no shade in the shadow

“Sirius here is your passport- Marlene, where is Marlene?” Remus starts spinning around on the spot, they did not lose Marlene, did they? The airport is large and crowded, she might have seen a sandwich she wanted to try, a shop with makeup testers, oh, they’re never going to find her now.

Sirius rolls his eyes, impatiently holding up his empty hand, waiting for his passport to be handed back, Remus took them all for safety measures, but they’re about to board- where did Marlene go? Usually Dorcas is on Marlene duty, but she has an important exam coming up and will only stop by for the funeral, which won’t be happening for another two days. James would’ve come back home for Lily immediately anyway, and the rest of them decided to just join him now, call in sick this week.

“I’m right here!” He hears her voice, feels her tap on his shoulder and realizes she just went to sit down on one of the seats by the gate.

Five zombies is what they look like. It’s five AM, doubtful any of them got much sleep last night between the war to get tickets so soon and packing their bags. Marlene refused to change out of her pajamas, James and Sirius have been cracking inappropriate jokes to one another with no end in sight, and Peter can fall asleep even while standing up. 

“Thank god-“ He breathes out, clutching the stack of passports and checking the number of the gate once more to make sure they’re in the right place. Neither Marlene nor Peter have ever been on a plane, Sirius doesn’t care enough to look where he’s walking, Remus would rather chew his own hand clean off his arm then trust him with putting their baggage away safely and finding their way to the correct gate, and James claims not to understand how airports work, and anyway, he seems a little shaken up about the news, which leaves Remus to figure everything out and drag his friends along like a teacher on a fieldtrip.

“Passport?” Sirius groans, tapping his feet on the floor and snapping with his fingers. That’s going to cause him to wait even longer now. Remus gives him a look and hands Marlene her passport.

“It’s so early.” Peter wraps his arms around Sirius’ waist and puts all of his weight on him, seconds later he’s snoring.

“I have to pee!” James blurts out, shoves his bag in Remus’ hands and turns around.

“Again?” Sirius struggles with the task of keeping Pete on his feet.

“James we have to board!” Remus cries out, it’s even being called on the intercom right now. They have to go to the gate and get on that fucking plane.

“I’m going to pee!” James says stubbornly, he’s gone to the bathroom at least ten times in the thirty minutes since they passed through security. How could a person hold this much pee? And Remus gets he’s stressed, sure, James is obsessed with plane crashes, and has to go home to face the death of a man whose daughter he dated for three years, practically his own family. Remus wouldn’t want to wind him up any further, but they really do have to go to the gate!

He gives Sirius his passport and decides to at least take the rest to the gate now, then the hard work will be done. He believes in his friends’ capacity to board a plane.

Just in time James comes running back and joins them, Remus gives him his bag and passport and only just doesn’t take them all by the hand as they walk up the stairs into the plane. James makes a fuss out of all of them stepping inside with their left foot first, Sirius thinks he’s being funny and jumps inside with both feet, which makes James nearly lose it, so Remus pushes Sirius back on the stairs and waits patiently for him to walk inside with the left leg. James looks satisfied, Remus frowns to himself, James doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to be superstitious, but whatever, it’s too early to make a fuss out of nothing.

He directs each one to their seat, which had been a whole thing when buying the tickets since James and Sirius had insisted on being seated next to each other. James has a whole chart of what the best seats are, based on a whole litany of plane crashes and who survived and was sitting where. It took several calls to the airport to ensure they’d gotten the right seats. He keeps on quoting excerpts from the books the survivors of the rugby team that crashed in the Andes wrote, Remus tells him they’re in Great Brittain and phones exist nowadays. James doesn’t look comforted.

Finally he sits down in his own seat, in the row behind James and Sirius, he in the middle, Pete by the aisle, Marlene has the window seat. Marlene is clutching onto his hand and nearly shattering all his bones. Sirius thought it’d be funny to tell her airplanes do a loop when taking off. Peter sleeps through the safety instructions, which James carefully pays attention to. Marlene is getting more fidgety by the second, Remus’ hand has no more bones. Sirius is teasing James with his superstition.

The plane takes off, Marlene doesn’t calm down until a flight attendant tells her they will not be doing a loop, in the end everything’s gone fine, thank god, and just as he was going to put on some music and fall asleep the two idiots in front of them turn in their seats and demand to play a card game.

The doorbell rings, it’s late morning.

Her dad died last night.

Petunia and the baby only just made it back from the hospital the day before, alive and healthy thankfully.

Everything changed so quickly. One day they were two perfectly happy little girls, the best of friends, with loving parents dancing in the kitchen, and the next they’re two adults who have barely spoken for years, Petunia a mom, her dad a corpse.

A week ago things seemed to be fine, still. Petunia happily pregnant, dad not ready to let go yet, mom able to smile sometimes.

All of it changed that night Lily went to talk with her.

At first, after she had taken Petunia to the emergency room, speeding dangerously through the streets as if the devil himself was on her heels, Lily wasn’t even allowed inside Petunia’s room, and had to sit in a waiting room together with Mary for several hours. Blinking against the harsh white lights, the hospital smell around, sick people walking through the hallways, moms with screaming baby’s coming from the rooms.

Finally, several hours after Dudley’s birth she was called inside, Mary had to stay in the waiting room. She got a glimpse at the little boy, a smile from Petunia, and was told to go again so Petunia could rest.

Petunia could’ve gone to her own home when she was discharged, together with Vernon, but decided to go home, home home.

Her dad had promised he’d stick around for Lily’s 21^st birthday, but they could all see that he looked fulfilled, content, ready to go after having held Dudley in his arms. The look in his eyes was unmistakable, and they all knew anyway it’d be soon. He’s only a shell of the lively man he used to be, skin over bones, hardly recognizable, if she saw him on the streets she wouldn’t think he was her dad. As good as dead already, only here for his daughters. The cancer has destroyed him. It’s hard to witness what the illness can do to a person. How it kills them even while their hearts still beat.

Why couldn’t he just stick around long enough to hold Lily’s first son in his arms? Why is this suddenly enough for him, when it’s not nearly for her?

She asked Mary to come back home because she liked for her to be there, comfort her once it happened, and because she was afraid her dad would die without ever getting to know the woman that Lily will undoubtedly marry one day. The first day Mary was here, when Petunia was still in the hospital, it was a great help, a sweet distraction, and infinitely nice for Mary to get accepted into the family so seamlessly, have a little time with both her parents.

On the day Petunia came home Lily kindly asked Mary to go to James’, and thank god Mary didn’t mind and James’ parents were more than happy to entertain Mary for the day because it would be her dad’s last day on earth, Vernon left too, and they got to spend it with just the four- well, five of them. But Dudley’s a newborn anyway, sleeping through most of everything. Granting them the great gift of one last day as a family, finishing as they started it.

All throughout yesterday they could watch the life flowing from him, and just after dinner he heaved a great sigh, his three girls around the bed, and was gone.

Petunia slept in her bed last night, as they used to when they were little girls.

Lily no longer wants to turn twenty one. The days must stop going from one to the next, the sun should hold still, time must halt, how can things go on when everything is wrong? How could she celebrate her birthday, graduate university, start her first job, get engaged, married, her own house, travel, go home for Christmas, have children, watch them take their first steps, if she cannot even share it with both her parents?

Nothing’s as it was promised to her when she was young. Parents aren’t supposed to die until you’re old and withered yourself, old enough that a simple fall could be the end, that’s the age she’d expected to be when watching the casket sink into the ground. Not this. Not a week shy of twenty one, childless, unmarried- who will give her away now? Who will take her children on fishing trips and look for frogs in the pond in the backyard? None of it makes sense. None of it.

Who even is she if the man that created half of her no longer exists?

It simply can’t be real.

She hasn’t even been able to cry yet, surely that means it’s not real? If it was real she would be a mess. Broken forever. No, this isn’t it.

“Lils, I think it’s for you.” Petunia says softly, she’s standing at the window, Dudley in her arms, softly swaying him around, a true mom already. Lily yawns and stretches, kicks the sheets away.

No one will tuck her in so tight she’s unable to move around now. No one will sit by her bed because he’s afraid he tucked her in too tight.

How can a person be really gone? How can all those years, memories, dreams, thoughts feelings just vanish so easily?

When she left home this summer Petunia was still a girl, youthful, though a bit wound uptight, behaving boringly mature, but a girl. Now she’s a mom, she looks like a mom. Her dad was still alive and well. Not sick. Not in the least.

And now dad is dead.

“Mary?” She asks, putting on socks and a large sweater over her pajamas.

“And James.” Petunia tells her, the morning light falls on her tired and broken face.

Lily nods, more to herself, convince herself she can do this. Silently she walks down the stairs, glances into the living room, sees her mom sitting next to the empty bed.

The worst of it all was when the ambulance arrived. When they put a sheet over him and rolled him in the back of the vehicle. Taking him away forever.

“Hi.” It comes out as barely a whisper, she’s afraid that if she raises her voice she will break down, that the tears will come and never end. It can’t be real yet. Or ever.

James stares at her with large bloodshot eyes, whether it’s from the exhaustion of having to travel so early, in a plane, which is his absolute worst nightmare, or because he’s cried she can’t tell. She wishes she could express how thankful she is to these two, no, all of them actually. Mary for leaving her own family and her course work to come back here, to go to James’ parents all alone without barely knowing them so that Lily and her family could have a nice last day. And James for getting on that plane so suddenly, without his preferred months of mental preparation, for changing his schedules and plans, which he hates, for doing something that scares the shit out of him, for keeping a brave face through it all, for her. And the rest for abandoning everything in a heartbeat and coming here.

She’d never known friendship could be so simple, unconditional. You need me, so I’ll be there.

“Walk?” Mary asks, taking deep breaths.

“Walk.” Lily nods in agreement, puts on her shoes and coat and steps outside. The weather around her birthday is always the same, icy cold, yet sunny. It’s like that today. A crisp layer of white frost covers everything, the grass crunches underneath their shoes, their breath comes out like clouds, but the sun is warm, and makes the roofs steam. The birds are always busy, too, fluttering around chirping, from tree to tree, picking at the seeds people leave outside for them. For the midst of winter it’s a very lively time, snowdrops rising up from the frost, squirrels hobbling to and fro.

The silence is deafening. She counts their steps. She listens to the birds. She raises her face up to the sun. She wants to talk as if everything is normal. Pretend today is one of many ordinary days in their slightly uninteresting and uneventful lives.

A whole hour must have passed by the time they make it back to her home. They walked all the way to the beach, over the frozen sand, stood by the sea for a while, and climbed back up the cliffs, through town, the streets, the houses that have changed, painted over, got new fences, new people, new dogs, new flowers, new solar panels, new everything. Why do things have to change?

“Where should I…” Mary begins, but she doesn’t seem to know where to end the sentence and lets it go, standing on the porch as silently as they have been all day.

“Go back to James?” Lily finishes it for her. She knows these are the people she’s supposed to lean on in tough times, and she will, but not today. Not when her dad’s sheets are still on the bed and his last cup of coffee is still in the windowsill, next to the plants he tended to, which will live on now even when he won’t.

Mary steps forward, puts her arms around Lily and hugs her really tight. Slightly swaying around on her feet, to make both of them move in an almost dance. It makes Lily smile, and she squeezes around Mary’s waist, if the words can’t be formed she can at least make them known like this.

Childishly she hopes they can stand there together for all of eternity without having to be bothered by the ugly reality of life. She hopes twigs will shoot out the tips of their fingers, their hair will turn into lively green leaves, their skin grow hard like bark, two old trees entangled in each other’s safety forever like in the myths and stories.

None of that happens, and Mary steps away, blowing her a kiss.

She turns to James, who sheepishly stares at her, his hands in the pockets of his coat. Though James is good at pretending he’s someone else, someone who loves to hug and touch and all the rest, he doesn’t really, with some people, sure, with some he can’t get enough, can never get too close, but with most people it fills him with discomfort. Lily doesn’t know in which category she falls anymore.

James manages a smile, a genuine one, not the fake one that’s usually on his face, and when he hugs her he does it with such force he lifts her off the ground. When James does love someone, enough to touch them, he does it fiercely. Lily’s afraid her ribs will crack and it almost makes her laugh.

She stays in the door opening and watches them walk out the street until they’re completely removed from her view. The cold has seeped into the house through the open door, and even when she shuts is she’s still shivering.

Inside, Petunia is shuffling around with a crying baby on her hip, her face red with stress and exhaustion. Her mom is still sitting next to the bed.

“Take him, I have to pee.” Petunia hands her Dudley, wipes the tears from her eyes and runs out of the room, slamming the door to the bathroom behind her. Lily used to babysit for a family with a newborn, and instinctively starts swaying the baby around, shushing and humming a voice. He won’t calm down and she looks around the kitchen to see if there’s a bottle ready.

“Mom.” She says, the screaming is giving her a headache, Petunia is taking a long time, the newborn she used to babysit never cried.

Lily feels weird. Time ticks away quickly. She has no thoughts in her head. She barely registers what happens. Her arms feel like jelly, she’s afraid she’ll drop Dudley.

“Mom!” She repeats when her mom doesn’t respond. Finally she turns, her eyebrows raising as if she hadn’t heard the earsplitting wailing before, and she gets up from the chair, taking Dudley from her.

“Shh, mommy’s here, Lils.” Her mom says, stroking over the silky soft strands of her atop the baby’s head. Lily blinks, sets a step back and considers, watches. Dudley calms, but her mom keep calling him Lily.

Is it the shock?

Petunia enters the room, she can see the moment her mom realizes what’s reality and what not plainly on her face, and she hurriedly hands Dudley back to Petunia and retreats to her chair, hands clutching the sheets of the empty bed.

The two figures stand still for a while. No one seems to remember how to talk.

“Can you cook tonight?” Petunia asks her. Lily looks outside, the sun is setting. How long did she stand in the hallway? Time no longer makes sense. It must have gotten all confused, like mom.

“You know I can’t cook.” Lily says softly. She’s tried, pasta, soup, taco’s, curry, but she always undercooks the meat, lets the pasta attach to the bottom of the pan, burns the sauce. She’s too stubborn to follow recipes, thinking she knows better. And anyway, she doesn’t like to go through all that trouble for a meal that’s eaten in five minutes. It seems a waste. Lily prefers baking.  

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say. She knows Petunia hasn’t slept in days, her mom has just lost the love of her life, there are diapers to be changed and bottles to be made, she’s no longer a child, she needs to step up now and take care of her family, the roles divided, everyone doing their thing to keep this family running. Like a machine.

Petunia scoffs, morphing back into who she was a week ago.

“First you can’t cure cancer-“

“Petunia!” She shrieks, her hand moving to her throat, which is closing up dangerously, she can’t be the one at fault here, she can’t bear that guilt. Curing cancer in a week when scientists have been researching it for a hundred years with no success is impossible. How dare Petunia blame for this too? Does she not realize Lily hates herself enough for arriving to the party late, for being kept out of everything because she’s the youngest, because her parents thought she was busy, or for whatever reason? Maybe with those few extra months…

“What? I thought you could do everything. If you can do a double bachelor’s, why can’t you cook?” Petunia sneers at her, Lily is so taken aback by this sudden shift she nearly stumbles over her own feet. Stupid, thinking this would mend their relationship like magic, a miracle.

Her mom looks up from the bed, stroking the sheets, her voice is calm, “Lily, you’re a woman now, it’s about time you learn how to cook.” Lily feels her breathing speed up, she can hardly catch up with it, why are they turning on her? Dad never thought her inability to cook was an issue, there’s pre-cooked meals in the stores, and she’s young, when the urgency’s there she’ll learn. For now she was content helping Remus slice the tomatoes and stir the pan for him.

“Or are you too feminist for that?” Petunia says in a snarl. Softly tapping against Dudley’s back. Her eyes seem to be on fire.

“What?” Lily stammers. Looking from one to the other, not understanding. They should be providing each other with love and comfort, not this. Dad would hate this.

He was always the free spirit, wild and untamed, in for a joke, so full of life. Mom’s different, the oldest daughter in a big family. She never got any sort of degree, worked in a store some mornings, and took care of her and Petunia the rest of the time. A perfect housewife, traditional. With no dreams, no hobbies, no friends. Just the laundry, the kids, the flowers in the garden and the dishes. Everything Lily never wants to be. She respects it’s the choice her mom made, and Lily still wants a family, a house, a marriage and children, but she also wants a career, she wants more than a life at home. She wants to be both a mom and a person.  

Petunia doesn’t. She’s the spitting image of their mom, while Lily is more like her dad.

“You’ll get a husband someday-“ Petunia starts, Lily’s head snaps in her sister’s direction, she’s crossing a line here.

“I’m with Mary…” She mutters, unbelieving at how unaccepting and smallminded Petunia can be sometimes.

“And he’ll want dinner when he comes home from work. I’m going to bathe Dudley.” She turns her back on Lily, her footsteps go up the stairs.

“I’m in love with Mary.” Lily says softly, though she’s sure no one’s listening to her anymore. Did they ever?

“Just cook, Lily.” Her mom says sternly.

Lily swallows down the bile that’s rising up her throat.

“Why didn’t you call and tell me?” The first tears start rolling down her cheeks. She feels so lost. So misplaced. None of this makes sense.

She’s angry. Furious.

While they all had months to prepare for this day, Lily had weeks.

Weeks are not enough. Nothing would’ve been enough. If they want her to behave like a grown-up, they shouldn’t have kept her out of this. It’s not fair.

“Lils-“ Her mom turns in her seat. Lily cuts her off, she’s been sweet, and helpful, and she didn’t press for answers, explanations or anything, but there’s no reason left to be an angel, she wants everyone to know how deeply hurt she is at not being told. How wrong it was.

She slams her fist down on the counter, Lily’s not the kind of girl to get angry, she counts to ten and decides to be the bigger person, but this is no small discussion, this is her life, which will now never be the same. How could she let this go, ever? “No! Why didn’t you fucking tell me! I just don’t- I let it go, I let it go because dad was still here and I didn’t want to make him sad but now… how could you not let me know? No matter how much I think about it, I just don’t understand!” She yells, chest heaving.

“Don’t curse!” Her mom gets up from the chair, moving slowly and unsteadily.

“You shouldn’t have lied!” She cries, tears tickling her as they run down her cheeks, dripping into her sweater. They’re blurring her vision, giving her a headache, her throat closes up, she doesn’t care.

“We did it because you’ve worked so hard to get here-“

Lily groans, punching the counter once more, always the same argument. School school school. “Did you really think I wouldn’t want to know this? That my education is more important than this?”

Her mom stills at her loud voice, which booms through the house in a way it never has before, they’re not the kind of family to shout at each other. Not normally. Nothing is normal anymore.

“Your education’s always been the most important thing in this house. In the whole entire world.” Petunia yells from upstairs.

Lily bites her lip, counts to ten, decides to be the bigger person. She could completely tear Petunia down right now, destroy her, but she won’t.

“Why can’t you just admit you made a mistake?” She asks quietly, staring at her mom, whose face is expressionless, she sits back down on the chair, doesn’t reply to Lily.

Lily shakes her head, it’s all she can do, and grabs a box of pasta.

She will never understand her mom and her sister.

It’s another one of those sunny days, ironically. The rain keeps away, so does the gray sky, the short days, the darkness. In days the first flowers will shoot up from the thawing ground. Lily is wearing a nice dress, it’s more of a summer dress, but it’ll do. There’ll be none of the black clothes and cliché sunglasses today, only the color that’s meant to obscure the sadness.

Her dress has flower patterns, a nice bow at the back, it reaches just past her knees, she’s wearing thick white tights with it and a knitted cardigan, pink to match with some of the flowers in the dress.

Mary reaches for Lily’s hand and squeezes it, gently knocking their shoulders together as they enter the large room in the church where the service will be held. It’s the one in town, where she and James used to give their Christmas performances, where she had dance recitals, or played piano at events, where she voted for the first time, and handed out cookies for the homeless. The light files in through the glass-stained windows, there’s bibles scattered around, the stone floor sounds hollow underneath her feet, she reads the names of the people rich enough to be buried in there to distract herself from what’s about to happen. The dates on the stones go back hundreds of years. Why do people keep living if we only end up dying?

