would ever sit like that in their front yard.

It’s weird, from the stories he assumed James was a fun guy. Lily always tells of pranks he pulled in high school, his funny and kind nature, his loving parents and how he never has to try in school. Sirius had drawn up an image of him in his mind, one of a happy, uncomplicated boy, flying through life with the kind of ease most people can only dream of.

He parks his bike on the side of the road and takes off his helmet, running a hand through his hair to undo the mess his helmet has probably done.

At the sound of Sirius’ shoes walking up the path James suddenly looks up from his hands and climbs back to his feet, brushing the grass from his jeans.

“Sirius!” James says, a grin breaks out on his face and his voice is full of excitement at meeting Sirius. His heart flutters, never in his life has someone had such a great smile at seeing him. People tolerate him, some of them, at least, but such excitement at being near him? That’s new.

Already, he knows he and James are going to be the best of friends. He’s never had one, a best friend. Well, Mary of course, maybe Remus, though that feels complicated, but with James it already feels right.

James walks towards him, holding out his hand, and then looks down at his hand and lets it fall down at his side, coming to a stop right before Sirius.

This James guy, Lily never mentioned how handsome he was. Unrightfully, Sirius had maybe thought he’d be kind of ugly, because why would stunning Lily break up with seemingly such a sweet man? But looking at him now, Sirius really doesn’t understand her. So he’s funny, he’s intelligent, he’s caring and understanding, he’s a good talker and people like him, he possesses every good personality trait ever, and he looks like a Calvin Klein model?

So what is wrong with him then?

He's got golden-brown skin, when he smiles a dimple on the right side of his face makes an appearance, his large brown eyes make him look like a doe, and especially behind his round glasses it makes him look like a truly, kind-hearted person, someone who radiates being good. His dark hair is messy and curly and even from this distance he’s amazed at the length of his eyelashes. Are they peeking out from above his glasses?

“James, hey, are you all right, man?” Sirius has no idea what Lily was even going on about, James looks perfectly fine.

He glances back at the front door, jingles his keys, and Sirius notices the imprints of the key in his palm, deep, just barely not cutting through his skin. “I completely forgot to drink any water today,” James starts, straightening his glasses while that charming smile never once leaves his face. He’s got a pleasant voice to listen to, like he could be a radio presenter, or voice a Disney prince. “And then when I walked out the door I just got so dizzy- did Lily send you?”

“No, no, I offered to go get you, here, I’ll go grab you some water.” Sirius taps the hand in which James holds the keys and walks in the direction of the front door, now that James told about the water Sirius notices he looks a little pale, he’ll just go and find a bottle in the kitchen so James can rehydrate on the bike.

James holds up his hands and shakes his head, “That’s nice, but we should probably go before Lily tames a dragon and flies here to get mad at me for being late- or worse, turns into one herself.”

Sirius snorts, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get that image out of his mind now. “With an army of orange cats that can turn into lions running after her.” He adds, a smile forming on his face.

“They’ll be fighting over this prize to the death.” James gestures at his body and winks at Sirius, which makes him laugh even more.

“They won’t want you if you’re shriveled and parched from dehydration, though.”

“Are you the oldest sibling, Sirius?”

Not anymore. The reminder of his little brother’s existence is like a punch to the gut, “Yes.” He replies with a bitter voice.

“I can always tell.” James says as he throws his keys at Sirius, “Would you mind locking the door behind you?” he takes the bottle of water from Sirius when he’s back outside and watches with hawk’s eyes as Sirius locks the door.

“So, how safe is this?” James puts on his helmet and his voice is muffled behind the glass as he grabs onto Sirius’ jacket and scoots closer to him.

“I promise I won’t get us killed.” Sirius tells him.

“Great!”

“Actually, I can’t make promises I can’t keep, I will try my absolute best not to get us killed.”

James grabs his jacket even tighter and presses himself against Sirius, “Great!” He says again, and it makes Sirius laugh while he kicks at the engine and they start driving.

