no shade in the shadow

“Sirius don’t you think it’s about time we give up?” Peter groans, dropping his guitar between his legs and staring at his bleeding fingers.

James leans over and pats Peter’s shoulder with a sympathetic smile, immensely thankful he’s wearing earplugs and didn’t have to do a lot of listening to whatever painfully awful music it is they’re currently attempting to make.

“No we don’t fucking give up, this isn’t supposed to come easily, all of the greats struggled, but they kept struggling, Pete, until they made it.” Sirius snaps back, looking equally frustrated.

Everyone in this house is well aware of Sirius’ undying love for music, especially rock and roll. He’s got sound installations all over and plays through both day and night at a volume that must be audible all across the globe, it’s something he’s used to by now, as have the neighbors, likely, at least they’ve never gotten complaints.

In the relatively short amount of time that James has known Sirius it’s been pretty much all he ever talks about. He hums Queen songs, forces James to listen to Bowie until he feels his ears bleed, and swears he’s the reincarnation of Jim Morrison. Sirius’ heart beats for art, creating phenomenal pieces that make you feel, and though he’s chosen to be a painter, it seems he just cannot let go of his dream of becoming the lead singer of the next rock sensation. Which brings them here, in the basement, rehearsing the few songs that make them sound somewhat decent while Sirius loses hope. For what should be a band, they sound more like a bunch of individuals thrown together in order to torture one another.

Marlene has her electrical guitar, Pete his acoustic one, and Sirius spent several weekends strolling through vintage markets and old shops to buy a keyboard, bass guitar, and drum set, hauling them home, dragging them through the streets all on his own. It’s all complete now, their band, they’re set up down here amongst the mold and the dewy cold that evaporates off the brick walls, it smells like death down here, and there’s suspicious stains.  

The initial idea was nice, exciting, they all like music, and though on their own they have rather distinct tastes, they can all appreciate what Sirius forces them to listen to. They’re young, in university, the campus is filled to the brim with small aspiring bands, only in James’ year about half the people are part of them, isn’t it the whole experience? Students who are certain they can take over the world, while simultaneously dreading the career that’s waiting on them? So they said yes, unaware of how dedicated Sirius would turn out to be.

Sirius drags a hand through his curls, leaning on his microphone stand and looking more worked up than James has ever seen him. This is important to Sirius, and James can’t argue with him, everyone who’s ever glanced in his direction can feel in their bones that Sirius Black is destined to be big, to have a legacy that lasts across generations. “How boring would it be if they made a documentary of us and it just shows he we started out perfect and never had to work! I wouldn’t watch that documentary! Also, we need some drama, all good bands needs drama.”

“Like Zayn leaving?” Lily asks, looking down at her shirt. Sirius demanded they all wore band merch, nearly threw Lily out of the window when she came downstairs in her Taylor Swift merch, and settled, very bitterly, for her One Direction shirt that’s about ten sizes too small since she bought it during their prime. Sirius likes to pretend modern pop music doesn’t exist.

“Oh my god Lily no! We need affairs! We need to hate each other-“

“But we don’t?” Peter cuts in. James presses his earplugs as far into his ears as he dares without getting afraid he might lose them somewhere in the dark unexplored caverns of his inner ears and he’ll be unable to reach them when at last they tear open his eardrums and he’s forever doomed to a silent life, just him and his never ending thoughts.

“I’ll make you hate me! It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the greater good!”

“I could hate you.” Remus says, grinning at Sirius. James doesn’t miss the way the two boys stare at each other, making eyes as if they’re the only ones in the room, but James made a promise not to tell a soul of what he knows, and he’ll keep his mouth shut.

Sirius claps in his hands, “Great! Thank you Moony, see, it’s not that hard! Now let’s try again.”

“Did we all forget we’re only doing this because Sirius is afraid of growing up?” Mary looks around the room, chewing her gum in that casually cool way of hers, playing with the microphone.

“I’m sorry for wanting to make something out of myself.”

“You don’t need to drag us down your path of struggling with yourself.”

Sirius groans loudly now, impatiently tapping his foot on the floor and looking around the room, pointing fingers at everyone he wants to see working harder, “I’m doing you all a favor! Lily dreams of being a wildlife conservationist, and she’ll be one, boring! Peter wants to be an archeologist, and he’ll be one, boring! Mary wants to design clothing, and she will, boring! And Moony- well I don’t know what the fuck Moony’s gonna be-“

“Me neither.”

