no shade in the shadow

Someone’s knocking on her door, or rather, someone’s been knocking on her door for a while now, with pauses of silence in between. It’s probably Mary, wanting to have a cup of tea together and have a chat or something. There’s no time today, however, she’s busy.

Tomorrow’s the deadline of a very important presentation, one that counts for half of her grade for this course, so the pressure’s right there. If she fails this, she’ll have no chance at passing this course, which means she’ll have to retake it, which means in the term she’ll have to retake, there will be even more stress and pressure and things to do, and that might cause her to fail other courses as well and then the university will kick her out and she’ll have to live under a bridge.

Oh, and the day after tomorrow is the exam of the course, so if she fucks up tomorrow, there won’t even be a point in taking the exam, and all the studying of the past days will have been in vain, and she’s thrown away all those hours and days of her life and might as well drop out.

She can just perfectly picture the delight in Petunia’s eyes at seeing her return with her head down, having failed. The golden girl, the first person in her entire lineage to ever make it to university, the first woman in her family to have the privilege to dream about a future and make those dreams come true. She can’t fuck this up, she can’t fail.

Everyone will be disappointed. She herself, naturally. But her parents too, they’ve been boasting about her to anyone who will hear, and talking about the holiday house she’ll buy them when her dazzling career gets her rich. Her grandmother will be devastated to hear she didn’t finish the education she never had the chance to follow. Her aunts and uncles will be let down. Her friends over here will think she’s a loser who can’t even pass a stupid test or make a presentation.

Who even is she if not the girl working hard in school? It’s all people expect from her, and she has to keep up with those expectations, she can’t let the image shatter to pieces.

It has to be perfect. For days now all she’s done is lock herself up in her room and work, forgetting to have meals or to drink, her bladder nearly exploding and the fatigue so bad she has to hold up her eyelids to keep them from falling shut. She’s stuck in complete tunnel vision and even if she’s not working on the presentation or studying for the exam, she’s thinking about it, phrasing the next sentence, coming up with another argument, wondering if she’s followed the guidelines and didn’t forget to put anything in, looking over her summary again, studying things that weren’t even in the lectures and making the practice exam until she can dream the answers.

It's okay, right? She did her best, it’s all she can do. And she studies well. Did her best. What more can she do? And even if she does fail, she tried, that counts for something. Then the next time she can be better prepared. It’ll be fine, right? She tries so hard, it must be.

And if she passes, then it will be a relief. A moment, just a brief one, of absolute, ecstatic relief. After that short moment it will pass, she doesn’t celebrate good grades like Marlene, or boast like Sirius. It’s what everyone, including her, expects, it’s the only option. Relief, back to normal, and get focused on the next deadline. She doesn’t feel pride, as she maybe ought to, for getting the kind of grades she does, only more fear, because if she did well on this exam, she’ll have to do just as good, if not better, on the next. And if she does worse… that’s not even an option she’d like to entertain. It cannot happen.

After days of neglecting herself and struggling with the assignment it’s finally done, but now it has to be memorized. She can’t get it into her head. Unsure whether it’s exhaustion, a full head, having overworked herself or something else. It won’t get in there. She forgets the order of what she meant to say, leaves out entire sentences, and keeps taking looks at her cheat sheet, which she won’t be allowed to use tomorrow.

Why won’t it work even if she tries this hard?

The knocking’s back now and all the stress, panic, sleepless night and tears shed come rushing back as the knocking disrupts her in her efforts to drill the information into her brain.

“What!” She shrieks at the door, nausea rising up her throat as a feeling of dread and pure terror mixes in her stomach at the thought of having to stand in front of all those people tomorrow.

They will see her trembling legs as she tries to keep on her feet, the fear in her eyes, her hands that shake so badly she can barely hold a thing, they will hear her stuttering voice, errors in her speech, losing her breath because she’ll talk too fast, blacking out. A hundred people will see it all.

The door creaks open and Mary slips inside, wearing low-waisted vintage jeans, a patterned blouse and her thick woolen coat. Effortlessly stunning. Lily is in pajamas she hasn’t changed out of in days. Unwashed hair. Undoubtedly there are circles underneath her eyes. “We want to leave in a bit.” She says quietly, crossing the room and stopping next to Lily’s desk, which she leans against with a concerned look at the papers scattered all over it.

“Leave for what?”

“Dorcas’ birthday party’s tonight, did you forget?”

Lily groans, covering her face in her hands and rubbing at her tired eyes. Of course she forgot. In between the presentation, the upcoming exams and the holidays around the corner there hasn’t been a lot of time to remember things. She can’t tell Mary though, it’d be rude, to forget someone’s birthday party, and that’s not who she is. It’s not the image of her she wants people to have.

“No, ‘course not, I’ll be ready in a second.” She promises, smiling at Mary as if everything’s okay and the stress isn’t making her feel physically ill. She gathers all the pages and neatly places them in a stack on the corner of her desk, lining up her pens and markers on top of the pages, in a perfect order from longest to shortest and closes her laptop, placing that in the center of her desk.

“I’ll just bring…” She mutters under her breath, and reaches for her cheat sheets, stuffing them in her bag so she can try and memorize its contents throughout the night. Mary raises a single eyebrow at her, watching closely, perched on the edge of the desk like a stern teacher as Lily gathers her things, puts on anything else than the pajamas she’s been wearing for the past few days, and tries to make something out of her hair.

“You’ll do perfectly, you always do.” Mary says, and Lily chooses to not respond to that.

It’s the one thing people always tell her when she gets freaked out, do they not understand what pressure that puts her under?

How it makes it worse?

“There’s such a thing as overload of information, Lily.” Mary says kindly, Lily gives her a funny face, she doesn’t agree with that. She is doing a double bachelor’s, double time schedule, double the exams, the homework, the assignments, stress and panic. There is no such thing as too much studying, because there will never be enough hours in a day to do it all. If only she had a magic device to turn back time and attend all the lectures, have a little extra studying time… oh, can’t a girl dream?

“There hardly is.” She shoots back, feeling a little scattered in the head as she stumbles through her room, usually perfectly clean, now a total disaster, looking under piles of possibly dirty clothing to find an acceptable shirt to wear.

“Well, you don’t always have to be the top of the class. I have never been top of my class,” Mary holds her hand on her chest, “Yup, still alive.” Lily sighs in response to that.

“I’ve never not been top of the class.”

“It’s because you work your ass off, and though that is something to be immensely proud of you could… you could do with a simple pass, sometime, right?”

“James doesn’t even look at the contents of the course, the other day he thought we had an exam on climate change but it was actually genetics- fucking university level of genetics, a notorious exam because it only has like a ten percent pass rate and he fucking passed it.” Lily spits the words out like venom, the day old rage coming back with ease. It’s not fair, how she tries so hard and others not at all.

Good is never good enough for her, there is always better.

James and his stupid perfect memory and annoyingly high IQ makes her feel the urge to rip his head clean off his shoulders at times, it’s a great meditation thought for whenever the stress threatens to take her right out.

“Stupid annoying James.” Mary says with a chuckle, likely sensing it’s what Lily needs, a bit of James bashing at times is just such a good cure for any negative things in life. “I’ve never met a single man cooler or smarter than you, Lils.”

“Exactly!” Lily is digging through a drawer to find clean socks, when did the party start again? Will she have time to wash her hair?

“When in doubt, blame a man.” Mary is still softly chuckling, she thinks these moods Lily gets in are funny. Mary works hard too in school, obviously, but it’s different. She creates, draws, sews, that sort of thing. Lily on the other hand has to memorize the morphology of every single animal phylum since the beginning of time, and that’s just one part of one exam, it’s two completely different manners of learning, Mary hardly understands why Lily studies through the night, whereas Lily doesn’t understand why Mary would stay on campus in the weekends to continue with a project. Both think the other is a little silly.

“What would I do without you Mary?” She cries out, holding up two pairs of pants so Mary can choose which goes with the shirt the best.

“Study yourself to death and mismatch patterns.” Mary points at the flared jeans, Marlene brought it home from a trip to the thrift stores the other day and Mary stitched a bunch of flowers on them, they’re currently Lily’s favorite.

“At least I could live life undisturbed.” She jokes, sticking out her tongue to Mary, who throws her head back laughing at the sight and grabs Lily’s arm to hold as she laughs walking through the messy room of which the floor can no longer be seen.  On her way out she grabs Dorcas’ present and they walk through the ill-lit hallway, past the locked room no one’s allowed to enter and the scary portraits of Sirius’ ancestors, of which some have mustaches, awful tattoos, unibrows and other doodles on them, from time to time they’ll catch Sirius in the act but since Lily has no clue what the details of Sirius’ strange family secrets are she never says anything about it. Must be bad though, that’s blatantly obvious. He never mentions any of them, and when others talk about their family he gets quiet and tends to blend in with the shadows, which for someone like Sirius is quite extraordinary as he’s usually the loudest person in the room.

Is it something like her family? She knows Sirius has a younger brother who he refuses to talk about, which makes him an older brother. He might get along with Petunia, and maybe she would’ve gotten along with this mystery little brother. Both pairs have drifted apart after all.

She bites down on her bottom lip and turns away from the portraits, she’d rather not think about family now. Petunia hasn’t reached out to her once since she moved her, nor does she reply to any texts Lily leaves behind. She doesn’t answer the phone and Lily wouldn’t be surprised to find out she never even listens to the voicemails.

Petunia’s always been different from older sisters. She’s always been distant. She didn’t show Lily off to her girlfriends like Lily’s seen her own friends do whenever they got a baby sister. Still, at first, when Lily was very young, a toddler, it was different. Petunia loved her with all her heart and was the best sister ever, but as soon as she started going to school things changed. In their younger years she fully pretended Lily didn’t exist, but as they got older it turned into something worse.

A competition, maybe almost. It’s what Lily felt at least, as if they were always competing with one another. As if Petunia was always looking for ways to bring her down so that she might look better. She made fun of everything Lily did, called her fat and ugly on a daily basis, liked to pinch her and sneer at her, she said Lily was dumb, an attention seeker, a suck-up, she’d hide her dolls and read her diary so she could use it against her, and so much more. And yet through all of that Lily remained loyal to her. Listening to her parents whenever they said Petunia never meant any of the things she said, or wanted to do harm with the things she did. Sisters are supposed to pick on each other, aren’t they? She’s never stopped loving Petunia or hoping for a moment where things would shift and they’d finally be friendly, but it never came.

And it still hasn’t.

So will it ever come?

She sucks in her stomach and already feels regret at wearing a tight top. It’s too revealing, and shows the exact shape of her body, which isn’t something people want to look at, as Petunia says.

“You looks great, Lils.” Mary tells her as they wait for Marlene to put on her shoes, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Lily smiles at her, blushing from the kiss, wondering if Petunia’s voice in her mind telling her she’s worth nothing will ever be quieted, or if it’s something she’ll have to live with forever. If the thoughts put in there, confirmed over and over, will ever fade to the background, or if the damage is irreversible.

They untangle their bikes from the mess in the front yard and start in the direction of Dorcas’ dorm. Marlene swinging from side to side dangerously, nearly colliding with a parked car because she’s too busy showing off her skill of biking without hands and making sure she and Mary are seeing it.

When they get there they park the bikes in a sketchy looking alley at the back of the antique store of which the second story is where Dorcas lives. It’s one of the older dorms here, and even from the outside it looks horrifying. She and Mary share a look, being thankful they met Sirius and can live in a large, well-kept estate rather than this hundreds of years old mess of an apartment.

When a rat shoots past her she nearly feels her soul jump out of her skin, but out of respect for Marlene she manages to keep her reaction to a simple ear-splitting shriek, which luckily Marlene only ends up finding hilarious.

