no shade in the shadow

James doesn’t think he has ever, in all his life, been as grumpy as he is today. It’s six in the morning, it’s dark outside, raining, and he’s pulling a cart behind him, walking the path from their lecture hall to the bus. The little wheels squeak and the contents of the cart rattle dangerously inside, but he doesn’t mind, he just wants to get over with this as soon as he can.

There’s already a line of people outside the bus, loading it up with all the shit they’ll need for the field practical. Everyone’s in either pajamas or gym clothes, and they look like exactly what they are, a bunch of first year students that had a massive party the night before, did not sleep, and have to get going this early in the morning for something no one’s excited to go to.

The day will be dedicated to long hours of mudflat walking, doing research on salt marshes, and visiting fishing practices. What’s a better way to spend your day? Fuck me. He thinks, I should’ve gone and study in Italy after all, or Hawaii, how did I end up in this gloomy, dark, depressing town?

When he looks to his side he feels a glare forming on his face. Smart, extremely wise Lily did not go the party and looks fresh and awake in her adorable ladybug rainboots and red raincoat. She’s even got this amazing stained glass umbrella for fuck’s sake. Then there’s James, in rainboots he borrowed from Marlene, that are several sizes too small and cut off the blood flow in his calves as well as smash his toes, wearing his football uniform because that’s the only clothes he has that can get dirty. He looks like a total clown.

He drops the cart by the bus and walks back to the building to get the last of the stuff, rubbing hard at his eyes and slapping his palms against his cheeks in hopes of waking up a little bit. He might just run down to the cafeteria for a coffee really quickly.

From the corner of his eye he catches a dark figure speedwalking through the halls, coming his way. He’d be able to recognize that angry ‘I might be carrying weapons and am willing to use them’ walk anywhere.

“Hey, Reg.” He says, feeling a lot more cheery than before already.

Regulus looks up, glares at him so hard James can almost physically feel the hatred he radiates, and walks past him without saying a word.

“Jesus, good morning to you too.” James mumbles, rolling his eyes at the strange boy. He runs to grab a coffee and walks outside carrying the last crate of equipment they’ll need. He’s the last to get on the bus, has to sign his name off a list as if he’s a toddler instead of an adult in uni, and sees Marcus and the other guys have saved him a seat on the last row. Fucking idiots. He thinks. Are they twelve years old?

He can see the disgust in Lily’s face when she turns in her seat, sitting with some perfectly nice and respectable girls, and glares at the boys, who are talking loudly and behaving as if they own the world. When they start taking bottles of beer and small bottles of liquor out of their bags he thinks it’s his sign to go, and is just about to get up when he notices Sophia stumbling down the aisle, obviously still drunk, her make-up from the night before plastered to her face, in a revealing crop top in a mini skirt, as if they aren’t about to go to the coast, in Scotland, the last week of October.

The memories of the previous night flush over him. The crowded pub, Sirius at his side, Remus never losing sight of Sirius and watching even when he ran off to dark corners with girls. And, of course, Sophia, glued to James’ side, touching him very inappropriately considering they were in a public setting. James doesn’t like to party, hates the lights, the thundering music, people stepping on your toes, the smells, the sweat, the stickiness, the girls giving him glances and Sophia being all over him in response.

It's more bearable now that he’s got Sirius, Remus and Pete joining, at least they can go out for a cigarette every once in a while, get some air, but he’d prefer to be at home by himself. That’s not really possible, for a popular twenty year old, now is it?

“Hey, babe.” She plops down on his lap and takes his face in her hands, kissing every inch of it while James feels shame rise inside of him at the knowledge of the lecturers being scattered throughout the bus.

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” He asks, trying to rub some warmth into her icy cold arms. She’s shivering pretty bad, and they’re not even outside right now. He doesn’t much care for her, they have no connection, no common interests, he doesn’t even think ever having an actual conversation with her, but they’re both popular, he’s the captain of the football team and she’s captain of the hockey team. Cliché, obviously, but there’s certain expectations they have to meet, so they do. They pretend.

James likes the idea of her, of their relationship and how much she wants him. And Sophia, she likes to brag about having the one and only James Potter wrapped around her finger. It’s not love, simply a service to one another.

“I brought warm clothing, but I thought maybe you could warm me up a little.” She whispers in his ear, her fingers curling around the top of his pants.

“Oh, sure.” He returns, taking her hand and putting it back on her lap. She gives him a look he ignores, and he tries to feel something like love, or even attraction when he wraps his arms around her.

Several people have thrown up already and Sophia is looking dangerously pale as they stand in a massive walk-in cooler filled with a layer of smelly water that reaches to their ankles and has bits of fish- and now also puke- floating in it. The fishermen are slicing up what they brought in earlier that morning and the smell is too much even for him, and he’s not hungover like most of his classmates.

Marcus and the other boys he knows from football, the boys he sometimes refers to as his friends, are kicking water at each other, talking over the fishermen and being altogether awfully disrespectful. James is starting to despise them more with every passing day and wonders how he could’ve thought they would be best friends once.

He takes a little step away from Sophia in case she too, throws up in the water they’ve all been standing in for an hour now.

Finally, the presentations and tours end and about a hundred of pale faces file out of the building, each of them turning down the lunch that’s prepared for them, because no one’s much in the mood for some fish after what they’ve just witnessed.

The sky is filled with dark grey clouds, rumbling closely together and looking as if a large storm is coming for them. Small drops have begun to fall from the air and the winds are so violent they have to fight against it if they want to walk forwards. The sea rolls in dangerously, grey, with large white caps, the waves slamming into cliffs and shooting up like fireworks. The boats in the water are thrown around on the waves, and James feels as if this day might be the beginning of a gothic coastal horror story.

James and his friends ditch their classmates, the smell of fish and the loud talks of the hundred people trying to raise their voices over the wind, and climb some lookout tower for a moment of peace and to get a little fresh air. The tower sits above the water and the dark sea is below them, on perfect view underneath the glass floors, moving relentlessly, a killer machine.

“This day is making me want to jump off the edge.” He jokes, grinning at himself.

The boys all slowly turn to look at him, then exchange looks between each other, “Weirdo.” One of them snorts, and they all break out in laughter. There’s just no connection. They don’t get each other. People never do.

He shifts uncomfortably and is silent the rest of the time, sitting on the floor of the tower and looking down, watching the waves and smiling and humming at whatever the others say whenever he feels the moment calls for it, behaving in a socially desired way as he’s taught himself to.

When the break’s over they walk down to the beach, where the tide has gone out and reveals a long stretch of mudflats. It starts to rain harder now and he pulls down his hood, wishing he’d called in sick or something.

“Oh!” Marcus takes one step on the mudflat, slips, and falls on his back, hitting his head on the little bit of concrete where the land ends. James holds still, waiting to see how the others will react. Will they laugh? He has to admit, it’s kind of a funny sight. Or will they be worried? Marcus looks fine.

“Careful guys!” Marcus yells at them, laughing hard. And James too starts laughing as the others do, very carefully taking the first step on the mudflat.

His foot immediately sinks in and now he’s actually glad he’s wearing Marlene’s rainboots, those will not come off.

As the group slowly moves further into the mudflats there’s an accumulation of boots sticking up from the mud, and people walking around on socks. People slip. Get stuck. Fall when trying to pull their foot out. Accidentally fall into the holes they’re digging in the ground. Are covered in a thick layer of mud and shivering in the cold rain that comes down on them.

It’s a perfect little day.

“Come on, I want to go there.” James says to Sophia, pointing ahead of them where a bunch of seagulls keep flying over the same spot.

She shields her eyes from the heavy rain and tries to find what he’s pointing at, then shakes her head. “No, look how far it is.”

“It only seems far.”

“James.”

“All right, I’ll go by myself, and get the best sample and the highest grade.” He shrugs, and starts to run, as he’s figured out it’s more effective to move at a high speed, rather than get stuck with each step and having to violently pull your leg out of the mud, which by the way takes at least a minute and looks humiliating.

“Wait for me!” She yells, and he hears her footsteps pattering on the wet mud behind him.

For the first time he feels something like happiness and a warm feeling caused by Sophia as they run over the mudflats together.

It ends pretty soon as the mud over there turns out to be much more moist and Sophia gets stuck up to her hips.

“I’m going to die.” She says in a panicked voice, trying to move her legs but finding she’s stuck. “No, no, no.” She mumbles, moving more and more.

“Will you sit still for a moment?”

“You killed me, you did this.” She bites at him.

“Don’t be dramatic.” He looks over his shoulder and sees all the lecturers and their classmates are pretty far away. They’re on their own here. Fuck, what if he did actually kill her? Did he bring her here on purpose? Is he going to walk away and wait for the tide to come back and watch her down?

No, don’t be weird. Don’t think. Just for once, don’t think.

He grabs her by her waist and starts pulling as hard as he can, and thankfully she plops out of the mud easily. He slides on the slippery mud as he steps back and falls over, all while holding Sophia. They tumble to the ground and she falls on top of him. A romcom moment, Lily would’ve been giddy with it, but Sophia looks at him agitatedly, and doesn’t react to what could’ve been one of their first true romantic moments. The salty water seeps into his clothes and they quickly both climb to their feet, holding each other’s hands and moving carefully to avoid slipping again.

“See, you’re fine.” He tells her, looking at the thick, probably freezing layer of mud that covers her from the waist down. “Just don’t stand still too long.”