He pushes the bike to its limits until they’re riding through the little streets as fast as they possibly can. Obviously James has never done this before, and Sirius wants to show off and give him a good time, hoping it’ll solidify the good beginnings of their new friendship. He takes the corners recklessly, his knee nearly scraping over the ground, drives extra fast whenever he spots a bump in the road and winds around cars as if it’s a fun parkour.

James had been brave at first, only lightly holding on to Sirius’ jacket by the shoulders, but he’s got his arms around Sirius’ waist now, his grip tightening with each passing second as the air whistles around their bodies.

“Oh my god!” James is yelling and whooping as if he’s on a rollercoaster, moving around on his seat dangerously and causing for Sirius to be extra careful with every corner he takes while he tries not to laugh at James’ blatant excitement and get them into a horrifying crash.

When the theater comes into sight James is still laughing hysterically and earning them weird looks from passers-by. Sirius slows the bike until they come to a stop in front of the building and James is pushed forward by gravity, making their helmets knock together forcefully.

Loudly groaning from their shaken up brains they swing their legs and step on safe, steady ground. James looks a little shaky on his legs, as if they’ve just been sucked into space and travelled through a black hole, rather than taken a ride on his bike. When he removes the helmet from his head his hair is a complete mess, curls standing up in all directions, his pupils blown from elation and he’s got a kind of smile on his face as if he sees the world anew.

Sirius chuckles to himself, watching how James pushes his glasses back on his nose and tries to straighten his clothes.

“That was the most fun I’ve ever had.” He says a little breathlessly. Sirius can’t help but feel endearment for him already, how easy is he entertained! What a wonderful simple soul, just what he needs. Someone who doesn’t know the ugly parts of life. Specifically his life. Someone who he can laugh with as if everything’s easy and beautiful.

“Feeling better?” Sirius asks him as they walk inside. He looks a lot better already than he did earlier, outside his house. He’s got a little color to his cheeks again and looks more lively all together.

“Yeah, you’re my savior.” Sirius feels a smile spread over his face. He likes that. Being a savior. He hasn’t been that anymore in a long time.

When Lily sees the two of them enter her face lights up, and even Sirius, who usually isn’t one to like girls as sweet and loving as Lily, can’t help but feel like he’s falling in love with her a little. James’ cheeks color even more than they did after the ride and Sirius feels a stab of sympathy for him.

The poor guy is still in love with her.

He doesn’t know much about the details of their breakup, other than that it happened their last year of high school and they didn’t talk much anymore after that. It can’t have been pretty, and yet if you look at the pair of them now you’d almost say they’re soulmates, except he’s seen the looks Lily gives to Mary, and it’s not this, not at all.

“What happened to you!” Lily exclaims, a bubble of laughter escaping her throat as she points at James’ wild hair, “Were you attacked by a bear?”

James mirrors her smile to the last detail and stoops down a little as she gets her hands in his hair and attempts to flatten it. Sirius feels something at his side and when he looks he sees Remus, his eyes flicking from him to the funny pair, one eyebrow raised. What’s that?

But when Sirius looks closely he sees that yes, Lily fixes his hair in a loving manner, but more like a mother would. James misses the signs and follows her around like a puppy as she gives him a drink and snack, points to the bathroom and then waits outside for him so they can walk into the theater room together.

“I feel bad for him.” Remus whispers into Sirius’ ear, plopping down on the red, velvet seat next to Sirius’. James is on his other side, Peter next to James, and the girls are on the row in front of them. It’s strangely warm in the room and he feels himself heating up, suppressing the urge to fan his face with his hands, and takes a large sip of his beer to distract himself from the sudden flashes of warmth. Maybe he’s sick? Everyone talks of that flue all the new students got. Might be that? It did start the first week of classes.

“Can’t read the signs when they’re right in front of him.” Remus adds, and for some reason it makes Sirius shift uncomfortably in his seat, until he’s as far removed from the side that connects with Remus’ seat as he can possibly be.

“No.” He can’t read Remus’ face in the dark and decides to just look at the stage instead of trying to decipher the look in those dark eyes. “What an idiot.”