“The bell doesn’t work so I’ll just call to say we’re here.” Marlene says, holding up her phone and walking around impatiently as she waits for Dorcas to answer. “Cassie! Open up!” She yells into the phone, and then immediately hangs up before a response can get back to them, her eyes widen and she runs to Lily’s side, “Did you get the presents, I may have forgotten.”

Lily nods at her, chuckling at the look of pure relief on her face and when Dorcas opens the door they all run to the door to get out of the horrifying cold of the winter. The sun has set already, students bike through the street, drunks stagger on the footpaths and the store has a cracked window.

“Happy birthday!” Lily says, hugging Dorcas and stepping inside, only to find it might just be even colder in there than it was outside.

They’re standing in a dark small room, no windows, just the door they came from and old wooden stairs leading to something upstairs. There’s a piano covered entirely in cobwebs, boxes stacked along the walls and too much empty beer and wine bottles to count scattered on the floor.

“It’s not as fancy as what you’re all used to-“ Dorcas starts, looking at them apologetically, wringing her hands together. She’s wearing a birthday hat shaped like a cake, one of those cheap things you can buy in party shops. Marlene’s flicking at the candles on the thing with a wide grin, raising her eyebrows at Mary and Lily to get them to laugh too.

“It’s charming!” Lily breaks in quickly, not wanting her to feel bad about this place. She knows Dorcas was asked to move in with them too, and wonders why she’d prefer this nightmare over their castle. Even Lily’s old dorm wasn’t like this. A little dirty maybe, like any typical dorm, but this is taking student dorms to a whole other level.

“Come on, I’ll give you a tour.”

Lily sets the first step on the stairs and hears it creak dangerously beneath her feet. She glances back at Mary, mouthing “catch me.” at her, should the old wood give out.

The stairs lead to a little hallway where everything is made out of the same old wood as the stairs. The floor, the ceiling, the boards holding up the ceiling, the walls and the doors. She looks around the small space with a hint of stress growing inside of her, James is going to hate this. Should she warn him so he can mentally prepare, or not say anything because he could fake an illness so he won’t have to stay in this wooden box?

“So, toilet, nothing too special, and this door leads to the roof where we’ve got all the drinks.” The toilet looks questionable, Lily will risk a bladder infection if she can avoid sitting down on that thing. It’s so old fashioned, you flush by pulling a cord, there’s dirt and stains on everything. The smell is something quite unfamiliar to her, nothing like she’s ever known before, and extremely unpleasant.

Dorcas opens another door a crack and shows at the roof, covered in a thin layer of glistening snow that’s turned into ice, with the bottles of alcohol standing dangerously close to the edge, next to them are normal groceries, butter, eggs and milk, that kind of thing.

“Here’s the living room.” She opens another door that leads them into a space so small it barely fits the four of them, there’s a round table in the middle of the room with a couch and some beach chairs around it, every wall has more doors and there’s a second staircase leading upwards. There’s a sheet over the table, and plastic cups stacked on top. Balloons in the corner of the room and some party flags by the staircase. It looks depressing.

She breathes out and watches her breath turn to fog in the chilly air, and wraps her coat closer around her to keep from shivering, it’ll be rude towards Dorcas. “Sorry, it’s a bit cold but gas prices are just so insane nowadays, you know, and the windows only have a single layer, and the entire house is made from wood, so…”

“I’m not cold!” Mary argues.

“No, it’s not colder than at home!” Lily pipes in.

“These are all bedrooms,” She gestures at a few of the wooden doors, covered in drawings and posters and pictures and a lot of other crap. Lily’s surprised Mary’s still breathing, apart from fashion she’s also passionate about interior design, and this place is very obviously designed by generations of broke students.

“This is the kitchen.” The second Dorcas opens the door the most foul smell hits her, making her eyes water as she puts in a lot of effort to not gag right there right now.

There’s no fridge. Just a single countertop and some space for storage. The furnace is the kind of thing you take with you when you go camping. The light bulb flickers on and off and for some reason the window is open.

“Lovely!” She manages to squeeze out through her gritted teeth, telling herself to not touch a single thing in this house. She can’t wait for James to get here, he’s always got hand sanitizer with him.

“I’ll start making dinner.” Marlene says, and she starts opening and closing doors and drawers. Lily isn’t too convinced at leaving Marlene to cook in a wooden house, but Dorcas seems to trust her and leaves Marlene behind so she can show them the upstairs.

The bathroom might just be the worst thing she’s ever witnessed in her life. Black mold covers every surface, the shower looks like it holds every single disease known to human kind and the floor- she can’t even look at the floor or she might pass out.

“If you get too cold you can go in here.” Dorcas opens a door half the size of a normal one and takes them into a tiny room with an old battered mattress, a couple of pillows and blankets and a washing machine. After the unbearable cold everywhere else in the house the warmth here is like a blanket getting wrapped around you and she sighs contently, being so fucking happy she met Sirius super rich Black.

“And this is my room!” Finally a room that doesn’t make her feel like she could burst out in tears or get infected with the plague. She’s going to have to make an appointment at the doctor’s and get every possible injection. Dorcas’ room is clean and cozy, it actually smells nice, and is decorated lovely, homely and comfortable.

“Oh… this is really nice, look at the view!” Lily chokes out, pointing at the view of the city, lit up by the orange glow coming from the street lanterns. It almost makes up for the rest of the house, but not quite, not at all, more like. She can see the castle on top of the hill, the last of the red streaks of the setting sun in the clouds. The roofs and the chimneys, the smoke coming from them, the people on the streets and the lit up windows, behind some of which are already some Christmas trees.

“Mmh,” Dorcas hums, taking a blanket from her bed and wrapping herself in it, “I’m getting hungry, let’s check on Marlene, shall we?” She says, winking at them.

Downstairs Marlene’s sitting at the table, cutting tomatoes in a way that makes Lily’s toes curl, she’s about to have no fingers left at all, and Lily races down the stairs to help her out before they have to take a trip to the hospital. When she reaches the table and has successfully confiscated the knife, a white-haired girl walks out of the kitchen, carrying a pan with onions and corn. “We’re eating nachos.” Marlene announces, and Lily sighs internally. They eat nachos pretty much every night, and if it’s not nachos it’s noodles, and if it’s not noodles it’s frozen pizza, and if not that it’s takeaway food. Student life, it’s just magical.

The girl doesn’t say a word, she just stares at Lily and Mary with a strange look in her eyes. Her eyebrows are bleached, making her icy blue eyes look even larger than they already are, she’s wearing a poofy purple dress and Lily half expects her to whip out a magic wand and tell them all she’s a witch.

“This is Pandora, one of my roommates.” Pandora smiles at them and bows, then sets the pan on the table and walks back into the kitchen while whistling a tune.  “And I think my other roommates, Barty and Evan might say hi too later tonight.”

“Oh my god!” A voice comes from the kitchen, it’s high-pitched and sounds dreamy, as if birds and squirrels would be attracted to it and storm the house.

Marlene’s chair screeches over the floor as she jumps up from it and runs into the kitchen, and it creates a sound that makes her want to rip out her teeth. She sits down in it herself, zipping up her coat even further because the cold is starting to seep into her bones, and she gets out her presentation, just to have a quick look at it.

“Oh my god!” They hear again. Mary’s standing by the table, eyeing the chairs with a look of mild disgust, and Dorcas is fidgeting with the heaters, saying she can turn them on for a few minutes but not any longer than that.

“Come here!” Marlene yells at them from the kitchen. There’s something of excitement in Marlene’s voice which makes her suspicious, for all she knows there’s a massive rat in the kitchen that Marlene will shove in her face as a joke, but, though hesitant, she still gets up from the chair and walks into the kitchen, her arm interlinked with Mary’s in the hopes they can enjoy each other’s body heat.

“Oh my god!” Lily and Mary yell out simultaneously the moment they enter the kitchen.

Through the window they can see the apartments on the opposite side of the street, from which enormous flames come bursting out the windows and dance up the walls.

“Oh my god!” Lily yells again, for lack of a better response to witnessing another apartment go up in flames while she’s standing in one made entirely out of wood that’s probably been around since the time dinosaurs still roamed the earth.

“Call the fire department!” Dorcas shrieks, running through the kitchen and looking for a phone.

They sit on the freezing window sill, eating nachos and watching the fire department hose down the building. People are standing on the street, watching it all go down, and slowly the flames grow smaller until they disappear entirely, together with the smoke.

Lily stuffs her mouth with her last bite of soggy nachos and ketchup, resting her head against the filthy glass and looking at the others very seriously, “Don’t mention this around James, okay?”

“Plans for tonight?”

Regulus spins around, James is on the other side of the locker room, grabbing his coat and staring at Regulus with that unsure expression on his face that he’s had ever since… well, since Regulus locked him up in the freezer.

“It’s a Tuesday.” He sneers, James must not understand that concept, surely he goes to parties every day, sitting drunk in morning lectures and hangover in the afternoon ones, smelling still of beer. Though, Regulus has to admit he never looks as musty as the other popular football pricks.

James shrugs, innocently staring out of his black holes of eyes with that empty-headed look in them. It’s as if there’s nothing behind it, just darkness. Regulus can’t tell if he’s just that dumb, a psychopath, or hiding something else. He doubts any other sane person has noticed the strange look in James’ eyes, most people probably only see his gorgeous smile and forget about the rest of him.

Some unknown, far off part of his soul becomes heavy, aching, even, when he sees that emptiness in James’ eyes.

It’s familiar, he sees the same thing when he looks in the mirror, and he knows how it feels.

“You’re still a student.” He replies, taking his glasses from his face and cleaning them on the front of his shirt.

Regulus stares, he doesn’t much care what James thinks of him anymore now, not after he, rather impulsively, locked him up, and he searches James’ eyes for anything that betrays that he is a person, with feelings, emotions, the usual.

He looks up from his glasses, and there’s nothing. Just the emptiness. Sometimes when James jokes or does the awful flirting his eyes light up, the other day when he dropped a plate Regulus thought he saw a hint of devastation that couldn’t possibly be caused by just a smashed plate, and of course, when James walked out of the freezer that day his eyes were screaming all sorts of things. Fear, panic, confusion.

It was almost enough to make Regulus feel bad about what he’d done, seeing how James lost his composure, which he normally keeps perfectly, almost as if he’s performing. Almost. Not quite. After all, James has Sirius when Regulus doesn’t. Sirius loves him more. Sirius sees him as his brother. If that’s not enough reasons to maybe accidentally or purposely lock someone up in a freezer, with the intention of getting him out after giving the littlest of scares, then what is?

Doesn’t make him a villain, just a sensible person handing out karma where needed.

He turns his back to James, not in the mood to get caught up in his mind games, and resumes his sorry attempt at stuffing his blazer in his backpack.

“I’d invite you to the party I’m going to, but then again you did try to kill me so I think-“

“Oh it can think?” Regulus feels the corner of his mouth move upwards, almost curls into a smile, but he catches it just in time and forces his mouth back into a sneer. He frowns at himself, no, he just said he wouldn’t do this anymore. No more mind games. No more picking on James, letting him do the flirting. No more of that confusing situation.

He doesn’t understand James. A fucking walking contradiction. Everyone looks at him and sees the effortlessly handsome monster he is, and all Regulus can focus on are the empty eyes. Nightmarish. What is up with him anyway?

“The acceptance rate here isn’t very high, if you’d been able to think you might’ve realized I’m not as dumb as you want me to be.”

“I don’t want you to be anything.” Regulus has finally managed to close his zipper and slings his backpack on, about to walk out the door and go home when James speaks again.

“Just dead, right?”

He rolls his eyes, hand on the doorhandle, no mind games, no mind games, no mind games, don’t give him what he wants he’ll only come back begging for more.