Sophia grins at him, is she maybe not actually angry? Just cold? Tired? Regretting how they don’t like each other? “You’ll pay for this, James.” Then she reaches down in a swift motion and grabs a handful of mud and smears it over his forehead.

He gasps, seeing her double over with laughter, and starts to chase her as she runs back to the rest of the group.

Could this, finally, be the beginning of a true relationship, rather than the confusing situationship they’ve been stuck in so far? He’s starting to really like her, isn’t he? Watching her slip and run over the mudflats with that smile, hearing her lively laughter. She’s not that bad, really.

For some reason his mind thinks about what it would’ve been like if he’d been here with Regulus right now. If Regulus had gotten stuck and James would’ve had to pull him out. It’s probably just because saw him this morning, right?

“James, do you want your break?” Frank approaches him as he’s tapping beers and handing them out at the bar. It’s warm inside the restaurant, too warm, and he forgot to eat because during the field practical he wasn’t hungry, he gets that when he’s feeling stressed, and then the bus got stuck in traffic and he doesn’t like to eat in places where the air feels dirty, and as soon as he got home he had to leave pretty much at once. He’s feeling a little light-headed, dizzy, like he’s on a ship, the feeling only strengthened by the smell of fish that, no matter what he tries, won’t leave the insides of his nose.

He's been on the verge of barfing out all of his stomach contents for hours now, but powering through bravely.

“You look a little pale, man, you okay?”

“I could do with a break.” He breathes out, swallowing down the bile that rises up his throat at the remembrance of the walk in cooler with the organs and the vomit floating atop of the murky water.

Quick as he can he walks to the kitchen, breathing in hard and putting his face over a plate of fries to chase away the fish trauma.

“What do you want?” One of the cooks asks him. James looks around, it’s just after rush, so they’re trying to catch up with dishes and orders, this isn’t a very convenient time for a break.

“Whatever’s easiest for you to make.”

At his back he hears a hateful scoff, followed up by a sneering comment, “Pathetic people pleaser.” Disguised in a cough.

“I’ll have a salad with salmon.” Regulus says, and James puts his palm over his mouth, eyes growing in panic.

“I thought you liked chicken better!” He manages to squeeze out through his gritted teeth, taking deep breaths.

“…Why… do you also stalk my eating patterns now?”

“Didn’t you know that, yet?” James shoots back, “But seriously-“ Regulus cringes, James dismisses it, because it’s likely just the sound of James’ voice that gets that reaction out of him, “Can you eat anything but fish? Please? Please, Reggie, my best friend forever, my soulmate, my-“

“Chicken is fine.” He grunts.

“Oh, thank you! I’ve seen enough fish for a lifetime- no, for a thousand, no, all lifetimes.”

Regulus casts his eyes up at the sky, pressing his palms together, “Please let this be his last lifetime.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, even if I’m out of lifetimes there’s always alternate universes, and don’t you worry, because I’ll make sure to find you in every single one of them, and I will annoy you, and you will pretend to hate it but secretly, you love it, and then we fall in love and share a true love’s kiss and live happily ever after.” James jokes, but the words tumble from his mouth as if he knows the story by heart and Regulus’ mouth grows into more of a straighter and angrier line, the frown on his face deepening, and he gets a strange feeling. Déja-vu, maybe? Almost as if they’ve been here before, the two of them, arguing and bickering, doing exactly what James just said, over and over, until the end of time and far beyond that, in all universes.

“God, please don’t.” Regulus says in a begging tone, closing his eyes and repeating the sentence several times in hushed whispers.

James softly pushes against Regulus’ shoulder, “You said you weren’t religious?”

“I’m not, but please God don’t let him find me again!”

“You don’t have to pretend to hate me, Reggie, I think we both know you’re actually just super in love with me and don’t know what to do with those feelings, right, sweetheart?” It’s comical, the way James’ words always manage to piss him off just the right amount, while at the same time he keeps close to James, almost provoking him to get more of that flirting and annoyance out of him.

“I am not in love with you Potter, and I think I’ve made that very clear, so if you for once would pull your eyes out of your ass-“

“Maybe you could reach down there?”

Regulus lets out a large breath, leaning on the counter, his eye is twitching. “Why me? Why? What did I do to deserve this?”

James chuckles, attempts to put his arm around Regulus, gets a fist in his face and they wait for the cooks to finish their food. Regulus gets his salad with chicken and James gets a burger and fries, the cooks know that’s his favorite.

“Thanks guys!” James shouts through the kitchen, waving at the cooks.

“Have fun.” One of the cooks says, winking at James.

“Oh, no, I was just joking, I always joke.” James replies quickly. Do people actually believe his harmless flirting and annoying Regulus means more? He thought it was pretty obviously all a joke?

The cook just smirks at him, and James follow Regulus into the breakroom, he sits down at a table and when James gets closer he kicks down the chair opposite of him.

“I want to sit alone.”

“I don’t.”

James bends down and sets the chair back up, sitting down on it. Regulus glares at him, picks up his plate and moves to a different table, James goes to grab his own plate and follow him, until he realizes maybe Regulus actually wants some time to cool down, so he stays where he is and lets him be.

“You give up easily, Potter.”

If that’s not an invitation, he doesn’t know what is.

“So, Reggie, you’re an attractive guy.” James starts as he sits down opposite of Regulus, and Regulus turns a bright red, from his hairline all the way down into his neck, until his shirt obscures whatever else might have gotten red. “Got a girlfriend?”

He continues glaring at James, spine rigid, plastered to the back of the chair, shoulders straight, elbows off the table, eating in the exact correct way. James already figured his family was well off, but this smells like old money. A lot of it.

“Of course not, you’re waiting on me.” James concludes, popping a fry in his mouth and chewing contently.

Regulus stabs at the salad with his fork, not actually eating any of it. “You’re insufferable.”

“Thanks, it’s my middle name, what’s yours?”

“Won’t tell you.”

“You will.”

“Never.”

James shrugs, “One day you will.”

“Doubt it.”

“Dating anyone?” He asks, Regulus raises one eyebrow at him, glares harder than James has ever seen anyone do before, and starts to shove around the chicken on his plate. “What is your ideal first date.” He asks after a bit of silence, Regulus is still sitting as if his spine is nailed into the chair, and carefully slices small bits of cucumber and tomato which he eats slowly.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Boring, why not?”

He sighs, pointing at James with his fork, “Because I’ve gotten to know you a little and there’s no knowing you won’t join the FBI, get my home address, kidnap me and force me to go on a date with you. I don’t want to inspire you.”

“I’m plenty inspired by your face, and oh, that body-“

He’s blushing again.

Is that a smile?

He reverts back to glaring, is that all his face can do? He really is an amazing actor. James would’ve paid an obscene amount of money to see him in a play and get soaked in his spit… or something, what did Lily say about that musical guy again? “See, that’s why. Do you even have friends?”

James shoves his empty plate away, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, he flexes his biceps, just a little, it’s not a crime. “Oh, but I get it, Reggie. You prefer to sit at home with the curtains drawn, and light your scented candles as you sit and brood and write your poetry and come up with plans to do an art heist, or to win the hunger games or wipe out the entire human race or whatever it is you like to do in your spare time.”

“Are you implying I never see sunlight?”

He lets out a laugh, “You’re as pale as a ghost, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out you’re a direct descendant of Dracula.”

“I’d rather be a descendent of Carmilla.” Regulus shoots back, you know what, maybe he is a vampire. He keeps having the feeling Regulus reminds him of someone, James isn’t sure whether he’s seen too much vampire dramas or if it’s something else.

“And there he goes with his pretentious reading hobby, you literature snob, so, your ideal first date?”

“No.”

“I’m stealing the chicken off your plate.” James leans over, twirling his fork through the air and making airplane sounds.

“Don’t you dare.” Regulus bites back, pulling his plate closer to his body.

“I’m doing it.” James pricks a piece of chicken on his fork with the speed of light and starts eating it, smile growing on his face at Regulus’ surprised gasp.

“I will stuff your face inside that tuna we have in the freezer.”

“Oh, that’s good chicken, I think I’ll have another bite.” There he goes again with the fork, Regulus looks like his mind is about to snap and his brain will leak out of his ears.

He flicks at James’ arm with his knife, moves his plate onto his lap, sighs really loud, and long, and dramatic, oh, there’s that eye roll again, James loves it, so sassy, another sigh, naturally, it’s still Regulus. He has to keep up the act, the mask, pretend he hates James. “Fine… an activity, I think? Not sitting in a restaurant like everyone does, that’s too awkward for a first date.”

James is silent for a moment, taking in the words, and then hovers over the table so his face is only inches away from Regulus’. Regulus is not looking away from his eyes, and the intense eye contact is… to be honest, definitely doing things to his insides. Still, James is no quitter and he will not be the first to break this eye contact, let his organs dance around his stomach, his head spin, he will win this. He will win over Regulus. “Let me get this straight, in your view, a stereotypical first date is… exactly what we’re doing right now?”

“Don’t get ideas in your head.” Regulus moves his head even closer, now James thinks his own mind is close to snapping. Fucking hell, he is really pretty.

The tension in the air is almost too much, Regulus has freckles, freckles, and he smells of oranges and his hair curls more behind his ears and he’s still not looking away from James and James doesn’t understand what’s going on anymore and he hasn’t threatened James’ life in over a minute which is the longest ever and Regulus is stone-faced, but his eyes… he doesn’t control them. His eyes look at James kindly, not even a hint of the hatred he claims to have is found in them.

“That crouton there looks tasty.”

James doesn’t want to look away from Regulus’ beautiful eyes to get to the fork and starts to move his hands around Regulus’ plate.