The service will start once everyone’s inside. At least there’ll be no more condolences. Lily, Petunia and her mom had to stand at the entrance of the church, fighting tears, keeping up a bravely composed face and smiling back at all the people that came to shake their hands. Polite and mature, as expected of her.

Her friends were the first to enter, thankfully. It was a nice sort of icebreaker, for the first few hands to shake hers be familiar ones, and the first few pitying smiles to be genuine and heartfelt. James went first, the eternal leader, the last time she saw James in a suit was at their prom, which they never got to go to together, they’d already broken up by then. Sirius followed, looking more angelic than ever with his curls tucked behind his ears, in a suit that costs more than Lily will ever make in her entire career. He held onto her wrist, looking in her eyes and not moving an inch until she’d managed to breathe through some incoming tears.

Remus came next, awkwardly shaking the hands of her mom and sister and then pulling Lily in for a hug, which he’d never done before, and gently kissing the top of her head, brushing some hair from her face. Peter was a snotty mess, walking with Dorcas and Marlene on either side, and Mary remained by her side until the rest of the town, her family, the neighbors, dad’s friends and coworkers had all passed them and gone into the small side-room with the casket to say their last goodbyes.

Lily turns her head and waits until Mary does the same, their eyes meet, Lily’s unsure if she can do this, but Mary pulls her along to the first row of benches and they slide into them.

Before she knows it, it’s all over. The songs have been played, her grandparents spoke of their son, her mom read aloud one of his favorite poems, the little kids from his grade, he is- was a primary school teacher, sang a song and did a dance, and the priest said his last blessings.

They walk through the street, it’s only a small distance, the church is at the edge of town, the cemetery practically next to it, in a long procession, one entirely silent, as the car with the casket drives in front.

These moments are all about survival, she doesn’t seem to really experience them, more like she’s watching through the pages of a book, reading a story that’s not hers, or floating over her body without looking down. She doesn’t feel, notice the passing of time, hears, or is able to speak.

Within the blink of an eye the casket is gone and the last glimpse she’ll ever have of her dad is something she didn’t consciously imprint into her memory. Everything’s slipping through her fingers.

She’s sitting with a cup of tea and a soggy sandwich in the church. The pressing sadness of the service has evaporated, people are catching up with old friends and moving on already.

Mary blows on her own cup of tea, closely watching Lily from the corner of her eyes. James is sitting across from her, sniffling, Sirius is rubbing his back. Lily robotically bring the sandwich to her mouth, chews on it, barely notices the sweaty cheese, and swallows until her hands are empty.

What now?

The first people are already leaving, Petunia is feeding Dudley somewhere in the bathroom, her mom is thanking the guests for their attendance and showing them to their cars.

There’s cheery music coming from the speakers hanging off the walls.

Lily wishes she had some family to share this moment with, wishes she had many siblings like Mary, or an army of cousins like James. But things with Petunia are still going from one extreme to the next, kind one moment, cruel before she knows anything’s changed, and her mom has turned into a ghost. Her only grandparents left are the ones on her dad’s side, but they live far away and Lily doesn’t really know them good enough. Both her parents are only children. She’s entirely alone.

No, she’s not alone, she knows that. All her friends abandoned their presentations and exams to rush home, but they didn’t grow up with her. She cannot share this sadness with them.

“Lily.” She looks up, more in a reflex rather than because she actually wants to see who it is. She’s quite tired of pretending to know people she doesn’t.

“Hey.” She breathes out, staring into the face of a grown-up version of her childhood friend, Severus. He’s still got the same greasy black hair, sickly pale skin, and beady eyes, but he’s grown into it somehow. As young kids they were pretty close, but in secondary school he started hanging out with some strange guys and began acting weird, being mean to her at school and wanting her attention after, when his friends were no longer around. The friendship died out as the years progressed, though Severus attempted to cling to it, Lily was insecure enough and didn’t need the confusion of being friends with someone who ignored her on the school grounds. Lily never spoke to him again after graduating.

“I’m sorry.” He says, standing perfectly still, Lily’s eyes flicker across the table to James, who’s always despised Severus for how he treated her, and Lily nods. “Me too.” She says.

“Snivellus.” James grumbles, that fire in his eyes. Severus always claimed James was a bully, and sure, James was popular and arrogant, but he was always kind, James was the kind of guy to make friends with the people that were being bullied so it would stop. His being mean to Severus was, as James says, only a matter of action reaction.

“I thought you’d slit your wrists two years ago, couldn’t even succeed in that, huh?” Severus sneers.

James abruptly jumps up from his chair, flying at Severus, who flinches at the sudden movement, only to be pulled back by Sirius, who wraps his arms around James’ chest and stares daggers at Severus, “Slimy git.” He snarls, and Lily sighs, looking at the boys and all their foolish masculinity. “Thanks for saying hi, Sev, see you.” She says, urging him to leave. Which he does, quickly, as James sinks back into his seat, looking about as defeated as Lily feels.

“What was that about?” Mary links her arm through Lily’s and looks at James, awaiting an answer.

“Nothing.” He returns, “Childish… school things, nothing.”

“Hey, I didn’t think you had it in you to punch anyone!” Sirius punches James’ shoulder with a smile, James sullenly shrugs. “He’s an asshole.”

Lily looks around the table, just as James is, but no one seems to attach much value to what Severus said, no one at this table, except for James and Lily, could ever hold it possible that James is not so happy as he seems. Thinking about James slitting his wrists to them is, as Lily guesses, as improbable as him being able to grow wings and fly to Mars and back.

While studying the faces of her friends to see if they believed what Severus said about James, she notices Remus isn’t with them.

“Where’s Remus?”

Sirius gestures with a pull of his chin, pointing to the door, “Left halfway through the service, I checked on him earlier.”

“I think I’m going to go find him.” Lily whispers, getting up from her chair, nodding at Mary that she’s fine, and barely containing herself enough not to sprint from the room.

She finds him outside the church, around the back where no one comes, standing on the frozen grass, leaning against the cold stone, having a smoke.

“You okay?” She asks as she approaches him. He nearly jumps out of his skin at her voice, stumbling over his feet a little as he gathers himself back together.

It seems he inhaled wrong, and he starts couching, bent over, hands on his knees, cigarette clenched between his fingers, banging on his chest as he tries to get it out. Lily waits, slapping his back until he stops. “Fuck, sorry Lils, I had to get out of there. All the memories…” He mutters, eyes teary from all the couching and voice a little pinched.

Lily crosses her legs, leans against the wall, squints against the sun and holds up her hand. “Don’t worry, I get it. Can I have one?” She wiggles her fingers, waiting for Remus to hand her a cigarette, she could really use one right now.

“A cigarette?” He chokes out, still couching a little.

“Yeah?”

“No.”

“Give me one.” She turns her head, Remus is grinning, half-amused with her.

“Nah.”

She flicks at his cheek, grabbing for the cigarette in his hands, but he extends his arm into the sky all the way to where Lily cannot reach without the help of a ladder. “Remus John Lupin give me a fucking cigarette I just buried my dad.” She cries out.

“Smoking’ll kill ya!” He shoots back, putting the cigarette to his lips and winking as he has another drag.

“You already smoked what- an entire pack?” Lily nudges the pile of cigarettes on the floor with her foot.

Remus takes the pack from his pocket, opens it, has a peek, and shakes his head. “About half, actually.”

“Remus…” She attempts to snatch the pack from his hands, and they end up in a sort of wrestle until Remus gives in and allows her to take one.

“Fine, here. Have you ever smoked before?” He sighs, flicking open his lighter.

“Of course I’ve smoked before.” Lily inhales, maintaining eye contact with Remus, who looks surprised, eyebrows shooting up into the sky, and exhales through her nose, flicking some ash to the ground and smirking at him.

“You what- oh, you definitely have. Guess you’re not the cute innocent girl-next-door I thought you were.” Remus says with a chuckle.

“You should know better than to judge a book by its cover.”

“Allright.”

They smoke in silence for a bit, until the momentary glee has passed and Lily feels the full weight of her sadness settle back inside of her skin. She blinks the tears from her eyes, focuses on the cigarette in her hands, and tells herself not to cry now.

“Does it get better?”

“No. Time doesn’t heal a thing, that’s all a myth.”

She clicks her tongue, rubbing at her eyes with her palm as if it might chase the tears away. “Well, that’s a comforting prospect.” She mumbles, the cigarette starts to work in her disadvantage as she suddenly feels a wave of nausea hit her.

“It gets easier, not better.”

“What gets easier?”

“To live without being sad. To move on. Sometimes I wake up and realize I haven’t thought of mom all the day before.”

“M’kay.” Her voice is shaky, Remus must’ve heard because he puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. Pressing their cheeks together like James always does.

“We’re here until then.”

“And after you’ll just leave.”

He snorts, tugging at a strand of her hair, “Ha ha, funny girl, but… you know Lily, you’re strong and independent, and it doesn’t make any of this more bearable, but you’ll make it out.”

“I’m not so strong.”

“I still have a bruise from when you pinched me in October.”

“That’s a different kind of strong.”

“You pull all-nighters to study, if your drive and ambition say anything about the strength up there,” Remus taps the side of her head, “I think you’ll survive this.”

“Mmh.” Lily hums, laying her head on Remus’ shoulder, staring at the rolling of the fields ahead, the bare trees, and she tries to turn her feelings back on so she can remember this moment with Remus forever.

James watches as if in a trance at Sirius’ anxious tapping of his feet against the floor. After the funeral Lily asked them all to come back home with her for some dinner, but no one can find the proper words to say in such a situation and they’re all sitting around the kitchen table chewing tasteless food without saying much.

With Petunia and Lily’s mother at the table everyone’s feeling a bit reserved, they know Lily, what to say to her and what not, but these two? No one’s got a clue, and James has never known how to act in the company of the scrutinizing eyes of the Evans women.

“So…” He starts, not sure where the sentence will take him, though anything will be better than this silence. “I’ll do the dishes.” He ends up with, frowning at himself and getting up from the table, collecting plates and dumping them in the sink. Sirius joins his side, drying the plates James has cleaned. When he looks over his shoulder he sees Lily’s mom retreat to the upstairs, Petunia lifts Dudley from his crib and too makes her way up, then suddenly turns, staring at him hesitantly.

“Do you want to hold him?” She asks, and James blinks, staring back. For years he created this imaginary world in his head in which his children and Petunia’s would be the best of friends, as with everything he took the dreams pretty far, her offering to hold Dudley, though he won’t be Dudley’s uncle, means a lot.

“Yes… I’d love to.” He hands Sirius the last plate and crosses the room to Petunia, Lily’s at his side immediately, showing him how to position his arms and then Petunia’s laying the little boy in his arms.

He’s asleep, eyes fluttering, sighing a little every few breaths. James’ heart melts. He’s feeling unsteady.

“Oh.” He glances up at Lily, who bites her bottom lip and strokes Dudley’s soft head. He’s completely over her, truly, that’s long in the past, peace has been made, but sometimes, in moments like these, he misses what they could’ve had, could’ve been. There’s no doubt in his mind that he and Lily would’ve been the best parent duo this world had ever seen. Raising the happiest of babies.

“You’ll be such a dilf one day, James.” Peter says, getting approving nods from the girls who are still seated around the table.

“Oh but I won’t, I-“ He stammers, his eyes meeting Lily’s once more. Both of them know that James will have to work on himself really hard if he’s ever going to be able to have children. Both of them know he likely never will. Someone who can’t even take care of themselves shouldn’t be able to be a parent. Besides, what he has is genetic, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Bringing a child like him into this world is too cruel.

“What?” Remus asks, James avoids his gaze, Remus always observes him so closely, he’s too alert, sometimes James is afraid he’s got him all figured out. That he can see right through James’ performances.

“Just not sure if I’ll ever have kids.” He mumbles back, but he knows he does want to. So, so badly. He’s always known it, and especially now holding this little miracle of a human being it only confirms what he’s always felt. Isn’t it just a biological thing? Life’s will to live on? Maybe he should pay attention to his life history and evolution courses a little more.

When Petunia reaches back for her son James can only just contain himself from turning away and holding Dudley all to his own, but he hands him back to her, feeling sad he’s no longer holding him.

“What the fuck James how else will I be the cool uncle?” Sirius cries out, throwing the towel to the floor.

“I’m only twenty!” James shoots back, going into the hallway to get everyone’s coats because he can tell from the look on Lily’s face she wants them all to go and leave her to process this day on her own. Besides, all of them are going back to Edinburgh in the morning, it’ll be nice to have one last good night of sleep before the whole endlessly boring and tormenting cycle of school life starts again.

He throws Sirius’ coat in his face, avoids getting his legs kicked out from underneath him, and ushers everyone out.

“Bye, bye Lils!” Everyone shouts at her as they move onto the street, Lily could’ve stayed home longer, but she’s joining them on their way back tomorrow, probably more than ready to go back home after several weeks in this house of death.

James hugs her tightly, “She’s being nice.” He whispers in her ear.

“Nicer than her usual.”

“It’s progress.”

“It would’ve been better if this wasn’t the price we had to pay to get some sisterly love going on.”

“I know, I know… at least she didn’t blame you for everything bad in the world tonight!” James remembers the long, cruel dinners here, with Lily almost afraid to open her mouth because everything she’d say would be criticized, and Petunia listing all bad things in the world and coming up with imaginary reasons why Lily’s the cause of them. It was always a lot of fun.

“Eh, she blamed me for not curing cancer, oh and for killing her and Dudley.”

“What the fuck?” James spits out, eyes traveling up the stairs, “She did what?” He moves Lily aside and was just about to yell upstairs for Petunia to come down and apologize when Lily pulls him back to the door.

“Don’t, James.”

“She can’t do that!”

“It’s her.” Lily says, as if that is a good excuse, as if Petunia is allowed to be evil because she always has been, as if that makes is any less awful. He knows how Lily is affected by what has been going on in this house her entire childhood, how it’s shaped her into who she is today, and he will never forgive Petunia for that, and frankly, he can’t understand how Lily can.

“It’s wrong! It’s awful!”

“It’s none of your business.”

James blinks, steps out through the door, and turns his back to Lily, “Well, sorry for caring about you. How does this make sense to you anyway, huh? You get to baby me all you want, and always share your opinion on everything and never leave me the fuck alone for even a moment, but then when someone does it to you it’s suddenly a big issue?”

“James-“ Lily steps outside on her socks, but James softly pushes her back into the hallway.

“No, s’okay, next time someone hurts you I’ll just mind my own business and let you figure it out yourself.”

“I told you not to lose the tie!” Peter screeches, running through the kitchen like a beheaded chicken, full of chaos, as he attempts to get the three of them looking good enough to join him for some event at his student association. Of course Sirius lost his tie. Of course he’s the cause of even more stress than they already had at the thought of having to be surrounded by a bunch of lunatics.

Pete’s a member of the rowing association, James is however more convinced he’s a member of a cult. The stories he comes home with are always absolutely mind blowing, James doesn’t understand how people could be so desperate for friends they’d put themselves through such humiliation, but whatever.

“You’re not allowed to enter without a green tie!” He adds to that, rifling through his own collection of ties next to all their coats until he’s found a spare one. Sirius puts it around his neck and pretends to hang himself with it, tilting his head to the side and sticking his tongue out, eyes rolling back, holding the tie into the air.

“And Remus you have to polish your shoes!” Peter points at Remus’ very dirty dr. Martens, Remus gets a wet washcloth, looking very angry, and starts to clean them.

“Polish our shoes?” James asks, looking down at his red converse which he’s been wearing for years and years, the once white laces are black, the sole is only hanging on because he taped it to the rest of the shoe, and there’s holes all over the thing.

Peter’s eyes nearly bulge out of his skull, “Oh my god James! I told you to wear nice, black shoes!”

“I don’t think I have nice black shoes.”

“Did none of you listen to me?”

Sirius shakes his head, “Nah, not really.”

Peter groans with frustration, looks through the shoe rack, and throws both black shoes at James’ head. He has painfully good aim. James rubs over his sore head and bends down to put on the shoes. They look like clowns. Stupid polished shoes, the same suits they wore to the funeral only a few days ago, the green tie, the whole foolish outfit.

“Okay, okay… yes, we can do this.” Peter mutters to himself, checking them one by one. “Remember to carefully read the house rules.” He tells them, as he reaches into his bag, looking for something.

“I don’t think I read the house rules.” Sirius is just provoking him for the fun of it now, Pete falls for it every damn time.

“I’ve told you several times you’re given them there.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And James- here.” He finally found the thing in his bag, and holds out a temporary tattoo on a sheet, it looks suspiciously like a pile of shit, saying ‘loser’ above it.

“Thank you?” James takes the sheet from Peter and puts it in his pocket.

“Why are you only giving a condom to James? I’m the prettiest person in the room!” Sirius barks out, snatching Peter’s bag from his hands and looking through it.

“It’s not a condom.” Peter sighs.

“Did you just call yourself pretty?” Remus frown at Sirius.

“Sirius don’t forget to bring your ego!” Marlene shouts at them from the couch.

“Do I give this to my date?”

Peter shakes his head, tapping his own forehead. “No, stick it to your forehead.”

“I’m not putting this on my face.”

“It’s a house rule, you don’t drink so you get that.” Peter explains, James doesn’t see the logic in that. He knows students think not drinking is a sin punishable by death, but walking around with a turd tattoo seems horribly cruel.

“That feels like discrimination.” He tells Pete, giving him the tattoo back. He’s not making a fool out of himself. If he has to walk around with the stupid tattoo he’s just not going to go.

It’s stupid anyway. A date dinner. Neither three of them wanted to go, but more girls than guys had signed up, so Pete begged them to come. James suggested just putting guys with guys, but student associations seem to have gotten stuck at about a hundred years back. The dates will only happen between guys and girls. Very modern. Very inclusive. James is just so excited to meet all these wonderful people.

“Be careful with your words now Potter!” Mary yells.

“Piss off, Mary!” He yells back, eyes meeting Lily’s, he looks away. They’re still mad at each other. James only wanted to look out for her, how is that a bad thing! Girls shouldn’t be so sensitive all the time. Anyway, James won’t be the first to apologize. He can play sensitive too. Plus, it’s just Lily. Being mad at each other with Lily means only being mad half the time, whenever they remember.

“Just stick it to your fucking head and then we can go.” Peter snarls at him, grabbing the wet washcloth with which Remus just cleaned his fucking shoes, the shoes he wears when he walks through dogshit and stubs out his cigarettes, and slaps it on James’ forehead.

Sirius is having a very, very hard time containing his laughter, pressing his lips tightly together and making sure not to look at James. The tattoo is magnificent, whoever came up with that is a genius. They’re all sitting at one very long table, with benches on either side. James is to his right, Remus to his left. Peter they lost, maybe they’re sacrificing him, eating his brains, whatever it is cults do.

“It’s an awful lot of rules, isn’t it?” He eyes the rules he’s been given, on a dirty looking plasticized piece of paper, with stains that Sirius would rather not know the origin of, it’s quite the list, Sirius shoves it away from him with a roll of his eyes, wondering how insane people must be to willingly go to this cultlike place.

They’re in an old building close to the docks, it smells of mold and years of accumulated dirty people breathing in the stale air. It’s warm and stuffy. The tiles on the floor are stained, the wood on the walls and roof looks close to crumbling, it’s dark, and there’s not a lot of soul in the building.

“I know it seems weird to outsiders.” The girl- his date says.

“Mmmh?” Sirius hums, not listening to her, he’s not sure yet how he’s going to hide his total uninterest and disregard in the female gender tonight, this place doesn’t seem very accepting of people like him.

He looks up at her, it’s a regular girl, regular student girl, more precisely. Awfully greasy hair, nose ring, eyes flicking from side to side like she’s on crack, cracked lips and- oh no, no those are wounds around her mouth. Well, Sirius knows who he won’t be kissing tonight.