“I was planning on getting you out, Frank beat me to it.” He’s still not facing James, turned with his back to him. He just wishes he could understand what goes on in his mind. Why are all his words, his facial expressions, his tone, his movements so calculated? Why does he follow Regulus around all the time, why does he smile more naturally with him than with any of the girls he tirelessly flirts with? Why is Regulus the only boy he flirts with? Why, if Regulus likes to think he's so good at reading people and figuring them out in a moment’s time, can’t he figure out James Potter?

“You shouldn’t have done it in the first place.” He clicks his tongue in frustration, James doesn’t have to go around playing perfect boy with him, Regulus can’t stand it. The whole act. People are allowed to be messy and flawed, and people who don’t dare to be are true losers in his opinion.

It’s part of why he hates James so, together with the whole Sirius thing. James Potter is that perfect guy, the one everyone wants, even if they can get only a glimpse of him. A wave in the hallway, a kind smile, a kiss at a party. He has a perfect personality, perfect grades, perfect family, perfect friends, except for Sirius, a perfect fucking life. So what is that hidden depth in those shallow eyes? Why does he pretend? Regulus likes truth, raw authenticity, even if it’s ugly, he doesn’t like this polished performance.

“Don’t pretend to be an angel, Potter, you and I both know what kind of guy you are, now, have fun harassing girls and bullying anyone below your standards tonight.” He sneers, pressing down the handle and stepping outside. It’s freezing, they haven’t seen the sun in weeks, the lack of vitamin D is properly fucking people up. Regulus shivers, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket before his skin can get the chance to crack in the cold.

“Wait, what? That’s the kind of guy you think I am?” James’ voice cracks. Add that to his collection of evidence against James sunshine Potter. James might think he knows just what to say to piss off Regulus enough to get him to say something stupid, but that’s a gift they both share. Mind games. Always the mind games. Not a single of their conversations have ever been as easy as that, two people casually talking. It’s always more, somehow.

“Are you not?” Regulus looks over his shoulder, James is still in full suit, tie loosened, hair sticking up in all directions as if he’s been struck with lightning a thousand times over.

There’s humanity in his eyes.

“Look, Regulus, I’m sure I did something wrong to piss you off this much and I’m sorry, and if I did, I never meant to harass or bully you, I thought we were just messing around with each other to… kill the time here or whatever. I never knew it really bothered you like that, but if it did then truly, I am very sorry.” He’s practically begging, Regulus half expects him to fall to his knees, oh and that whiny voice is doing something to his organs. Regulus makes sure his face looks cold as stone. No cracks.

He can’t think of a sneer, an insult, a quick and cruel thing to say, “You… no it’s not something you did just- oh your lovely girlfriend is getting impatient.” The girl is tapping her feet to the ground, eyes shooting fire. Regulus doesn’t understand James at all but what he understands least is why any person on this planet would go out with a girl like that. Then again, who is Regulus to say that?

“You don’t hate me?” James moves in front of him, blocking his path.

“No, I do hate you.”

“What the fuck did I do wrong?” He whispers, from the corner of his eyes Regulus can see the girl watching their every move like a hawk, how funny would it be if he just kissed James right now? He loves a good dramatic breakup.

However, he’d rather die than kiss a slimy creature like James Potter, “Nothing, Potter! Can’t I just hate you for no reason? Now get the fuck out of my way.” Regulus sneers, walking past James and sprinting around the corner. James doesn’t follow him, or say something else, and Regulus walks as if he’s got the devil on his heels, those kissing thoughts are making him sick to his stomach and he must get home quick as he can to get his mind on something else.

As soon as he’s made it to safety he sneakily looks around the corner, he watches as James and the girl share a very bland, impassionate kiss and walk off.

“Who are we stalking today, Reg?” He hears Barty behind him.

“It’s not Sirius again, is it? It’s too cold tonight to spy.” Evan adds.

Regulus sighs, turning around to face his friends. The ones who didn’t abandon him, but remained by his side through all things, big and small. They’re not scared away so easily, not like Sirius.

“No, no one. I’m not spying. My place or yours?” He followed Sirius home one time because he forgot where uncle Alphard’s house was and now the two idiots pretend as if stalking is all he ever does. Is it a crime he wanted to have a look at the one house he does actually have nice memories of? And it only made him more pissed because Sirius has turned it into a student shithole, bikes in the front lawn, empty beer crates on the porch, Regulus doesn’t even want to know about the state of the indoors. Worst of all, James lives there. James, his nemesis, his archenemy, the one person he hates most, lives in the house that Regulus used to spend summers in. Sirius had better not given any of his ratty friends Regulus’ old room because he will start a war. His stuff is still there, imagine James going through the old closets and finding Regulus’ diaries? What if he already has? He can never look James in the eyes again.

“Yours, Dorcas is having a party.” He blows out air, watches his breath comes out like a cloud, swirl through the air, Evan’s lighter clicks as he lights a cigarette and Regulus starts walking to his room. The night he left home he raided the secret stash of cash money behind one of the paintings, he was able to buy himself a very decent studio, but as it turns out supporting yourself is more expensive than he’d thought. He should’ve planned his freedom more meticulously and taken more money because then he wouldn’t be stuck here at the restaurant, tolerating the clown behavior of James.

“She didn’t even invite us?” He jokes, he met Dorcas once when he was high, Evan’s fault, by the way, and could only do as much as brabble strange words, in French as the story tells, and go on and on about some stupid book theory. Evan and Barty had thought it too funny to stop him but Dorcas must think him a weirdo now. Not the best first impression.

“No she invited all of Marlene’s friends and she thinks we won’t like them, and- what did she say again? All I remember is it was offensive?” Barty turns to Evan, arching an eyebrow.

“She was afraid we’d sell them pills that would have them end up in the hospital.” Evan repeats in a silly voice, exhaling the smoke through his nose, it makes him looks like a dragon, Regulus waves his hand in front of his face before the dirty smell can get stuck to his skin.

“Right, that was it. Smart girl.” Barty nods, stealing the joint from between Evan’s lips and inhaling.

“Can’t even do business in our own home anymore.”

“I don’t want to say hi.” Regulus tells them.

Barty and Evan share a look and burst out in laughter, “Regulus you only come to our place if no one else is home, I doubt she’s aware of your existence.”

“So I really wasn’t invited? Not even to say hi?”

“Oh, he’s provoking us, Ev, let’s get him home before he can get the chance to follow James and spy on him as he fucks his girlfriend.”

Regulus’ mouth falls open, he pushes Barty against a wall, “I have never, never, done that.” He says calmly, Barty only smiles at him, mockingly narrowing his eyes and grimacing as Regulus always does when he gets mad.

“All right I was just bloody joking Reg no need to get all upset now.” He says eventually, pushing Regulus away and walking on.

“I still don’t like what you’re implicating.”

“Well I wouldn’t put it past you s’all.” When they reach the door to his studio Regulus snatches the joint out of Barty’s mouth and grinds it into nothingness with his heel. “No smoking inside.”

Regulus zips his jacket up all the way, sticking his chin inside to keep warm. Barty and Evan look back longingly, neither of them very enthusiastic about going up there and saying hi at the party. Regulus doesn’t see what the issue is, they adore Marlene, surely she has nice friends they’ll like. He just hopes they’re quick with it, honestly it’s too fucking cold to stay here any longer than a minute. He sighs, gazing at the stars and leaning against a tree. It’s a clear, dark, extremely cold night. The darker the night, the brighter the stars, the more everything hurts until his soul feels so heavy he can hear his heart breaking.

How many of those stars are long dead by now? Haunting earth with their light the way Sirius haunts him in life?

He doesn’t think he will ever speak to Sirius again, but sometimes it’s nice to look at the stars and wonder if Sirius is too, if he’s thinking of him.

It’s strange to know that after all these years they are so close to each other again, Regulus has to walk only five minutes from his studio and he’d be at Sirius’ front door.

Even from down here, when he looks up at the stars, they look close to one another, one might reach out and touch the one closest, or so they’d make you believe, in reality they are light years apart and will likely never cross paths. Days continue to move from one to the next and Regulus is still stuck in the past, trying to move at the speed of light and turn it back, turn it back so he could’ve left at the right time.

Standing on the street he can hear the loud voices of drunk people coming from inside. He counts the bikes and wonders how on earth they’ve managed to fit that many people in there. Not his problem, he’s just happy he won’t have to sit in the cold there and deal with drunks.

“Text me when you get there?” Regulus quickly moves to hide behind the tree, cursing at the universe. Why does this keep happening to him? Why is he running into James literally everywhere? What cruel trick of faith is this? Twist the knife, all right, it’s not like he wasn’t suffering enough already.

When he was young Regulus thought there was only a certain amount of tragedy in each person’s life, that you’d fill a pool or something and at a certain point it would simply stop and life would turn into a beautiful magical fairytale. Even now life has a way of surprising him with the cruel things that get thrown at his feet.

He watches through the opened door, sees James still in his suit kissing goodbye the horrid girlfriend, still no sparks, even across the street Regulus can feel the cold emptiness in their non existent passion.

Suddenly he connects the dots.

Panic makes shivers roll down his spine, because if James is there then that means Sirius is too.

Barty and Evan have just gone inside.

Which means they will recognize each other.

He can feel the blood flow out of his head, gets dizzy, black blotches in his vision, gripping the cold bark of the tree, who up there hates him this much?

He doesn’t want to see him, face him, confront him, the memories, he doesn’t want to know what Sirius did in all those years they were apart, and he doesn’t want him to come looking for him, he doesn’t want him to come running outside and see him, he doesn’t want to look at Sirius’ face when he’s not sure if he’s still his little brother.

He will never forget how Sirius left without hesitation.

He doesn’t want to be the only one mourning everything they used to have when Sirius has clearly forgotten and moved on, picked a new brother to love more dearly than he ever could love Regulus.

He’s ashamed, mortified at how much he misses his brother, but he will continue to because they are no longer family.

How could he possibly still love him after that?

He cannot let it go.

He will never forgive him.

Fuck, Sirius will know he’s here now.

“We’re not staying that long, though.” James tells Sophia, who’s hanging from his arm and pressed against him as if she’s afraid someone might steal him away. They’re walking through town, trying to find Dorcas’ apartment in the dark of the night.

“Aw, why not?” She returns, pouting and tugging at his arm. She thinks, for some reason, there’ll be other people at the party as well. He’s tried to tell her it’s going to be just them, but she’s convinced of the opposite, which is probably also the only reason she’s here in the first place. She’s not the biggest fan of his friends, but then again she won’t say no to free beer.

“Lily’s presentation is tomorrow so I’m taking her home early.”

Sophia clicks her tongue in disapproval, he can tell she wants to say something but decided against it the last moment. It likely wasn’t something nice, but that’s no surprise anymore, there’s never a good thing coming out of her mouth when she talks about Lily. He’s tried to explain to her that he’s really over her now, they’ll never, ever get back together, it’s done. Does that mean he’s all in for Sophia now? He doesn’t know yet. What he feels for her isn’t at all like what he felt for Lily. In fact, he’s not sure he feels anything when it comes to her, good nor bad. She’s just there, and they’re sort of together which means he’s willing to tolerate her presence.

But that’s where that ends.

His acting is phenomenal, and though she must know something’s up, he doesn’t think she’s aware of his true feelings, or lack of feelings toward her. She’s just not his kind of girl, is what his heart says. But his brain knows it’s a stupid opinion to form about someone he knows nothing about. Her family? A mystery. Hobbies? Never asked her about it. Dreams and hopes for the future, stories of her childhood, her favorite movie or anything else? He hasn’t got a clue. Before he writes her off as a failure in the field of love he should try and get to know her first.

He opens his mouth, meaning to ask her a question, anything that will help him learn something about her, but his mind is blank and no questions come to mind. He’s just not interested.

An awkward silence passes over them, and she’s got to feel it too. There’s no spark. A mutual disinterest for the other yet they keep coming back for something, the hope there’s still a chance at growing feelings, at falling in love even.