“Okay, okay, maybe going to a concert, or- get your filthy hands away from my food, or a workshop… maybe pottery-“

“Ha!” He slams his fists down on the table, jumping up from his chair, whooping loudly while Regulus buries his face in his hands.

“Oh, god, what have I done?”

“Pottery? You said pottery! I knew it! Your ideal date is going to a pottery workshop with the one and only James Potter.”

“No, no the opposite-“

“That’s the sweetest love confession ever.” James cries out, sliding back onto his chair, folding his hands, resting his chin atop them, and looking with unexplainable enthusiasm as Regulus gathers his things, looking slightly panicked, and rambles on about how he didn’t mean to say that.

“I’m full.” He says briskly, grabbing his plate and pretty much running from the room.

James feels his heart beat inside of his chest in a way it has never before, and he lays his hands flat on the table, palms down, trying to catch his breath and thinking about Regulus, that strange boy.

“They didn’t even laugh! Just looked at me weird!” He exclaims, dipping his roller in the orange paint and climbing up the unsteady little ladder. Lily grabs the steel frame and holds it for him as he reaches up to paint the high ceiling.

“I would’ve!”

“I know you would’ve.” James groans, wondering why they couldn’t have stayed at home forever, where everyone grew up together, had the same kind of humor, and they actually understood each other. He is sure that back home, or even with his new roommates, the joke about jumping off the tower would’ve been a big hit. Just the wrong audience, he guesses. But isn’t that the main issue in his life?

“So, remind me, why did you think it’d be a good idea to paint after having fully moved in.” She asks, adjusting the plastic sheet they put over all his stuff to keep it safe while they paint.

“I wasn’t sure if Sirius would be thrilled about me painting his ceilings orange.” He returns, getting on the tips of his toes to get the last spot in the corner.

“I think Sirius would let you set fire to the house and thank you for it.” She says, shaking her head with a little smile, “It’s unbelievable how much he adores you.”

“Oh yeah, because I’m so unlovable.” He didn’t mean to say that. But he’s so tired. He can barely form a thought, everything either pisses him off or makes him cry, and he knows Lily has no expectations of him, he can be as much of a piece of shit as he wants to with her. Sometimes he can feel it in his heart, how easy it is to confuse love with hatred. He feels it with Lily, when she kisses Mary or looks at him without that lovestruck expression she used to wear. She knows him, and it made her leave, that hurts.

“James.”

They’re silent as James paints the last of the ceiling. Sirius rented a van earlier that week and came over with Remus and Peter. They spent all day trying to fit his stuff through his bedroom door, struggling to get it down the stairs without falling down, and carrying it to the van. Remus helped James look through Sam’s stuff to find anything he’d stolen and he walked away from that place without saying goodbye, feeling very warm in his chest at the prospect of living with his new friends.

He tries not to look too angry as he climbs down the ladder. Knowing deep down that Lily doesn’t deserve this, she’s here to help after all, but also too upset with her to pretend he’s feeling happy. It’s only her, he doesn’t have to perform, just be a little polite.

“Do you hate me?” Her voice sounds small and shaky. “Is that why you avoid and ignore me?”

He drags his hands through his hair, his mind racing with all sorts of thoughts and things he could possibly say and speeches he’s rehearsed years ago and yet nothing comes out. He opens his mouth, looking for the right words. It can’t be that difficult? There’s a bunch of letters, and he can make combinations with them, that’s all. Nothing too difficult, just a some sounds coming from his throat.

Why can’t he ever translate what goes inside of him into a language others will understand?

“It’s just difficult, Lily. To see you with Mary and know I’ll never have you like that again because I fucked up. It’s difficult to see you in general, actually.”

“You didn’t fuck up.”

“Then why aren’t we together anymore?” He takes the sheet off his bed and sits down on it, his back against the wall, eyes closed. Holding back tears he doesn’t want Lily to see. She can’t know he’s still that broken boy. He’s better now. Not by a lot. Not even at all, maybe. But she doesn’t need to know.

“It was hard for me, too.” He feels the mattrass move and knows she’s sitting next to him.

It was hard for me, too. He hates it when people say that. Poor you, for having to deal with me. As if they’re the one with a mind that actively tries to make every moment a living hell, to kill him. As if they’re the ones fighting a war against something up in their brain.

He’s possessed. There’s a parasite inside of him, eating away his brain, influencing his thoughts, his actions, his feelings, the things he says and everything else. He remembers the definite switch, the moment everything changed, when his world went from normal to hell.

He remembers being no older than six years old and crying on his mother’s lap because it was the first time he could feel something was in his brain and whatever it was would be the end of him.

His mom had gotten mad at him for not finishing his dinner and he said something cruel, he’s always known how to twist his words and use his knowledge of people in order to hurt them as much as possible.

It wasn’t me, there’s someone in my head who says those mean things. Is what he told her. That it was probably just one of those parasite things he’d heard about at school. Small animals that start living in your body and they use you, it benefits them but it hurts you.

Except, James knows it’s not a parasite that’s in his brain. Parasites don’t kill their hosts. The thing sitting in his head is more like a parasitoid and it uses all of his energy in an effort to kill him.

“Sure it was.” He says, agitated by her posing as the victim. Or is that what he’s doing? His parents say that’s what he does, but then again he feels like a victim, so to him it only makes sense to act like it.

“I just wanted to help and you wouldn’t let me.” She mutters softly, playing with the gold heart-shaped locket he got her when they were still together.

“I didn’t want your help, Lily-“ He falters, feeling the ugly words sitting on his tongue, and sits still for a moment, trying to recall two years’ worth of speeches he’s made in his head. He starts picking at the skin on his knuckles, trying to clear his head, putting together the right sentence, telling her what he’s wanted to say all along. “All I wanted was for you to hold my hand and be there for me, listen to me.”

“How could I listen if you never told me anything about what bothered you?”

He groans, frustration growing inside of him. The very same frustration that’s been inside of him most his life, the things he’s never been able to say accumulated into something so painful it’s only getting more and more difficult to be truthful, to not hide. “Because I don’t know how to! Even if I wanted to, which I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you, or anyone else what was going on, because I couldn’t put it into words. I didn’t understand myself, and I still don’t, so how can I make you?”

“You could’ve talked to your therapist, she would’ve helped you understand.”

“If only she wasn’t such a fucking idiot.” He sneers, rolling his eyes at the image of her sitting at the table with that stupid look on her face. He was never more than a puzzle to her. A fun case she wanted to crack, yet never could.

“You think all of the therapists you’ve seen are fucking idiots.”

“And I’m not wrong, they couldn’t do their jobs, if you ask how I’m doing, and I say ‘fine’ and then sit there in silence for an hour as you do your paperwork, would you call yourself a good therapist?”

“I don’t know, James.” Lily says with a loud sigh. He knows she doesn’t understand, that’s the entire issue, that’s what drove them apart.

“No, and neither did they. In the end they’d always come to the conclusion I was too complex for any sort of therapy and should just go on heavy medication and hope for the best.”

“Is that why you stopped going?”

“A professional told me I was so fucked up that I was a lost case and no amount of therapy would ever help me, so yeah, I decided to stop going after that.”

Lily doesn’t respond. They both sit on the bed in silence, downstairs they can hear Remus and Sirius quarrelling in the kitchen, Marlene’s rock music comes blaring through the walls, Mary and Peter are discussing ancient fashion in the next room, their voices softly reaching them here. Finally Lily takes a deep breath, “Fucking hell.”

“I know.” He wants to tell her. Her, or someone. Anyone. It’s been weighing him down for years and who knows when there will ever be a moment like this again? A moment where revealing the truth, even a small part of it, is so close? He opens his eyes, gazing at Lily. She’s sitting there watching him, silently, waiting for him to talk. So he might as well.

He takes a deep breath, grabbing his pillow and playing with the fabric of the sheet in between his fingers, “The thing is, I’ve always known something was wrong, you know that. But when I was younger the therapists said I was just an anxious child and that I’d grow out of it, so I started clinging to that idea. My life has been hell ever since I turned six, but I’ve always pulled myself through because I thought things would get better as I’d get older. It was hard, Lils, to get from one day to the next all by myself. But the anxiety excuse was literally the only thing that kept me from ending it all. And then I grew up and the problems didn’t go, they got worse. I was forced into therapy, once again, but this time she thought there was a little more going on than simple anxiety and she makes me do all these tests.”

James feels his heart beating in his chest, having never told anyone, not even the basics like this. He frowns, realizing there’s no one on this planet who actually knows him, that all his life all he’s ever done is perform, hide and lie. He could die right now and no one would’ve ever known who he truly was inside.

No one will ever know James Potter.

The thought scares the shit out of him.

He starts to talk.

“So I went to therapy the day we got the results of the tests thinking nothing would be wrong because at that point I’d spent most of my life crampedly holding on to the idea that I would get better. I walked into that room the most popular boy in school, with tons of friends, perfect social skills, a future brighter than the fucking sun and a picture perfect life, and I walked out of there with nothing. My hopes and dreams were crushed.”

He doesn’t feel it, as he says it now. It’s as if he’s telling a story. Reciting something out of a book, the life of a fictional character. It all feels distant, far removed from him, not like something that happened, like things he felt.

“My entire identity was crushed. She handed me a paper with a bunch of diagnoses and told me I wouldn’t graduate high school, I’d lose all my friends, I wouldn’t be going to university, I would never move out of my parent’s home and would forever be dependent on their care, I would never be able to have career, I would spend the next years getting worse and worse and be lucky if I made it to adulthood. She told me you’d break up with me eventually and that no one would ever fall in love with me again.”