Remus knocks their elbows together, Sirius looks around for a sign of air-conditioning, the owners of this theater should know there’s going to be lots of students here. Students with the flue. Students with fevers that desperately need something of a cool breeze to help with this heat. “We’ll help him find a nice girl he likes better, won’t we?”

“Of course, we’re all best friends now, aren’t we?” He squeezes out the words through his gritted teeth.

“Yes, best friends.”

“Are you mocking me right now?” Sirius hisses at him.

“I’m just glad he’s as perfect as you imagined in your dreams.”

“You are mocking me!” In the short time they’ve known each other he and his friends have become quite close, living together does that. And though most of the times there’s a sense of peace in the house, there’s the natural bickering every now and then. Mostly between him and Remus. He knows both of them enjoy the throwing around of words without a care, knowing they can because they’re at that point in the friendship where nothing matters because you know there will never be anything the other can do to make you hate them. It’s fun, for now.

“I wouldn’t dare to, Sirius.” Remus says in a smooth voice, a growing smirk forming on his face.

“You’re a liar.”

“No you are.”

“You are.”

“You.”

“Y-“

“Sirius, we’re two adults can you behave for once?”

“Oh, you’re unbelievable.” He says, rolling his eyes at Remus, happy the dark will disguise his smile.

James is happily chatting away with Peter, sitting in the chair comfortably and smiling easily. He looks confident, sure of himself, and he must know people like him at once, he’s got that kind of air around him.

Sirius knows what anxiety looks like, he’s seen it in his little brother, in his panic and the rage he used to bring down on Sirius whenever things went wrong. He knows that glint of stress in a person’s eyes and James doesn’t have it. James behaves nothing like Regulus used to, and Sirius doesn’t know what Lily was talking about earlier, but there’s nothing wrong with James. He’s holding true to his reputation, the stories told about him, Sirius has never seen a more easy-going person in his life.

In the minutes leading up to the beginning of the play more and more people enter the room, looking for their chairs in the near-darkness. He knows Lily must’ve purposely gotten them aisle seats when she booked the tickets, but he’s two seats removed from the aisle, separated from it by Sirius and Remus. On top of that Lily is in the row in front of him and there’s just the one exit that’s also the entrance. It’s like a disaster waiting, no, begging to happen.

Just one person with bad intentions has to enter through that single entrance, and they’re all in trouble. Just one spark to ignite a fire and they will all be fighting to get to that single door.

He wipes the sweat from his forehead and tries not to fidget with his hands too much.

“…And then the lecturer called me out in front of the entire room!” Peter continues his story of this morning, when he arrived late to class. “Several hundred people were looking at me and he made me explain why I was late. That’s just inhuman! I think I’ll file a complaint.”

“You should, really, that’s not cool.” They’re pretty close to the exit, just a few steps. He can run over the chairs if needed and should be out in seconds. He’ll just pick Lily up, or drag her with.

“Right! Thank you! Remus said it was my own fault!”

“It was your own fault!” Remus insists, leaning over Sirius and giving Peter a look. “You could’ve gotten out of bed at the first alarm, instead you woke us up about a hundred times.”

Peter mumbles something, mimics Remus as he said it, and turns back to James. “Who should I file the complaint with, any idea?”

“Sorry?” James wasn’t listening, counting all the people in the room and wondering whether it would be smarter to run down to the stage and use the exits on each side of it. Though, that would likely lead to some backroom, maybe a backroom with an exit to the outside close?

“Where should I file the complaint?”

“Oh, err, no idea, the course coordinator?” He suggests, trying to shake off the bad thoughts and focus entirely on Peter.

“Good one.” He takes out his phone and starts typing up an email, which, James can tell from looking at it over his shoulder is nowhere near as polite and professional as it should be. Do people get away with sending out emails like this?

The feeling of panic won’t leave him. The room feels both too small and too big, he wishes there would just be another entrance, and thinks maybe if he hadn’t already stressed himself out so much earlier that day things might’ve been easier. How is it fair he has several moments like these throughout the day, while everyone else sits here without a care in the world? Why him?