Looking at her doesn’t make something inside him burn, her touch leaves him unbothered and every moment he spends with her he’s thinking of ways to say goodbye and separate ways. They both know this won’t go anywhere and they should put a stop to it, but neither of them do it.

James isn’t sure how he’d do that. He’s never dumped someone before, but Lily knows all about that one so he should just ask her for advice, all the ins and outs, the best lines and whatever. She’s the queen of breaking hearts and the best teacher he could imagine.

A faint sensation of smoke hits his nose, but it must just be all the heaters and fireplaces working overtime to avoid all the poor students from freezing to death in their homes, so he shrugs it off and glances up at the apartments above the stores, looking for the one entirely made from wood.

“That’s it.” His voice sounds angry and he can see Sophia’s face closing off at his tone as she always does. She never likes it when he talks like that. Saying stupid things like, ‘it’s the tone that makes the music’, or whatever. Lily never says things like that. She understands him and that words tend to leave his mouth in a certain way, not like he intends them to sound.

Sirius’ bike is by the door and the second Dorcas opens the door he lets go off Sophia’s arm and sprints up the stairs, walking through the cold, smelly house until he finds Sirius.

Sophia and he are the latest to join the party, since he had to work late. He finds everyone gathered around a table in a miniscule room with ceilings so low Remus has to duck and bend through his knees, he can feel just how cold it is, since it’s that kind of cold where the air burns through your nose as you breathe in, and everyone’s clutching their coats and rubbing their hands together. Peter looks close to tears, shivering and clattering his teeth with Marlene on his lap, her limbs folded together in a small ball to preserve some of her body heat.

“The place has got a lovely history.” Remus says, grinning a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which seem to be sending secret messages which James receives as something along the lines of, ‘oh my god I have never been so cold in my life please save me.’ His words, not James’, James himself has only just recovered from the shock of being locked up in the freezer at work the other day, so this feels like a summer holiday.

“Hey Julia!” Lily waves at Sophia, mischievously grinning.

Marlene starts snickering too, clapping in her hands with glee, “No, it’s Emma, isn’t it?” She adds, hanging over the table so she can high five Lily.

James shakes his head at them, Sophia ignores it.

“You look so handsome in your suit.” Mary’s sitting on a beer crate- is that a layer of ice on the table?- and tugs at his pants with approval. He smiles a little unhappily, the thin fabric of the suit is a little unfortunate at the moment, a good pair of jeans would’ve been warmer, but was he supposed to just know about the criminal temperatures here through telepathy?

Lily is trying to comb her hair in such a way that it keeps her neck warm and Sirius and Remus are leaning against one of the walls, since there’s no place left to sit around the table, taking turns holding Remus’ lighter up to their faces.

“How was Loverboy?” Marlene chokes out through her clattering teeth, rubbing her hands together and stuffing them inside Peter’s coat.

“Still not talking to me.” He replies briskly, feeling even colder at the reminder of Regulus’ strange behavior. At first he just had an obvious dislike for James, but now it’s turned into something like hatred. Pure, burning hatred. The kind of hatred that made him lock James up in a freezer. Which would be reasonable if only James knows what he’s done, but he doesn’t. He’s replayed all of their interactions and just can’t find whatever it’s supposed to be.

“Want a beer?” Dorcas holds one up in front of his face, “Helps with the cold.” Sophia takes two bottles and presses one in James’ hands, watching him hold it with a daring look in her eyes. She knows Marcus and the other boys drink and she’s been trying to get James to admit why he won’t.

“I’d rather have a cup of tea.” Sirius announces, glaring at Sophia and dragging James into a very smelly kitchen.

“I don’t want tea, thanks Sirius.”

Sirius scoffs, “Me neither, I’m not touching anything in here. Why are you still going out with her? She is evil, and I haven’t met Loverboy but I bet even he’s nicer to you from what I’ve heard.”

“I don’t know Sirius, just… she likes me, all right?”

“She likes you? That’s why you keep bringing her around so she can kill the mood and suck all happiness out of the room? Many people like you, James.”

“Hmmm.” He hums, a little absent-mindedly, it’s not entirely true. Many people like the James he shows to them, only very few people have seen the real him and they’re either bound to him by blood or… Lily, too kind a person to acknowledge the existence of any of his bad personality traits, and he’s got those, more than people would be able to guess by taking a look at him.

Not even Sirius would truly be able to appreciate who he actually is inside, he doesn’t think so at least. He won’t let him get the chance to see it.

“If I’d start going out with every girl who likes me I wouldn’t have room to breathe anymore. Oh could you imagine how furious Remus would be? He gets pissed when I kiss one, let alone hundreds of them! I think he might start carrying around weapons and getting rid of whoever looks in my direction.” Sirius rambles on, leaning against the counter, deep in thought.

James wonders how on earth it hasn’t made sense to him yet why Remus does the things he does. Is Sirius that oblivious?

“We should start getting worried about the fate of the human race if I’d start going out with every girl who likes me. Is that really why you’re with her?”

“You’re touching the counter.”

Sirius shrieks, jumping up and shooting across the room. “Kill me please, James, I can just smell the viruses floating through the air here.”

“Just kiss a girl and Remus might do it for you, mate.” James says with a laugh, “And besides, you arrogant prick, not that many girls like you.”

Sirius grins that prize-winning grin of his, the one that makes all the girls swoon, and steps closer to him, twirling a dark curl around his fingers in a very comical manner. “Are you jealous James, is that it? You’re not too hideous yourself, I’d do you, if I was drunk enough.”

“Why am I not surprised they have a secret sexual relationship?” Mary asks Lily, as they enter the kitchen.

“Does Satan’s minion know you let Sirius fuck you?” Lily adds with a snort.

“Whow!” James holds up his hands and kicks Sirius in the shin when he tries to kiss his cheek, “Why’d you think Sirius would be fucking me!”

“He’s got a point, Lils.” Mary agrees, and Lily starts to nod, chuckling to herself as she stares at Sirius and James, until suddenly she shakes her head, makes a sound as if a ghost has just walked through her body and turns away from them.

“I’m picturing it now, oh god please help me get this image out of my head.”

Sirius barks out some laughter, laces his fingers through James’ and walks him out of the kitchen, his eyes on Lily in an effort to make her laugh even harder. James lets it happen to him, he likes to see Lily be happy like that, and couldn’t have been more proud of her for finding some nice friends that treat her well for a change. She’s got a habit of hanging out with people that have little friends, letting herself be used and abused and still not understand why that person has no friends except her. During high school she used to be friends with this total creep who’d bully her, make fun of her and that kind of thing, yet she kept talking to him because she thought he was so sad and lonely and couldn’t help what he did.

Back in the living room, or rather, the open space with the table, Sirius’ eyes fall on Sophia and James can tell from the mischievous glint in his eyes that he’s going to do something to provoke her. Sirius’ free hand moves to James’ butt and he squeezes hard, laughing at his own genius already while Sophia, sitting by herself on the stairs looks at Sirius with a look in her eyes that’s obvious she’s attempting to kill him with her thoughts.

Sadly, Sirius did it just as they passed Marlene, who is much easier provoked than Sophia, and can’t ignore an invitation like this. Marlene’s known for touching butts, especially during times of high stress, so in weeks like these with exams coming up they all walk through the house with pillows tied around their hips. It’s endearing, funny, and they all know it’s her way of saying she loves them. But oh, she must really love James because the sound her hand made when she slapped his butt cheeks must’ve echoed all the way to Antarctica, where, by the way, it probably would’ve been even warmer than here, and after that she pokes her finger up his butt.

 James hits his head on the ceiling and grips the table for support, “Marlene! I could feel your finger all the way in the back of my throat!” He cries out, and a chorus of laughter erupts all throughout the room, accompanied by sighs of relief from all the seated, and therefore safe people.

Quick as he can he grabs a chair and sits down, preventing a second wave from entering him, and once Mary and Lily have returned with a cup of tea for him they start playing drinking games. The games paired with the cold cause everyone to drink like their lives depend on it, and soon enough everyone except for James is slurring their words and looking cross-eyed, and James pretends to sip his tea and make sure not to touch the cup, keeping an eye on Lily so he knows when she wants to leave.

He checks his watch, and sees midnight is nearing. Lily’s presentation is early in the morning and he’d expected to be long gone by now, so he nudges her with his elbow, “Do you want to go yet?” He asks, hoping she does, she waves his question off and mouths something he doesn’t catch over all the other sounds in the room, she probably doesn’t want to go, not yet.

He loves his friends, truly, but he doesn’t love sitting with a bunch of drunk people while he’s the only sober one, longing to be able to be like others and drink as they do without having to worry about addiction. Every second he spends with his peers is a reminder slapping him across the face, he’s not like them.

As the beginnings of doubt and sadness creep into him he looks at Remus. Mysterious Remus. No one knows where he’s originally from, where he went to school, where his family is. No one knows what caused those scars. There’s got to be something up with him. And then there’s Sirius, who, the more James gets to know him the more he starts to realize comes from a very troubled background. Nothing’s been confirmed but James is pretty sure he was abused and that’s why he ran away. Everyone’s got their own thing, their own shit, so why does he always feel like he’s so alone in his struggles? Finally he’s found people he could share everything with and he still doesn’t. After his talk with Lily the other day he reverted back to his familiar silence and pretending to be okay, and he doesn’t for the life of him know how to talk about himself, how to share, connect, give pieces of himself away.

Sometimes he wishes it’d be easier. He wishes to be sick, get sick, look sick. He looks at his reflection and wonders if it will ever show who he really is on the inside. If only he wasn’t conventionally attractive, somewhat charismatic, what the professionals call ‘high functioning’, maybe people would understand more.

he’s good at masking, at pretending he’s normal and at fitting in. He’s good at hiding away and people would never know he’s neurodivergent if he didn’t tell them. His presence doesn’t make others uncomfortable, they tolerate him easily and see him as an equal, unaware of what’s beneath the surface. He spends his whole life masking his flaws so it doesn’t affect others or make them uncomfortable when really he’s the one struggling. Does looking okay mean he functions well? Does it mean there’s not something in his brain that makes him dysfunctional? Disabled? Sick? Of course not, no one cares about that, they care only about how well you fit in and look like all the rest.

How could anyone accept he’s sick when he looks and acts fine? How can they ever understand when he doesn’t fit the look of someone who’s sick? He hasn’t got a feeding tube in his nose, a shaved head, visible scars or wounds. He’s only got his mind.

The cars on the road outside, the buzzing of the harsh, white lights, the cold, Mary tapping her feet against the floor, Lily playing with the cards in her hand, the bottles of beer clacking against the table when they’re being set down, Peter drumming his fingers against the table, Sirius talking loudly and laughing even louder, it’s all getting too much. He can feel the skin around his throat being pulled too tight, is aware of every blink and swallow, can’t remember how to position his tongue or keep his teeth from knocking together which will make his jaw hurt, and feels his heart drum in his fingers.

It's there again, the inexplicable sadness, the one that comes quietly, without him noticing, but will stick to him for days. Anything can trigger it and he has no idea how to get rid of it once it’s there.

He’s got to get out of here, but instead of running off he starts picking at the skin on his knuckles and stays in his seat, counting down the seconds in hopes it won’t be long now before Lily will want to go.

Pandora, Dorcas’ roommate, shuffles the cards and hands them out, they’re sticky and smell of beer, and James gets the feeling no one’s really sure what game they’re playing anymore. But it’s not like there’s anything else to do so they try to get on the same line for another round of hoping to drink some warmth into their bodies. At home they might’ve piled up on the couch and watched a movie, danced a little, had some sleepy talks or baked cookies, but everyone’s reluctant to get up from around the table and wander the horror apartment in search of something to do, somewhere to be.