“Only five percent of people with autism get married. Five percent, Lily, what are the odds I’m one of them? But her list was never ending,” He starts listing the things off on his fingers, “I wouldn’t be able to raise children, fuck, she told me I wouldn’t even be able to take care of a dog because I couldn’t even care for myself. And then you broke up with me, Lily, and that confirmed to me that all those other things she told me would come true as well.”

Does that make sense? As he’s said it now? Do those words rightfully capture what he felt? How his life suddenly lost all meaning? How from one moment to the next, he was chronically ill, with no cure in sight, and a life that’d only be a pain to live out?

“But they didn’t all come true.” Lily argues. She doesn’t know what it took to get here. She doesn’t know the shame he felt when he realized what a failure he was. When his therapist, parents and school teamed up and forced him to stop going for a while.

She has no idea what it was like to see his all friends graduate the year he was supposed to, knowing he’d be stuck there another year because of a disease in his mind.

She doesn’t know what it’s like when the people who claim to be your friends make jokes about wanting to be mentally ill so they too can stay home from school, as if he wasn’t eternally jealous of them for being capable of going to school when he wasn’t. When he was forced to spend long days at home staring at the wall because he didn’t have the energy to do anything else.

She doesn’t know what it’s like to lose your life to an illness. To miss out on experiences and to feel so behind on your pears.

Watch life pass by him from the sidelines.

Let’s not tell her, he decides. It’ll kill her. He loves her too much to tell her all of it.

“Some of them didn’t, but how was I supposed to know at the time? I was burnt-out, depressed, in the middle of an identity crisis… I was grieving myself.”

Her hand moves across the mattress, hesitating for a moment as she looks for approval in his eyes, and then she takes his hand in her own, squeezing it gently. “Doesn’t it feel sad, to grieve someone who never even existed?”

The sentence steals the air right from his lungs like a punch to the gut. He sits and stares at their intertwined fingers, internally cursing at the gods for not giving him her. “That version of me existed in my head, and when that was wiped away… I don’t know how to explain to you how much that hurt. How hopeless and alone, alienated and wrong, how much of a failure, like a fault of nature I felt.”

“But two years have passed, did you accept it?”

“How can I ever accept that I am ill when I’m constantly surrounded by healthy, happy people? How can I accept who I am and what kind of life I will have to live when there’s so many people who are normal, and can live normally?”

Lily doesn’t say anything, she holds his hand in the way he used to long for so badly.

“I’m sorry James, so sorry. It’s not fair and if I could take it away I would, but… thank you for sharing.”

“Now you’re sounding like a therapist.”

“I just don’t know what else to say. I thought you were only very tired, I never knew it was like this.” Fucked up as it is, the thought gives him comfort. At least he hid it well, at least people never knew how bad he was really doing.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

She wipes a tear off her cheek, turning her head away from him, “I do. I’m sorry, for not being there like you wanted me to.”

Now’s his turn to squeeze her hand, he never meant to hurt her like he did. “It’s not your fault, I kept you in the dark and you did what you thought was right.”

“Do you still feel like that?”

“I’ll always feel like this, and struggle like this, that’s the entire issue. There’s no cure for my disease.”

“I wish I could cure you.” Her voice is full of sorrow and she plays the necklace he gave her as if it’s something she does every day, unaware of the reminder of him.

“I wish you could, too.”

“James?” She waits until he turns his head and looks at her. “I’ll hold your hand and listen, whenever you’d like.”

He smiles at her, “I’d like that, Lils.” And she smiles back, resting her head on his shoulder and exhaling deeply. “Would we still have been together if I hadn’t been such an ass?”

“We’ll never know, but you weren’t that much of an ass.” She says, poking at his sides and making him squirm and laugh, but she suddenly sits up and looks at him all seriously. “Do you think I broke up with you because you were an ass?”

 “Yeah?”

“James!” She exclaims, her eyes growing wide and her cheeks getting red as she pounds her fists on his chest. “You blamed yourself all this time! You idiot!”

He shields his chest with his arms, but settles for grabbing Lily’s wrists and holding her still as she looks at him with those large green eyes that look very confused at the moment. “It was my fault?” He states, a little doubtfully now. Wasn’t it? Wasn’t his illness the reason Lily didn’t want him anymore?

“Not entirely! We just didn’t work together, not like we thought we did. It’s not all on you.”

Okay, he’s very confused now. “Just most of it?”

“Well you were the catalyst, but… no it wasn’t all your fault.” Lily says, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head in disbelief as she stares at him. Did they break up over miscommunication? Did he lose the love of his life because neither of them know how to speak?

“So you didn’t break up with me because you got sick of me and couldn’t stand me anymore?”

“What! No! I didn’t know how to help you and it was shitty for me too, to see you getting worse. I too had to throw my future dreams and plans away, I was still in love with you when I broke up but I did it because I thought the space would do us good and we’d end up back together if it was meant to be!” His mouth drops right open.

This is likely the most painful thing he’s ever heard in his life. He jumps up from the bed and starts pacing around the room, his knuckles are bleeding now, the skin ripped off. His thoughts are all over the place, there seems to be no way of getting them back in order. Lily doesn’t think he’s someone she could never, ever love, or want to be with, or look at romantically? Is he not part of the five percent? No, but he is, Lily doesn’t like him anymore. But if she did at one point, someone else could again, right? It was never his personality? The weird things he says, his odd behavior, the rest he needs or his moods? It was never any of that?

“You were still in love with me?”

Lily too gets up from the bed now, grabbing his arms and stopping him from scratching open his entire hand. “I cried for months! It took me all year to get over you!” Months? A year? She was still in love with him? He’s not unlovable? It actually hurt her too to not be together anymore? Would they have gotten back together if he didn’t start despising her? If he didn’t blame her for leaving him when he hit his worst? When she never knew how bad he was doing. When she always believed that breaking up would make things better? Is this all his fault?

“And now?”

“Now I’m no longer in love with you. We weren’t meant to be, not in this lifetime at least.”

Fuck.

“That’s shitty.”

She shrugs, her lips pressed together in a thin line. There’s a sadness in her eyes, as if she wishes she could still love him like that, but simply can’t. “I can’t help it. And if I could love you like that I’d do it in a heartbeat… but it’s not there. Not anymore.”

“No, I know, it’s all right.” He’s done hating her. Avoiding her. Being distant. They can be friends? Right?

“I still love you, just… differently.” She promises, smiling at him with that smile that could end wars.

He puffs out some air, thinking hard, not able to make sense of his thoughts. “Is this really it?” Will they never get back what they had? Suddenly he sees that this really is the end of their teenage romance. That he indeed will never get her back. That his hopeless efforts to get her to fall in love won’t work as they did a couple of years ago.

“It is, James.” Lily replies softly, her eyes filling up with tears, smiling bravely through them. She releases his hands and steps closer, laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around him. Isn’t it weird they fit this perfectly when they hug, but they’re not soulmates?

When he hugs her back he feels at the tension leave his body. His head gets strangely clear and the feeling of warm, soft, familiar Lily in his arms fills him with love. But there’s no heart beating out of control shooting up to his throat. He doesn’t think about kissing her, or feel any of the butterflies she always made him feel.

James doesn’t understand. The large gaping wound in his chest sat there for two years. Aching, making it hard to breathe or live life. Being here with Lily after all that time pulled the stitches of the wound open again, renewed the pain as if it never left and never would. And now? Now it’s just a dull pain. The horrifying realization that they’re no longer fearless children in love, and they’ll never have that back. He’ll never have her back.

For years he’d believed that getting over her would take all his power, that it would take the life and light out of him and he might never succeed. He thought she was his first, last, and only love. Yet he can feel it now when he holds her close, that it’s all over.

They’ve come to the end of their love and though his sorrowful heart avoided thinking of this moment as long as he could, he can tell the curtain on their love has fallen closed.

“Good afternoon, had any exciting dreams about me last night, Reggie?” James says as he walks into the locker room, opening his and looking in the mirror to find that the orange smear of paint Lily thought would be funny to put all over his face is still there.

“Excuse me?” Regulus is sitting on one of the benches, tying his shiny shoes and gulping down on something that might be water. It’s a Saturday night, Christmas is just a few weeks away, they both know this shift will be exhausting them to the core.

“Any dreams that might involve little clothes, Reggie, maybe doing pottery-“

“Don’t call me that.” He hisses at James, abruptly standing up and slamming his locker shut.

“Call you what, Reggie?” James asks innocently, smirking at his reflection in the mirror as he tries to get the paint off his face. He can see Regulus walking until he’s right behind him, glaring at him through the mirror, and then walking off without saying another thing.

James makes a face at himself, wishing he could just take a peek inside Regulus’ brain to make sense of what’s going on up there. When he’s presentable he walks into the restaurant, picking up the first order and bringing around drinks, one eye on Regulus.

“I meant to tell you yesterday, but you remember I was feeling a little sick, thank god you cheered me up with your warm presence, but you didn’t say hi to me. You just walked right past me. It’s very rude, normal people say hi back, you know.” He says when they’re both standing at the bar.

“When?” Regulus demands with a sneer.

“At school, yesterday.”

“I never saw you there.”

“You did, I said hi and you just looked at me angry.”

“You’re insulting my face now?” Regulus sighs, playing with a receipt in his hands, crumpling it up and straightening it, folding it into little figures and rolling it up.