“Lily.” He whispers in her ear, a last resort, truly, he feels close to having to step out of the room and how will he explain why? They’ll all think he’s a freak. Weird. So unlike them they can’t ever be friends.

She turns, stares at him for a moment and takes a deep breath. Okay, he can do that. He takes a deep breath, following her lead. She raises her eyebrows. Do we need to go?

“No.” He mouths back at her, giving a, hopefully, brave smile.

“So, what is this play anyway, is it… oh, what’s that one you’re so obsessed with, Lils?” He digs his hand in the enormous carton of popcorn Sirius is holding, settling in on the chair and making sure to look as if he’s completely fine. Which he is. He’s fine.

“Hamilton, but that’s not this.” She replies, holding up her hand and waiting for Sirius to dump some popcorn in her palm.

“Mmh, we’re not seeing that unless it’s the original Broadway cast.” Remus adds, “But they’re not on stage anymore, so we’ll never, ever be able to see it.” Lily and Remus reach over the backs of the chairs to hold hands, looking victimized.

“Exactly, if I’m not getting absolutely soaked, head to toe in Jonathan Groff’s spit, I don’t want it.” She says, squeezing Remus’ index finger. In response, he starts nodding enthusiastically, “Amen.” He says, a dreamy look in his eyes.

Sirius raises his eyebrows at James, “These nerds?” He whispers, shaking his head.

The first actors get out on stage, wearing absurd costumes and skipping around the raised platform as they talk in funny voices. He and Peter share glances, but out of respect for Lily and everyone else in the room who seems to be enjoying the amateurish, and absolutely hilarious to look at play, he keeps quiet and pretends to be invested in the story.

It doesn’t last as long as it should.

Sirius jams his elbow in James’ ribcage and demands his attention, and when their eyes meet halfway through the ridiculous play, after having held up his laughter with all he had in him, it’s simply impossible to keep it in any longer.

The Cola Lily had bought him sprays from his nose as he snorts at the face Sirius makes while pointing at the stage where one of the actors has just slipped, definitely not part of it, and the stinging of his nose combined with the effort of holding his laugh makes his eyes tear up.

Sirius’ mouth twitches dangerously and muffled giggles reach James’ ears. He puts his hand next to his face so he can’t look at Sirius, and stuffs his ear with his thumb to keep out Sirius’ giggles. He shakes his head, hoping Sirius will get the message and calm down.

A loud giggle escapes Sirius’ throat and this is the last straw for James. He doubles over, holding his stomach and pressing his free hand to his mouth, biting on his lip as hard as he can, but it’s no use, the people close to them are already turning in their seats and looking at the two boys having a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

“Stop!” James wheezes, slapping himself on the chest to pretend he’s actually coughing rather than laughing.

“I can’t!” Sirius returns in whispers, followed by more giggles.

James reaches for Sirius’ hand and squeezes it hard, he’s laughing too much now to get out a single word but they need to stop laughing now. Sirius squeezes back even harder and buries his face in James’ sweater, shaking with laughter.

Oh, this is too embarrassing. He’s hot and sweaty from the laughs, the corners of his mouth aching and his stomach feeling like he’s got the best abs anyone’s ever had. He just can’t stop. Sirius’ mischievous grin, the twinkle in his eyes and the giggles as he desperately tries not to laugh, add to that the horrifying acting and the actors constantly messing up. It’s all too much, he might never be able to stop laughing now.

Something falls at Sirius’ feet, “Oh fuck!” He says, and when James looks he sees the enormous portion of popcorn spread out over the floor.

“Sirius!” Remus hisses, fire coming from his eyes.

Sirius nods, his face seemingly sober again, and he straightens up in his seat, his lap full of popcorn which crunches with every movement.

They attempt to be quiet, but when Sirius grabs a handful of popcorn and drops it on Marlene’s head they burst out in laughter again.

“You promised you’d behave!” Remus looks terribly disappointed, and pulls up his knees, motioning at Sirius and James to leave. “Go!” He roughly grabs Sirius’ wrist and pulls him out of his chair, the ocean of popcorn moves underneath their feet and sticks to everything as they walk with ducked heads out of the theater.