“Will you play with us this time, Sophia?” Pandora asks in that dreamy voice of hers, holding out a stack of cards for Sophia to grab.

She’s been sitting on the stairs by herself all evening, by choice, not by lack of trying from the girls who want her to join, but she lazily looks up and shakes her head. “No thanks.” She sighs, glaring at Lily and Mary, “Not with you people.” She adds in a hushed voice, James happens to hear it because he’s close to the stairs, and with panic rising inside of him he looks around to see if anyone else noticed. She’s making him look so bad, dragging down his reputation of a nice boy, and he hates that. What nice boy would go out with a bitch like her?

“Excuse me?” Peter, sitting next to James, cries out.

Sophia shrugs innocently, “I’m good.”

“Have you ever considered getting bangs to hide that landing strip of a forehead you’ve got?” Peter whispers through gritted teeth, just low enough Sophia doesn’t hear, but getting laughter from the rest. Sophia rolls her eyes at the table and leans back on the stairs, looking indifferent yet angry.

Fucking hell, how did he get in this situation. Look at that, there’s Lily, rosy cheeks, kind smile, giving him a half-hug every once in a while to help with the cold, love bursting out of every one of her pores, and then there’s Sophia, sitting by herself, not wanting to mingle with his friends and being snarky whenever they try to talk to her.

He pushes the untouched cup of tea away from him and gets up from the chair, his muscles aching from sitting still in the cold and his toes numb, and walks into the hallway. Why the fuck is he even going out with her? Because she likes him? That just sounds awfully pathetic, and he’s not even sure she likes him. The image of him maybe, or the fact she can boast about being with him. But him as a person? No, absolutely not.

She’s supposed to make him happy, but she doesn’t. She makes him feel wanted, and like he’s someone that can still be desirable despite his flaws, and that’s important to him, so then maybe she does make him happy?

Trapped, he feels trapped. A headache starts to form in his temples, drumming their way to the core of his head and making him see a little foggy. He squeezes his eyes, breathing through his nose and hoping this isn’t the kind of headache that stays until he falls asleep. It wasn’t smart of him, he knew that, to come here after work, but it would’ve been rude to cancel, rude, rude, rude, and that he can’t be. He’d rather have headaches like this all day than let someone down.

In search of some fresh air he sprints down the stairs and sits down on the little bench of the withered piano. He rests his elbows on the dusty thing, and his face in his hands. He can’t leave now, not without Lily, and she doesn’t want to go yet. What if he’d taken anyone else. Someone who’s not Sophia, a girl who does like his friends? Or… or maybe Regulus? That’s a strange thought. He shakes it off quickly, it’s just one of those weird thoughts his brain shoves to the foreground, one others would write off as irrational, but he gets hung up on it.

He takes his phone from his pocket, a little curiosity’s never hurt anyone, and types in Regulus’ name. Regulus… Regulus who? Weeks of bugging him, getting him to tell about himself and he hasn’t even remembered to ask his last name?

Regulus Edinburgh, he types. Nothing. Regulus London, that’s where he was from. Still nothing. It’s not like Regulus is such a basic name, it should’ve been easy to find him. His heart is racing with anticipation and he wants to find him, something about him. His old soccer team, his parent’s Facebook page, pictures friends of him have posted to social media.

He tries about a million more things, Regulus literature, Regulus English literature, Regulus author, Regulus French. It all comes up empty.

“What the fuck?” He hears Sophia’s voice and jolts up, quickly turning off his phone. “So you leave me alone up there so you can sneak out and Google some guy?”

“No, that’s not what I was doing.”

“I’ve been standing on these stairs for minutes, it’s exactly what you were doing.” She’s been spying on him, what the fuck? Is she insane?

“I just… needed to know something.”

“Are you gay, James, is that it?”

His heart skips a beat, for a moment he stands with his mouth hanging open, his mind blank, taken by total surprise. This is the last he imagined he’d get thrown in his face today. Is he gay? Is she suffering from a brain bleed? Why would she think he’s gay? “What?!”

“All of your friends are, so it wouldn’t be too much of a coincidence if you fit right in!”

“All of my friends, what the fuck are you talking about?” He stammers, confident she’s in over her head with jealousy, anger and whatever other things haunt her, and now she’s just blaming it on him and his friends.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way that scarred giant and pretty boy look at each other!” Remus and… Remus and Sirius? Remus he doesn’t think is gay, bi maybe. He definitely has this thing for Sirius, might even be in love with him, but… wait Sirius? Sirius who kisses at least ten girls per weekend? Sirius who brings them home more often than not and kicks them out in the morning? There’s no way.

“Sirius? Of all people you think Sirius is gay?”

“I know he is! And what about you?” Wow, suddenly he feels a lot better about himself, because he’s never reached this level of delusion.

“I’m not, Sophia!” He doesn’t like guys. He’s been in love with Lily for the past eight years, he’s literally dating Sophia. Maybe, maybe he’s a little attracted to guys. And he likes to flirt with Regulus. Okay, and he’s definitely very attracted to Regulus, his unique eyes, the cracks in his mask, his hidden grins, how he talks about literature and gets all excited, how he’s mean to James and James is flirty in return, it’s a fun dynamic, an enjoyable one for sure.

“Then why do you never look in my direction, or talk to me, do you even like me?”

He blinks, a little stunned, “I like you!”

“Well, I doubt it, you always look like you want to be somewhere else when you’re with me, you only let me touch you on rare occasions and you’ve been ignoring me all night!” She hisses, pointing up the stairs where the voices of his friends can be clearly heard through the thin wooden walls. She looks very upset, which throws him off. He hadn’t thought this would upset her. So far he’s felt like they’ve just been having a little fun together, but has she been wanting it to turn into something more all this time?

“I haven’t been ignoring you, I’m here with my friends and you won’t talk to them!” He shoots back, it’s a big issue. How can he be with someone who despises his friends?

“So why don’t we get out of here?”

“Because it’s Dorcas’ party.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, which is rising and falling rapidly, “You haven’t answered my question.” She says with a false calmness in her trembling voice.

“What question?”

“Do you like me?”

He falters, he doesn’t. Not the way he used to like Lily. Not even the way he likes Regulus. But her eyes look so sad and he can see the quiver in her bottom lip, and is afraid to break her heart. “Yes, yes of course I fucking like you.”

She lets out a large breath, her arms fall back to her sides and she looks a little less angry. “So why are we still just fucking around then, it’s been months and I feel like we’re just not getting anywhere.”

“What do you mean?” Of course he knows what she means, he’s not an idiot. He just doesn’t want what she wants , but he knows he’s also not capable of hurting her.

“I mean… are we in a relationship? Is that what you want or do you not want anything serious?”

He bites his lip, holding back the Sirius joke on the tip of his tongue, not the right time or place, “You want to be my girlfriend, is that it?”

“Yes, James, that’s exactly it.” He swallows down the bile forming at the back of his throat. He hadn’t expected such honesty from her. He never intended for any of this. He just wanted to be with someone to prove to himself he could be with someone. This will only end badly.

“Okay, fine, so you’re my girlfriend and I’m your boyfriend.” He mutters with a frown, this is not at all what he wants. What has he done?

“Really, you really want this?”

No, no I really don’t want this. “Why would I do this if I didn’t want it?”

“Oh my god! Yes, finally!” Her face lights up, and she jumps in his arms and kisses him. He holds her up, feeling nothing when she kisses him, when her hands disappear underneath his shirt, when she presses them closer together. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want her. Saying it now would be mean, cruel, but not saying anything is selfish, even crueler still. So he just holds her and lets her have him.

A new voice sounds outside the front door. “Do we have to go in?” It’s a guy’s voice.

“Dorcas really wanted us to come by and meet Marlene’s friends.” A second voice says, this one sounds gentler, softer.

“Fine.” The first voice spits out.

The lock on the door clicks and it swings open, slamming against the wall and two boys step inside, immediately coming to a stop when they find James and Sophia, pressed up against the piano.  

“Oh, well, excuse us, carry on.” One of them says, and they both rush up the stairs.

James chuckles and sets down Sopia, turning his back to her and following the boys, “Sorry, you’re Dorcas’ roommates?” He asks, stopping them just before they’re up the stairs.

A white haired boy with strangely light blue eyes meets him halfway on the stairs, holding out his hand. His skin is pale, nearly see-through, and he’s got an eccentric way of moving around. “Hi, I’m Evan, this is Barty.” He points at the boy next to him. Dark hair and even darker eyes, a face full of piercings and a scary-looking expression. They’re like two opposites, an angel and a devil, light and darkness, yet they complement each other and look close.

“I’m James.” He tells them, completely forgotten Sophia by now, he grabs Evan’s hand, icy cold, and they exchange a firm handshake.

Barty’s lips curl up into a smirk like a hyena’s, he walks down one of the steps so he’s closer to James, and tilts his head to the side, taking in all of him. James swears he can feel Barty’s eyes penetrating his soul. “Ah, James… James Potter, by any chance?” He murmurs, his eyes traveling down the length of James’ body.

He’s starting to feel slightly uncomfortable, and nods hesitantly, wondering how these weird boys he’s never, ever seen in his life know about him. He’s popular, obviously, but this popular? “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Oh, we’ve heard so, so much about you, James Potter.” His smirk grows, and he looks at Evan, raising his eyebrows. “Hmm, he’s as handsome as in the stories isn’t he?” Barty muses, and Evan laughs at him, gripping Barty’s shoulder as he smirks down at James, then both of them suddenly get a strange look on their faces.

“…we shouldn’t go upstairs…” He hears one of them say, and they get into a very heated, whispering discussion, there halfway up the creaking, rotting stairs.

James bites on the inside of his cheek, well, this is a strange situation. He wonders how they know him, what stories they’ve heard and why they’re smirking like that, why they won’t go upstairs, but before he’s got the chance to ask any questions Sophia’s pulling at his hand and telling him she’s going to another party, so he lets the boys go up the stairs and goes down them himself, so he can say goodbye to his very beloved girlfriend.

Sirius is dizzy, light-headed, and can almost taste the hangover he’ll be suffering tomorrow at the back of his throat. It’ll be a bad one, for sure. Remus is sitting next to him. Close enough Sirius can hear him breathing. He can smell his aftershave, not sure exactly what it smells like, but it’s something manly, mixed with cigarettes, booze and Remus’ own scent, something criminally attractive. Even though they’re wearing layers of clothes Sirius can feel the heat coming from Remus’ body and the cherry on top is, of course, their thighs.

They’re touching.

Their thighs are touching.

He’s over the moon, dancing on a pink cloud, and all the feelings he usually ignores when he’s sober he can no longer deny.

Remus is manspreading, his hands folded together in his lap, his legs spread out under the table, pressing his thigh against Sirius’, and it’s driving him mad. He looks down, not too obviously, and looks at them, his own jeans making contact with Remus’, and he feels the heat. Not just where they’re touching. No, he feels it everywhere.

This moment can never end, Remus’ leg can never leave and Sirius has been sitting as still as he physically can for so long he’s getting cramped, but it’s okay, because he and Remus are touching.

Ironic, isn’t it? He, of all people, he who can get every girl on the planet, he is in love with Remus Lupin, one of his best friends. One of the very few people he can’t have.

In love?

Wait, what was that? Was that really a thought that formed in his head?

Is he in love with Remus?

No, it can’t be.

He looks to his side, gazing at the outline of Remus’ face in the dim room. Sirius has eyes, saying Remus is unattractive is lying, but many people are attractive. Mary is attractive, but he’s not in love with her. James is painfully handsome, but he’s not in love with him.

Remus turns his head to Sirius and looks at him for a moment, and Sirius feels the heat get worse in his body. Spreading from his stomach to all other places, from his toes to the tips of his ears, everything’s burning.

Oh god, he’s in love with Remus Lupin.