“I’m not.” James says, putting one hand on the bar at Regulus’ side. Regulus’ head snaps in that direction and looks at James’ hand as if it’s dirt, but James ignores him, going to stand right in front of Regulus, placing his other hand on Regulus’ other side so that he’s locked in place. “I think you have a beautiful face.” He whispers, lowering his own face until they’re close together.

Regulus looks up at James without any of that anger that’s usually in his face. For just less than a second there’s something peaceful about him, and it’s the first time James notices he doesn’t have two green eyes, nor two grey ones. One’s green, one’s grey. He’s never been this close to Regulus. There’s that smell of oranges again- does he eat them a lot? Is it his detergent, or aftershave, shampoo, what is it?- and even in the hot restaurant James can feel the heat coming from his body. He sees now, that Regulus’ lips are slightly parted, as if in an invitation, and his cheeks are getting flushed.

Something strange happens and James feels the muscles in his arms going slack. His stomach twists as if he’s about to be sick and he feels hot and dizzy. Quickly, he steps away from Regulus, frowning at himself. He’d just been playfully flirting with him for the past few weeks because it seemed to bother Regulus so, and he thought it funny. But this doesn’t feel like it’s for play anymore. This feels like James wants to flirt with him and see what happens. See whether Regulus likes it. No, worse, hope he likes it.

But Regulus doesn’t, the moment James steps away he looks at him angrier than ever and flees into the kitchen.

James stands at the bar by himself, waiting for an order that needs to be taken away, wondering what’s happening. Is this because of his conversation with Lily earlier that day? Is he mistaking this thing that’s going on with Regulus for what the early stages of his and Lily’s relationship was like? Is he confusing himself? Or is this real? No, but it can’t be, it’s Sophia he’s supposed to fall in love with, not Regulus.

“So, where are you from, Reggie?” He asks later that night when Regulus seems to have calmed down. The restaurant is emptying out and they’re folding cutlery into napkins for the next night.

“Have I not made it clear that we’ll never be friends, Potter?”

“Yes, but I’m choosing to ignore that. I just can’t figure out your accent.”

Regulus stares at him, mouth shut, a daring look in his otherwise empty, cold eyes.

“Oh, so you’re not talking to me anymore?” James asks playfully, seeing if he can tempt Regulus to talk nevertheless. He wants to talk to Regulus. He wants to tease him, and watch Regulus blush, and pretend he hates it though he rarely ever walks off. He wants Regulus to make snarky comments they both know James likes, and get to know him little by little through those comments.

“It’s not like the world will stop spinning when I figure out where you’re from, Reg.”

Still no answer.

“I can just ask Frank, surely he has all your information- Frank!” James yells when he sees him walk past. Frank turns to look at him and James waves him over.

“No, we’re okay, Frank! Never mind!” Regulus yells quickly, gesturing at him to walk away. Frank looks puzzled, sets a step in their direction, a step back, looks from one to the other, and then shrugs and disappears from their view.

“Have you written anything new yet?” James asks, in an attempt to get him talking.

“Yes, a murder mystery about a boy named James who was brutally murdered, want the details?” Regulus holds up one of the carved knifes and points it at James for a moment before aggressively slamming it down on the napkin and folding it inside.

“Oh! You do write about me, I’m so touched!” James exclaims, seeing Regulus’ eye twitch as he turns a bright red, entirely absorbed in his napkins all of a sudden. He’s folding as if it’s all he’s ever done, slamming knife after fork into the napkins, folding them without the care he usually reserves for the task, and carelessly throwing them in the basket.

“Did you know you’ve never asked me what I study?”

“It’s because I don’t care.” He doesn’t even look up from his folding. James thinks it’s adorable.

“Guess.”

“No.”

“It’ll be a fun friendship exercise.”

“We’re the furthest from friends two people possibly can be.”

“Why? ‘Cause we’re lovers?”

“Fine.” Regulus snaps, “If it’ll make you shut up for a moment… something with sports?”

James snorts, “You’re just saying that because you’ve seen my muscles.” He says, and Regulus starts folding even faster than James would’ve thought was humanly possible. “I know, Reggie, I’ve seen you staring aaall day looong. Don’t you want to touch them?” It’s almost hilarious how easy it is for him to make Regulus fluster, and he shoves his arms at Regulus, flexing hard as he can.

Regulus takes a step back, a vein on his forehead popping out, throbbing hard, he looks like he’s about to explode with anger and waves the fork he’s holding around as he starts talking, “If you don’t leave me alone right now I will go to Frank-“

“But you still haven’t guessed.” James says, leaning against the wall and watching Regulus set the basket in its place, leaning against the opposite wall.

“Business?”

“Ew. No.”

“Economics?”

“Is that how you see me?”

“A… teacher degree?”

“Come on now, Reggie, I thought you knew me better than that.” James sighs. “I study marine sciences.”

“Ah…” Regulus says softly, as if it makes sense. He’s not looking so hostile anymore. Funny, how easily he switches between moods.

“But, to get back to business. You’re definitely from London except there’s something else there too.” James says with a smirk.

“You promised you’ll leave me alone.” Regulus demands, jabbing his finger at James’ chest.

“Yes, yes, just tell me.”

“My family’s French, I went to school there my last few years of high school after...” Regulus looks as if there’s something he wants to add to that sentence, but he stops himself. Great, James thinks, now he’s even more curious about him. French? Seriously? He should’ve known from the start, I mean, look at him!

“Oh, that’s so romantic.” James says in a suggestive voice, “Will you say something for me, Reggie darling? Anything?” Regulus rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Please, just one word, a sexy one, for me!” Another shake of the head.

“You could also write me a very romantic poem in French, I can accept that. But it has to be a love poem, something tragic, and you also have to finally confess how ridiculously in love with me you are, and I don’t mind a little praise so if you really can’t restrain yourself I can accept some lines on my beauty, my muscles, pretty smile, all that.” There’s something like amusement in his eyes now. Something has to happen now because James feels he’s never been this close to tearing down the walls Regulus has built around himself. He’s figured out now that Regulus is mean to keep people away, create a, to him, comfortable distance from others. Probably for the same reason James keeps all relationships shallow, to avoid getting hurt.

“Reggie, will you draw me like one of your French girls?” James begs him, jumping up on the counter and laying down on one side with his head propped up in one hand, the other resting on his hip.

A light appears in Regulus’ eyes, his face breaks open and there’s a small smile on his face as he shakes his head and leaves the room, mumbling something like, “You are just… Potter.”

He can no longer remember, for some strange reason, what it was he felt for Lily, was it love? Or simply obsession?

Regulus slams his notebook shut, glares around the room and rests his face in his palms, his fingers creeping up to his cheeks to hide where they’re turning bright red.

How can it possibly be so that that cursed James Potter has taken up residence in his mind. Why in the world did he ever allow him to annoy Regulus to the point where he accidentally writes about him for an assignment! Stupid, stupid assignment. They’re no little teenage girls, are they? Fuck that professor, for making them write a corny love story, does he pay for this crap? And he thought he was clever, too! Writing some tear-jerker, something horribly tragic, two star-crossed lovers, ending it with one of them dying a heartbreaking death in a war. He thought he’d earn the highest grade in the class with it and spent all night on the piece, only to realize that one of the characters is suspiciously like James just now when he read it to the class.

His jaw is getting cramped from biting down so hard, would they know? Isn’t James pretty popular? Always at all the parties? Always found in the pub? Is there anyone in the class right now who is going to know exactly who inspired Regulus to write a character who is basically the sun himself?

As soon as class ends he sprints out the door, eager to get to home, call Barty and Evan and beg them to break his leg or something. Anything to get out of work tonight. He texted Frank, earlier in the day, to ask whether James would be there, just to mentally prepare himself, you know. James tires him, pisses him off, and makes him want to kill himself and everyone else on the planet, he needs to gather enough energy to make it through the night.

Oh, he just despises that boy. Why would a person laugh all day long? Does he have a screw loose up there? What other possible explanation could there be? And then there’s the jokes, the flirting, the brainless comments, the way the other people adore him, the empty headed look in his eyes. Ugh, Regulus just knows he doesn’t have a personality. Drinking, partying, playing sports. That’s all there is to him. Making others feel uncomfortable, he’s probably a bully too, the kind of guy put next to the nerdy girl in class so she can manage him only for him to laugh about her behind her back and ask her out for a laugh. He’s probably out every day of the week, fucking girls left and right, knowing they’re all lining up for him anyway. That kind of confidence isn’t good on anyone.

Just the thought of him makes Regulus’ blood boil. He hates the way James slams the door behind him, his charming smile, his funny talk with the customers, how he doesn’t control the volume of his voice when he speaks. He’s tiring. He tires Regulus. Would he be able to count his girlfriends on both hands? Or would he need more? He’s totally a player, no doubt.

Regulus feels a shiver run down his spine, dreading tonight. Suddenly his heart starts to race and when he listens more closely he realizes he can hear the deafening thunder of James’ attention-demanding voice. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He stops walking, the person behind him bumps into him but he can’t even think of a sneering comment, completely out of it all of a sudden. Like a lost child he turns on the spot several times before he takes cover behind a tree, flattening himself against it and taking out his phone, scrolling aimlessly to avoid looking too weird.

“Honestly, I went into that exam not even knowing what the course was about and I passed with ease…” He hears James’ voice brag as he walks past. Regulus has to press his hand to his throat to keep from gagging and throwing up. What a horrible human being is he.