“Good for you Rem, and you know what, in thirty years we’re all old and ugly, getting fat, Pete will be bald,”

“What the fuck?” Peter looks up from his bloodied hands, frowning at Sirius and his massive ego.

Sirius only grins back, that Sirius Black grin, “I will still be beautiful, and we’re all living in perfectly respectable houses, with our partners that secretly cheat on us and our children that we kind of hate and our jobs that depress us, just another brick on the wall, commuting with all the other grey mice, working to die, living for the weekend, saving up for a single week of camping in the cold rain, and we’ll wonder how the fuck we got there when everything seemed to be going so well when we were young and we had such big dreams and hopes and thought we could do anything, and you’ll wish you’d had an annoying friend who fought for you future to be cool, yeah? So stop fucking complaining and pick up that guitar, Pete!” Sirius cries out, kicking at Peter’s shins.

“Why are you picking on me so much!”

“Because you need to work harder, we need to become perfect! Our entire lives depend on this moment!”

“Isn’t that a bit dramatic?” James asks, seeing Marlene chuckle from the corner of his eyes, she’s enjoying this, and keeps attempting to bully Sirius into playing them some violin.

“Let’s go we’re doing the song again.” Sirius tells them all, and since it’s hard to argue with the boy, they all pick up their instruments and start again.

On this try, they’re a little less awful, Sirius looks pleased which makes James confident that maybe they could be somewhat decent someday, after many more torturous hours of practicing.

James himself doesn’t feel that much for this whole plan. He played drums when he was young because he relished in the loudness of it, the melodies and rhythms echoing through his body, chasing away his demons with the loud booms, but as he grew old and tired the energy he could let go of in the drums was no longer energy that ever would reside in his body at all. There was no more need for the drums.

As of now, sure he likes music, but only to drown out the constant chatter of the millions of thoughts circling his head at all times. It’s more a manner of surviving to him, a sweet distraction, but not his passion. James is passionate about other things, like… well, he doesn’t really know what he’s passionate about.

He knows he’s supposed to be brimming with it, overflowing, passion seeping out of his every pore. Every young person is, they want to travel the world, experience other cultures, learn new languages, eat scorpions in Asia, climb to the top of a mountain, fall in love, have hookups, walk faraway beaches on their bare feet while sipping cheap drinks, cuddle a chained tiger, see a rare flower, graduate university, try out different jobs, network, climb the career ladder, marry, go to expensive resorts on the holidays, have kids, catch caterpillars with them and watch them take their first steps, it’s an endless succession of experiences his peers hunger for, burn for, are passionate for in a way that James doesn’t recognize.

In no possible way can he relate to feelings he’s supposed to share. He doesn’t care to try the newest flavor of ice cream they’re selling at the shop down the street, he’s bored of collecting shells on the beach, and has no interest in the ocean and all the things he should love. No part of him wishes to travel far or party hard or grow old, yet at the same time he would like for nothing more. He wants to be like others, he wants to relate to them, he wants to like all those things he’s supposed to, he just doesn’t.

Not the real James, at least, not the living breathing James that he is, that he has to be every day. The other James wants that, the fictional image he’s created in his mind, the James that lives in his daydreams and isn’t disabled and can do whatever he likes, the one that hungers for life and love in a way he’ll never be able to.

Maybe he’s just not passionate about a lot, maybe it’s only a temporary thing, maybe he’ll grow out of it, but currently, the boring routine of his ordinary days suck all the life and happiness from him and he knows he’s gone far past the point where he should’ve taken a step back and looked after himself. His body continuously screams at him to take a break, and then there’s the brain, which doesn’t much work for academic purposes any longer and now only limits and hurts him.

He’s likely burnt out, at the moment, he’s well aware of that. What’s he supposed to do? Take fewer classes? Quit football? Call in sick a while? No, not options he’s willing to entertain. James is normal, for once he’s normal, and he will do normal things in the normal way in which normal people do them.

“That didn’t make me want to pick out my own eyeballs and feed them to Pete.” Sirius says, almost sounding a little proud, when they put down their instruments and climb the stairs to the kitchen, Remus goes first, he refuses to walk behind other people on the stairs ever since his fall.