He turns away from Remus and looks back at the table, his gaze focused on the wall, attempting to ignore Remus’ presence, which seems impossible.

It’s driving him insane, to be so close to Remus.

But Remus is a boy so does that mean…? Does that make him gay? Or bi, or something else? Is that possible? He was in love with Mary once, he thinks. Though his heart never lurched through his body when he was close to Mary the way it’s doing now in Remus’ proximity. Wait. His head jerks up, and he stares at Mary. Was he ever even in love with her?

Or any of the other girls? None of them have made him feel anything even remotely similar to this.

Huh? Is he gay? He folds his hands in his lap, the lights have finally been dimmed, everyone’s getting either too drunk or too tired and they’re sitting around the table like a bunch of ghosts, not even feeling the cold any longer.

He’s always been interested in boys, but more than any person should be? Isn’t it natural, that curiosity? Maybe he’s just straight but likes Remus. He’s always felt something when looking at attractive guys, but just set it aside as feelings of jealousy. Was it ever jealousy?

The alcohol is making his mind foggy, and it’s either that or it really doesn’t bother him, but he thinks he’s fine with being gay. Apart from Mary there’s no one from his childhood here, no one he’s got to impress, no one who knows of his family, his reputation, the image he has to uphold. He’s in a room full of supportive loving people who wouldn’t even bat an eye at his sexuality, whatever that might be. So what if he’s gay?

Regulus was. He’s never said it outright, but Sirius always knew, and it never made him look at his little brother in a different way.

But what about Remus?

The lights flicker back on, and he’s blinking hard against the sudden, harsh white lights, shook from a hazy dream, and he looks around the room at his friends, shielding their eyes with their hands and looking around for whoever turned them on.

“Oh, there you are, finally!” Pandora gets up from her chair and walks to the entrance, pulling two reluctant looking boys into the room.

Sirius squints his eyes against the light and looks up, he’s heard something about Dorcas and Pandora’s other roommates coming to say hi, but that information entered in one ear and immediately flew out the other.

He recognizes them at once, how could he not?

His heart drops and then shoots back up his throat, and it seems to be expanding, getting larger with every beat as if it might tear him apart from the inside any moment now. Even in this cold he feels sweat break out on his face and the first thought that crosses his mind is how stupid he is. How obvious. How strange neither he nor Pandora apparently connected the dots.

“This is my twin brother Evan…” Pandora announces to the room, introducing the two boys, and Sirius feels like he’s got to get out of there before they recognize him.

If they’re here… does that mean he is too?

“Fuck.” Sirius chokes out, suddenly short of breath, sucking in the air and gasping like a fish on land. His lungs have shriveled to a sad bit of skin, a deflated balloon, after all these years of smoking and he can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe.

Panic hits him, he’s wheezing and grips the table, digging his nails into the material, hunched over in an effort to hide his face.

“Sirius, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Remus’ voice is in his ear and he straightens his spine, pushing his chest forward, he’s just got to get his lungs to expand again, just a little oxygen before he loses it.

Is Regulus in Edinburgh? Has he been so close all this time? Will he want to see Sirius?

“No.” He huffs out, and pushes his chair back, he squeezes himself in between the wall and the others, climbing over the backs of the chairs, walking right past the two boys, not even caring whether they recognize him or not, and walks into the hallway.

He hears James downstairs, with the hag, and it seems like they’re saying goodbye which is good because Sirius needs him right now. He needs to find Regulus and he needs James to come with him. He needs to tell him about what happened. About their parents, their family, how Sirius rebelled and Regulus receded into the shadows. About the night he left him.

“Sirius?” It’s one of them, though he can hardly tell which one. It’s been five years and the last time he saw them they were only boys.

The last time he saw them Regulus was still a small boy, looking younger than most his age, though he was lightyears ahead of them. Sirius always meant for him to be a child longer than he was, but he couldn’t prevent Regulus from growing mature before it was time to happen. He’s almost nineteen, probably a man by now.

Barty and Evan were always a bad influence on him, but they were the only ones who understood the kind of family they came from, so though Sirius tried he could never stop them from being together.

“Is he here.” He spins around and pins Evan up against the wall, an arm over his throat while he keeps Barty at a safe distance with his free hand.

Even when they were boys they were dangerous, being raised by psychopaths doesn’t create any kind-hearted people. He can only imagine the state of their psyche now, and knows that their upbringing is the exact one that creates serial killers. Would Regulus be like that?

Nothing happens. He’d expected them to put up a fight, pull knifes, kick him down the stairs. But both stand quietly, exchanging glances.

There’s a certain maturity in their eyes, something sensible. Did they manage to overcome their youth? Grow in the opposite direction of the monsters their parents have tried to shape them into?

“He’s in Paris.” Evan says after a moment, a moment of what? Was that hesitation? Why did it take them several moments of silence before answering such a simple question?

“You know he’d never go to a shithole like this place.”

I wouldn’t have either. But this is the only place he imagined Regulus would never go, and now he’s not so sure he was right about that.

“What are you doing here then?” It seems the air has stopped moving, as have all of them, Evan is calm and looking at him, but Barty is starting to shift on his feet.

“I couldn’t go anywhere without my sister, I’m not like you, Sirius.” Evan snaps at him, and pushes Sirius backwards. He stumbles and manages to grab the banister of the stairs just in time before he falls down.

“That’s not fair.” He whispers, tears forming in his eyes.

“Nothing was.” Barty says, shoving him like Evan did before, and spitting at his feet.

Sirius feels paralyzed, and doesn’t say another word as he watches them go down the stairs. He listens as they say an amicable goodbye to James and is still gripping the banister when James appears at the top of the stairs.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” James jokes, poking at Sirius’ cheek. Two, actually. “Maybe lay back a little on the beer, yeah? I’ll see if Lily’s ready to leave yet.”

Sirius grabs James’ wrist, pulling him back.

“Sirius?” James frowns, looking concerned. Sirius doesn’t feel steady on his feet, James’ face is blurring, he can hardly concentrate on his kind eyes now, which usually always bring him back to sanity when he needs it. “What happened?”

Does he want James to know all of that? All of the mess that is his life? “I’m so drunk.” He groans, he doesn’t want to tell James. He doesn’t want him, the only person who unconditionally loves Sirius, to stop doing exactly that. He needs James more than he needs air and can’t do a single thing to compromise their relationship.

“Why don’t you try and puke it all out while I find Lily?” He says, guiding Sirius to the toilet and walking into the room with the table.

He’s not here. For a moment he felt a spark of hope. If he was here he could’ve figured out where he lived, what he studied. He could’ve surprised him with a visit and ask for another chance.

Now he’s back to nothing. The ancient and most noble house of Black has not posted any updates on their heir ever since Regulus graduated earlier that year, and there’s no way of knowing where exactly in Paris he is. It’s not like he can wander Paris until the end of time in hopes he’ll run into him.

“Fuck!” He screams out and kicks against the wall. The wood splinters slightly and his chest is heaving. He needs to get this energy out somehow. He should’ve known. He should’ve remembered the name of Evan’s weird sister, he should’ve recognized her manner of speech, her white hair and blue eyes, her movements, he should’ve left the moment he could.

He pulls open the one door Dorcas didn’t include in the tour and sees it’s a storage room. Evan and Barty live here, and though Regulus apparently doesn’t, there must be something of him here. An old picture, a sweater they borrowed, a postcard or something that holds information to Regulus’ whereabouts.  

The first box comes up empty, he kicks aside the vacuum and rips through the room. Nothing. There’s nothing in here that even points in the direction of Regulus’ existence. Why couldn’t the asshole just send a postcard with his address, one that you’d throw into a box and keep though you’ll never look at it again. How difficult would that have been!

He sinks down on the floor and tries to get back in control of his breathing. Should he tell Mary? She never knew Regulus’ friends, and there’s not a chance she miraculously suspected who they were. It’s probably for the best he keeps this to himself. He promises her he no longer thinks of the past, that he’s been able to grow past it. There’s no point in ruining that and worrying her.

Mary always promised him he made the right choice, leaving. He did it to save himself and he couldn’t have stayed there any longer. Regulus could’ve gone, but he didn’t. Mary tells him it’s not Sirius’ fault.

But it was, wasn’t it? He’s Regulus’ older brother, he shouldn’t have left him behind, no matter what happened.

Regulus is in Paris. Sirius is here. He left him. It’s a choice he made. It’s the choice that brought him here, with his friends, in a shitty wooden apartment on a weekday as if they haven’t got classes early in the morning. He’s happy. He should be happy. He deserves it, after all he’s been through.

Feeling better is an overstatement, but at least he feels nothing. He feels numb, and he just wants to drink himself to near death tonight and rot in bed all day tomorrow, so he gets up. His eye falls on a massive kitchen torch. That’ll be nice, he thinks, give them all a good scare so they won’t think too much about him running out the room while having a very obvious panic attack, screaming and getting screamed at, and sitting in here for a while, all by himself.

The switch has flipped in his mind. With the torch in his hand he feels a sense of euphoria, he feels invincible and thinks of nothing anymore. His mind is blank and the world is blurry, as if he’s watching through the screen of a videogame, playing a character while he’s safely on the couch with the controller in his hands. He’s got total power.

“Found a little something to warm up all you poor peasants!” He yells out when he pushes open the door, he holds the torch up and turns it on. A massive flame shoots into the air, travelling much further than he’d expected, and growing much larger. The heat momentarily steals the oxygen from the air and after the initial surprise everyone steps away from him.

“What the fuck, Sirius!” Mary screams at him, taking large strides through the room and stealing away the torch as she slaps him across the face. Lily bursts out in tears and starts mumbling something like, “Not again, not again.” And James is staring at him with large eyes, filled with fear.

Well, mission achieved.

“Bet I can chug this beer the fastest!” He holds one up and daringly looks at Peter, holding one out for him as well. Something. He just needs to do something.

It’s long past midnight. Everyone’s forgotten about his little stunt from earlier, and so has he, to be fair.

He’s set a new record for the maximum amount of alcohol a person can drink without dying, and is completely off the earth.

Large parts of the night are black gaps in his memory, and everything feels like a dream. One moment he’s in the kitchen and the next he’s out on the roof. Spawning places, moving slowly, no longer in control of muscles or speech. And the rest isn’t much better off.

As it turns out, it’s just one of those nights. One of those nights where everyone for their own reasons drinks too much, goes way over the limit, and has lost total control. The vibe is off, there’s an eerie feeling to everything, yet no one cares even a tiny bit.

From one moment to the next he finds himself in Pandora’s room. It smells weird. Witchy. There’s a suspicious amount of crystals everywhere and he has a vague feeling she’s going to sacrifice someone as a human offering. He wouldn’t put it past her. After all, he now knows where she’s from, and human offerings would be considered lame at a Rosier party.

“…it’s high in iron, so this is what I have to drink every day.” She finishes, holding up a bottle of lemonade.

“Does it really taste like blood?” Marlene asks, and Sirius’ head snaps in that direction. A Rosier claiming she has to drink lemonade that just happens to taste like blood? Hell no, that is blood. Though he’s never much known Pandora, Evan’s always had this weirdness about him. Sirius wouldn’t put it past them to be fallen angels, turned devils, turned humans, and they just radiate this gothic essence, like spooky fairytales turned into feared myths. The Loch Ness monster hiding under the surface, demons mingling with humans. A haunted, lingering pain that runs deep is etched into their faces, to see only for those who know it themselves.

“Try it.”

Marlene puts the bottle to her lips and takes a large sip, swooshing the liquid around in her mouth until her eyes suddenly widen. She spits it all out and the red stuff stains Sirius’ shirt.

“Ew!” He yells, and Marlene breaks out into a fit of giggles, collapsing on Pandora’s bed.