Once they’re outside in the quiet and the daylight they regain the ability to breathe normally and Sirius sighs loudly, stretching his arms and yawning as if he’s just woken up.

“We could’ve done a better job than those idiots up on stage.”

“Anyone could’ve done a better job.”

Sirius clicks his tongue, “True, let’s go to the pub across the street, yeah?”

“Want a beer? My treat.” Sirius offers as they walk into the dark pub. There’s several students scattered around the building, enjoying their Friday afternoon, free of lectures and tutorials finally.

He starts picking at a loose bit of skin next to his nail, thinking about the best way to explain he doesn’t drink. Sirius does not look like the understanding type, in this matter. With his leather jacket, the smell of smoke around him, his bike, he looks like someone who drinks beer like it’s water. Though, he did help James very kindly back at the house earlier, and has been super friendly to him since. James can tell from the look in his eyes he’s troubled. He’s got something like gaydar, except for people with mental issues, and seeing it in Sirius makes him feel safe. Nothing about Sirius makes him feel he needs to perform to make him like James. He’d hate it if the not drinking thing would make Sirius think badly of him. “I don’t really drink… but-“

“Right, Lily told you’re an athlete, they’ve got phenomenal mocktails here.”

This is the first time in his life that someone hasn’t made a big deal out of him not drinking. He halts, not sure whether Sirius is joking, being sarcastic, or is actually fine with him not drinking. When is he going to make a stupid joke? Ask for reasons? Look at him weird?

But he gives James a kind smile and starts to slowly walk to a free table to prevent the drinks from spilling over the edge of the glasses. James gets on the barstool next to Sirius and takes a sip of the mocktail, sweet, free of alcohol. He’s not sure what to say. Almost wanting to thank Sirius for treating him like a human being.

“Are you still in love with her?” Sirius asks, lifting his glass to his mouth, raising his eyebrows.

James feels his cheeks heat up as if he’s been caught robbing a bank. His stomach squirms uncomfortably and he starts tapping his fingers against the sticky wooden table. “Who?” As if that’s not painfully obvious, who Sirius is talking about.

“Lily.”

There’s a piece of wood sticking out from the table and he starts pulling at it, trying to get it out. “Is it that obvious?”

“No, not at all.”

Thank god. He thinks. If there’s any chance of Lily knowing he still likes her he might as well drive off a cliff because that’s simply too much embarrassment for him to handle.

Sirius grins, pushing around the straw in his drink, “Except your eyes turn into hearts when you look at her, and you start to drool, and then there’s these fluffy, pink clouds that start to gather around you and Cupid jumps out of them and shoots you right in the ass with his arrows.” He pretends he’s holding a bow and shoots an imaginary arrow at James’ ass.

A little too forcefully, he rips the loose piece of wood from the table, and ends up holding something about the size of a small branch, leaving a long gap in the table like an empty river. Both he and Sirius stare at it, and then at the damaged table. “Great.” He groans, throwing the piece to the floor in hopes no one saw.

“Is it very obvious?”

“I’d say everyone definitely knows, yeah.” Sirius makes an apologetic face at him.

“She does, too?”

“Well, she’s got eyes, so probably, yes.”

He buries his face in his hands, groaning loudly. “I try not to be.” What a great first impression he’s given them. They must all think Lily’s only inviting him out of sympathy. Thinking he’s the pathetic guy hanging out with her in an attempt to win her back. Must be hilarious to them. Do they laugh about him when he’s not there? Discuss his weak heart?

There’s no way he can ever be around her again now. At least not until he’s over her. It doesn’t just hurt him, it makes him look like a fool, and that crosses a line. He can’t look like a fool. Especially not with people he actually likes. He’s just going to have to say goodbye to them, for now, hopefully.

This really sucks. He was just starting to like all of them so much. Even though it’s all so soon and early, it almost felt like they were a little family. With them he did all the things he missed from home. Dinners, walks, sitting together to study. All the nice stuff. Can he give all that up in order to not feel like a failure?