A girls’ voice starts angrily hissing at him how much she hates him for being able to pass so easily while she has to work her ass off for a near pass, and Regulus nods enthusiastically to himself, oh, he loves that girl already, putting James in his place. He’s feeling courageous and curious and takes a peek around the edge of the tree to find that the girl passionately lecturing James is a redhead with lively eyes that blaze with intelligence. Is she one of his girlfriends?

Just out of curiosity, he looks a little more at the small group, interested in what sort of slimy, dirty, annoying, awful people James surrounds himself with.

His heart skips a beat, his lunch rises up to his mouth at an alarming speed, his knees buckle and he’s too slow to register it until he’s fallen to the ground. He’s made an utter fool of himself but for a moment he doesn’t even care. He sits on the ground, staring at the frozen grass, one hand pressed to his stomach, feeling sick, nearly throwing up, heart pounding out of control, tears making it hard to see clearly.

Did he just see his big brother again for the first time in five years?

A little unsteadily, he manages to push himself back on his feet, grabbing the bark of the tree for stability and hanging on to it like it’s his life line. It can’t be him, there’s no way Sirius would ever go to a place like Edinburgh. Loud, rebellious, bold Sirius, wanting to take over the world and not leave an inch of it unexplored, no, it’s not him, it just can’t be.

Sirius, if he ever went to university at all, which Regulus never assumed he would, would’ve gone to some fancier place. Something in Paris, or Berlin, Amsterdam maybe even, or Harvard, he might like to go to Australia, and if for some strange reason he decided to stay in the UK, he’d have gone to Oxford, not here. It’s the entire reason Regulus came here, because he knew who he’d never run into.

Sirius, though being the top in his class without ever putting in any effort, always hated school, learning, turning into one of the many grey mice and doing what society wants them to. Primary school, secondary, university, a job, retirement, death. He’s always despised it. Didn’t he always want to start a band? Write a legendary book? Create art that they’d hang next to Van Gogh? What the fuck is he doing on a campus in Edinburgh?

But when Regulus looks again he sees that it is, without a doubt, his big brother. The five years they’ve spent apart have changed him. He’s always been defiant, but he stands in his shoes as if the world ought to bow to him, with his chin up high and his chest puffed out. He’s wearing a leather jacket and has his hair grown long the way he always dreamt of but was never allowed to by their parents. He’s taller, obviously, and no longer a scared child hiding it behind a mask, and has grown into his features. He looks like a man? Sirius is a man? When Regulus pictured him he was always still sixteen years old, but he’s no longer who he used to be, is he?

All the memories of his brother, all the feelings of abandonment and the confusion of how he could’ve left him behind with such ease race back to the surface. His throat thickens and it’s harder to swallow, he hasn’t cried since the night Sirius left and for the second time within a few minutes he feels himself tear up.

He can’t help it, and before he knows it he’s following them into the library, taking no notice of anyone but Sirius. He doesn’t care if Sirius sees him, and is not sure whether Sirius would be able to recognize him now. Does he still think of Regulus? Why did he leave?

The moment they sit down at the table the redhead and a boy with lots of scars start flipping through their notes with panicked looks in their eyes, but James and Sirius, both the kind of guys to pass any exam without even opening the book, leisurely sit down at the table and get caught up in a lively conversation.

It seems to come so easy to them, things to say, responses, jokes, smiles and glances, are they best friends? Why do they look like they are best friends? Why does Sirius ruffle James’ hair in such a loving way and why does James playfully push Sirius’ shoulder with such familiar comfort?

They sit too far away for Regulus to make sense of what they’re saying, but he wants to know. He needs to know. He looks around him, wondering how he could possibly get closer, but all the seats near them are taken. There’s no other option, he’s going to have to take a chance and walk past them, linger a little by the bookcases close to them and hope he can catch something of their conversation.

Sirius takes out a large black notebook and opens it so that Regulus can see what’s on the pages. They’re drawings, with all sorts of paint, sketches with pencils and charcoal. Fuck, he’s good. Regulus sits back on the chair, gripping the sides of it and staring like in a trance as Sirius lazily flips through the pages and points out things for James to see. Is he an art student?

He stops at a page with a dark painting, Regulus has to narrow his eyes to make sense of what he’s seeing in the figures made of dark shades of paint, like ghosts in the darkness.

He sees it, finally, it’s a black cat sitting in an abandoned, eerie looking playroom. He doesn’t have to think twice about what that’s supposed to represent. So Sirius does miss him? He, Regulus, is the black cat, isn’t he? Didn’t Sirius used to say that he was like one? And then the abandoned room, does Sirius feel like he abandoned him? But, he left? He left without looking back?

He might be seeing and feeling things that aren’t there, but he swears his left arm is getting achy, and he feels dizzy, lightheaded, and his heart’s been beating irregularly ever since he saw Sirius, so he must be dying. This is his last chance at an explanation for what happened that night. Or the years before that.

Driven by his usually trustworthy brains, that are now fucking with him, he gets up from the chair, trying to take tiny baby steps as the world spins around him, threatening to throw him to the ground again. He’s getting closer, he smells smoke, it smells like Sirius, like the days when he’d get home late from being with Mary, and they’d been smoking together. He used to sit in the window and hope the smell wouldn’t stick, but it did, Regulus always smelled it on him.

Just a few more steps and he’ll be next to him. How will Sirius react? He tries to think, but he can’t see it. He’s spent five years dreaming up imaginary scenarios, in secret, while claiming to hate him, but they were never like this. In his dreams it was always Sirius who came looking for him because he missed him so and couldn’t stand to live another day without his baby brother.

Sirius is still pointing at things on the page, a pencil in his hand, adding small touches, James is more quiet than Regulus has ever seen him, his eyes shifting from the page to Sirius, a hand on Sirius’ backrest, a small gesture, sweet and comforting.

“…but that was years ago, you’re my brother now…” Is all he picks up from the conversation.

The world falls out from underneath him.

As fast as he can he spins around and he sprints out of the library.

Why couldn’t he just have been perfect like James?

Maybe Sirius wouldn’t have left him behind.

“Have fun at work! Try not to fall in love!” Marlene calls after him as James puts on his coat, about to leave for work.

He walks back into the living room, where she and Dorcas are on the couch, watching some comedy movie. Peter sits in his chair in the corner of the room with a hand covering his smile and Remus too looks up from his book with a grin.

“I am not in love with him!” James shoots back, glancing at the clock and hoping he won’t be too late.

“All you ever do is talk about him! Oh, the mean boy at my work did this, said this, blablabla. You never shut up about him.” Marlene continues.

James mumbles something incoherent, unable to form words, and walks out the door without another word, leaving behind the giggles coming from the living room and the smooching sounds Marlene is making.

On his walk to work the anger inside him grows. He knows Marlene’s right, though he’s not sure he’s falling in love yet, he knows there’s something growing inside of him. He’s starting to like Regulus, at the very least. It should be Sophia that’s making him feel that way.

He refuses to believe this is what it is, and gets more upset with every step he takes. How is this possible? He simply can’t comprehend any of it. He feels a deep shame settling in his stomach, a disgust for himself, for his thoughts, the weird hormones in his body, the chemicals in his brain.

For two years he couldn’t get the thought of Lily out of his head. For two years he thought he’d never, ever be able to get over her, that he’d be in love with her until the end of time. And now? Now he’s apparently gotten over her in a week? How is that a thing? How can he just do that? How can he just shrug off all those years of love, of passion and devotion. As if it’s nothing? As if he’s completely okay with this? Which he’s not. It feels like betrayal, to not love her anymore. To move on. Like betrayal to both of them, because he fought for them in the beginning and meant to fight for them until the bitter end. So why is he suddenly giving up so easily?

None of it makes sense anymore.

He arrives at work with a full mind, his heart feels heavy and he’s not sure he’s up for a whole evening of faking to be happy and content in life.

It’s as if he’s just said goodbye to the last sliver of his childhood, and it’s making him feel sick.

“Bonjour, Reg.” He says happily, temporarily forgetting about all of the confusing shit because Regulus is here.

Regulus grumbles something back and crashes into James, his shoulder bumping against him hard and making James stumble against his locker door, which slams into his hip hard and hurts like hell.

“Fuck.” He huffs out, biting his jaws together and trying to breathe through the pain. What did he deserve this to? The last time they saw each other they had… fun, almost? They said goodbye with something like a friendly feeling, and now he’s back to nothing. Or, actually, he’s arrived at something even worse than where he started.

Did he say something wrong? Do something to upset Regulus, really bad, more than his flirting does. Is Regulus mad at him? But for what?

He observes him in the kitchen. Regulus is pale, paler than he usually is. The dark circles around his eyes are darker than he’s ever seen him and his cheeks look hollowed out, with his cheekbones sticking out further than usually. He looks sick, tired, like he hasn’t eaten all week. That’s okay, James thinks, everyone gets sick from time to time. He’ll lay off a little today.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Please, for once go and annoy someone else I don’t want to do this anymore.” Regulus sneers at him. “Just go and get the pie from the freezer and leave me alone.”

“Okay.” James returns, thinking the message is quite clear. He feels a little disappointed, having been excited to see Regulus all day long, looking forward to their quarrelling and Regulus’ secret smiles. But he can do without for one night, if Regulus needs it.

He pulls open the heavy door and walks inside the freezer, feeling shivers coming up the second he enters. He breathes out, watching the white smoke travel through the room and looks through the boxes to find the one with the pie.