He runs from the room, making his way to the kitchen to clean it off and sees James and Peter sitting on the floor next to a wall, covered entirely in doodles they’ve drawn on in the past hours. James should’ve known better, he thinks. James doesn’t drink. Sober people should be sensible.

He runs over, grabs the front of James’ shirt and waits until he exhales in Sirius’ face. Alcohol. He smells like alcohol. If Sirius wasn’t on the verge of brain death he would’ve dragged him from the house, through the streets, all the way to his room, and scolded him for drinking. The only students who don’t normally drink, not even a sip, are ones with a history of addiction. He doesn’t want to assume things that aren’t true, but he trusts his gut. James shouldn’t be drinking.

“You idiot, James.” He slurs, his thoughts too scattered to put into words his true feelings.

“I just did a shot with Pete, no big deal my tolerance is just shit, that’s all.” He shoots back, tugging at Sirius’ curls and continuing to draw dicks truly everywhere on the walls, and leaving messages saying, ‘James was here’, or ‘Sirius you’re not my mom’. Peter giggles at it and starts drawing up a portrait of James.

Dorcas is passed out on the table, Mary and Lily are blasting rock songs and screeching along to the lyrics, fingers intertwined and leaning on each other so as not to fall down.

In the kitchen he sees Remus, sitting on the edge of the window and smoking a cigarette.

“Careful not to fall.” Sirius tells him as he turns on the water and starts to splash it on his shirt, but the stain only spreads and soon he looks as if he’s just eaten someone and still has the remains of blood on him to show for it.

“Would never.” He slurs, and proves it by leaning out even more.

His hand slips on the ice outside and within the blink of an eye he’s gone.

“Remus!” Sirius shouts, his movements are slow and difficult, and by the time he reaches the window Remus has already pulled himself back in the room.

“Oopsie.” He says in a neutral voice, and continues to smoke.

What a strange fucking dream this is.

“Gotta piss.” Sirius mumbles, but Remus seems not to hear and leans his head against the window, puffing out the smoke and catching it with his hands.

The door is locked and he’s pulling on it, “Open the fuck up!”

“We’re not girls, Sirius, I won’t pee with you in the room.” Peter shoots back.

“Ugh!” His bladder is going to explode dangerously soon, and he ventures out on the roof, walking circles around it and wondering how far he’s fallen that he’s about to piss on this roof. The ice is slippery, and he’s way too drunk. The edge is close and he gets on hands and knees, crawling over the ice and hurting his hands in the process. He goes past all the windows until he reaches one that looks into a room with posters of rock bands up on the walls. This has got to be Barty’s room.

His hands are numb, the blood flow in his arms has come to a stop, the wind is brutal against his bare skin.

If this isn’t the perfect place to take a piss, then he doesn’t know what is.

“Sirius, you know I don’t want you guys going on the roof when you’re this drunk, you were supposed to ask me for a drink!” James comes walking around the corner, but falters when he sees Sirius pissing against Barty’s bedroom window.

“Toilet was taken.” Is all the explanation he offers.

James has got a massive dick drawn on his forehead and his work suit looks sloppy. Tie undone, buttons loosened, jacket thrown away in the apartment somewhere. His hair is messy and- what the fuck. If he remembers correctly, James is Regulus’ exact type. Oh, fuck earlier that day, he’s suddenly very thankful Regulus is in Paris.

Imagine if the two met. Regulus would be head over heels, James can’t help loving everyone, they’d be disgustingly in love, for sure. And Sirius would have to murder both of them.

“Wanna try?” He points at the window and waits for James to be finished pissing.

“You don’t like this Barty guy?” James asks as his piss trinkles against the window, Sirius hopes some of it will seep into the room, it’s a shame the window’s closed, but then again everything in this apartment is of questionable quality, so he might just be lucky.

Though that’s weird. How can three people coming from some of the richest families in England end up in a house like this? They’d have to have run away, like he did.

“Sirius?” The thought vanishes, and the moment it’s gone he can’t remember what it was, or why it was slightly upsetting.

“Huh. No. I don’t know.” He mutters, trying to get back into that train of thought from earlier, but it’s far out of his reach and he doesn’t remember where to search for it.

“I’m getting cold.” He adds, and he gets back on all fours and crawls to the door, James close behind him.

“It hurts my hands, James!” He cries out, James picks him up and pretty much carries him to the door, whistling a song in his ear.

They reach the door, and it has a window in it, and through that they can see Lily and Mary, standing behind it, wiggling their eyebrows at them and giggling hard.

“They locked it!” James cries out, pulling at the door like a madman.

“I’m too tired for this bullshit.” Sirius sighs, and he lays down in the snow, folding his hands under his head and wondering whether he’ll ever wake up again if he falls asleep now.

When he wakes up he’s in the living room. James is ordering everyone around, distributing pillows and blankets and cups of tea and tall glasses of water.

The walls are drawn on, filled with doodles and quotes, all of his friends are covered in new tattoos left there by Lily’s pastel markers, and when he looks on the clock it’s five AM and Lily’s presentation is only three hours away.

And he’s also still horribly drunk.

“How long was I out for?” Sirius groans, stretching his aching body.

James looks at him with a frown, “Less than five minutes, idiot, now get up we’re all going to bed.”

“Here?”

“Yes here, I’m not biking home with a bunch of people as drunk as you all are.”

“Fine.” He grunts, rolling off the table and getting to his feet. The girls will soon pile into bed together, but for now are taking turns throwing up in the bathroom, Peter takes the bean bag in the living room that looks like many children have been conceived on it, and James walks around with an inflatable mattrass under his arm which he takes into the hallway upstairs, where it’s warmer.

Sirius and Remus are still at the table when everyone else is gone, drinking the water James has ordered them to drink, though it’s very difficult when your body is crying out to throw up.

“Done! I was first, I won!” Sirius slams his glass down on the table and it shatters on impact, which makes Remus, who’s covered in dicks the same as James, burst out into laughter. Sirius feels bad now, Dorcas won’t like seeing one of her glasses shattered on the floor, but then he remembers it’s Barty and Evan’s glass too, and he doesn’t even care about it any longer. In fact, he won’t even clean it, they can do that tomorrow.

“Where will we sleep?” He sighs, looking around the room. There’s the carpeted floor, which looks not only uncomfortable but also so dirty he wouldn’t even want to touch it with a hazmat suit on, and of course the plastic, foldable beach chairs, it’ll only be two hours until they have to get up anyway, so it might not be the worst thing in the world to sleep on those.

Remus lets his head fall back, Sirius can’t stop staring at him, his neck on full display, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat when he swallows, a vein throbbing, all that skin just begging him to put his mouth on it. He’s just about to lean in and- do something, he’s not sure what, a girl he might just kiss, leave a hickey that’ll hurt, but Remus, with his scars running in all direction is making him want to softly leave a trail of kisses.

He puts his hand on the backrest of Remus’ chair and tries to not think too much about what he’s going to do, he’s drunk anyway, that’s all the justification he needs in case Remus turns him down, but Remus suddenly sits up straight and points at the ceiling.

“In that hellhole with the dirty mattress, come on.” He says, a smirk growing on his face, and then he’s the one leaning in, getting closer and closer to Sirius, Sirius parts his lips, anticipating what he knows for sure will happen now, the thing that as it turns out he’s secretly been wishing to happen all this time. “We’ll be the only ones not freezing to death tonight.” He whispers in Sirius’ ear, his breath warm as it reaches his skin, and it’s sending sparks through his body, sparks he’s never felt before, in an intensity he never imagined to be possible.

The tip of Remus’ nose touches his ear, and Sirius is seeing visions of them at an altar, fuck- he’s turning into a girl. Is this what having a crush does to a person? Will he be drawing hearts around Remus’ name soon, putting pictures of him in a locket he’ll wear close to his heart, stand outside his door at night to listen to him breathing? Being in love feels similar to madness and Sirius does not feel any accountability for his actions at the moment.

He leans in slightly, his heart is in his throat, he feels nauseous and his hands are shaking, desperately he attempts to swallow, but his mouth is dry and he’s afraid to lick his lips but also thinks it’s the only way he can make known right now what he wants, what he really yearns for.

What invisible rules are they anyway, that tell him he can’t lace his fingers through Remus’? That he cannot have their fingers graze the other and wait for Remus to fully grab him, hold him. Why can’t he look in Remus’ eyes and dream some dream, picture a life together? Or kiss him. Why shouldn’t he kiss him?

His head turns, he’s thinking of something to say, something to whisper in Remus’ ear in return, something that will reveal what he wants to say so badly, but will not entirely betray him. His mind comes up empty, he’s way too drunk, and though the alcohol makes him brave, it also makes him stumble, lose his natural charisma, forget all the lines he’d normally use.

Not that it matters, because Sirius miscalculated the distance between their faces, and didn’t quite realize before just how close he and Remus actually were. Remus, like Sirius, drunk beyond what a person could normally take, isn’t fast enough to respond to what happens and pull away, and Sirius? He doesn’t mind what’s happening at all, and no way he’ll be the first of them pulling away.

All that it is, is pure luck, the gods being on his side for once, for the first time. Their faces line up perfectly and their lips graze each other, lightly, only just but barely at all, and though it’s for less than a second it’s so exhilarating he knows nothing else in life will ever top this, and he’ll spend the rest of his days desperately chasing this high.

Whereas Sirius is seeing a Cupid flying through the room shooting arrows at them, Remus seems to not register what just happened and gets up from his chair, stretching as if they didn’t just almost, sort of, pretty much, kissed.

Fuck, Sirius sits back, huffing out breaths and sucking in air and wondering why he still has to do it if Remus doesn’t even care about what just happened.

To make matters worse, as if he didn’t just go through enough horror, Remus is stretching big, yawning, raising his arms all that, and oh god, his sweater lifts.

His sweater lifts.

He might as well have jammed his fingers in a socket because what happens to him then has the exact same effect. Electricity runs through him, his brain goes down with a sizzle and his heart thinks it’s being resuscitated.

Potential embarrassment and weirding Remus out are no longer terms that are part of his vocabulary, because he’s staring, he’s staring hard and he makes sure to memorize every last detail, and if Remus notices how hard he’s staring, so fucking be it, just let him have this.

He can see Remus’ lower belly. His jeans hanging low on his hips, waistband of his boxers peeking out. Weeks he’s spent trying to figure out what Remus’s mystery of a body looks like underneath all those layers, and here it is at last.

His skin is pale, unlike his hands and face. Has this part of him really never seen the light of day? And since when does Remus work out? Not once has he seen him exercise in any way of the word, or eat healthy. In fact, Remus might be the most unhealthy person he knows. Smoking cigarettes all day long, eating chocolate in quantities that could scare any doctor to death, forgetting meals or eating six meals a day, with no in between, he wheezes like a grandpa when he walks up the stairs and needs several minutes of regulating his breathing after laughing.

Remus working out is about as rare as seeing a man turn into a werewolf in broad daylight. Which is to say, it never happens, never has, and never will.

So why does he have abs?

They’re there, in all their glory, for everyone, or rather, for only Sirius to see. He can see the shadows the light cast on their outlines, the hard blocks of skin in his soft belly, the V-lines carving through his hips and disappearing to a place he would love to see so badly, but can’t. There’s a trail of light brown hair running from the middle of his abs down into that waistband that nearly makes him drool and oh- he can actually feel his brains melting and leaking out of his ears.

And the scars. The fucking scars.

Similar to those he knows so well, the long lines of white, thick skin, running all over his lower abdomen. Criss-crossing, going in all directions, looking just perfect for his fingers to run over them, follow them wherever they might lead.

Did he mention the vein popping out just above his boxers?

Sirius is losing it.

“We can just go home now.” Remus offers, and no, oh no, no, no, no, no he’s putting his arms down and the sweater moves back in place and there’s no skin left to see any longer.