Internally, he’s groaning and moaning and crying and being a baby. The date dinner seemed stupid, but the thought of flirting and seeing all the girls swoon over his beauty and jokes all night filled him with a certain enthusiasm, but this girl… she just doesn’t do it for him. With her green tie and polished shoes. Couldn’t she at least have taken her hair down or… or showered? He’s been in this room for five minutes and already the smell of onions, garlic and people who have never heard of deodorant is stinging his nose.

“I should tell you, I’m sort of involved with someone.” Sirius blurts out, feeling both Remus and James’ eyes turn on him.

“James there, he’s my platonic boyfriend.” He adds, pointing at James, who’s scratching at the tattoo on his forehead to try and get it off. James raises his eyebrows at him, smile growing on his face. “We’re a package deal.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“My platonic boyfriend, use your ears.” He snarls back, annoyed at her inability to just put in the littlest bit of effort in her appearance. Did she not get the memo that this is a date dinner?

“So he’s just your friend?” He can hear Remus snickering at his side, the girl looks at him weird.

“He’s not just my friend. I love James much more than any normal friends would love each other.”

“Right back at you love!” James yells at him over the table, several heads turn and look at Sirius and James, but they either recognize the pair and are used to their behavior, or don’t recognize them and don’t care enough to listen for more than a second.

“So you guys are gay?” His date asks, biting on her fingernails and ohmygod Sirius is feeling nauseous. Did she just spit the fucking fingernail onto the floor? Where his boots are supposed to walk? 

Sirius groans, tipping his head back against the wall, “No, it’s really not that complicated. I love James more than anyone has ever loved before, yeah? But we’re not boyfriends.” It’s a silly joke with a lot of truth, anyway, he just needed to involve James into the conversation to keep himself from losing it.

“Sirius is super devoted to me.” James confirms, Sirius can hear Remus snorting over his drink.

“Right, see, James gets it.”

James nods, looking super serious, but winking at him, “We watched ‘Seven Pounds’ the other day and Sirius said he’d do that for me.”

“Do you have heart issues?” James’ date asks him, and James looks back at Sirius, rolling his eyes, corners of his mouth twitching up in amusement.

“No- they don’t get it, Sirius.” He sighs, shaking his head.

“No they don’t.” Sirius replies, holding out his arm over the table and waiting for James to grab his finger and hold it for a moment, the two girls look confused, but he and James are exchanging glances and kicking at each other’s feet underneath the table. Ah, he just needed it, there’s nothing a little bit of James can’t fix.

His date waits until James lets go off Sirius’ finger, “Do you drink easily?” She asks, leaning forward over the table a little, Sirius almost feels his body move back in response.

“Do I look like a girl to you?” He physically cannot get himself to meet her eye. Sorry not sorry. Showering doesn’t have to take longer than five minutes. He spent a full fucking hour on his hair thinking he might catch a nice looking price of a lady tonight. It’s simply disrespectful of her not to put in the littlest bit of effort. And then they pair her off with the most gorgeous human to have ever graced this planet with his presence?

“Don’t you think that’s sexist?”

Sirius is fuming, he tries to count ten, Lily says it helps, “I can drink easily.”

“Good.” Is all she says, and then someone stands up on the table and blows a whistle. Sirius looks around, waiting to see what will happen now. Maybe he should’ve read the rules, or listened to Peter, but none of that’s in his nature.

A roll of tape is being handed down the table, one of the older cult leaders leaning over the benches as he tapes the wrists of the dates together. Sirius bangs the back of his head against the wall, what the fuck has he gotten himself into.

“Remus.” He hisses to his side, James is sadly sitting on the opposite side from him, too far out of reach, he did it on purpose, Sirius is certain, so he could make silly faces at Sirius all night with that shit on his forehead. Mean.

Remus stomps down on his feet, Sirius suppresses a yelp, and follows Remus’ finger as he points at one of the rules.

No talking until the beer is finished. One of the rules says. Just then a massive jug filled to the brim with warm looking beer is placed on the table in front of him. He estimates it must be at least two liters, and looks to his side, knocking his knee against Remus’ and raising his eyebrows in question.

“Shot it.” Remus mouths at him.

“The beer?” Sirius mouths back, Remus nods.

Sirius holds up his arms, gesturing with his head at the couples who’s wrists have already been taped together. Remus shrugs.

He sighs loudly, maybe a little too loud, both Remus and James kick him underneath the table, so the girl must’ve heard it too. What’s her name again? Doesn’t matter anyway, neither of those idiots have a right of speaking here, their dates are actually very pretty girls. Maybe Sirius can steal one away later that night. Not like Remus would ever kiss someone anyway.

Peter is suddenly starting to feel incredibly nervous, as if he’s being chased by lions or sharks, no but this is worse actually, much worse. He’d choose getting ripped apart by a shark any day over this, getting his hands taped together with a beautiful girl. Her name’s Sybill, she’s a friend of Emmeline, who’s on one of the women teams from his year, she’s Remus’ date. He has a hard time regulating his breathing as he takes in her appearance. Wild, frizzy blonde curls put into a messy bun with a whole arrange of funky clips, big round glasses that make her eyes look enormous, and a constant dashing smile.

His palms must be sweating horribly, she’ll feel it, oh no, she’ll feel it. As their hands are being taped together she smiles at him, flashing some crooked teeth which makes Peter nearly faint, this is the woman from his dreams. He is in love!

Being in love is stupid. He shouldn’t fall in love with her. He’ll only let himself down.

Truth is, Peter is horribly boring, a bit of a nerd, never knows the right things to say, can only joke with people he feels comfortable with, and he’s no god-like handsome boy the girls want.

Sirius is simply breathtaking, possessing an otherworldly timeless beauty, he should be a model, an actor, make use of that appearance. People trip over their feet when they see him, he domineers every room he enters, has a cheeky grin, is overly confident, cocky and arrogant, and doesn’t give a fuck about what people think of him, because most people only ever think positively of him anyway.

James has that boyish handsomeness, the big brown eyes, dimples, hair that looks as if he just finished surfing some waves, the body of a warrior god, and the glasses. Those glasses. Girls love it. They love James. James and the comforting warmth he radiates, his silly jokes and sweet smiles, how he can make anyone feel good about themselves, he’s so positive and light, no one could look at him, talk with him, and not get obsessed.

And Remus, Remus is tall, has interesting scars, piercing eyes, hair that falls perfectly, freckles, and looks like a movie star when he smokes. He’s not the loud type like James and Sirius, but it’s his mystery that attracts the girls. He doesn’t even notice. Peter has never seen Remus show interest in girls, and he doesn’t seem to be aware of the effect he has on them. Always walking around quietly, clutching his books and cigarettes. But then when he does talk you can hear his intelligence, and he’s kind, and quick witted, and manages to get even Sirius Black silent.

Then there’s Peter. Short, chubby, flimsy blonde hair, watery blue eyes, paper thin lips, cheeks always a blotchy red, doesn’t know how to behave in the presence of girls. He’s hopeless.

He’s that friend that’s just kind of there. The one no one necessarily notices. They talk over him ad if he doesn’t exist. Turn their backs to him. If he’s lucky he can get a polite greeting, but that’s usually where it all ends. People can claim to value someone’s inside more all they want, but Peter knows better than that, he knows that if your outside doesn’t attract people, no one will ever get to know that inside. It’s especially painful to be friends with total hunks like Sirius and James, who run away to dark corners at parties and have several girls hanging from their lips wherever they go.

Sybill must feel disappointed to be paired with a guy like him.

She gets up from the bench, and instead sits down on it on her knees, so she can lean over the table easily, Peter follows her lead, still feeling that nervousness in his body. Heart racing, hands shaking, tongue swelling, throat dry, doesn’t remember how he usually smiles.

“Hey, don’t you have one of those brown leather bags, like, the crossbody ones?” She asks, big eyes not looking away from him even once. She’s not as shy as she looks.

“Err, yeah, yeah I do. How’d you know?” Peter replies, a little stunned.

“Oh, I’ve seen you walk around.”

Peter blinks, mouth opening and closing as he looks for whatever he’s supposed to respond to that. He didn’t think anyone noticed him. Sybill has?

“You saw me walking around?”

“On campus and through town. I don’t know you just always catch my attention- oh, we can start!”

A whistle blows and the chugging can start.

James smiles at the girl, she doesn’t drink either, and they were given a jug with lemonade, warm lemonade, but anything’s better than beer. At the blow of the whistle both of them struggle over the table and try to figure out how to finish all the lemonade with their hands taped together. It’s no race, or competition or anything, but sitting there and staring across the table in silence is much too awkward, so all around the table people start chugging the beer like their lives depend on it.

She’s also got the temporary tattoo on her forehead, long brown hair falling down her shoulders, to her black dress, she giggles sweetly as their heads knock together in their attempt to drink the first bit of lemonade without having to lift the thing.

Once the lemonade is finished he’ll tell her he’s already involved with someone.

He just can’t stop thinking about tomorrow, when he’ll meet Regulus to work on his essay together.

Remus swallows down the horribly bitter taste of the warm, watered down beer. It’s more disgusting than anything he’s ever had before, and usually James is the hygiene freak among them, but even he is hesitant to put his lips to the jug, of which he’s not sure it’s ever been washed.

He looks to his side, seeing James and his date giggle with each other as they take sips of their lemonade, and Sirius who refuses to put his face close to his date, their arms constantly extending and withdrawing in Sirius’ effort to take turns drinking the beer without having to come too close.

Remus’ date looks nice, a bit of a mousy face, the same dark raven hair that Sirius has too, except it’s smooth and silky, whereas Sirius’ is curly and untamed, with dark eyes and a kind smile. He’s not interested, but people don’t do this kind of thing to meet their soulmates, right? If so, he feels bad for the girl, he’ll be nice out of politeness, but that’s that. Earlier that day he thought of kissing his date just to show Sirius that he could do that, but… he can rethink that once the beer is finished, it’ll likely make the decision a whole lot easier.

“Astronomy, is that with the horoscopes and things?” Peter asks Sybill, they’ve finished the beer, his belly feels bloated, he’s positively nauseous, afraid he’ll throw up all over her, and can already feel the endless wave of piss making its way down there, but thank god the tape is gone and they can talk.

She giggles into her hand, “No, no that’s astrology, I like that too.”

Peter thinks, thinks, thinks, what would James say? Something flirty, and he’d raise an eyebrow, and smile, “Could you tell me a little bit about my horoscope?” It comes out in more of an awkward stutter than he’d hoped, but no matter how often he stumbles over his words, Sybill keeps looking at him with interest, asking questions, answering them. They haven’t been silent for a moment. He’s actually having a lot of fun, and thinking she might be too.

“What’s your birthday?” She moves around the chili con carne on her plate, Peter warned her, this dish is served more often than it should, quite extraordinary they serve it still anyway, with the bad experiences they’ve had with it here at the association, it more often than not ends in stomach cramps and exploding bathrooms. Peter sticks with the salad and bread, she’s eating some spring rolls.

“June 3^rd.” He tells her, she dips a new spring role in some chili sauce, thinks it over for a moment.

“Gemini…” She starts, scratching at her chin, “It’s ruled by mercury, making you curious, a fast thinker, good at trickery, with a dual personality. You’re good at improvising. Number three means you’re charming…” She giggles into her hand again, “You definitely are.” She adds, cheeks growing red. Peter mirrors her, feeling heat rush into his own cheeks. “Sorry, I know I’m a bit of nerd.”

“No, no don’t be sorry, I like it. I like you.” He replies quickly. Surprised at his own honesty. Peter’s not the flirty type is he?

She smiles, readjusting her glasses on her nose, and twirls a curl around her finger, apparently just as surprised at Peter’s confession as he is himself.

“Why archeology?”

“Huh?” Peter huffs out, no one’s ever asked him why before.

She looks at him expectantly, he starts fiddling with the sheet over the table, “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I just like the idea that people have always existed, that they leave things behind that help us know them, or something like that.” He feels his entire face growing hotter and hotter, as if his heart has moved into his brain, bouncing against his skull in an attempt to break free.

“Why astronomy for you?”

“I just like stars.”

“Ha, well, I’d say that’s a good enough reason.” Peter chuckles, returning her smile.

“It does have a bit of a funky aftertaste, don’t ya think?” Sirius says, after all that beer, which he can feel laying on the bottom of his stomach like a thousand pound brick, he’s slurring already. Remus and Peter take their alcohol a lot better, Remus still looks relatively fresh, whereas Sirius knows for a fact that if he stands up now he’s going to be dizzy and watch the world twirl around him like in a rollercoaster.

His date- still can’t remember her name, and not too interested in asking again, happily shoves another spoonful in her mouth, she doesn’t seem to find any issue with the meal. Sirius smacks his lips, a little discontent, and looks down at the plate. Yep, it definitely does have a weird aftertaste. He can’t tell whether it’s the insane amount of beer he just jugged, or the obviously suspicious food, but his stomach is grumbling angrily, and he’d better make sure the toilet is not too far away.

“No.” She says through her mouthful, some of it falls from her mouth. Sirius shoves his plate away, he’s never been less hungry in his life.

“The chance of succeeding as an artist is very low, why’d you choose it?”

“Err,” Sirius focuses on his hands, just look at the hands, don’t look at her, at the food around her mouth, can she not chew with her mouth opened? “I will succeed.”

“Doubt it.” Sirius feels something splat against his forehead. He might just throw up all over her to get his revenge. What a savage, neanderthal-like monster. Bah, Sirius despises students. Not he and his friends of course, they’re decent and civilized, but those lower-class folks that live in the dirty accommodations and join cults like these in an attempt to find friends… it’s hard to find any sort of respect for that.

“Well, and I doubt how much you’re gonna like your life as a psychologist.” He shoots back, he’s had to hear her blabbering on and on about how she’ll be a psychologist. Well, if Sirius was her client he’d slit his wrists while sitting in the chair. Hang himself from her desk. Imagine that, needing help and being paired with this creature. He’d spontaneously develop some sort of hygiene OCD.

“At least I won’t be living under a bridge.”

Sirius laughs coldly, “I’m of royal descent and in possession of a number of money that’s more than you can count to, I’m not so worried.” He snarls at her, contemplating throwing some food in her face.

James cringes as he hears Sirius and his date snarl at each other, and meets Remus’ eyes at Sirius’ other side, both of them shaking heads at each other. Sirius just has to have the last word and flaunt with his social class. It’s going to earn him a punch to the face someday.

“Am I really that crazy for going on a date with hi… with her?” He asks his own date. She’s staring at Sirius and the girl with amusement written all over her face, and keeps scooting closer to Sirius to hear what he’s saying.

Her head snaps back to James, this must be the night of nights for her, entertainment at her side and gossip from James. He just hopes she’s not going to share it with too many people, all what’s happening here and being said at the table. He and Sirius are pretty much celebrities here in Edinburgh, and there’ve been enough incidents already that’s helped people form an opinion on them, they can’t use a lot more shit. But the girl looks honest, kind of like Lily, and when he asked she promised not to tell another soul.

He wouldn’t mind telling her that he likes boys, and is… whatever that makes him. He doesn’t think he’s gay, he really was in love with Lily, and he’s attracted to girls, maybe he’s just experiencing the best of both worlds, but to tell people outside of his bubble is a whole other step, one that he’s not sure he’s ready for yet.

“I personally wouldn’t lock someone up in a freezer, but love does crazy things to the brain. Maybe she’s just so in love with you it’s driving her insane. What’s her name again, maybe I know her?”

“No, no I don’t think you know her.”

“Why not, everyone here’s connected in some way.” She points at Remus’ date, who James used to work with at the restaurant, he didn’t notice her there until after he’d told about the whole freezer thing, which he’s massively regretting now, because if word gets back to her, both he and Regulus are outed. Is Regulus out? James never even discussed any of that with him. And actually, he doesn’t even know if Regulus likes boys. He assumed, with the flirting and all. Is Regulus really just going to help him with an essay?

“No, she’s… err, from back home, you know.” He stammers, suddenly realizing his stomach is hurting like hell. He looks down at his plate, which he finished all the way, did he eat something wrong? It was disgusting, obviously, but it didn’t look radioactive. Maybe the soggy cheese chips with guacamole, pistachio nuts and canned pineapple on a bed of orange juice should’ve tipped him off, but he was hungry.

“People say you’re gay.” She says, she really has a taste for gossip. James didn’t even know her an hour ago and she knows everything about him and Sirius. It’s almost creepy.

“People say a lot of things about me.” He returns, because, well, people say a lot of things about him. It comes with the fame.

She’s smiling, no, grinning, “They say you’re gay, that you’ve spread chlamydia, that you pulled a guy’s pants down, and that your ex, what’s her name again, Sophia?” She’s snapping her fingers as she thinks, “that she brutally dumped you.”

James sighs, getting ready to defend himself, “Okay, I do not have STD’s, I tripped, and I broke up with her.” He makes sure the message gets through, he knows Sophia made up a lot of shit about how she let him go, and blabla, though she weirdly never told anyone about the autism and stuff, she made good use of Regulus’ rumor and told everyone that she dumped him because James was in love with boys. Party true. That’s not the point. Some people have twisted the story even further, but James can’t bear to hear those versions. 

“So the gay thing is true, is that why you never shower with your football team? Is it… difficult to see-”

James stops her, how the hell does she even know that? “No, no it’s not true. I’m not gay.”

“Hey, no judgement, but why did you join this cult?” Remus asks her, he caught a glimpse of Peter just before the food was served, who signaled at him not to take a bite, now, he could’ve spread the message to the idiots on his side, but what’s the fun in that? He had to press his lips together to keep from laughing as he watched James enthusiastically clean his plate. Already he can hear Sirius’ stomach over all the rest of the noise.

Life is exceptionally good to him tonight, though he won’t be able to say the same for his friends soon.

His date is sweet and a bit shy. She doesn’t seem like the type to join an association, but then again, that could be why she did. Make it a little easier to find friends.

“Everyone in my family has been a member here.” She explains, breaking off a piece of bread and handing him some.

Remus dips his bread in the scary-looking orange juice and pineapple situation, if it comes straight out of the carton he’s willing to eat it, but that chili con carne, the spring rolls and the lasagna he won’t touch. “Hmm, more of an obligation?”

She shrugs, grabbing one of the soggy chips, which pretty much falls apart in her hands. “Kind of.”

“But you like it here?” Sirius’ date keeps burping, and Sirius is growing more green with the second. There’s a war going on in Sirius’ stomach. James as of yet looks blissfully unaware.

“It’s not really my thing. All the rules, the things you can and can’t say. Everything’s so extreme. I get why you call it a cult.” He nods, he took a quick glance at the rules, they were pretty insane. Just the fact that there are rules goes too far for him.

“You could just stop?” He offers.

“They’ll put me on the black list. It’s not always so bad, my club is nice.”

“Club?”

“In the beginning of the year you have to form a club. Most humiliating thing ever. You have to go up to people and ask to be friends and be accepted into their club, or start one, or whatever. Every year there’s a bunch of people who don’t get into any club, so they form the loser club, I’m in that club.”

Remus whistles, this whole thing keeps getting weirder and more cultlike. “Painful.”

“I’d rather be with the losers.” She says with a shy smile, casting a sideward glance at Sirius’ date.

Remus watches with a smirk as James jumps up from the bench and sprints to the bathroom.

Peter sees James do a very awkward looking kind of speedwalk in the direction of the bathroom, waddling like a penguin, it’s pretty obvious he’s clenching his butt cheeks together- so hard his pants might disintegrate- to prevent doing some irreversible damage, Pete looks over the heads of some people and waves until Remus notices him, staring back at him with a naughty smirk on his face. Peter shakes his head at him, but Remus only winks back and continues talking to his date.

“My friends ate the food.” He tells Sybill.

“Must be really bad if it’s affecting them so soon.” She responds, grabbing Peter’s plate and stacking the two on top of each other.