The air inside the freezer shifts, he grabs the box and imagines Regulus entering, apologizing for everything and pinning James up against the wall, but he shakes off the thought quickly when the feelings of betrayal rise up again. He turns, and to his surprise sees Regulus in the opening of the door, his eyebrows set low in his face, which looks dark and furious.

James opens his mouth to once again ask if he’s sure he’s okay, which obviously he isn’t, but then Regulus grabs the door and slams it shut in James’ face.

The light goes out, the freezer starts buzzing loudly as if it might explode any moment and he can actually feel the temperature drop.

He drops the box and throws his body against the door, but it doesn’t open from the inside, it’s the first thing he was told when he started working here. Never let the door fall closed when he’s inside. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh, he’s going to die in here. Did Regulus just kill him? What the hell did he do to him? James wrecks his mind, going over every of their interactions, but he can’t think of a single thing that would make Regulus actually want to murder him. He even smiled at James the last time they said goodbye!

In blind panic, he starts kicking at the door, slamming his fists against it and screaming for help.

Frank opens the door, looking James up and down weary-eyed. “You okay, James?”

“Yeah, the door fell closed, sorry.”

He leaves the box on the ground and the destroyed cake sprayed out over the floor for what it is and walks past Frank, ignoring his worried calls and looking around the restaurant for Regulus. He finds him at a table, smiling the sweet smile he reserves for customers only.

Not here, he thinks. And waits until Regulus is finished, following him back into the kitchen.

“Reggie-“

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that, Potter!” Regulus bursts out, exploding. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

“All right, sorry-“

“Frank,” Regulus stops Frank, James can see he’s making an effort to look less upset for Frank than he actually is. “Can you please not schedule me with that lunatic anymore?” He snarls, undoing his tie in swift movements that to James almost resemble pure panic. “I’m not feeling well.”

Frank looks from James to Regulus, completely fed up with their strange relation as all of their coworkers are by now. “Okay, you can-“

“Bye.” Regulus grunts, pulling open the door to the alley behind the restaurant and disappearing in the darkness of the night, leaving Frank, James, and everyone else in the kitchen staring at each other wondering what they’ve done to upset him like that.

James wonders himself too, what it is about him that seems to set people off like that. What it is that makes people dislike him once they get close, the cause of the weird looks the uncomfortable feelings and the whispers not shared with him. Is he so unlikeable that Regulus felt he had no choice but to storm out of here like that, because the thought of being around James made him sick?

Couldn’t he have been born as anyone else except for himself?

“He locked you up in the freezer?” Peter exclaims, jumping up from the barstool in his surprise.

“You’re in love with a psychopath?” Marlene adds, shuffling through the kitchen with a cup of tea filled to the very brim, and leaving a trail of sticky, way too sugary tea behind on the floor. Remus looks at it with a sigh, knowing he’ll be the one to clean it later

“And you didn’t even call the cops?” Lily’s eyes widen, focused on James with that expression of care she assumes around him.

“Yes! But I thought he was just starting to like me!” James returns, flipping the pancake in the pan as if he’s a professional. He’s effortless like that, standing in his pajamas, hair messy, glasses askew on his nose like usual, just rolled out of bed yet he’s the only one in the room without puffy sleep-deprived eyes. At first glance, if he’d seen him walking around campus in his football jersey, surrounded by his pack of privileged, misogynistic, white friends, Remus might’ve despised him. But there he is, standing at the stove, the first of them to wake in the morning to start preparing Sirius’ birthday breakfast. It’s simply impossible not to develop a soft spot for him.

Mary and Sirius are of the kind to sleep in until the day is nearly done, and though noon is getting closer Remus has no doubt they’re still snoring away in their bedrooms. He’d set his alarm way too early in the morning and decorated the entire house with James and Pete, they wouldn’t really celebrate it, Sirius doesn’t like his birthday for reasons only Mary knows, but this is the least they could do.

“But James,” Remus starts, trying to rub the sleep from his heavy eyes, and suppressing a yawn, “You’ve been flirting with him for weeks even though he made it very clear he didn’t like it, is it really so crazy he locked you up?”

“Yes!” Both Lily and Pete cry out.

“Ah, the troubles of unrequited love.” Marlene muses, leaning forward to take a sip of her tea without having to raise the cup. She forgets to blow and nearly ascends to the ceiling.

“I am not in love with him.” James bites back, suspiciously turning away from them and pouring more batter in the pans.

Remus frowns to himself as he gets up, ever since James and Lily moved in quite a lot of their conversations have revolved around this mystery boy who likes to bully James. No person talks this much about someone they don’t at least find a little interesting. He grabs the strawberries from the fridge and starts excessively washing them as James watches from the corner of his eyes. Remus ate one straight out of the bag the other day and James reacted as if he’d just slashed his own wrists, starting to tell a whole story about all the bacteria, possible toxins and small organisms on the fruit.

“Raise your hand if you think James is in love with the mean boy.” Marlene’s own hand shoots up into the air, but no others follow.

“Why won’t you just tell us his name.” Mary’s voice is croaky as she enters the kitchen, carrying her gift under her arms and placing it on the table amongst all the others.

“I don’t want you all stalking him.”

“I promise I won’t.” Marlene argues, dramatically winking at James’ back. Remus makes a mental note to himself to never trust Marlene with a secret, there’s no way she’ll ever keep it.

“Can we just change the subject?” James pleads with them, none of them are strong enough to deny James anything, so they drop the questions.

“Is Sirius still asleep?” Pete asks Mary who walks over to Remus and inspects the way he cuts the strawberries.

“Mmh.” She hums, “You should cut them into hearts.”

His head snaps up, she playfully pops the strawberry in her mouth and raises one daring eyebrow at him. He can feel his Adam’s apple bobble up and down his throat as he tries to swallow, though it’s suddenly difficult as his throat seems to have closed. Does she know something?

Alarmed, he looks around the kitchen to see if anyone else heard, but the others are still bothering James with questions on what the mystery boy looks like and whether they’ve seen him walking around campus maybe.

“No.” He huffs out, the knife unsteady in his shaking hands. He feels caught. Like he’s done something horribly wrong and Mary’s now onto him.

“That’d be strange.” He adds after having cleared his throat.

She shrugs, “Fine by me.” And climbs on Lily’s lap, engaging in a very passionate kiss. Reflexively, Remus turns his attention to James and starts thinking of ways to distract him, but James doesn’t even respond to the two girls, just smiles sweetly as if he’s genuinely happy for them and continues baking pancakes. His mouth only just doesn’t fall open and he looks at Peter, who shakes his head in disbelief. “What the fuck?” He mouths at Pete, is James finally over her?

Before he and Pete can say another thing about it they hear footsteps loudly coming down the stairs. James hisses at them to all gather at the cooking island and counts down for them to start singing the first song.

Sirius enters, in his boxers and an old band tee that Remus immediately recognizes as one of his own, he must’ve gone through his closet again and taken whatever he liked. His curly hair falls to his shoulders, not in the neat ringlets as most people see them, but more like a fluffy, fuzzy nightmare, knotted and curls sticking out here and there. His cheeks are a little rosy from his sleep and he walks in the kitchen so unknowingly, Remus feels adoration for him, and imagines grabbing him by the shirt he stole from Remus and kissing him.

He shudders, feeling nausea bubble its way up inside of him and pushes the thought away. Sirius is a boy. A very funny one, who never fails to make him laugh, who likes the same music, never asks about his scars, and is so otherworldly beautiful that even now he’s the best-looking person in the room. But still a boy.

“Happy birthday to you!” James starts singing loudly, clapping in his hands and dancing on the spot, and the rest all joins in. Sirius halts in the opening of the door and looks around in astonishment, his mouth falling open and his eyes getting wide.

James knows a lot more birthday songs than any person should and just keeps on singing and singing as Sirius stands there, a little awkwardly but still pleased with the attention, grinning like the charming person he is.

Finally he’s run out of songs, and the moment he does he rushes forwards and throws himself in Sirius’ arms. “Maybe it’s Sirius he’s in love with.” Peter whispers in Remus’ ear. Something like jealousy washes over him and he feels anger settling down in him.

Mary has to pull James off of Sirius so she can give him a hug herself, and when she’s done Lily steps forward. Oh fuck, are they all going to give him a hug? A little panicked, he watches Lily get swung around in Sirius’ arms, and wonders what he’s going to do. If Peter hugs him it’ll be weird if he doesn’t. But it’ll also be weird if he does. But maybe even weirder if he doesn’t. Or…

He had not considered this at all. Sure he knew James would probably end up getting all teary eyed and hold Sirius’ hair back as he blows out his candles, but he didn’t think all of them were expected to physically show their love for Sirius. They’re not really physical people, are they? Well, James certainly is, Marlene might even be worse if that’s possible, Sirius is but not with everyone, and Lily, Pete and Mary hug and touch the others rarely.

Peter steps forward and Sirius enthusiastically pulls him in for a hug, softly patting Peter’s cheek in a gentle way. Remus’ heart starts to race, it’s his turn. He’d love to throw up right now.

Should he just get back to cutting strawberries and pretend he never saw this hugging thing? That’s for the best. Yeah, he’ll do that.

Just as he is about to turn and sprint back to the kitchen counter with the speed of light his eye catches Sirius’, and he can’t deny the way Sirius is expectantly looking at him, for sure waiting on a hug from him. This is just the worst. Oh, he hates his life.