“Hmm, but if James wakes up tomorrow and can’t find us here… yeah let’s just sleep here.” He adds, consumed in thought, so painfully unaware of Sirius sitting next to him with his jaw unhinged and his eyes large and dilated enough to put shame to the black holes up in space.

His muscles have been disconnected from his mind, his bones are sorry piles of cells that no longer sit together stable, he’s going to die in this chair. He will wither, lose his hair, turn into a pile of ashes before he manages to get up.

“We shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Why did Dorcas buy so much booze? It was like a dare, how could we ever say not to free alcohol in such amounts, right Sirius? Sirius?” Remus shakes his shoulders. “I won’t carry you, okay? You have to walk yourself.”

“Fine.” He grunts, taking back control of his body, keeping his eyes on the floor and forcing himself up on his feet.

They stumble upstairs, and find James fast asleep, curled up on his half inflated mattress, probably passed out before he could finish getting it ready.

“Aw.” They admire him for a moment, taking pictures that they’ll bribe him with in the future and then duck, walking through the tiny door into the tinier room.

The heat makes him sleepy at once and he can feel his eyelids pressing down, his body yearning for a good nap.

They stare at the single mattress, and the couple of dirty blankets next to it.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Sirius suggests.

Remus turns to face him, “No, I hate that, we’re not doing that. You always win, because you’re playing psychological games, I know you, Sirius. It’s unfair, unfair.” He says, getting very upset about it, eyes widened scarily.

“C’mon Remus, don’t be a baby. It’s the most fair, here.” Sirius holds out his hand, and waits as Remus mutters nasty words for a while, kicking at the mattress, and then finally holds his own fist out.

“Rock, paper, scissors.” They both say.

Remus wins, Sirius does play psychological games, he knows Remus always goes for paper, usually it’s funny to him to do scissors in return, but Remus is looking so nice today, he let him win.

“Hey! Hey, I really like this game! What a lovely, and absolutely fair game! We should do this a lot more often!” Remus starts rambling, kneeling down and grabbing some of the stained, dusty blankets to hand them to Sirius, probably.

Sirius stands against the wall awkwardly, slightly ducking, looking at the dirty mattress and the blankets right next to it. The room is so small that even with the current sleeping arrangement it’ll be as if they’re sharing a large bed, and that thought is doing things to Sirius that he never experienced before.

What now? Take off his clothes? Or will they sleep in their jeans? Remus likely will, so it’s best if Sirius does too, just so it won’t be too weird. Right?

He kicks off his shoes and sets a step into the middle of the room so he can get onto the sort of, just slightly, comfortable yet dirty looking pile of blankets Remus has made for him, and just then Remus straightens his legs and gets back up again. His head hits the ceiling and he ducks again, holding the top of his head and rubbing over it with a painful look on his face.

“You okay?” Sirius asks softly, there’s no need to speak at a normal volume, they’re so, so close to each other.

Remus chuckles under his breath, rubbing over his head one last time and completely messing up his hair and god- this should be illegal. His hair standing up in all directions, his cheeks flushed with the warmth of the room, his eyes sleepy and droopy, his grin lopsided and the freckles all over his face catching the light of the moon that peeks in through the small ceiling in the roof.

“I’m… good, Sirius. Very good.” The way he says his name, the very good. What does it all mean? Why can’t he have super special eyes made by a crazy scientist that allow him to look into Remus’ mind and know exactly what he’s thinking?

“That’s just perfect, Remus.” That just perfect? Ugh, he sounds like an idiot. Just perfect. What is just perfect? Remus hitting his head and having a large bruise by tomorrow?

“Hmm.” He hums, and he looks up now, for the first time.

Did he just shuffle a little closer to Sirius?

His eyes catch Sirius, and it must be magic, or faith, or exactly what was written in the stars, because the moon hits Remus’ eyes and make them look like actual moons. Is that even humanly possible? To have eyes so green and light they look yellow in certain light?

“Good night, Sirius.” Remus mumbles, and there was so no need at all to add his name in that sentence and Sirius is about 99 percent sure that saying someone’s name in sentences where it’s not necessary is a form of flirting. Hardcore flirting. Like, hey I want you to kiss me right now, kind of flirting.

Is that what he wants.

What other possible explanation could there be for how close he’s standing?

He’s towering over Sirius, still, even though he’s ducking a little, and it makes his stomach squirm. Sirius has to look up at him, while Remus looks down, and he’s grinning, why the fuck would he be grinning right now?

“Do you…” Oh god, is he actually going to do this? “Do you want a goodnight-“

He’s being cut off by Remus whose face lowers until the tips of their noses touch and Sirius swallows back the word he was about to say because he no longer needs to ask. The answer is right there in Remus’ eyes, clear and plain and there’s no doubt as to what he wants.

Sirius lifts his face up, he gets even closer and it might also be the walls closing in on them and pressing them closer together but suddenly their bodies are fully pressed up against each other and it’s not even Sirius who closes that last bit of distance.

No, it’s Remus who does it. It’s Remus who softly, tenderly presses his lips against Sirius’, a little hesitantly for now.

His bones go back into that state where they dissolve and there’s this strange sensation in his belly.

Are those- no, it can’t be.

Are those butterflies?

Dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of butterflies, in all sorts of colors and shapes, fluttering through his stomach, bumping against the inner lining of his body and bursting out, light envelops them and the butterflies smell of sweet honey as they fly all around the two of them like a whirlwind enclosing around them so they will never be able to break apart. They’re standing in a meadow, tall grass, poppies peeking out in some places, the golden light of the soon setting sun sparking golden flocks in Remus’ eyes and though he always rejected that kind of childish shit, he’s starting to believe in fairytales at his big age of twenty-one years old, what other explanation could there be for a feeling like this other than that they’re all true? That magic is real and it’s in this room, gluing them together and creating something no words could ever fully capture.

He's losing it.

Sirius hungrily kisses him back, crashing their lips together with more force. Remus’ lips are warm, match his perfectly, and so soft.

He’s waiting to see how Remus will react to this, this desperate kiss he’s bestowing upon him and he’s about to lose all hope in something happening when he stands still, his lips only touching Sirius’ without really kissing, until he parts them and traps Sirius’ bottom lip in between both of his, with the same animal-like hunger Sirius showed earlier.

He wants this too.

Sirius’ hands find a place on Remus’ chest, he’s curling his fingers around Remus’ sweater and holding on as Remus’ steals his breath away and kisses him like no one’s ever done before. Remus’ hands first cup his face, but then rise into his hair, disappearing in all those curls which he strokes as they kiss.

It takes him a few moments of gaining confidence, but he’s overcome by a rush of boldness and slips his tongue into Remus’ mouth at last.

“Wake the fuck up or we’ll be late!” Lily storms into the tiny washing room and starts attacking Sirius with a stinky pillow.

He shoots up, looking around him to try and figure out where he is, what happened last night, and why he feels as if he’s been run over by a truck at least a million times without his body giving out.

That certainly would’ve been easier than this.

Because as he’s looking around him he sees he’s in a tiny room, warm and stuffy, smelling of a mixture between fresh laundry and human bodies recently dug out of their graves while already decomposing. He sees he’s lying on a mattress and there’s an arm over his waist, holding him close to the body that arm must be connected to, the body that’s pressed against his back.

He sees the hand on his stomach is covered in scars.

Lily doesn’t seem surprised, or even bothered by it at all, and as soon as she sees Sirius is awake she disappears through the small door and he hears her footsteps thunder down the stairs where she completes her rounds of waking everyone up.

He crawls over the floor, Remus’ hand falls limply onto the mattress, and once he reaches the opposite wall he sits down and stares.

Remus is still fast asleep. Mouth fallen open, eyes fluttering in his dreams, the morning light illuminating his face in the most enchanting way.

“Remus.” He says, a little loudly so that Remus will wake up, and he pokes at Remus’ cheek with his toe because that’ll surely piss him off enough to wake up and try and kill Sirius.

His headache is brutal, killing, and if that’s not a malignant brain tumor he’s out of options. He can’t remember much of the night before, only that it was really cold, and everyone was really tired and fed-up with stress from the upcoming exams and they drank way too much. They’re at Dorcas’, he doesn’t know why they slept here or why Lily needs them awake right now.

The entire night is a big black gap in his memory.

Thank god both he and Remus are fully dressed because he wouldn’t know what to make of this otherwise. Now it seems they just sought out a warm place to sleep and maybe somehow ended up cuddling as they were out. Nothing too upsetting, friends do that.

Why is the sight of Remus filling him up with this unfamiliar warm feeling?

“Remus.” He says again, even louder than before, and starts digging his toes into Remus’ nostrils.

“Sirius, if that’s what I think it is you better start running.” His eyes are still closed as he hisses the words at Sirius in a low morning voice, sounding so sleepy and hoarse.

Sirius is fairly sure he doesn’t have ovaries but something is rattling in his stomach.

He doesn’t need to hear that twice. Sirius is stronger, but Remus is taller and can get very angry, so he’s definitely in the advance.

He bolts out the door and into the hallway, tripping over James who is just waking up, rolling around on his completely deflated mattress, in his fancy work suit, glasses askew on his face.

Remus is close on his heels and Sirius jumps the last few steps down the stairs, where everyone is bustling about, wearing last night’s clothes, with bloodshot eyes and bird nests for hair.

“Sirius.” Remus grabs his wrist and spins him around, they bump into each other and suddenly the events of the previous night rush back to him in flashes.

The same seems to happen to Remus because his eyes get wide and he steps back quickly, dropping Sirius’ hand and forgetting what he meant to say.

“Why the fuck do I have a dick on my face and why won’t it come off?” James grunts as he stumbles down the stairs. “Hey, Remus you also have one.”

Remus opens and closes his mouth, he can’t speak, Sirius wonders if it’s because he’s thinking of that kiss, if it leaves him speechless.

After a few moments of awkward silence he drags the two boys into the kitchen, starting to scrub at James’ face first because he’s a little hesitant to touch Remus at the moment.

“Oh… err, it’s not really coming off, James.” Sirius tries to bring the news gently. After all it will be all of his classmates they’re going to be seeing at Lily’s presentation. Peter pushes Sirius out of the way and slaps an old towel with soap on James’ face, James just lets it happen.

“No change.” Peter says, taking the towel away, the stubborn lines still on James’ face clear as ever.

“No, no please say you’re joking.” James splashes more water at his face, his white blouse is creased and stained, now also wet with water. Remus is smirking, his face perfectly clean.

“I might have used a waterproof pen on you, James.”

“What the fuck, Remus.” James groans, scrubbing at his face until he’s all red. “What now?”

“Maybe just…” Sirius tries to flatten James’ hair to cover up the dick, but it’s not really doing much. Peter tries to stick his glasses higher on his head, but nothing works. “Maybe a band aid?”

“Yes, good one.” Remus starts looking through the cabinets until he’s found one, and sticks it onto James’ face. It hides only half of the drawing, it’s still horribly obvious what that is on his face.

“It’s better than nothing.” Sirius tries, and Remus nods in agreement, Peter is covering his mouth so James won’t see him laughing.

Before they get the time to look for an alternative way to obscure the thing, Lily is pushing them out the door and ordering James to test her knowledge on the topic she’ll present.

He and Remus don’t speak as they bike to campus, or as they follow Lily into the lecture hall, or as they find a place among the geeky marine science students, or as they sit there and watch Lily nail her presentation as if she didn’t nearly drink herself to death the night before.

The silence is still there, still awkward, filled with emotions neither of them comprehend, and still unbroken as the class ends and they walk out of the room and follow the others home.

When they’re at the bikes, Sirius fumbling with the lock due to his shaky hands, Remus finally looks up at him.

“Sirius, I’m not-“ He starts, his cheeks a bright crimson that reaches all the way to the tips of his ears. He can barely look Sirius in the eye and it’s breaking his heart.

“No, me neither.”