“Yeah,” He chuckles, not at all surprised at Remus holding the valuable information to himself, he may look innocent, but Remus is truly a wolf in sheep’s clothing, just as bad as Sirius and James. He takes a deep breath, the date is going well. He really likes Sybill, they share a lot of interests, and it’s easy to talk to her. This is his chance. It’s now or never. “Anyway, maybe you’d like to get some actual food sometime?”

Almost instantly she goes red again, Peter smiles, he was always ashamed for his easy blushing, but it’s so cute on her, it doesn’t feel like something to be ashamed of anymore. “You mean… do you mean together?” She asks, big eyes, staring at his.

“Yes, you and me.” He confirms, feeling his chest swell with some new emotion as a smile extends over her face from ear to ear.

“Oh, I would really like that.”

“Well, good.” Peter doesn’t know what to do. Sirius or James would’ve known. Kiss her? Not here. Oh, what to do what to do? He extends his hand, stupid! And waits for her to shake it. Even more stupid!

But she reaches forward and lays her hand in his, “Now you can’t back out.” She says, holding his hand tightly, “Oh! Can I read your palm!”

Sirius is going to have to join James. Join him quick. Very, very quick.

He jabs his elbow in Remus’ side, “You didn’t eat a single thing!” He hisses, he didn’t notice Remus’ full plate until his own was already empty.

“Oh, did I forget to tell you Pete said not to eat a thing?” He asks innocently. Sirius doesn’t have time to start an argument with him now, he’s running out of time, and once time has run out there will be stuff running out of him.

“Asshole.” He pinches a thin piece of skin on Remus’ arm, and as if this situation wasn’t embarrassing enough, has to crawl under the table to get to the bathroom, as he can hardly ask all these people on the bench to move for him. James was very wise to sit on the side that wasn’t against the wall. Sirius has learned from his mistakes for the next time.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god.” He mutters to himself, slightly panicking, feeling the full force of the emergency at his other end, as he crawls over the dirty floor, and climbs out on the other side, making use of the empty space James left behind.

He runs, no shame, he’s Sirius Black, to the bathroom.

Peter walks, with Sybill on his arm, to the kebab shop in town. Night has fallen already, he’s still buzzing from the beer, and oh my god he has the most perfect girl in the whole world on his arm! She’s pointing up at the stars, telling him about them, and he listens carefully, really, there’s not so much difference between the study of the ancient stars and the ancient civilizations.

The boys he ditched. They’ll understand. Not like they never ditched him for a pretty girl. Sirius and James were still fighting for their lives by the time he left and Remus look pretty content talking to his date.

This night is for him and Sybill.

“Sirius I think I had an epiphany in there.” James wipes the sweat from his forehead, Remus has been uncontrollably laughing ever since they returned from the battlefields, Sirius looks pale, they’re sitting on a dirty couch in a corner of the large room.

Sirius only nods absent mindedly, “I’m never eating anything again.”

“C’mon, we have to make use of the free beer.” Sirius presses, a little while has passed and both he and James feel better, Peter has ditched them, honestly, good for him, he deserves a nice lady at last, but they’re still here and the beer is included in the small fee they paid to enter and have themselves poisoned and nearly killed, so they might as well get their money’s worth.

“I’d like a cola.” James says with a nod, but Remus looks doubtful, it’s long past his bedtime. If Remus doesn’t get his preferred night time tea, chamomile honey, with more sugar than a person should eat in a year, and his bedtime story, he loses it. Worse is if you dare interrupt him while he’s sitting next to the record player, one eye closed because for some reason he only reads with one eye, flipping through the pages of his book, he’ll kill you, truly.

Sirius pulls at Remus’ hands, somehow things have been going more smoothly between them ever since they got all that shit out in the open. Remus seems to have more sympathy for Sirius’ moods, while Sirius understands it better now why Remus can get so quiet, feels so reserved, looks as if he’s ready to lash out any moment. Sirius never lived on the street, or associated with bad guys like Remus did, so he can hardly imagine with it must’ve been like, but his own upbringing gives him a sort of idea. “Moony, please, just one more beer and a little dance.”

“I’m not dancing with you, Sirius.” Remus says calmly, pinching Sirius’ fingers, payback for earlier.

“You owe it to me. We almost gave our lives on the battlefield because you thought it was funny not to tell us.”

“I agree with Sirius.” James looks like all the life has been flushed out of him, slouched down on the couch, clinging to Sirius.

“James!” Remus cries out, you’d hardly believe it, but out of the three of them James is the most sensible, he usually sides with Remus when it comes to things like these.

“Sorry, Moons. He’s right for once, I can barely sit, I feel violated.”

Sirius laughs, brushing some of James’ hair from his face and straightening his glasses. “You might wanna rethink your date with Loverboy then, James.” He says, and James looks up at him, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Okay, stop, I don’t need to know that… fine, fine we’ll have a drink.” Remus gives in, sighing deeply.

James watches Sirius go to the bar, get some more beer. Earlier in the evening the same large jugs of beer were being handed out, complementary, but students are cheap and there’s only a limited amount of beer, Sirius was quite annoyed to find out he’d actually have to pay for his beer now.

“I’m just not gonna be the first to… say something.” Remus continues, as it appears he gets eerily talkative if you feed him the right amount of beer, and James has been listening to him talk about Sirius for what feels like hours now.

“Someone has to make the first move.” He replies, closely watching Remus, he looks almost like a whole new person. Pupils blown, cheeks nice and red, grinning, hair all messed up. James is getting tired of wiping drool off Sirius’ chin, but he gets him, Remus truly doesn’t know the power of his appearance.

“Should be him.” Remus slurs, hand on James’ shoulder to keep himself steady, they’ve reached that point of the evening where everyone is too drunk and James is too sober and he gets all depressed watching people have so much careless fun knowing he can’t have that. He’d like to go home now and sulk in bed and send a depressing text to his mom because he needs some sympathy from someone.

“Sirius is too much of an idiot to do it the right way.”

“He doesn’t have to do it the right way. The Sirius way is good.”

James chuckles at the lovestruck expression on Remus’ face, “You’re sounding like a girl, Moony.”

“Yeah, whatever. I could get a brain tumor and die, I just want Sirius.” James feels that rush of panic he felt at the funeral come back to him. It’s all too scary, life, how close death now appears to be. Old people always said that twenty is the age where everyone you know start dropping like flies, but he never much believed it. But Lily’s dad is gone, a kid they went to school with for six years got run over by a truck, another friend from school is currently in chemo treatment, and nothing’s promised. Maybe Remus is right. Maybe he’s just drunk.

“We’ll discuss the big things in life when you’re sober, yeah?” James proposes, looking back at the bar to find out what’s taking Sirius so long.

James sees him patiently waiting for his turn, which is unusual for Sirius but he does tend to get unpredictable when he’s drunk. Finally it’s his turn, he’s ordering, and then… the bartenders throw an enormous bucket of dirty water over him?

“He really didn’t read the rules, did he?” James asks Remus, who starts to laugh.

Sirius stands perfectly still for a moment, processing, he’s completely soaked, people around him have started laughing.

When he returns with two beers and a cola for James he looks furious.

Apparently making eye contact with the bartender is highly valued here, and not doing it means getting a bucket water thrown all over you.

“What the fuck?” Sirius cries out, when about an hour after the first one, he gets his second bucket of water thrown over him. It’s the water the bar personnel uses to clean with, it looks murky, it smells like death, and it’s making him lose his patience.

“What now?” He demands, the girl he was kissing stares at him with wide eyes, soaked too now, hair plastered to her face and makeup running down her cheeks. He’s fully fucking over it, why are they still here anyway? Pete’s been gone for hours, James is obviously not enjoying himself, and Remus has never liked parties. Are they just pleasing him?

He climbs over the bar, tries to punch the devil of a guy who’s made a fool of him twice now, his first swing misses, but with the second he hits his target. Sirius could take this, but to do it to a girl? That’s a whole other level of evil.

The bartender stumbles on his feet when Sirius’ fist connect with his jaw, but he only laughs, pushes Sirius off the bar and back on his feet, and rings some bell they have hanging by the bar.

“No kissing at the bar.” He tells Sirius, and Sirius groans, looking around him to find James and Remus, he’s ready to go home.

His eyes connect with Remus, who’s been creepily staring at him the entire time he’s been kissing the girl. Sirius would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he only kissed the girl because she tasted like cigarettes, and he could pretend she was Remus. He may or may not have been looking at Remus while kissing her, just to add to the fantasy. But no one lives up to him. Only Remus’ kisses make him feel.

“You’re buying everyone a round!” The bartender raises his voice so everyone at the bar hears, and they all start cheering for Sirius.

Sirius spits at the bartender, “Didn’t think so.” He snarls, and turns his back to those idiots.

The spitting wasn’t much appreciated, all three of them are thrown out.

Remus has sobered up, taking small sips of some dirty coffee, listening to Peter tell them all about his date, James keeps yawning, Sirius is in the shower.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Pete, but I’m going to bed, gotta be fresh for my date tomorrow.” James says, rubbing at his eyes and getting up from the couch.

“I’m going to bed too, goodnight Moony!” Peter says, kissing Remus’ cheek, still slightly delirious from the exhilaration he felt during his date, and Remus waves at them both as they silently climb up the stairs, not wanting to wake the girls.

Remus moves to the kitchen, leans against the counter as he finishes the last of the awful coffee, and throws the cup into the sink.

In the hallway he bumps into Sirius.

“Goodnight.” He whispers quietly, setting a step to the side so he can flee up to his room. He’s not an idiot, or blind, he saw Sirius staring at him as he kissed that girl. Whatever torture method that was, Remus didn’t like it, and he’s too tired to hear Sirius’ sorry excuses now. He’s sick with jealously and resent.

“Moony.” Sirius’ slender fingers wrap around his wrist. Remus stares at them. He’s always thought Sirius had pretty hands, can hands be pretty? Well, Sirius’ are, they’re artist’s hands, long, pale, made for the piano or to hold his paint brushes. There’s always a smear of color on them.

Remus looks at him, he can judge Sirius’ moods quite alright, or he likes to think he can, and Sirius still looks drunk out of his mind. His grey eyes looks black in the dark of the hallway, he didn’t take the time to dry his hair, it falls down to his shoulders in a mess, soaking through his shirt. Remus can feel Sirius’ heartbeat move through his palm against Remus’ wrist. Why does he make everything feel so intimate?

“I don’t care for the girls.” He whispers, Remus feels all his organs move around as if his cells have transformed into millions of bugs, crawling through his body and making him heat up.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Why won’t you come to my place, Reggie? Don’t you want to see my bedroom?”

“Potter, don’t annoy me out of this, I can still cancel.” Regulus warns him through the phone.

James looks in the mirror, he’s changed his clothes about a hundred times already this morning. Showered twice, begged Sirius for some of his fancy French cologne, and in the end even caved and called on the girls to help him get ready. Mary went through the piles of clothes on his floor to look for something nice while Lily attempted to make something out of his hair. Marlene was there for the moral support, though she only made jokes about last night, upon hearing all the gossip from Peter, and James can’t say he feels much supported listening to her talk about his horror trip to the bathroom.

“Your place then? Or are you afraid I’ll see all the pictures of me you have hanging on your wall?”

“If you’re not at the library in ten minutes I’m leaving.” The phone clicks, Regulus has ended the call.

Mary picked out a red long sleeve, it fits pretty tight, which she says he’ll like, and some baggy jeans, Sirius keeps calling him a slut, Remus and Peter told him he looks really nice, so it’s probably true.

He moves a little closer to the mirror to inspect his face from closer up, can he do this? At first he was just messing around, that was easy, innocent, it didn’t mean much. But now he really likes Regulus, which makes him even more terrified to do or say something wrong or weird and scare him away. What if Regulus is only meeting with him out of pity? What if he thinks James would’ve killed himself if he didn’t say yes?

“I need you to be completely honest with me, okay?” He says to Regulus. He’d had to sprint to the library to make it in time, he’s slightly out of breath, can’t tell whether his heart is going crazy because of the running or because of Regulus, who was waiting for him at the table he usually sits at when Remus and Lily want to study in the library- does Regulus pay attention to James like that? He didn’t think so. But it seems he does, because he got James a hot chocolate with caramel, which is his favorite, though he only saw James order it once before.

Regulus is stirring his tea, he’s wearing a black knitted sweater with a turtleneck, and keeps pulling up to his chin to play with it. Is he nervous? When James saw him at work he always looked tired and fed-up with everything. Today he looks rested, his hair is longer, curlier, and his bright eyes glint in the sunlight. He even smiles sometimes, flipping through James’ text books and reading with interest. As it turns out, Regulus likes the ocean just as much as James does.

“I’m always honest. Brutally honest. People hate me for it.” Regulus looks up, giving him one of those looks that James can’t quite decipher, and continues looking at pictures of the evolution of whales.

James taps his fingers on the table, gnawing on the inside of his cheek, “Are you doing this because you feel bad for me-“

“Oh my god, Potter, not this again. I don’t feel bad for you. Everyone’s got their shit.” Regulus sighs, dramatically, and closes the book with a loud bang. James stares at his hands, is he an idiot for needing this confirmation? It’s not the strangest thought in the world, isn’t it? Lily got a glimpse of his mind and ran for her life, and now Regulus has seen his scars but yet he stays? He even appears to enjoy James’ company, something he never did before.

What’s Regulus’ shit?

“So why are you here?” James cries out, wishing so badly he could just understand Regulus. Everything about him is mysterious and difficult to understand.

“Because you annoyed me into coming here.” Regulus replies, narrowing his eyes and opening another book.

“No, you’re in love with me. That’s why.”

“I’m not in love with you.” He replies confidently, but James catches the panicked flickering of his eyes over the page, whereas before he was carefully reading.

“You just said you’re always honest and yet you lie.”

“I can still leave.” Regulus warns, looking puzzled as he flips through the pages of James’ genetics book. They could just as easily have written that book in some strange foreign language, because none of it makes sense. James was good at cell biology in school, but this is a whole new level of complexity. In past years less than 20% passed this class, Lily’s been freaking out over it since she got back.

James sits in silence for a bit, Regulus grows more and more confused with the genetics books as he continues to read, and eventually James has found the courage to just ask.

He reaches over and closes the book, Regulus looks up, annoyed, “Reg, I never asked you, but this… do you like boys, or…”

“Yeah, I’m gay. You?”

James blinks, he didn’t expect Regulus to be so… open about this. He tells lies and more lies and more lies and is a complete mystery, but this he just admits? “Err, not sure. But you…”

“Me what?”

“I don’t know. I’m not being honest with you until you’re honest with me.” James replies with a smile, sitting back on the chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Potter, I know you’re not straight. No straight man would flirt with another guy the way you do.”

“Okay, allright.” That makes James laugh, and even Regulus has to fiddle with the collar of his sweater to hide a smile. He takes a deep breath and stares out the window, where the snow is melting into mud and the rain will probably have it all gone within the hour. If he thought weather was bad at home, things are much worse over here.

“You look tired…” James looks back at Regulus with a frown. Did he spend this much time on his appearance for it not to be appreciated? “No, no, you’re still… sort of not super ugly, but your eyes look tired.”

“I had a date dinner last night.”

“You went on a date with someone else?” There’s a sudden hint of urgency in Regulus’ voice, James wishes Regulus would just not be such a riddle. But then again, James is a bit of one himself, isn’t he? He thought he’d never get over Lily, and then when he did he thought he’d never fall in love again because he’s too much of a dreamer, got standards too high, and then Regulus used James to skip the line in the library and suddenly he’s questioning everything.

Suddenly he thinks that maybe when he dreams, it’s not some fictional character, someone he knows doesn’t exist anyway and only dreams of to torture himself, but that rather it might actually be Regulus he dreams of.

He dreams of his flirting being met with snarky comments, of large green eyes and black curls, freckles on the bridge of a nose, someone who’s not scared off by who James really is, but who actually likes him more after finding out the truth. Someone who will accept him. Love him unconditionally, even when he gets in moods, doesn’t want to talk, or needs someone to sit with him in silence and hold his hand.

Is that not Regulus?

Who would Regulus dream of?

“Jealous?” James teases, poking at Regulus’ sides. Regulus squirms, moves his chair all the way to the wall, and stares at James from there. Every now and then the sun pokes out through the dark grey clouds, and appears behind Regulus’ head, illuminating him, turning his dark hair golden.

Regulus scoffs, leaning back on his chair and rocking a little, tipping his head to the side and looking at James with something of a daring look in his eyes. James has missed this desperately, this game they play. He’s missed Regulus. “Far from it. And? Liked them?”

Liked them? How could James ever again like another person now that he knows Regulus? Not a single person he’s ever met has made James’ heart flutter like Regulus does. James isn’t the kind of guy to blunder through his sentences and blush, but Regulus causes him to turn into a total fool- well, more of a fool than he is usually.

He shrugs, trying to play it cool, because even though James’ feelings are getting more solid with every glance now, every smile on Regulus’ face and every teasing word, he’s not convinced of Regulus just yet. He understands Remus, he won’t be the first to confess anything until he’s absolutely certain Regulus likes him back. “Told her I wasn’t interested in anyone because of you. She thought you were a creep for locking me up. Oh and your precious little rumor just won’t go.”

Regulus grins, fingers moving to his chin to scratch at his mouth as if James doesn’t notice the slightest change in his face. Regulus is good at pretending, but he’s no master of his eyes. Everything he feels and thinks is written out plainly in them. “Could you stop about that already, I apologized.”

“Regulus you did not apologize.”

“Well, sorry. But it was funny. How awful was she, yesterday?” James chuckles, that boy is definitely jealous.

Ever since he met Regulus, and looked into those strange green-grey eyes for the first time, there’s been a spark, nurtured to life by that first breathless moment under the chandelier and kept afire by the games they play, but now that they’re sitting here in each other’s company because they both want to rather than because they’re coworkers, now that Regulus knows something no one else does, James can tell that that little spark is shooting up into a wild fire, an unstoppable blazing inferno, flames dancing around them and encapsulating them in the heat together, like the fire that caused them to be sitting here having a normal conversation in the first place.

The burn stung initially, but the scars have faded and Regulus has returned in its place.

James is falling love.

“Much nicer than you, but I don’t drink so things like that are always a bit boring.” The moment he says it he regrets those words. Regulus is much more direct and curious than most people, he won’t feign disinterest out of politeness.

“Why don’t you drink.” He outrightly asks, as James had feared.

James feels his heartbeat in the tips of his fingers, he looks at the birds in the trees, he wants to tell Regulus. He already knows so much, and yet it’s so little compared to all there is to know. Telling him more is scary, might cause Regulus to go, the flame to die out into a sad pile of crackling cinders, still hot, but soon nothing more than ashes. And on the other hand, Regulus has been respectful, didn’t seem much bothered by the scars, and as he said himself, everyone’s got their own shit. For all he knows Regulus’ is much worse and what James is dealing with seems like child’s play for him. After all, something had to have caused Regulus to become the distant and bitter person he is today. “Football.”

Regulus clears his throat, looking unimpressed. “Oh, sure. Football. Why do you cut yourself.”

He hadn’t expected that, James feels his eyes snap back to meet Regulus’, everything with him feels like walking on thin ice, there’s this constant feeling of uncertainty, “Jesus, Reg.” James hisses, scratching at the old wounds on his knuckles as the uneasiness grows larger inside of him.

“What? I thought you wanted honesty.” Regulus always has that daring look in his eyes, as if any moment he might ask you to take his hand and jump off a cliff with him, expecting you to do it and trust him, it’s a look James recognizes from somewhere, though where?

He shakes his head, he’d hoped they’d keep things light and breezy today. James misses Regulus’ insults, his blushing, everything they had before the fire caught his shirt. “I’m not good at honesty. Or talking.”

“You talk all the time. It gives me a headache.”

“Not about real things. Things that matter.”

Regulus looks at him with interest, he scoots his chair back to the table, slightly leaning over it until he’s close to James, “No… so, something easy first? Why don’t you drink?”

“I thought you were here to help me with my essay?”

“I think we both know we’re here for something else.”