With immense effort he manages to set the first step in Sirius’ direction, it’s just Sirius. They’re just friends. Remus doesn’t even like him like that, he’s a boy. And Sirius definitely doesn’t like him like that because, well, look at him. Girls fall to their knees when he walks past, they’re glued to him in the club and touch him like they own him. Sirius is the straightest boy in the whole world, with his leather jackets, his cool attitude, his cigarettes and bike, and even if he did like boys it would never be someone like Remus. Not that it matters, since he doesn’t like Sirius like that.

Just a friend. Friends hug. James hugged him, and so did Pete.

It doesn’t mean anything.

Remus doesn’t know what to do with himself. Hug Sirius with his arms over his shoulders or around his waist? Or the one arm over and one under technique, that’s the most acceptable, isn’t it? For how long? Is it going to be an awkward, only touching with the arms kind of hug, or is he supposed to press their bodies together? Where will his head go? And his hands? Does he grab Sirius’ back? Lay them flat on his skin? Not touch him with hands at all? Why is hugging the most difficult thing he’s ever done?

He swallows with great difficulty, avoids Sirius’ gaze, his large twinkling eyes that currently make him look like he’s happy puppy that just got adopted, why is he so adorable? Girls only find him hot, they don’t see the way he sticks out his tongue when he paints, or hear him sing under the shower, or know about the jokes he makes and the movies he can talk along with.

So what is the next step? Hold out his arms? He wishes he could just sink through the floor, be flung into space, disintegrate on the spot or melt into a puddle and never get back into his human body again.

Is Sirius blushing? Or is that just his sleepy face? Remus’ heart drops down into his toes and he freezes on the spot, deciding that he really will run away now and fake some illness.

Except, Sirius smiles up at him and gets on the tips of his toes, which makes Remus chuckle because he’s really not that much shorter than him, and the next thing he knows Sirius has got his arms wrapped around Remus’ shoulders and is pressing their cheeks together. He can feel the heat coming from his face, or Sirius’, it’s hard to tell, and forgets all about his worries and thoughts as he wraps his own arms around Sirius’ waist and pulls him closer, stooping down a little so they end up fitting perfectly together.

Something’s drumming against his chest and he thinks it’s his own racing heart, only speeding up as the hug doesn’t stop, and he thinks how mortifyingly awkward it’ll be if Sirius can feel it against his own chest. “Happy birthday.” He whispers into Sirius’ ear to distract himself from that stupid beating heart, when he suddenly notices he can feel the drumming on the right side of his chest, and that’s not where his heart is, it’s where Sirius’ is pressed against him.

A tingling sensation rushes through his body and he feels his cheeks get even warmer, feeling like he has to step away right now but also not wanting to ever let go. He squeezes Sirius one last time and they both untangle their arms, standing opposite of each other a little breathlessly.

“Thanks, Remus.” Sirius says with his eyes cast on the floor, softly pushing Remus’ shoulder as if they didn’t just share a very passionate hug.

“21, right?”

Sirius looks up now, and oh, he’s definitely blushing. “Yeah.”

“It’s a big one.”

Sirius swallows and nods, eyes bouncing across the room until they land on someone behind Remus. He turns around and catches Mary’s eyes, there’s a small hint of a smirk on her face, one he doesn’t like, at all. He looks away from her and goes back to his strawberries, wondering what she knows.

“You okay?” He can hear Mary’s whispers and Sirius’ defiant response as he starts to strut through the kitchen, observing the decorations, the beautifully set table they’ve never used before, the breakfast and the presents waiting for him to open them.

He strains his ears, hoping to catch something of the things Sirius mutters to Mary as she follows him around the kitchen. “His loss.” Is all he can make out. Something in his stomach contracts. His loss? His as in a boyfriend? Or is that directed towards Remus? Did he do something wrong after all, or are Mary’s knowing glances brainwashing him into thinking something untrue.

“Who?” Marlene asks loudly, pulling back Sirius’ chair so he can sit, and attempting to pull back even further so he’ll fall, but Sirius isn’t one to make the same mistake twice so he wisely grabs the edges of the chair before he sits down this time.

Curiosity has never been something he can control, and he grabs the bowl of strawberries and walks to the table to find out who this he is.

“Just my little brother.” He says sullenly. Remus looks around the room, and judging by the looks on people’s faces only Mary and James are aware of the existence of this apparent little brother Sirius has.

“You have a little brother?” Remus asks him, taking a seat next to Sirius, it feels a little awkward after that hug, but they always sit next to each other and the others will absolutely notice if he chooses to sit somewhere else now.

“Sirius!” Mary suddenly squeals, jumping up from her chair and leaning over the table to reach for her present, then shoving it in his hands, “Happy birthday, dear!”

This isn’t something they talk about, then? Sirius’ little brother he didn’t even know existed until just now? He closely observes Sirius’ face and wonders if that’s the reason he doesn’t like to celebrate his birthday. He’d claimed it’s because he hates growing up and the thought of aging is abominable to him, which was honestly believable since it’s Sirius saying it, but this might just make more sense.

He tears the wrapping off with a melancholy far-off look in his eyes and Remus can see James inching closer, resting his hand on Sirius’ shoulder and he wonders what makes it so easy for James to just live happily, easily, filled with life, love and happiness, making others feel comfortable and managing a smile on Sirius’ face by just this simple touch.

Remus wishes he didn’t hate the skin he was born into and the monster hiding inside of it, he wishes to be like James, and Sirius, always smiling and joking, or kind like Lily or unbothered like Marlene or to have a mom who calls every day like Peter’s, or to be confident like Mary.

He’d like to be anyone else except himself.

Sirius stares at himself in the mirror as he brushes his teeth, heaving a large sigh and forcing a smile onto his face. He’d been pleasantly surprised in the morning, finding out about the breakfast James had prepared and all the other things done for him, and though he hadn’t wanted to celebrate it still turned out to be a fun day.

They’d spent most of it in the living room, watching movies, playing games, just lounging about. Doing nothing together, the ideal way to spend the day you turn into an actual adult, Sirius thinks.

Yet it’s nothing like he’d always expected. All birthdays hurt ever since he ran away, but this one especially. Twenty-one was supposed to be this whole thing. A week of celebrations and extravagant parties at their mansion in the country-side. Champagne coming out the fountains and hundreds of people roaming the grounds in their most beautiful suits and ballgowns. As the heir of the noble house of Black he would’ve come into insane amounts of money and would’ve been able to buy a castle with it. Presents would’ve been piled to the ceiling, paparazzi would’ve been climbing the gates trying to take the best pictures to sell to news stations.

But the most important thing of all, Regulus would’ve been right by his side. Likely wearing a suit to match his own, as they always did, giving cold looks to anyone who’d come to close and whispering jokes in his ear all throughout the ceremony so they wouldn’t die of boredom. They might’ve slipped out together, taken a few bottles of something and hidden in the gardens, away from all the people. They would’ve been together still.

He wipes his mouth on his towel and puts the toothbrush back in the cup, wondering if it would’ve been like that or if they would’ve hated each other too much to stand being in the same room.

Years have passed and he’s older now than he was back then, a scared sixteen year old seeing no other option but to leave him behind, it’s starting to eat at him more and more, this question of whether he did the right thing. But as Mary always reminds him, he can’t change it now.

Sometimes at night he’ll dream of going back to London, asking someone where he is and going there, begging for him to leave the past behind and start over together. The dream is magical but it’s not reality, and there’s not a chance Regulus will agree to that. He hates him and he made his choice, as did Sirius.

He leans forward on the sink, getting closer to the mirror, watching his features and wondering what Regulus would look like now. Growing up they were nearly identical, and though they were born a little less than two years apart people always assumed they were twins. Time’s probably changed him, while Sirius enjoyed his freedom Regulus was stuck there, wallowing in his misery, getting more bitter by the day. Sirius imagines he looks like their parents now, cold eyes, a mouth that’s permanently set in an angry stripe, he’s probably got none of the smile-lines Sirius has at the corner of his eyes and by his mouth.

The urge to find all about where he is right now is overwhelming sometimes, but it won’t do him any good. Besides, he can guess perfectly well. Regulus must be in France somewhere, he always liked life better there, studying in Paris likely, something his- their parents made him choose.

God, he’s forever thankful of that night and though on days like this it hurts, he doesn’t have the slightest bit of regret in trading that prison of a life for the happiness and freedom he knows right now.

He splashes some cold water in his face to get rid of the last of those awful thoughts and resolves to go to sleep at once and start over tomorrow.

Out on the hall he quietly shuffles to his room, knowing everyone else must be asleep already while he sat on his bed for hours long, flipping through the few of his possessions he took with him that night.

“Sirius.” He hears behind him, and he turns to find Remus, in a too large sweatshirt and sweatpants standing in the hallway. Even after all these months he’s still never seen what’s hidden behind those long sleeves, and the curiosity it spurs in him is getting more overwhelming with the day.

“Hey.” He says, and walks towards Remus, coming to a stop right before him.

“Your present was the best, thanks, again.” He whispers, seeing Remus’ face light up.

“Happy you like it.”

Remus is so mysterious, closed-off, like something untouchable. He can never tell what’s going on inside his head but the thoughtful present he gave Sirius made him wonder if maybe he’s more of a softie than he looks to be.

“You must’ve gone through a lot of trouble to find it.” It was a bundle, not just one, no a couple of David Bowie lp’s, which would’ve been amazing on itself, but they were signed too. It had to have cost a fortune and been a pain in the ass to find.

“Yeah, well, it’s you.” Remus returns, and Sirius finds himself thinking about all the possible things that sentence could mean.

He wishes he was the kind of person that could love Remus in the way he deserves to be loved.