“But it’s Lily.” To him that’s all the explanation this needs. Of course he’s still in love with her. She’s Lily Evans. She watches the same romcoms over and over, paints flowers with watercolor, is a terrible cook but somehow a very talented baker, she loves elephants and gets very passionate about… well, anything. Wars, zoos, global warming, capitalism, name it and she’s got a very strong opinion on it. In the summer she kneels down every few steps to flip over the blue bugs that have fallen onto their backs and when you tell her something about yourself she never forgets it. How could he ever look at her and not fall in love all over again?

“I know, she’s very pretty.” Sirius affirms, rubbing over James’ back. It’s a small gesture, but in that moment James thinks it’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for him. He removes his hands and sits up, releasing a large breath.

“She’s a lot more than pretty.” She puts colored laces in her shoes can recite the entirety of ‘Little Women’ as if it’s nothing. She takes pictures of the sky and dogs walking on the street, but hates when James proposes to take one of her. She believes there’s unicorns somewhere, hidden deep in places where humans don’t go.

And she’s not just pretty. Her beauty is the kind that could set sail to a thousand ships that would go to war for only her, and then there’s the love she holds in her soul and spreads into the world, love so powerful and genuine it could end wars.

“You know you don’t have to stop loving her, do you? You just have to change the way in which you love her.” That’s pretty much exactly, word for word, what his mom told him. When it comes from Sirius it suddenly makes a lot more sense.

“Easier said than done.”

“I’ll help you out, if you want. Don’t you also have a girlfriend?” Sirius asks, frowning at him.

“Sophia?” He cries out.

“Lily said there’s this girl you hang out with, short hair, kind of the opposite of her.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” James crosses his arms over his chest, thinking hard, is she? They never outright said it. He didn’t even think they were exclusive. Sirius looks at him like he doesn’t quite believe it, raising one eyebrow and also crossing his arms over his chest, smiling slightly when James drops his arms back on the table and starts picking at another place. “Seriously!” He promises.

“No James, I’m Sirius, and if you don’t have a girlfriend I propose we find another way for you to get over Lily.” He says, sneakily pointing over James’ shoulder. James turns and sees two girls sitting at a table behind them, giggling and turning red when they notice James is looking at them.

He turns back to face Sirius, who’s grinning at the girls, and wonders how many girlfriends he’s had. Millions, probably. He looks like a movie star, a model and a rockstar all at once. His curly dark hair reaches to his shoulders, and he almost makes you feel like you should applaud him whenever those grey eyes look upon you, and that sly grin appears on his face.

Something about the sharp angles of his face and the high cheekbones reminds him of someone he knows, but he can’t really put his finger on who exactly. That’s going to keep him up at night, figuring who it is Sirius reminds him of.

James is really trying, both for himself and to appease Sirius, but the plan’s just not working. Sirius and the girl he was talking with have disappeared to a dark corner in the pub, probably making out, and James is stuck over here with a girl he doesn’t feel anything for. Her speaking volume is making his ears ring and she’s got something stuck in between her teeth. She talks nonstop, so it’s all he can focus on.

She’s talking about business. Or, no, economics? Maybe management? It’s hard to pay attention when he’s working so hard to try and maintain a polite amount of eye contact, smile and nod without looking like a creep, and try not to stare at her teeth too much.

If he’s lucky a plane will crash into the building right now. Or a meteor. Or maybe all animals on earth have turned against humans, like in that show Lily loves, no don’t think of Lily, James, that’s bad, but maybe the animals will all kill them and he can be freed of this awfully boring girl!

Her hand slowly inches up his thigh and he nearly jumps off the barstool, “Sorry, have to pee.” He mumbles, and starts walking through the pub in his search for Sirius.

Luckily for him, Sirius meets him halfway, his hair messy and his lips swollen, and he pulls James with him into the bathroom, locking the door behind them.

“And?” He asks, looking in the mirror and straightening his shirt and hair.

“She had something stuck in her teeth!” He exclaims.

“So she’s not the one?”

“She’s far from it.”