Regulus won’t drop his gaze, and James won’t be the first to look away either, so they end up staring at each other for a while, both too stubborn, both wanting more out of the other but unwilling to give it. The mind games, always the mind games.

Will James take Regulus’ hand and leap off the cliff with him?

Does he trust him?

“I don’t want to fall back into addiction.”

Will they fly or drop to their deaths?

Regulus sits back on his chair, still not looking away, “You’re the most surprising person I’ve ever met, Potter. In a good way, strangely. You’re making it hard to hate you now. I liked hating you.”

“I know you did.”

He looks away now, out of the window, and Regulus follows his gaze, there’s seagulls cawing outside, circling the lawn where people tend to litter, “Let’s go to the sea.” Regulus proposes.

“Are there basking sharks this time of year?” Regulus asks him, they took a bus to the coast, and now are trudging through the sand, heavy with rain and the last bits of snow. It sticks to their shoes and is exhausting to walk through. At least the raining has stopped, but the sun won’t make its reappearance. It’s windy, Regulus’ curls keep flying into his face, and he keeps pushing them behind his ears. The waves are big, slamming onto the sand with force, and retreating calmly, only to be met halfway by the next wave. It’s too cold to be out here, where the wind is more cruel and the sand pricks their skin.

Maybe James doesn’t really like the ocean. Maybe he only likes the idyllic pictures he sees on postcards of faraway countries, where the beach is clear and calm, where it’s far away and not real, not in his reality.

Regulus is breathing and tipping his head up at the sky with a smile like James has never seen before.

He really likes the ocean.

“No, they follow the plankton boosts in the warmer months, and they’re more common on the West coast anyway.” James shields his face from the sand as much as he can. The wind makes the grains fly all around them like tiny little knifes. James does like the ocean, but he hates the beach. He hates the soppy sand that’s accumulating in his shoes and sticking to his jeans, he hates the salt stains on his coat, he hates the cold.

“Huh, I didn’t think you knew things, you look so brainless.” Regulus jokes, walking closer and closer to where the waves reach as if none of the uncomfortable aspects of the beach are bothering him.

“And I didn’t think you’d fall in love with me and agree to a date, Reggie, yet here we are!” James yells, raising his voice to make himself be heard over the winds that whistle around their heads.

“This isn’t a date, Potter!” Regulus yells back, putting up the hood of his coat, which immediately flies off, he comes to a halt at the point where the sea starts, and looks out over the horizon. In the gray of the winter days the ocean and the sky blur together, making everything a gray, dark mass. The only way to distinguish one from the other is by looking at the white caps of the waves.

“Right, when are you free to do me- pottery?” James asks in a normal voice when he reaches Regulus’ side. He stomps his feet on the stand, which is more firm here, and watches the clumps of mud fall from his shoes.

“Are sharks your favorite?”

James uses his shoe to draw in the sand, first he attempts a funny caricature of Regulus, but when Regulus notices and kicks at James’ shins he goes for something else.

“No, orcas.”

Will you- he’s written so far. Regulus follows his movements with precision.

“Have you ever seen one?”

“Not in real life!” He shouts back, watching the movements of the waves to know where the water won’t reach. “Do you like sharks?”

“Yes.” Regulus says, hands in his pockets, eyes closed now. He looks different here, at the beach. More calm, more like himself. There’s little left of the walls he’s built around himself. His face is relaxed into something peaceful, rather than sneering, and he’s more beautiful than ever.

“You know, they say there are sharks that go their entire lives without meeting another shark.” The words fall from his lips, he notices Regulus’ eyes open a crack, staring at James. James isn’t sure what he’s meaning to say, but he knows he wants to say it. “Not even knowing there are other sharks, like, they just think that they’re the only one of their species.”

Regulus fully opens his eyes, he’s no longer fighting his curls, just lets them fly wildly around his face. “So they’re always alone while in reality there are so many other sharks?” He shouts back at James, and James nods, happy he gets it.

“Right, exactly.”

“That’s sad.”

“Here, read this.” James says, pointing at the words he’s written.

Will you be my valentine?

It’s still a little over two weeks away, but if Regulus is serious about that pottery date, what better day?

Regulus snorts when he reads it, “Don’t you think that’s a little too much, Potter? A whole proposal in the sand?”

James looks up from where he was making a heart in the sand, attempting to write their initials in it, “Not at all, not for you!” He shouts back, finishing the R.

Although he laughs at it, Regulus’ face is soft, and he openly smiles at James, patiently waiting until James has returned to his side. He follows Regulus’ lead, stuffing his hands in his pockets, letting the sand prickle him, and closes his eyes, listening only to the waves and the seagulls, and Regulus’ breathing at his side.

It really is quite peaceful.

James looks over to the side, and just then Regulus opens his eyes and looks too. James feels breathless, his chest falling and rising so badly that it must be visible even through his winter coat, and he wonders if this is what it feels like when having a heart attack. His throat closes up, there’s a strange pressure on his rapidly breathing chest, and he’s overwhelmed by the immense acute desire to get closer to Regulus.

After the accident Regulus held him, he knows that because he remembers it in flashes, but his mind has blocked out most of that evening and he wants more. He wants it again.

His stomach gets overtaken by a sensation not unlike the one James feels when he panics, except this one is not uncomfortable, and it keeps growing stronger as Regulus looks. Funny, here by the sea his usually bright eyes have grown a little darker, and the grey, mirroring almost exactly the color of the unruly ocean, overshadows the green. James just can’t comprehend how a person could possibly be this fascinatingly beautiful, in all ways.

Though the ocean is loud, the wind louder, it’s drizzling slightly, and the sand is supposed to prick his skin, all of that ceases, and the world slims down to just the two of them. To Regulus and his large, grey eyes that display his very soul, and to James, who doesn’t think he will ever be able to look away from him.

Bold as he usually is, he feels almost shy, and small as he sets a step to the side. Regulus watches carefully, and James half-expects him to move away, but he remains on his spot in the sand, sinking into it with his heels a little, the waves getting dangerously close, but it bothers neither of them. This moment is for them.

He steps again, and again, until his shoulder touches Regulus’, and when it does he remains like that. Now, when he looks to his side, tipping down his face to properly look in Regulus’ eyes, they’re not so far removed anymore. James could close that distance with ease, and kiss him.

He almost thinks Regulus wants that, for James to kiss him, there’s a pleading in his eyes, a longing that makes James’ heart dance and jump around in circles, and both of them lean into each other, but nothing happens.

Their fingers graze each other, James is seeing bursts of light move through the world in front of him, and then he closes his eyes, he thinks Regulus does the same, the rushing of the waves returns to him, he can hear the wind once more, and the sand slashes at his skin like it did before, but Regulus is willingly letting his and James’ sides touch, he leans on James just as much as James does on him, their hands keep dancing around one another like in a game in much the same way their conversations always shoot back and forth.

James feels none of that hurried rush he feels with others, to kiss Regulus and seal the deal, to ensure that Regulus will stay and want him. He thinks Regulus will stay and want him anyway, it doesn’t take James convince him in the ways he uses on others.

Everything about this is simply perfect.

“Why can’t you talk?” Regulus asks eventually. Both of them still have their eyes closed. Maybe it’s easier to talk like this, with the sea so close, and the waves thundering into their direction. James always wonders if man’s fascination with the ocean stems from the feeling of belonging and home. All things originated in those depths, there must be some secret down there, on the bottom, attracting them all like a magnet, calling home.

Regulus feels like that. Of course the soul is an abstract phenomenon, that not even the soul itself can comprehend, and it can’t be traced back in origin so easily as the atoms that make up their bodies do, but maybe wherever their souls came from, they were together. Maybe all of this is simply meant to be, fate, written in the stars and the stories and the myths, absolutely inevitable, like in fairytales and books.

“I don’t know why, I think that’s probably part of the problem, right? I just can’t find the right words. My mind goes all blank.” James confesses. It’s hard to explain how you feel when you hardly understand yourself. His being feels like a paradox, this constant contradiction that’s rooted deep down in him, he feels everything yet nothing, his mind makes him sick yet fights to make him better, he’s darkness and light, like his beloved orcas. He feels as trapped in his mind as they do in their cages.

“Don’t you go to therapy?”

“Used to. But I wouldn’t talk there either.”

“Very useful therapy it must’ve been.”

“Mmh.”

Regulus taps his arm, and James opens his eyes to find Regulus’ face very near his own, “If you want to… or want to try, at least, you can talk to me. I don’t know if you feel like your friends won’t understand or something, but I think I will.”

“Even if I could talk about it, I wouldn’t want you to know.”

“Why not?”

Because I like you too much, and now that I got you back I’m not losing you again. “Because… because people see me as happy, and I prefer that. I don’t see the point in bothering anyone with worries when I can take care of myself perfectly fine, I always have anyway. It’s better when people think I’m okay.” Regulus frowns, his skin creases together, he looks as puzzled as he did with the genetics books in front of him.

Regulus darts back from a wave, “I doubt it’s better. You’re obviously not doing okay. I know it sounds cliché, Potter, but talking truly helps.”

“Not for me.” He replies, taking several steps back to keep his shoes safe from the salt.

“How depressed are you, honestly?”

“I’d say it’s pretty bad, but you got the full view, didn’t you?” He retorts, even with Regulus it’s still so difficult to talk. If he can’t be honest with himself, how is he supposed to manage that with another person? Someone with no access to his brain, who, no matter how empathetic, will never truly understand who James is and what he feels?

“You said something about not being able to picture your future, it just- I keep thinking about it. You have so much ahead of you. Football, working from a boat as a marine scientist, vacations with your friends, parties, all of it-“

“I genuinely cannot picture a single thing, Reg. I don’t know how else to explain. The future seems like a fictional thing- a myth, I guess. It doesn’t really exist for me. You’re a bookish nerd, you like a metaphor, don’t you? Sometimes I feel like my life’s a book and the pages I get to turn are growing less in numbers and the end is coming so soon.” James stammers on, already saying much more than he’d meant to even though he claims to find talking so difficult.

“Do you ever even try to talk?” Regulus tries, looking pensive.

“Of course I’ve fucking tried. It never works, and it never will. I don’t need anyone else.” James replies, a little more harsh than he should’ve.

Scared, he looks to his side, half-expecting Regulus to turn his back to him and make his way back to the street, catch a bus on his own and never contact James again.

He remains on the sand, unfazed, thinking over his next words.

James can breathe a little again.

“Or maybe you’re only looking for the easiest way out? The least troubles and effort and everything, right? Why put in an effort to get better when you don’t think you ever will? Or maybe you just like being sick.” Regulus says after a while, formulating the exact things James always feels and thinks. James feels shocked, has trouble keeping his mouth closed as a result of the surprise, and turns to face Regulus, who doesn’t look so bothered by any of this. It really will be impossible to scare Regulus away, right? Does he really not mind about any of this?  “I did warn you I’d understand you, better than you might like.”

No response finds its way out of James’ mouth. What’s he supposed to say to that? Confirm? Deny? Both seem stupid. Regulus will know if he’s lying, but James doesn’t want to affirm Regulus’ suspicions. He won’t make a victim out of himself, he won’t do it. Not in front of others. In front of others he is happy James, easy-going, confident, living a perfect life.

“Can I just ask one more question? And then we can pretend you’re okay, like you want.” By the time Regulus talks again enough time has passed and James has overcome his shock. Regulus was smart to move this conversation to the beach, it does have a strange healing effect. Those old-fashioned doctors were smart. He still feels unsure of everything, and unwilling to give up information about himself, but he doesn’t want to be a bitch to Regulus.

“Anything for you, love.”

“Why do you cut yourself.”

James feels his eyebrows rise, Regulus still looks as if this is the most normal conversation ever. Maybe it is?

He takes a deep breath, decides not to overthink the answer, and waits until the words have formed and been spoken. “I need it because if there’s nothing in life I can control, I’ll have at least that.”

Regulus nods, like he understands. Does he understand? James has been telling him some things about himself, but Regulus as of yet still remains a mystery.

“I can’t really talk either. I mean, I’ve never tried therapy or anything, but I prefer to just not talk, to anyone about anything. You know what helps?”

“No.”

“Writing. Just sit down with your thoughts for a while and write them all down. Helps make sense of everything.” James lies to himself even on paper. Everything is a performance if you take it far enough.

“That still won’t help me talk to others.” He tells Regulus.

Regulus suddenly slings off his bag, and reaches into it, pulling out a small leather notebook.

“No, it will.” He says, throwing his bag down on the wet sand, and gesturing at James to turn his back to him. James does as he says, knowing better than to go against Regulus’ wishes, and Regulus holds the notebook against James’ shoulders as he writes. The wind makes the pages flutter, the sand grazes it.

“What’re you doing, Reggie? Writing me a love poem? You’d better write it in French, yeah, language of love, how romantic? Is it explicit? I mean, I don’t mind, go ahead and throw in all of your fantasies babe.” James jokes, attempting to bring back some of that easy-talk from back in the days, when things were easy and Regulus didn’t ask him questions all the time.

“Quiet, Potter, you’re disturbing my thought process.”

James does as he says, and waits until Regulus has finished writing, he rips the page from the notebooks, folds it several times, and stuffs it into the pocket of James’ coat. “Here, don’t read until you’re home, though.” He says sternly, slapping away James’ hand when he reaches for the page.

“Okay, don’t want to sit and watch while I read your dirty dreams about me?” James winks at him, waving the page in front of Regulus’ face, who reverts back to the version of him that has the walls up just as fast as he became that peaceful boy here on the beach.

He walks back up the beach, kicking at the sand, looking over his shoulder at James, “I’ve got to go to work, but I guess I’ll see your reply soon enough.”

“I don’t even know where you live!” James shouts back.

“Open the letter!”

James laughs out loud, not even caring if that’s weird, and folds open the letter, about to read it, when his phone starts to vibrate in his pocket. He frowns, people never call him, they know he won’t pick up anyway, and he looks on the screen.

It’s Sirius.

Anxious now, worried something has happened, he picks up the phone, “Sirius?” He asks, mentally preparing himself for the worst. Has something gone wrong with Lily? Has Sirius pissed off Remus too bad? What’s going on? He honestly doesn’t think he can take a lot of extra tragedy after these past few weeks.

“James! James I have to tell you a secret and you can’t tell anyone and I can’t even tell you but I will anyway because you’re my best friend and you can read my thoughts I’m pretty sure so it’ll be no use not telling you so if you come I will tell you but you have to keep it a secret!” Sirius stammers on in a single breath, and James holds the phone a little further away from his ear, Sirius tends to shout when he gets excited.

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell me a secret you can’t tell?” James returns, he has a feeling it’s about Remus, and he’s very eager to stay on Remus’ good side.

“No but I will because… you’re my best friend!” Sirius sings the Queen tune, and starts demanding James come home at once so he can tell.

James promises he’ll be there in a bit, stuffs the letter down the pocket of his jeans and starts walking to the bus stop.

Remus is sitting on the windowsill in his room, the window opened a bit, cigarette between his fingers. It’s one of those horribly unpredictable days, where the sun comes and goes just as quickly as the rain and the winds. One moment it appears to be a bright day, and only seconds later the sky has gone dark and rain comes down in such big quantities only a moment out there would soak you all the way through.

The cold always reminds him of home, of the long freezing hours after school, when he didn’t want to go home yet and face his dad. When he was younger he’d find excuses to stay at school longer, he’d beg for extra homework, some more tutoring, help the teacher grade tests and even linger around still by the time the cleaners came.

At home there was never a lot of good waiting for him, after mom’s passing, dad turned into a mean drunk. Taking up residence in his chair in the living room and barely ever getting out of it. The house was always a mess, empty beer bottles scattered around, food wrappings carelessly thrown on the ground, his dad in his chair, face red from the alcohol, smelling from the lack of showering.

If he was lucky, by the time he’d get home his dad had already passed out for the night and wouldn’t wake up until morning. On worse days, he was up.

By the time he reached his teen years, he figured he was too old to linger around at school, though he was smart, a good student, he didn’t want to do any of it. His mind was always stuck at home, even when he wasn’t himself, and it was impossible to focus on reading, spelling or biology when there’s constant worries and fears circling your mind. Besides, his home situation made him tough, grow up quick, he felt misplaced between his peers, who still climbed trees and made swords out of branches.

Rent had to be paid. Remus needed food. His dad needed drinks. Someone had to provide an incoming, and his dad wouldn’t do it.

Which led to a whole new issue, what employers would ever hire a twelve year old?

Restaurants denied him, stores said he was too young, paper rounds didn’t pay enough.

And then one day he was caught stealing some bread, not by a worker of the store, but by an older boy, a boy who said he could help Remus out.

Not long after Remus joined a group of boys like him, with nasty home situations, in need of money and connection.

He started dealing. Spending the afternoons after school on the streets, in the sketchier parts of the city, lounging on smelly couches in dark apartments with the other boys, and as time passed school became less of a priority and home was forgotten.

Thank god one of the older boys pressed him to finish school nevertheless and get the hell out of there, going to university instead, or Remus wouldn’t know where he’d be today.

At least not here, in a large estate, on the second floor, smoking his cigarettes out of the window of a room with high ceilings and expensive wallpapers. With his best friends all down the hall, living their own lives. Sometimes Remus likes to stand outside the house, on the overgrown lawn, and look in through the windows to see all of his friends inside their own rooms, doing their own things, not really associating with each other, but being so close still.

He exhales, the smoke travels through the opened crack to the open air outside. He’s tired. Years ago he’d sleep a few hours every couple of days and he’d be fine, but now, with this drastic change in lifestyle, from street rat to average uni boy, he finds he needs a nap after a long school day. Of course he still wears his ripped up jeans and band shirts, he still smokes, he can’t get rid of the scars that tell the stories of his past, but he’s no longer living in that constant state of fight-or-flight. He can relax, not worry, and have some fun.

Life is almost enjoyable.

If only it wasn’t for Sirius. Remus sighs as he leans his forehead against the cold window, looking down at the street. Why the fuck would Sirius kiss another girl, all the way on the other side of the room, and keep eye contact with Remus the entire time? That’s sick and twisted, isn’t it?

It’s been hard enough anyway, to come to terms with the terrible cruel fact that he is utterly and embarrassingly in love with Sirius, but for Sirius to add to that shame and guilt by keeping things confusing? It’s unfair. To both of them.

After his mom died, Remus prayed, and he prayed, and he prayed. At night he’d get down on his knees, look at the moon, and think of her, of the times they looked at the moon together when she helped him pray, and he asked for god to bring her back to him.

God did nothing.

His mom never returned.

God loves you, she always said, but not enough to save her, apparently.

Now at night Remus sits on the floor next to his bed and begs for forgiveness, from mom, most importantly, but from god as well. He begs them to forgive Remus for his sins. For liking Sirius. For wanting to act on it. For wanting to be with Sirius, so, so badly.

It’s hard, growing up a strict catholic, being devoted to his belief, his religion, living for it, only to suffer a loss like he did and for that once so important faith to lose all meaning somewhere along the way.

Remus can’t help but remember what James told him that day on the ice skating rink, he’s lost the exact words, but the essence of it will never leave him, doesn’t love count more than fear? Remus is starting to think so.

Should he ignore what he feels for Sirius and live a solitary life just for the slim chance that heaven is real and he will reunite with his mom? Is that worth the risk? At first he rejected all that James and Lily told him of science, it clashed with his faith, it was all supposed to be untrue, but he listens more often now and their stories have more truth to them. He didn’t want to question, initially, but how could he not? What’s more credible? For god to create all in seven days, or what James has told him of evolution? He’s questioning it all now, is it real, is it not? Is it myth? Is it supposed to be taken as truth? Why, in schools, do they teach about Greek mythology and call it fake, yet teach the bible as truth? What is the logic in that?

He looks out the window, up at the moon, unsure of god, missing mom, and he begs her to understand. I hope I’m not making you feel sick. He thinks.

“Moony?” There’s a knock at his door, Remus nearly jumps out of his skin, almost tumbles right through the opened window, and only just manages to steady himself on the windowsill, but his cigarette he drops.

He curses, annoyed by Sirius already, and he hasn’t even seen his face yet, and reaches for another cigarette.

“Moooony?” Sirius tries again, knocking harder this time.

Sirius will stay at his door until he’s let in, Remus knows, because that’s just Sirius. You don’t tell him no. He knows no one will.

“What?” He shouts at the door, which is hardly an invitation, but to Sirius it will undoubtedly be enough of an encouragement to come walking in here as if he own the place. Which, to be fair, he does. Remus turns his back to the door as it opens, ignores Sirius’ footsteps traveling over the floor, can the boy lift his feet for once instead of dragging them around? He gets his lighter, flicks it open, and inhales when his cigarette is lit.

Sirius props himself up on the windowsill next to Remus, in such a way that their legs inevitably touch, and leans against the side of the window with a big sigh.

“Hi, Sirius.” Remus grumbles in between drags, Sirius only grins at him, going through the pocket of Remus’ coat until he’s found the cigarettes, and then again until he’s found the lighter. Remus lets him, at home he would’ve punched anyone who touched his stuff into oblivion, but he’s used to Sirius and James’ lack of awareness of personal space now, their inability to understand that some people need privacy, and their careless way of snooping around his stuff all the time.

“So, about last night…” Sirius lights his own cigarette, opens the window a little more, and keeps bouncing his leg against Remus’, which is starting to drive him insane.

Remus looks at him, his hair has likely dried against his pillow in his sleep, and is flattened on one side and an exploded mess on the other. He looks only a little tired and hungover, and since he’s only coming by now, has probably just woken up. James has already been gone for a while, for his date with Loverboy, and Peter too is in town with Sybill, which leaves Remus with the idiot.

He rolls his eyes, not even caring if Sirius sees, because they keep doing this silly dance. They get drunk, do something stupid and weird, most often initiated by Sirius, and then the next day he comes by to apologize and promise Remus that no, of course he’s not gay, he’s just young and attractive and having fun. “No, I know it, you were drunk, you’re not gay, it’s all okay.” Remus mumbles at him, pinching the cigarette a little harder.

Sirius’ leg bouncing increases in speed, as if it wasn’t already annoying, and he starts to brush his hands through his hair, cigarette sticking out the side of his mouth as he puffs on it. “No, no, no, no Remus, I am gay.” Sirius says suddenly, and Remus can swear he feels his heart drop into his stomach, through his intestines, and come out the other end, because- what? What did he just say? Did he say that… that he’s gay?

Remus nearly loses his second cigarette due to Sirius’ disturbance, he clutches it a little tighter between his fingers, which is now super tight, and almost chokes on the smoke in his lungs as he turns to face Sirius. Even with his hair looking a mess he’s still way more beautiful than a human being should be allowed to be, and his eyes are wide with anticipation, staring back at Remus, unblinking.

“What?” Remus chokes out. The foundations of his entire existence are cracking, and soon enough everything will fall through, and what will he be left with? The aftermath of another one of Sirius’ reckless pranks? This can’t be true, right? Sirius was kissing a girl only yesterday- and yes he was looking at Remus, but, he was kissing that girl!

“I am gay and I meant everything that I said.” Sirius says confidently, wrapping a strand of hair around his finger, and releasing it into a perfect curl. He looks like he’s not bullshitting, he looks sincere, he looks like true Sirius, not Sirius making himself bigger than life and demanding people to kiss his footsteps everywhere he goes, but the calmer, and more genuine version of himself that he only allows himself to be within the walls of this house. The version only the residents of this home are familiar with.

The one Remus has fallen head over heels in love with, no matter how hard he tried not to.

“Do you even remember what you said, you were so drunk?” Remus tries to keep his shit together and pretend that this in no possible way affects him, but it’s hard when Sirius keeps his gaze focused on Remus, and looks at him expectantly.

“I said I’m in love with you.” 

Remus coughs, flicks the ashes on the end of his cigarette down to the grass below, and decides to just completely not acknowledge that sentence, in much the same way they refuse to acknowledge the two kisses they’ve shared.

This must be a prank, it simply must be.

Sirius doesn’t talk feelings. Ever.

“Moony?” Sirius taps Remus’ thigh when after a while he still hasn’t responded to that, and Remus looks to his leg, where Sirius’ fingers rest as if that’s not fucking weird to do after a love confession which might be true, or might be the most heartbreaking prank Sirius has ever pulled.

“I just can never tell when you’re serious.” He whispers, the smoke travels up to his eyes, stinging, making them tear up a little, he swallows and inhales as much as his lungs allow, relishing in the burn traveling through his insides.

“I’m always Sirius.” Sirius says, Remus lets his gaze wander back to his thighs, which are still frozen in place, unable to move because of the hand that’s resting on him.

Remus will never recover if this turns out to be fake.

“Sirius.” He replies with a sigh, for once he just wishes that Sirius could be… serious. If he’s actually doing this, if it’s real and all, then Remus needs to be certain. And though last night he told James he wouldn’t mind Sirius doing this the Sirius way, now that he’s sober and it’s actually happening he needs some sort of confirmation that this is real. Because it can’t be, can it? Why would someone like Sirius ever be in love with someone like Remus? How does he even know he’s in love? They’ve never been on a date, don’t you have to date before falling in love? Aren’t those the rules of love? Sirius is the kind of free-spirited idiot to claim love has no rules, but that’s not true, right? How is he so sure?

“Moony…” Sirius’ hand, previously on his leg, now moves to Remus’ shoulder, he can feel Sirius’ fingers against his skin, his thumb close to Remus’ throat. “I am really, actually, seriously in love with you.”

“No, no don’t be mean, Sirius.” Remus shrugs Sirius’ hand off his shoulder, and his own hand rises up to his face, the smoke really is irritating his eyes.

When he looks at Sirius, and imagined this, thinking it would never really happen anyway, he imagined big things. It’s Sirius, after all. He imagined a love confession through a song, with confetti, a band, background singers, dancers, maybe even some elephants and horses, like a whole circus show.

He never imagined Sirius would keep it so small, so true, almost sweet.

“I’m not being mean.” Sirius replies in a gentle voice.

“This isn’t something to joke about.”

“Moony I thought it was painfully obvious, is it not?” Sirius stammers, Remus looks at him and catches one of those very rare glimpses of a blushing Sirius. The corners of his mouth twitch up, he’s smiling, a very sweet smile, not that mischievous grin, and he tilts his head to the side as he waits for a response.

“I don’t know.” He says honestly, because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything about any of this.

“I’m in love with you.” Sirius presses again, stubbing his cigarette out on the ashtray and throwing it down into the garden.

“Oh.” It suddenly dawns on him that this is not a prank, or a joke, or one of those crazy fits or drunken moods that Sirius gets in.

Sirius Black is in love with him.

Oh my god, Sirius Black is in love with him.

His second cigarette of the day slips through his fingers, both of them watch it tumble down onto the grass. Sirius reaches and closes the window. With the wind kept out and Sirius so close Remus is starting to heat up.

The record he’d put on has ended, and all that’s left now is the static crackling coming through Remus’ old sound installation, he didn’t want a new and fancy thing with good and clear sound, he wanted this, old, dusty, harsh sounds shooting out of the thing.

It’s suddenly really silent in the room. Remus can hear the rushing of his own blood in his ears.

Sirius knocks their knees together, “I’m sorry if I kind of… I don’t know overwhelmed you. I know after everything it’s sudden and-“

“S’okay.” Remus cuts in quickly, this is the very thing he’s been waiting for since the day he met Sirius. Since he saw Sirius’ eyes widening in that meadow under the trees, with the mosquitos buzzing around them and the complaining of all the stranded travelers around, when he went to light Sirius’ cigarette with his own like he always did with the boys at home, something he never gave much thought before, but suddenly when he did it with Sirius, it felt romantic, something he’d never known before.

And then every moment since, all of the glances, the sneaking of touches, the arguing and the cigarettes they’ve shared under the moon with their favorite rock bands playing in the background, all of those moments where Remus felt as if he’s known Sirius for ages, but was too embarrassed to say it out loud, it sounds like a silly thing already in his head, and must be much worse spoken out into the open air.

“And Remus, I just want you to know, I know about your mom and god, and I’m not religious or- or compassionate like James, so I don’t think I really understand any of that, but, you know, I like you, right? I’m in love with you, so we can figure it all out.” He says it all in a single breath, smiling openly now that Remus hasn’t turned him down, and he leans forward, breaking through that invisible boundary and Remus almost smiles back at him.

“Do you like me?” Sirius asks him then, and Remus can no longer get away with silences and looking anywhere but at Sirius.

“I- err…” He doesn’t know what to say. Of course he likes Sirius, but he doesn’t know how to tell him. What are the words again?

 “Hey, hey Moony, it takes getting used to for me too. It’s a big change obviously, you have to reimagine that whole picture of the future, now I go from a hot Pilates wife who drinks just a bit too much wine to put up with to some bookish geek who eats unhealthy amounts of chocolate and pulls people’s pants down for no reason.” Sirius is smiling from ear to ear, both hands on Remus’ shoulders, slightly shaking in his exhilaration.

Remus chuckles at that, and Sirius takes it as a sign to scoot a little closer, “It’s also not like we’ll immediately get married and tell the whole world, or any of that. I can like you and you can like me, and we can see how that goes and no one needs to know yet.”

Sirius’ grip is tightening on Remus’ shoulders, he shifts from enthusiasm to anxiety, Remus can feel it, Sirius is never subtle with his moods.

“Remus will you say something, please?”

“I’m in love with you too.”

James throws his mathematics book across the room. It flies through the air, hit his lamp, makes it move dangerously, the hook from which it hangs creaking as it swings from side to side, casting a moving light on the mess that his room has slowly been turning into over the past weeks.

Finally, with a loud thud, it hits the wall, the picture he’d hung up there falls to the ground, the frame breaks, and his book follows.

He buries his face in his hands, tries to hold back the tears because he can just tell it’s one of those days, and if he lets himself cry now he’ll be set off at any minor thing for the entirety of the day.

Minutes pass, James presses his knuckles into his eyes until it hurts and he’s almost afraid his eyes might pop out and disappear into his skull.

Nothing makes sense. The numbers keep dancing on the page in front of him, he struggled doing the kind of derivates he’s been doing for years and years, he can’t focus his gaze on anything, his headache is brutal and the brain fog makes it impossible to remember what even the simplest things mean.

His shoulders ache for no apparent reason, his chest seems to be cramping, there’s a headache rolling through his skull that feels like he’s being kneaded, and then there’s the exhaustion. The shaky hands, the dizziness, the brain fog, on days like these he can barely remember the full alphabet, it hurts to keep his eyes open, he’s cold, can’t stop shivering, and feels too nauseous to even think of food or drink. The labels in his clothing itch, his socks feel uncomfortable, his glasses press down on his nose too hard, light hurt his eyes, the slightest sound makes his ears tremble painfully.

He’s been trying to understand these mathematical problems all morning, but his answers are never correct and he’d been growing more frustrated with each one that he got wrong. He’s just too tired, he hasn’t slept in a while, and even if he did he doesn’t think it would’ve mattered. What he feels now is not the kind of tired that he feels after a night of little sleep, it’s the kind of utter exhaustion that warns him his body and brain will shut down soon and he’ll be incapable of doing the littlest things.

Every day tasks are already enormous challenges. But if he keeps on going like this there will be a moment, very soon, where he will not be able to get out of bed anymore.

His room is a disaster. The floor is something abstract he no longer believes in, there’s cups and plates scattered about, worn socks, his muddy jeans he wore to the beach yesterday, half-eaten bags of candy and leaking bottles of juice. His plants have died. He can’t find his calculator. The letter Regulus wrote him is somewhere in the mess but James can’t remember where. The beautiful vintage frame he bought years ago is now broken on the floor. Just a new addition to the mess.

His thoughts feel dangerously similar to the state of his room.

He’s overwhelmed, overwhelmed with everything and he can’t catch a break. The days all blur together into nothing and he knows, where he travels through space and time, reality and dream, with no direction and no way of knowing which is which, he feels that he’s slipping back into a state of surviving the passing of time where he will block everything out, and then in some weeks, or months even, he’ll snap out of it and realize he hasn’t been doing any living, once again. All the living he does feels like waiting. Waiting for something real. Constantly grieving who he could’ve been and what he could’ve had. What will never be.

Life is intolerable like that.

Every time he thinks things will get better they don’t. University, marine sciences, nice friends, a best friend, even, a boy who understands him, having fun, but then the distractions fail once more and he is reminded he is still as sick as he has always been and none of it chases away the sickness that resides in him. He wishes he didn’t have to be so sick, to feel so bad, so dramatic, to make a big deal out of chemical, a brain wired wrong, so many people live with it perfectly normal, so why is he always feeling such pity for himself? Why does he feel so wronged when many other people like him need constant care and cannot leave the house, go to school, have a job, or do any of the things that he can do?

He feels like such a fucking failure. He feels like a failure when he drags himself out of bed and pretends to be okay at breakfast, and he feels like a failure while he sits in class, or during practice, or at parties, and he also feels like a failure on the weekends, when he spends hours staring at the ceiling without moving a muscle, or when he forgets to call his parents, or when he lashes out at Lily, or when he calls in sick for class, or when his grades drop, or when he wants to leave this place without telling anyone, or when he feels like a burden, or when he feels like everyone secretly hates him, or when he doesn’t want to leave his room, or when he loses all faith in the future, or when he doesn’t clean his room or put on new clothes or remembers to eat or brush his teeth or do anything.

When he was a preteen his therapist told him he was just anxious and James always assumed things would pass and get better with time, just sit it out, survive until then, and be done with it. When he started high school he thought he was just having a rough puberty and struggled with the transition to a new school and everything would get better soon. When he finally started dating Lily he figured she’d make him happy enough to chase away the bad things. When he graduated high school he was certain that moving out and starting over would fix him.

What will fix him now?

Now that all else has failed?

When will things actually get better?

He moves his chair back, which is difficult when there’s heaps of clothing, books, cd’s and other mess all around, and walks through his room.

Still, after all this time, he’s still so awfully lonely. Even now, when he’s constantly surrounded by the sweetest people ever, he feels entirely alone. He might be the only person on this planet and it wouldn’t make a difference in how he feels. He will always continue to be the alien among humans, misunderstood, waiting for the truth to come out and be left.

He grabs the large box and dumps the contents on his bed. Naturally, he’d procrastinated getting Lily’s present ready until the very last moment. Her birthday is today, and though she didn’t want to celebrate in the middle of her grieving, they’ll order some pizza in a bit and watch a movie she likes, give her some presents, and later she’ll go out with the girls.

James sits down on the sheets with a sigh. He hasn’t washed his sheets in way too long, but can’t really be bothered by it.

The candle holder is ridiculous, but Lily wanted it, so he bought it. He puts it together, moving his muscles as if he’s dragging around a massive weight. When the thing is put together James is feeling like he’s losing grip on absolutely everything, and he knows he’s spiraling and spiraling. Alice shouldn’t have followed the rabbit, but she did, and likewise James never resists this darkness to swallow him whole and drag him down to the bottom. Regulus was right, it is easy, and James does like to choose the easy way out. He’s lazy. And he likes behaving like a victim. He likes to stare in the mirror, pull a sad face, and ask, why? Why did this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? Instead of picking himself up and moving on, making changes, getting better. Being sick is fun, easy, and it’s not like he gives a fuck about anything other than his own self-pity. He doesn’t care. Nothing matters anyway.

He stares at the thing, the golden elephant with what looks like Lumière from ‘The Beauty and the Beast’ on top of its back, it can’t even make him laugh now. His ears are ringing and his jaw is cramping because he can hardly remember how to keep his mouth shut properly, how does he do that normally?

Kicking away some of the mess on his floor, he creates an open spot, on which he sets down the thing, and then he reaches for the candles. He got salmon colored ones, assuming that it’d look good with the gold and match with the rest of Lily’s room. Blinking the tears from his eyes he lets himself fall to the floor, tries not to think of the pins he dropped the other day, or of the spiders and silverfish that relish in the mess, and he puts the first candle in.

It doesn’t fit.

Of course it doesn’t fit. Why would it fit? Why, just for once would anything work in James’ advantage? What’s the fun in that? On top of the physical discomfort, the mental drainage and the sadness that weighs him down like that fucking golden elephant, sure, why not make the candles too big? Maybe if he hadn’t been such a lazy procrastinator and had set the thing up earlier he would’ve had time to get some new candles, but it’s much too late for that now.

He drops his chin onto his chest, stares at the dust-covered floor, and truly can’t tell whether to laugh or cry.

All of these feelings, they come rushing in like through the breaking open of a dam, suffocating him, making him gasp for air where there is none. Yet at the same time, he can’t make sense of any of the feelings, and what you can’t make sense of, you can’t feel, right? He feels everything, nothing, all of it and none of it.

Fuck it, he gets up, tiptoes through the hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, and by some great miracle doesn’t run into anyone, well thank god, at least he can get some things to go right, and he grabs a knife, tiptoeing back up in much the same way and making a sprint the last few steps to his door when he hears another open.

Back in his room he throws himself down on the floor again, grabs one of the candles, and starts cutting away some of the bottom to make it fit. The hard wax that comes off it he just leaves on the floor, what’s a little more mess anyway at this point?

The first candle fits, he presses it down hard, and it seems steady enough, so he moves on to the next one. There’s an iron taste at the back of his throat, he can’t tell whether he bit on the inside of his mouth too hard, is having a nosebleed, or if his dreams have come true at last and he’s mercifully spared sitting out this prison sentence by an aneurysm or something of the sorts.

When he looks down at his hands he realizes that it’s none of the above, and that he’s just cut open his finger.

He sits silently, without moving, in the darkness of his room, and watches the blood trickle from the cut on his finger, onto the clothes on the floor, onto the wooden floor itself, onto his jeans, the candle, the knife, everything.

Carelessly, he lets the knife fall from his hands, and raises his fingers to his face to closer inspect the cut. It doesn’t look too deep or big, but it bleeds quite extensively, more than he’d expect. Such a shame he’s not in the mood to go downstairs right now, so he just sticks the finger in his mouth, sucks all the blood from it, swallows it down trying not to gag, and looks again at the clean cut. It’s difficult to focus his tired eyes on something so small in this darkness, but he’s certain that it’s only a small cut, which is probably why he’s not feeling a thing, and he picks up the knife once more.

Once the second candle is stuffed inside the candle holder he frowns upon noticing his finger is still bleeding.

The drops falling from it keep creating larger stains on everything lying on the floor.

James only sucks on it again and moves on to the next candle.

There’s not a single thought circling his head at the moment, or maybe there’s so many he just can’t make sense of anything.

When he’s almost finished with the third candle his finger starts to sting, just a little at first, but when he pushes open the wound to look just once more at how deep it is, it gets worse.

“Whatever.” He sighs out loud, putting the blood stained candle on the elephant with the other two. The mess all around him is overstimulating, and he needs it gone, right fucking now, especially now that he’s bleeding. He crawls over the floor, feeling too weak and light-headed to get on his feet, and throws some clothes into his closet, books onto the desk, and wrappers into some far corner of the room. The rest he shoves under the bed, he reaches for the mathematics book, hurls it to the window, and sits down in front of the painting and the shattered pieces of the frame. The frame is beyond saving, like him, maybe, and he aims for the bin as he throws the pieces trough the room, only some hit the target, the rest shatter on the floor. He can’t really be bothered.

The painting has survived the fall, it’s some old thing by an unknown painter, a hobbyist, likely, he got it at a market when he was very young and has it up in his room ever since. It’s a painting of a coral reef, a very magical looking one, with sharks, sea stars, shells, jellyfish and a whole bunch of other nice animals.

His eye catches on an arrow. An arrow? James has had this painting since before he can remember, he has it memorized to every last detail from all the years he’s been looking at it, and he’s absolutely certain that it never had an arrow before.

But it is there, undoubtedly. That is an arrow. He looks closer, holds his finger behind his back so as to not stain the painting, and looks and looks and yes, it can’t be missed.