“How do I look?”

“Like someone’s tried to kiss you to death.” Sirius pulls a face and looks back into the mirror, adjusting his jacket to cover up the fresh hickey on his throat.

“Remus always gets so annoyed when he finds out I’ve been having a little fun.” Sirius grumbles, combing his hair with his fingers, and then putting it in a bun when it doesn’t go back to normal.

“Why’s that?”

“If only I knew, James.” He sighs, zipping up his jacket. “Let’s try and sneak outside.”

Sirius turns the lock and opens the door, his chest puffed out as he steps outside, but one step out the door and he stops. James looks over his shoulder and sees the two girls standing outside the bathroom, their eyes widening when they see who steps outside. They start whispering things to each other, giving them strange looks. James feels his face redden, but Sirius ignores the girls and takes James’ hand as if they’re a couple, and they walk outside like that together.

Outside, Sirius quickly drops James’ hand and reaches inside the pocket of his coat to grab a cigarette and light it. “I’m not… you know.” He says softly, clicking the lighter and inhaling.

“Me neither!” James replies without missing a beat.

For a moment they awkwardly stand, Sirius smoking like his life depends on it and James whistling, his hands in his pocket as he looks up at the sky. “Although…” He says with a smirk, bumping his shoulder into Sirius’.

“If it’s me you need to get over Lily I’m willing to make that sacrifice.” Sirius jokes back, winking at him.

“I’ll make sure to remember that.”

“Want one?” Sirius holds out his pack of cigarettes for James to grab one, but he shakes his head. “’Course, athlete.”

“Any plans this weekend?” James asks, secretly hoping he’ll be invited to another thing with Sirius and the others.

“I have to finish an art project, you?”

“Work tomorrow.” James sighs, thinking of having to stand there with Regulus and be verbally abused for several hours. “My coworker is the worst.”

“What’d he do?” Sirius exhales in the opposite direction so the smoke doesn’t reach James and looks concerned at what he says.

“He’s just very mean. Always telling me to trip and fall on a knife, shove my head in the boiling pan, that kind of thing.”

Sirius shakes his head, an angry look coming over his face, “I knew someone like that, just don’t waste your energy on someone like that, he’s not worth it.”

“There’s more people like him?”

“I’m sure there’s an endless supply of bitter boys who want the world to feel as miserable as they do.”

“Was he your friend?”

“No, my little brother.”

James reaches out, but he doesn’t know what to do. Give him a pat on the back? Squeeze his arm? Nothing will make up for having your little brother be someone like Regulus. Though, James thinks Regulus might not be like Sirius’ little brother that much. He’s still convinced there’s more to him, and that once he gets to know him he’ll actually be a nice guy. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, James.” Sirius leans against the wall, looking out over the street, and suddenly gets back on two feet, taking his hair out of the bun and unzipping his jacket. James looks out into the street and sees the rest of the group walking towards them.

Sirius groans, “Shit, Remus will kill me, can I stay with you tonight?”

He chuckles at the look on Sirius’ face, one of pure despair, “Fine by me, but my roommate is a psychopath.”

“What? You don’t have a nice roommate?”

“Not at all. He always invites people over without asking me, he takes my stuff, and you should see the disgusting mess he makes of the room.” James already dreads going back there. Having to create a path in the mess, look for garbage before it can rot and the rats come back. He’s finally managed to catch them all, and hopes to keep them away from now on.

“We have a free room, why don’t you come live with us? The house’s already paid for so it’s just gas and food and stuff like that, should be cheaper than what you pay now.”

James’ mouth falls right open, it would’ve dropped right to the floor if only it wasn’t attached to his face. “Are you serious?”

“Him in the flesh.” Sirius grins, gesturing at his body.

“I would love to live with you!” James exclaims, resisting the urge to start jumping up and down excitedly, except then Sirius starts to do exactly that and he joins him, their hands clasped together and hopping around in a circle.

When they’ve calmed down a little, Sirius nudges him with his elbow, “Well, that’s settled then, we’ll come get your stuff and move you over somewhere this week, okay?”