He follows the point of the arrow with his eyes, but it only points at the ceiling.

James stares at the arrow, this must be it, that moment in the fairytales and the stories where the protagonist finds the other world where everything is perfect and magical.

Oh, but he’s too old to believe in this. Much too old.

He looks up at the ceiling again, where the arrow points to, but there’s absolutely nothing.

Does Sirius have a magical attic? Like in the ‘Velveteen Rabbit’? Or is James also suffering from scarlet fever and is he about to follow Beth’s destiny?

No, no he’s losing it. There’s no arrow, but there is, but it’s always been there, or has it not? What else could it be? Not a fish, or a shell, or a crab or a lobster or a piece of coral or anything that makes sense. It really is just an arrow, a blue arrow.

Is it the blood loss?

James decides to leave the painting, the arrow, the possibility of a magical world for what it is, and crawls back to the candles.

He grabs the last one, but can’t bring himself to do it, to make it fit into the holder.

Instead he finds himself playing with the knife, slick with blood by now, and wonder what it would be like. Does the soul go on living? Or is it eternal nothingness that he won’t even be aware of?

It’s too terrifying, as much as James hates to live, he can’t get himself to put an end to it.

But what if he just… just makes a shallow cut? What if he walks downstairs with the knife in his hands, with a trail of blood following him, with wrists opened up?

Everyone will finally realize he’s not doing okay. He’s not sunshine, he’s not happy, he’s not flying through life with ease and joy.

Maybe he can finally get some correct help.

Maybe others will understand.

Maybe they’ll see he’s sick.

“James!” The light flashes on, blinding him, James blinks against it, the headache gets worse at once, he feels like he’s being hit again and again and again, and then he drops the knife.

“I cut myself.” James says, holding up his finger and looking in the door opening, where Sirius stands with a strange look on his face.

“Well, come on idiot, you need a band-aid, and maybe open a window, yeah?” Sirius says, nudging some of the mess with the tip of his foot and gesturing at James to come into the hallway.

James gets up, takes some large steps over the heaps of mess, and feels himself stagger on his feet, his knees wobble, the ringing in his ears intensifies, and for one terrifying moment his vision goes black. Pain shoot up through his legs, what was the last time he had something to eat? He thought he had some candy this morning, but then that might’ve been yesterday, everything blurs together and makes the concept of days and time so confusing.

“Is it such a deep cut?” Sirius asks, very casually, more casually than he probably should be, as he puts his arm around James’ waist and guides him down the stairs and into the kitchen, propping him up against the counter and looking through the cabinets until he’s found the box in which they keep all the medical shit.

“I just didn’t feel it.” James replies, deciding to be casual about this too. People cut their fingers, it happens, James does quite often, Sirius did only the other day when Remus suggested he helped him cook, it’s not such a big deal. “Now everything’s a mess.” He groans, thinking of the blood on the clothes and the candles and the elephant and everything else.

Sirius grabs James’ hand, holds it under the tap, and lets some water run over it for a while as he looks for a band-aid. When he’s got it he grabs James’ hand again, pushes open the edges of the cut and decides it doesn’t need stitches. Carefully, and surprisingly gently, he covers it, not too tight, and looks back at James.

“Your hand-eye coordination sucks, James.” Sirius tells him as he gets him a glass of water and an apple. “What were you doing anyway?”

“The candles didn’t fit.”

Sirius chuckles, “So you thought you’d DIY some fitting ones?”

“Yeah?” James grins back at him, nipping at the water and staring at the apple. Both of them look unappetizing, only a minute ago he’d been about to slash his wrists, and now he’s back to putting on a performance. This is exactly why he’s so fucking tired.

“Just finish this, I’ll get the candles.” Sirius ruffles James’ hair, pinches his cheek lovingly, and goes back upstairs.

James quickly looks around to see if the kitchen is empty, throws his glass of water in the sink, and panics at the sight of the apple, it would be humanly impossible to eat it in the time it takes Sirius to get back, but he doesn’t want to eat it.

When Sirius gets back in the kitchen, holding the knife, the elephant, and the one candle that didn’t fit yet, James slams his glass down on the counter as if he just finished it and takes a miniature bite of his apple, smiling at Sirius and leaning against the counter as if he’s entirely unbothered by all of this.

“You’re a messy boy, James, my mom would have spontaneously passed of a heart attack if she saw the state of your room.” Sirius says in a stern voice, washing the blood off the elephant and the candles, and grabbing a clean knife to make the last candle fit.

“My mom would’ve cleaned it.” James shoots back, and Sirius scoffs, “Spoiled.” He says, which makes James laugh in return.

“I think you’re still the most spoiled out of the two of us.”

Sirius shrugs, putting the candle in with the others and looking at the hideous thing with a frown, “Are you sure any person would want this?”

“Lily loves it.” James looks Sirius’ face for any signs of shock at what just happened, but Sirius seems to not think anything of it. Accidents happen. No one could ever guess James was just about to do something really stupid.

He’s happy he didn’t, as exhausting and mildly painful as it is, he prefers when people know nothing about him.

“I’m gonna go clean.” James pushes himself off the counter, throws the apple in the trash, and waddles back upstairs, still feeling immensely dizzy and unsteady on his feet.

“Yeah, go do that, I’ll wrap this for you.” Sirius yells at him from the pantry where they keep the gift wrappers.

James feels horribly wronged by the universe or whatever gods actually exist as he steps into the room, taking in the jungle of mess. You wouldn’t think a person would be capable of creating such a mess, yet there he is.

He takes the excess candle wax to the trash can in the bathroom, and brings back a wet towel with which he scrubs at the floor. The blood stained clothing he throws in the trash, and then he decides that’s enough for one day.

When he trips over some loose papers he was supposed to submit yesterday he sees a glimpse of some unfamiliar handwriting, bends down, and picks up the letter that Regulus wrote him yesterday.

To James. It says on the outside, he folded it several times so the contents are hard to decipher, and James lays his hand on the dried ink, tracing the elegant lines Regulus has written down. Of course he has a beautiful handwriting, James is hardly taken by surprise, and sighs when he sees something he wrote himself, used three different pens in three different colors, ink blotches all over, the words so messy he can’t even understand what he wrote himself. Back in school he always had to make all his exams on a computer because the teachers refused to figure out what he wrote, now he’s grown too lazy to write comprehensibly.

He'd meant to read it yesterday, as Regulus walked up the beach to go to work, but then Sirius called him yelling at him there was an emergency and he needed to come home, so James never got the chance to have a look. Once home, his excitement at Sirius and Remus finally being sort of almost together was hardly containable and he just entirely forgot about the letter.

Now, he sits on the edge of his bed and folds open the paper.

Horribly annoying Potter,

I don’t even know why I’m sitting here with you right now. The sight of you is enough to mentally drain me for years to come. But I’ll be honest, you like that, don’t you? You intrigue me, I’m curious to know more about you. And I suppose you’re almost friendly. I don’t like you, and I don’t like how hard you make it to hate you, and I want to hate you, believe me, I do. Yet I keep coming back to hear your next joke. Did you curse me? I wouldn’t put it past you.

I just had to get that out of my system, sorry, I know I’m an ass. Now, you say you can’t talk, but I’m sure you can write. You can write, can you? Can you read? No, sorry, there I go again. Naturally you’re under no obligation to tell me anything you don’t want, but in case you would like to talk to me, feel free to. I’ll listen.

Fuck it, I’ll just come clear.

I like you, Potter.

Not in the romantic way, don’t let this get to your head. I like you as a friend. I’m willing to be your friend.

You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not for people to like you. Around me you can drop the act. I like you, even especially now that I know what I know. You’re a good guy, Potter. I don’t care how depressed you are, or how much you cut yourself, or whatever it is you struggle with. I doubt there’s much that could stop me from liking you.

I struggle too, if that wasn’t clear. I don’t appreciate you calling me an emo vampire, don’t do that again. I will cut your throat and drain your blood, to stay on theme. No, joke, or is it? Maybe we can practice talking on each other. I don’t think I’d mind if you know some things about me.

One more thing I want to tell you, I know you study marine sciences (yes I do actually listen when you talk) and you really love the ocean, but just because you love the water doesn’t mean you have to drown in it. I drowned once, and it was painful, and scary, and I managed to drag myself back on the land, but I wish I hadn’t let myself get pulled under in the first place. Swimming is better than letting go and sinking down, though that seems like the easier option. Dying is easy enough, James, living is hard yet worth it. Even orcas need to come up for air.

Don’t let that bad thing in your mind consume you. I like you too much to have to lose you to it.

You’re not alone anymore. You’ve met the other shark.

And about that metaphorical book of yours, I don’t care if your pages are running out. I’ll be a real author one day, but for now I can be one only for you. I’ll write you millions of pages, thousands of chapters to add to your book and keep your story going, Potter. I’m not a quitter, and I don’t think you are either.

See, see how easy it is to tell you things I don’t even want you to know on paper?

Just write me back, you asshole, my address is on the other side.

R.A.B.

“Happy birthday to you!” They all sing for her, Lily sits at the head of their dinner table, with one of those ridiculous hats on her head, the elastic string hurts her chin and she’s very careful about not getting too close to Marlene, who will definitely pull it away from her chin and let it clap back.

She’s trying very hard not to cry, while at the same time pretends nothing is out of the ordinary. Had dad not died she would’ve also been sitting here, and now that she’s away from home and back here she finds it’s deliciously easy to pretend he’s still alive and well back home.

“I’m sorry for earlier.” James whispers in her ear as he hands her the gift that he got, Lily accepts the large thing, wonders what in the world could be in it, she asked for books, and hugs James back, “It’s okay.” She says, not letting go of him until she’s certain she can hold back her tears.

He hands her a wonderful bouquet of all of her favorite flowers and sits down on the chair next to her, he’d demanded that he could give his present last, so now everyone’s watching expectantly, and James is grinning as she tears away the wrapping paper.

She realizes what it is the second she catches a glimpse of the shining gold, and can’t hold back the tears any longer. She feels herself shrink, double over, and cries like she hasn’t in front of them before.

“I told you it was hideous.” Sirius hisses at James, flicking at his ear, while both James and Mary rush forward to comfort her, kissing all over her head, rubbing over her back, whispering soothing words in her ears.

“I love it!” She exclaims finally, her voice fucked up from the crying, all shaky and high-pitched, barely even a voice at all, and she holds the elephant to her chest, clutching it like a baby.

It must be almost four years ago by now, that she first took James to her annual Cornwall trip with her family, and she showed him the elephant in the little shop that she wanted so badly but never bought because it was too expensive, just a weird amount of money to pay for such a strange piece of decoration, but every year, every summer that she goes to Cornwall she stares at it through the shop window and wishes for it.

James remembered that. Did he drive all the way there? Order it? Lily doesn’t care, after wanting the elephant for most of her life, it’s finally hers.

“I knew you would.” James whispers back, pulling her on his lap like he used to and kissing her cheek. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, rests her face in the crook of his neck, and cries until she no longer has any tears left.

“I want to cut my hair.” Marlene says, standing in front of the mirror and brushing her fingers through her long, sandy hair.

Mary looks up from her own mirror, in the middle of applying her lipstick, they’re going to go out, clubbing, for Lily’s birthday. Just the three of them, Dorcas has another exam tomorrow, couldn’t make it.

“Why?” Mary asks, fluffing up her hair and putting on some jewelry, with her long nails she always ends up in a war with the clasp, but Mary isn’t the kind to quit something, so she usually just sits there, in front of the mirror, cussing out her reflection until she can get the necklace to close. Once she’s managed it she stumbles over the floor, grabs the bottle of wine, and takes a long swig of it, setting it down with a sigh. They went out last night, are still on that fine-line between drunk and hungover, and will do the exact same tonight, and tomorrow, and all the days until Lily can get through the day without drinking herself into oblivion.  

“I think you should do it.” Lily offers, squeezing her toes into her shoes, they’re all pretending as if it’s just another night like the others on which they’ve gone out. Lily has decided that she’s just going to live in absolute denial from now on, it’s one of the grieving steps anyway, who cares if she gets stuck in it until her own death? She for sure doesn’t. As long as she’s here she can pretend dad is at home, happy, healthy, safe, and nothing’s wrong. She thinks it’s healthy, contrary to popular belief, isn’t being happy healthy? Sure it is.

“Dorcas thinks I shouldn’t.” Marlene sighs, tying the laces of her cherry-red dr. martens. Her tights are ripped, her skirt way too short, and her top too revealing, just as Marlene likes, and Lily must agree with her that the long hair doesn’t fit the rest of her. It’s too normal, for Marlene, clashes with the rest of her. The same way that it’d be weird if Lily had purple hair, or Mary long straight hair. Hair is important for expression, Lily thinks, and if Marlene wants to change it, she should.

“Well, why would you?” Mary asks again, looking for her coat with the fake fur.

“Because I always look the same, I just want to change things, the way I look. I’m getting older, I can’t be the same old me forever, that’d be boring.” Marlene plops herself down on Lily’s bed with a sour face, half of her wine bottle disappearing inside of her. All three of them know she’s upset with Dorcas for not being here tonight. Lily doesn’t mind too much, she knows how hectic university is, and that Dorcas’ degree is extremely challenging, but Marlene is furious at her not changing her schedule around to make it fit. Actually, Lily has the feeling Marlene is furious at Dorcas for a lot of things, but because of what James said she’s afraid that maybe she does mind other people’s business a little too much, and that she’d better stay out of this.

“So do it, it’s only hair.” Lily says, reaching for her own bottle and watching Mary turn and make a face at her, at which she only shrugs. “What, Mary, if I told you not to wear the fur coat tonight you’d still do it, right?”

Mary puts the coat on, checks herself in the mirror, and then sits down on her desk chair to wriggle herself into her boots. “Yeah, but that’s different. I don’t know, Marls, did you think it through?” She asks, attempting to stretch the leather material of her boots just enough to get her calves through.

“Yes I thought it through.” Marlene shoots back, jumping up and moving back to the mirror, folding the ends of her hair up to see what it looks like short.

“I think Marlene should be able to do whatever she wants.” Lily says, watching Mary turn to look at her once more. Lily knows that she’s usually the slightly boring and wise one, as Remus said, the innocent girl-next-door, and a month ago she might’ve agreed with Mary and stopped Marlene from making an impulsive decision she might regret, but you know what, people die, soon and unexpected, and there’s no time to be sensible. If Marlene wants to cut her hair, Lily would never hold her back, not in a million years.

“Of course I think Marlene should do whatever she wants, but you can’t glue hair back on!” Mary exclaims. Mary’s not in the best of moods at the moment, which is probably why she’s responding to all this so passionately. She’s missed out on quite a lot of school because of Lily, and her classmates are giving her a hard time about it.

“It will grow!”

“Lily can you cut it for me?” Marlene asks, entirely not acknowledging Mary’s sorry attempts at stopping her. Lily can see where she’s coming from, sort of, Mary’s heart beats for fashion, she takes it very seriously, and wouldn’t want anyone to look bad when it could’ve been avoided, but they’re young and you have to try things out in life! In fact, Lily might cut her hair short herself! Well, she won’t, she’s too attached to her long hair, but it’s about the principle.

“What? We’re not doing this at home! That’s destined to go horribly wrong!” Mary cries out.

Lily chuckles and looks through her drawers, “Marlene I actually can cut it for you, and I will, let me find some good scissors.”

“Could we also bleach it? It’s so dark, I used to be blonde.”

“We absolutely couldn’t.” Mary sinks to the bed now, she enjoys watching videos of people cutting and dyeing their hair at home and it going horribly wrong, this rightfully freaks her out, but Lily trusts her abilities not to fuck up.

“Yes we could, hang on, here!” Several weeks ago after a drunken night out they’d bought boxes of bleach with the plan to all go blond, thank god they fell asleep before they got to that point, but it’ll look good on Marlene.

Marlene sits down on her desk chair, a very content smile on her face, carefully looking at herself in the mirror before her when Lily grabs the first piece of hair and chops it off with the scissors. The bit of hair falls to the ground, and all three of them stare it, Marlene with a growing smile, Lily with growing confidence she can do this, and Mary with growing frustration.

“Oh my god, why are you doing this to yourself.”

“Mary don’t kill the fun, it’ll be fine.” Lily tells her, getting the next piece and just going for it. Marlene is scrolling through some photos on her phone to show Lily what she wants and Lily tries her best to make it happen. She’s cutting it to a little past Marlene’s shoulders, and then making layers in it, just to give it that extra bit of edge to fit Marlene.

“Could we do some bangs?” Marlene says when most of her hair is at shoulder length and Lily starts the layers.

“Hmm, we can definitely try.” Lily whispers through her concentration, very carefully picking out strands of hair and cutting them down a little to create the layers. Mary has given up on cringing from the bed and is standing next to her, making sure everything is at the same length, she’s got a better eye for details than Lily does.

“I think I’ll throw hot tea over them tomorrow.” Mary sighs, and Lily makes a face at Marlene through the mirror, they knew those girls were bothering Mary more than she was letting on. Mary likes to present herself as untouchable, larger than life, loud laughs, bold clothes, and an indestructible opinion about everything. She’s Sirius’ counterpart. But these mean girls, she can’t seem to shake it off.

“What do they even care anyway I wasn’t at school for a while? Mind your own fucking business, bitch.” Mary hisses, talking to herself more than to them. Most of her classmates at the fashion school got in through daddy’s money, while Mary had to work her ass off to get to the same exact room, and those girls know, it’s as if they can smell the middle-class on her, as Mary says. She’s an easy target.

“They don’t even know who the fuck they’re talking to, I used to be the queen of the school, how dare they?” She goes on, and Lily only nods, because Mary likely only needs someone to just listen carefully.

“Threatened by my talent, that’s all, daddy’s money can’t buy talent. They should be licking my fucking feet.”

“How’d you deal with bullies in school?” Marlene asks, blowing some stray hairs from her face.

“I was the bully in school.”

“Didn’t anyone ever stand up to you?”

Mary chuckles at that, “No, imagine little fourteen your old Sirius and I walking through the school hand in hand, fucking terrifying.”

Lily shudders at that, they must’ve been an evil pair, “Just tell them you don’t like their talk.” She offers.

“I’m not the confrontational type no longer, it never brought me much good, besides, I’ve learned from my mistakes, realized I was a bitch, and bettered myself! We’re all adults now! How could those bitches still be mean! Just grow out of it!” She cries out, shaking her head. Lily nods, at times, especially when Sirius is close, they see that side of Mary, that meaner bitchier side, but it is true, she’s bettered herself, Lily only knows her as a kind girl who would elect to eat her own shoe rather than treat someone wrong. And Mary’s correct, things are different in school when everyone’s young and insecure, it’s eat or be eaten, there’s so much left to learn, but here in university there’s no more room for bullies.

“Just ignore them, that hurts the worst anyway.” Lily mumbles, noticing Mary’s head snap up to look at her a little worried. Everyone’s silent for a moment, they all know Lily’s talking of Petunia, but then Mary sweetly rests her hand on Lily’s shoulder a second and goes on to cut Marlene’s hair.

“I like the hot tea plan.” Marlene announces with a grin.

The floor is now littered with Marlene’s dirty blonde hair, sticking to the undersides of their shoes as they shuffle through it to create layers all around. It’s harder than Lily had expected, but Mary assists her perfectly well, and the both of them manage to do a decent job. In the pictures Marlene showed her all the layers were a bit messy and choppy anyway, so she’s delivering exactly what’s wanted.

“Are you guys ever afraid of being a nobody?” Marlene says when Lily has gathered up the courage to start on her bangs.

She stops cutting, scissors in her hands, and looks at Marlene, who looks at them through the mirror, “A nobody?” Lily asks.

“Did anyone tell you you’re a nobody?” Mary puts her hand on the backrest of Marlene’s chair, looking worried. She’s rather protective when it comes to her girls. Lily is more of a soft personality, and Marlene bounces through life without a care, but Mary looks out for all three of them, she’s fierce and aggressive when men get too close in the bar and rarely drinks so she can watch out for the rest.

Marlene exhales, dropping her shoulders, “No, no that didn’t happen, it’s just something Sirius said, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You shouldn’t listen to anything Sirius says, that boy is mentally insane.” Mary tells her, raising her eyebrows and tugging at some of Marlene’s hair with a smile.

“Yeah, I know that, but… maybe he has a point?”

“He never has a point.”

“But you didn’t answer my question, are you ever afraid of being a nobody?”

“I guess I don’t think about it, you, Lils?” Mary turns to her now, brushing a curl from her face, patiently awaiting an answer. Lily swallows, she’s known Mary for what feels like ages now, but Mary has that kind of look in her eyes, that makes Lily feel as if she’s staring right through her, all the way down to her soul, not because it’s something that just happens, but because she wants to, because she really, genuinely just wants to know everything there is to know about Lily, and it still makes her blush. It’s kind of strange, and still a bit new, for someone to love her so unconditionally, and to be so interested in her, day after day. She always assumed she was too much for others, she couldn’t hold down friends for a long time, James often got annoyed with her, even her own sister can’t stand her, but Mary loves her, just like that, just because she does.

Lily considers it for a moment, swinging the scissors around her fingers, “No, not really. Too busy with school, to be honest.” Maybe that’s the problem, however, that she’s studying her life away, putting all that time and energy in her education when she could just as well die tomorrow, without a degree, without her little paper, and without having lived a fulfilling life. Is it a waste? To study? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know anything anymore.

“You don’t think about it?” Marlene asks.

“Not actively, I think everyone wants to be remembered, don’t we? But, I don’t think I want that more than others, if I can make something that lasts that’d be great, and if I don’t, I don’t think that makes me a nobody.” Lily replies, and Mary nods at that. Mary’s aiming to be a great fashion designer, have the most beautiful models walk around in her creations and go to every cool event, she wants her clothes to be remembered, but Lily hasn’t ever hear her talk of herself like that, she thinks Mary would prefer to stay in the background. Lily’s the same, she thinks, of course she wants to do great things, but in hundreds of years all of their names will be forgotten, so why put an effort into something useless?

“Exactly! That’s what I told him.”

“So why are you still worrying about it?” Mary brushes some of Marlene’s hair to the front so they can look where to make the bangs.

“I don’t know, we’re all growing up and things are changing and I’m afraid I’m not, or something. I just want to be the best I can be.”

“And you will be.” She says in a soothing voice, bravely chopping off the first bit of hair, Lily nods encouragingly, and Mary cuts and cuts until Marlene looks like a total rockstar.

“Sure I will, but Dorcas doesn’t want to move here, I will become what I’ve wanted to be since I started secondary school, and everything will go according to plan, isn’t that kind of boring?”

“It’s life, life is kind of boring.” Lily says, frowning, she’s going to become what she’s always wanted to be, is there something wrong with that? With having things figured out? And it’s the same for Mary, they’re just passionate girls who know to work hard to make their dreams come true, so won’t it only be a good thing when they finally do? When all the hard work pays off?

“Well, maybe I don’t want a boring life after all.” Marlene says with a shrug, covering her eyes with her hands now as Lily and Mary perfect Marlene’s rockstar hair.

“Then change it up.” Mary laughs, putting on gloves and massaging the bleach into Marlene’s hair.

“Yeah, yeah that’s what we’re doing, right?”

“Oh, we absolutely are, you’re looking really good.” Lily promises her.

“Good, that’s good. Do I look different? Cooler?”

“You already were painfully cool, but you definitely are even cooler.” Lily takes off her shoes, they’re probably no longer going out tonight, which is fine by her, she wasn’t really in the mood to stand in a dark room and be pressed up against sweaty animals that have had too much to drink anyway. She was only doing it to please Mary and Marlene, who kept pressing her to go, saying they should have birthday traditions and going out could be one of them.

“How long until the bleach is done?” Marlene asks with closed eyes.

“A while Marlene, it takes patience to change.”

“Ugh, boring.” She groans, they all laugh at that.

The doorbell rings, Regulus nearly feels his body ascend to the ceiling, jumps up from the couch, and starts panickily circling his living room. Oh no, it’s a total mess. With the very little money he managed to take from home when he left he could buy a small, a really small, a terrifyingly small studio apartment about the size of his bathroom at home. Not the bathroom with the bath and the shower, no, that was about three times the size of this apartment, but the small bathroom with only the toilet to the side of the kitchen that the servants use. That’s the size of this apartment, he wishes he’d stolen more money, but oh well, at least he’s free.

The cushions on the couch aren’t fluffed up, his notebooks with writings are all over, writings that feature James a truly embarrassing amount of time, oh and then there’s the empty teacups, more notebooks, does he have to write about James this often? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

As he hurriedly sprints through the living room, sticking notebooks under the couch and throwing them into the bin, he catches sight of himself in the mirror. Horrifying. Nightmare fuel. Who even is that?

He runs to get closer to it, turns on the light, frightens himself, turns the light out again, and lets out a panicked shriek. Regulus has trouble sleeping, as in, he barely sleeps, and it shows, oh god it shows. Those circles underneath his eyes have taken up almost his entire face and why did he think it a good idea to eat an entire bar of chocolate last night? His skin is breaking out now!

“Reg are you taking a shit or something?” He hears Barty’s voice from outside the door, and he feels himself deflate as he lets out a massive breath. Thank god, why did he think James would still show up anyway? He gave the letter to him two days ago, and yet no response, he must’ve said the wrong thing, James decided he was boring, unworthy of his time, or something like that.

“No.” He grumbles as he opens the door and lets the boys inside.

“Ah, expecting someone else?” Barty laughs at the sweater that Regulus had quite obviously only just pulled over his head.

“No sleep again?” Evan asks as he lets himself fall down on the couch. Regulus sits down next to him, turning his face away from the boys, he’s not exactly in the mood to discuss his sleep issues at the moment. “Mmh.” He hums, rubbing at his eyes until his skin burns. With the grand miracle that he does actually end up falling asleep, instead of his brain refusing to turn off and replay all of his memories and recall all he’s ever felt, which is a rare occurrence, he’s so plagued with nightmares that it never lasts long, and he’s too reluctant to fall back into that to even try, which makes for short nights.

“How was the date?” Barty hands him a bottle of beer, which Regulus takes with gratitude, and he takes a long sip first.

“It wasn’t a date.” He sneers.

Barty sighs at that, “How was it with James?”

“Awful.” Regulus tells them, shaking his head with disappointment at himself, he should’ve known better than to give in to his human weakness, Regulus doesn’t date, that’s far below his standards. It’s cheesy, unnecessary, and overall disgusting. “I wrote him a fucking letter.” He adds in a low voice, wondering how in the world he let himself do such an idiotic thing.

“A letter?” Evan cries out.

“A fucking letter?” Barty follows, nearly spilling his beer over the couch.

Regulus groans, gets up and hides some more notebooks before they can read those and mercilessly tease him with that, “Don’t bully me.” He begs, taking the stack of notebooks to his bed and shoving them underneath his mattress.

“You just gave us some really good cause.”

“I’m well aware.” He responds with a pained face, sinking down on the couch and groaning once more, feeling so sorry for himself. The one time he tries and puts himself out there he is rejected. What did he even expect to happen? All people ever do is resent him and then eventually abandon him without looking back, it’s a tale as old as time, and it won’t change. There’s just something about him that people hate. He can’t help it. Only a little. Well, it’s totally on him, but that’s not his problem. He’d just hoped James was a better man than Sirius and wouldn’t leave him, but they’re literally best friends, so who was he even fooling? Of course James is not a better man! He just tricked Regulus by acting all sad and depressed to get Regulus’ sympathy, and then fool him into thinking he’s in love with him, only to leave him right when Regulus was just starting to like him.

“How’d he respond?”

Regulus chugs half the bottle, and is already thinking of the next one, he’s going to need something to drown out his disappointment in himself, “He didn’t, that’s entire fucking problem. He fucking… I don’t know, bewitched me- do you think Sirius made him do it? And then I do something stupid and he just doesn’t even- bah!” He cries out, slamming the empty bottle down on the table.

“Was it a mean letter?”

“Only a little! I thought I was actually kind of nice! But then maybe that scared him off!”

Evan sighs, “What’s a little mean to you is enough of a reason for someone else to end it all, Reg.”

“I swear I wasn’t mean.” Regulus defends himself, and he wasn’t, was he? He was actually really touched by how open James was with him and wanted to give him something in return. Something to help him. He’d even planned on telling James something about himself! Telling him about Sirius is a little impossible, James might put two and two together, but Regulus could still tell him about his separation issues, how he’s afraid of letting people get close only to be abandoned and how it’s made him mean. He thought that if he could explain to James why he’s so mean that maybe James would tolerate it and… not leave him. Only he has. Already.

“It’s hard to believe, I mean, we’ve known you all our lives and never heard you say anything nice.” Barty says with a laugh, handing Regulus another bottle.

“Oh, I’m sorry for having to build a defense mechanism for myself.” He spits back.

Evan flicks his temple for that, “Don’t go playing the victim, we were all not exactly blessed with our families- we got out, didn’t we?”

“That’s debatable.” Regulus grumbles. They don’t really discuss their history. What happened to them is unfair, really shit, but it’s in the past now and they’ve made a pact to only look forward. They can’t allow it to drag them down more than it already has.

“Physically we got out, maybe Potter needs a moment to… digest it?” Evan suggests.

“Yeah, yeah that’s it, you’re quite intense Reg, can’t blame the guy.” Barty agrees.

Regulus opens his mouth, about to give his friends some shit for calling him an asshole, though, naturally they are correct, but they’re his friends, they should talk of Regulus as if he’s a perfect little angel, what if he dies? What if he dies and Barty and Evan speak at his funeral, and instead of saying he lights up the room, they say that he was a mean bitch? But the doorbell rings, shutting Regulus up before he could even start, and he looks around the room with that same panic from before, because this time the only two people who know of this address are already sitting on his couch, and the other person who knows… is James.

“Is that him?” Regulus whispers, feeling his eyes widen as Barty crosses through the room to the door, and peeks through the little window off to the side of it.

“Yup.” At the same time Barty says it he swings open the door and all three of them can see James standing in the doorway, clutching the letter Regulus wrote him, alongside a new piece of paper. He’s soaked from the rain, messy curls dripping with it, and drops sliding down his glasses. Regulus feels his heart rush up to his throat.

“Hey, Barty, how’re you doing man?” James instantly lights up the fucking room because of course he does, of course that’s the thing people can say about him at his funeral and it’s even true. Regulus fears his brain is shutting down, because James Potter is in his studio? He’s here? He can see Regulus’ bed from where he’s standing!

“Potter, it’s such a pleasure to see you again.” Barty happily smiles at James and steps to the side to let him in, glancing back at Regulus with a devilish grin on his face.

“Oh, is this not a great time?” He asks when he steps inside and sees Evan and Regulus sitting on the couch with their beer bottles in hand. From the corner of his eyes Regulus can see Evan’s hand move to underneath the couch, and start reaching for one of the notebooks that Regulus missed as he was putting them away, Regulus kicks at his wrist and smiles at James.

“No.” He says briskly, but then remembering how Barty and Evan told him to be nicer, “Do you want some… water?” He stammers, great, no, lovely, totally, he was just about to offer James some beer as if he didn’t just tell Regulus that he struggles with addiction the other day. So sensible of him. And now he’s making things weird.

“Yes, that’s lovely, Reggie, thank you very much.” James waves hi to Evan and crosses the room, about to hug Regulus, but Regulus pushes him off and flees to the kitchen to fetch some water. He’s standing clutching the kitchen counter and listens to James making small talk with Barty and Evan as he tries to regain some of his dignity. He’d have loved to let James hug him and that thought makes him sick.

“You don’t drink?” Evan holds out his bottle to James, daringly, and James stares at it, Regulus can tell he’s currently performing, acting as he always does, smiling big smiles, talking with his loud voice, pretending he’s the happiest person on this whole entire earth.

“He’s an athlete.” Regulus answers for him, when he notices James struggle to find the right words.

“Football.” James adds with a smile, clinking his glass of water with Evan’s beer and sitting down on the couch in between Barty and Evan. This is a strange fucking sight, Regulus feels like he’s going insane, and sinks down on the coffee table.

“This is for you, Reg, it is a love confession and a rather dirty one so maybe not read it in front of these two.” James says with a chuckle, handing Regulus a letter and pointing at Barty and Evan, who are crowding in on him like hyenas. “I would’ve come by sooner but things were a little busy at home-“

“What happened to your finger?” Barty asks, fully grabbing James’ hand and holding up a bandaged finger, fucking hell, Regulus is embarrassed to death.

James’ eyes briefly flicker over to Regulus, and Regulus feels his stomach contract, did James do something on purpose? but then his smile is back on his face, “I was trying to make some candles fit and, well, little accident.” He shrugs innocently and pulls his finger back, resting his hand on his leg and smiling back at Regulus.

“Regulus is very hurt you made him wait this long.” Barty tells James, putting an arm around James’ shoulder as if they’re the best of friends. Regulus can tell James feels reserved, though he plays it off well and puts his own arm around Barty’s shoulders, seemingly not disturbed by this situation.

“I am not! No, Potter, do not listen to these two!” Regulus says quickly, kicking at Barty’s shins.

“Why did you make him wait?” Evan cuts in.

James smiles and smiles and smiles. It’s all he can do. “My friend’s dad died and then she turned twenty-one, so… yeah.”

“Oh, that’s fair.” Barty tells him, shaking some rain water from James’ curls and winking at Regulus, who is very close to losing his shit. He thought James was done with him, and now he’s sitting here on the couch, and nothing was ever wrong, Regulus was simply overthinking things. Except, now he’s given a lot more material to overthink because Barty and Evan are fucking this up for him.

“Sorry man.” Evan awkwardly pats James’ shoulder.

“It’s okay, I really wasn’t waiting or anything.” Regulus adds, he doesn’t want James to think he’s some pathetic creature who sits around waiting for his response all day. Which is pretty much exactly what he’d been doing these past days. James doesn’t need to know.

“So, Potter, you are in love with little Reggie here?” Barty starts, continuing to play with James’ hair and glance back at Regulus from time to time because Barty knows very well that Regulus talks of James’ hair a lot and how badly he wishes he could put his hands in it.

“Please don’t do this.” Regulus hisses at him.

“Will you never break his heart?”

James shakes his head, “No, I wouldn’t dare to, I love him too much, till death do us apart, y’know.” He winks at Regulus, and then at Barty. Regulus can tell from his body language he’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t say a thing, he lets Barty touch his hair, and he responds to their idiotic questions as if it’s all he’s ever done.

“I like that dedication.” Evan says, and Barty nods in agreement, “So you’ll treat him right, always?”

James chuckles, and attempts to move away from Barty without success, Barty is holding him tight, “I think that’s hardly something you need to worry about, did he tell you he tried to murder me? I think you should be more concerned for me.”

“The freezer thing?” Evan asks with a laugh.

Regulus groans and rolls his eyes, it was a mistake, he realizes that now, but he was upset, and James deserved it, “Not the fucking freezer thing can’t you just let that go?”

“It was scary!”

“Reggie will you treat our dear Potter here right?”

“Oh my fucking god.”

James abruptly gets up from the couch, smiling at all of them, “Well, I actually have to go to practice now, I just came to bring that letter, but your friends are lovely, dear, and I can’t wait for a response, wouldn’t mind a vulgar picture-“

“Potter!” Regulus cries out, heat rising to his cheeks.

James bends down until their faces are close together, and he smiles his genuine smile, not the fake thing with which he pretends to be happy, “Right, sorry, I’ll see you, bye guys!” He turns and walks suspiciously quickly to the door, eyes on Barty.

“Bye Potter, have a good one!”

“You too!”

James waves at Regulus once more, blows him a kiss, and pulls the door shut behind him. All three of them listen silently until his footsteps have walked away and they’re certain he’s gone. Regulus can’t stand this. He feels bad. He feels bad? He’s never felt bad about anything in his life before, and he gets up from the couch, hissing at his friends to stay right there, and runs through the hallway of his building until he’s next to James.

“I’m so sorry for that, I know they’re a bit unconventional.” Regulus says, grabbing the sleeve of James’ coat to stop him, James turns around surprised, pulls his headphones off his ears and gets that smile back on his face at once, the genuine one.

“It’s okay, Reg, my friends would probably have done the same to you.” He says, his eyes traveling to Regulus’ hand, which still holds James’ sleeve, and his smile grows.

“You’re not upset?”

“I told you not to treat me like porcelain.” James says, and he sets another step closer to Regulus. Regulus feels just as delirious as he did on the beach when James suddenly started stepping closer to him, this proximity makes him feels as if he’s on fire. Burning up all the way.

“When will I see you again?” Regulus asks, it must the heat in his brain, it’s melting everything. Does James have to be so close?

“Do you want to see me again love?” James murmurs, lowering his head until they’re even closer. His eyes are twinkling behind his glasses, and his smile reaches from ear to ear, dimples even deeper than usually.

“Mmmaybe.” Regulus manages to get out, tilting his head to the side and suppressing the achingly large smile he feels coming to his face.

“My address is on the letter, so I guess I’ll just await your response.” James whispers, because they’re just so close there’s no need for loud voices. There’s a look in James’ eyes that makes Regulus’ knees buckle, and he lets go off James’ sleeve, setting a step backwards before his body can do something stupid he’ll regret.

James reaches out, gently tucks a loose curls back behind Regulus’ ear with such an endearing look on his face, and then he walks away, whistling a tune.

Regulus shuffles back to his door feeling like a madman.

“You like him, Regulus.” Evan says, pulling Regulus inside and throwing the door shut.

“No, absolutely don’t.” He argues, but what’s even the use? They can both see the lovestruck smile on his face.

“I like him!” Barty cries out.

“You’re not his type, Barty.” Evan tells him, guiding Regulus to the couch and handing him James’ letter. Regulus stares at it, his handwriting is messy, the ink is blotched, James touched this. He put effort in this for Regulus.

“How’d you know?”

“Because he’s obviously head over heels in love with little Reggie!”

“Don’t call me little Reggie.” Regulus pushes them away so he can have a little room to breathe.

“But he has a heart, Reg.” Evan says with a sigh, falling down on the couch next to Regulus.

Regulus looks to the side, this isn’t new information to him, James must have the biggest heart in the universe, “Yeah, so what?”

“Are you willing to break it?” Barty lies down on his other side, kicking his dirty shoes off on the coffee table.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Regulus says with a shake of his head, hungrily ripping open the envelope and pulling out the piece of paper that’s entirely- on both sides- filled with James’ handwriting.

“You should really start to think to yourself whether you’re doing this because you like the guy, which is totally understandable, even I feel a little weak in the knees-“

“He’s really fucking attractive.” Barty agrees.

“He is, or, Reg, if you’re doing this to get your revenge on Sirius.” Evan says wisely.

Regulus waves it off, seeing how James addressed him, my Reggie. His Reggie? Is Regulus his? “No, no that’s not part of my motive now. I don’t want to use James like that.”

“I wouldn’t want to use him like that either, he doesn’t deserve it.” Barty says, looking over Regulus’ shoulder so he can also read the letter.

“I know that! Which is why I’m not!”

“If you really like him you should cut things off now, before it gets too messy.” Evan tells him.

“It won’t get messy.” Regulus promises them, his mind too fucked up to even make sense of the words James has written. My Reggie. Regulus sees two cutouts of pictures of sharks in the envelope, maybe they’ve come out of some science magazine that James reads, it says us? on the back.

“It will when he finds out who you are. What if James mentions dating a guy named Regulus around Sirius? He’s not that stupid.”

“I’ll just give him clear instruction to not name me in front of his friends.”

“It’ll be a bloodbath.” Evan sighs.

“It’ll be fine.” Regulus tells them, not in the headspace to think about Sirius right now, Sirius only messes everything up, and this, this thing with James, it’s perfect, he won’t let it get tainted by his idiotic big brother.

“I hope you’re right, Reg, I really do.”