James suppresses a yawn and itches his arm, his burns have healed nicely, leaving only some soft new skin that’ll blend in soon enough, leaving no scars, that is, if you don’t count the ones he put there himself. He finds himself reaching for the blades more often than ever before, delighting in the sweet pain he feels when the blood blossoms and for a moment he doesn’t have to think of his other pains.

“Now we just need our own songs.” Sirius continues to mumble to himself as he leans against the kitchen counter, tapping his nails against the marble. “And we need to look cooler.”

“Don’t we look cool?” James asks him, digging the earplugs out his ears and chucking them in the trash.

“James you look like you play football.”

“I do play football?” James shoots back, looking down at himself. Okay, he knows he doesn’t look as cool and alternative as Sirius and Remus do, but he just doesn’t care about clothes enough. It’s just one of those things he won’t participate in as an act of rebellion. Wake up in the morning, brush your teeth, do your hair, eat, get dressed, eat, pee, drink, pee, eat again, take the clothes off, eat again, pee some more, go to bed, wake up, do it all over again. James would rather kill himself than have to think about an outfit to wear every single morning without end for the rest of his life. It’s like a fucking prison. If he could cut out his bladder he would.

“We need earrings.” Sirius mutters, a faraway look in his eyes.

“But I’ll have a hole in my ear for the rest of my life!” James whines on the way to the tattoo shop where they’ll get their ears pierced. Sirius goes there to get his tattoos and claims it’s a good place, but Sirius’ tattoos are crooked, a bit wonky, and if they pierce as well as they tattoo, James doesn’t have a lot of faith in this place.

“Don’t be a baby, Potter.” Lily hisses back at him. James looks at her, trying to figure out what he can do to help her. Lily’s kind of gone a little… crazy, ever since her dad passed. She keeps doing impulsive things, James knows she didn’t pass the exam they had last week, and she didn’t even submit her assignment! Lily submits assignments weeks before they’re due! Nothing seems to bother her anymore, she’s absolutely fearless. And losing a lot of weight too. She doesn’t look too healthy, her cheeks have sunken into her face, her skin is pale, she looks so horribly tired.

“I might just get a tattoo today.” She tells him, pointing at her fingers- her fingers? Of all places, her fucking fingers? “Maybe a little flower, or a heart.”

James feels his eyes nearly bulge from his skull, “On your fingers?” He cries out.

“Why not?”

“Because they’re your fingers!”

“You should get Loverboy’s name tattooed on your butt, that’d be cool.” Marlene says, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“What’s his name anyway?” Lily tries to pry, all the time, James is fairly sure she followed him to the library the other day, her curiosity is too strong, and she desperately wants to know who Regulus is, but James won’t give in so easily.

“I’m not telling you his name, I don’t want you all stalking him.” James counters, ignoring the disappointment on the girls’ faces.

“So it doesn’t hurt at all?” He hears Peter behind him.

“You don’t feel a thing.” Mary tells him, James looks back, but Mary shushes him before he can even open his mouth. “Done before you know.”

Sirius, like a true gentleman, opens the door of the shop, lets Remus enter, winking at him, lets the girls in too, and then throws the door shut in James and Peter’s faces with a loud laugh. James rolls his eyes, making a face at Peter, and they walk inside the shop. It ticks all the boxes and lives up to James’ stereotypes quite nicely, with the thick, almost suffocating smell of smoke, the dim lights, and the walls covered in graffiti. The girl behind the desk has not a piece of skin in sight, everything’s either black from tattoo ink or shining with piercings- how is she not terribly afraid of magnetic fields with that much metal attached to her skin?- when she talks James sees she has a cut tongue, like a snake’s. He’s terrified.

Lily starts flipping through a book with tattoo designs, to James’ great terror, and the other girls plop down on a dirty looking couch that he makes sure not to stand too close to.

“Who first?” Sirius asks them, looking right in his element here in the shop, straightening his leather jacket, a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

“I’ll go.” James says, hauling himself up in the chair, the chair is sticky, the leather has cracked in many places, revealing the inside skeleton of the chair, the smell is enough to make him gag, his eyes water, he’s certain the hairs in his nose are on fire, isn’t there supposed to be a sheet over it, for hygiene reasons? He makes a point out of not touching the chair with anything other than his butt and waits patiently for the girl to stroll over with a long needle in her hand.

“Oh, don’t you do this with those piercing guns?” He asks her, unable to tear his eyes away from that needle the size of the Empire state building, he rubs his index finger over his beautifully empty earlobe that has done nothing to deserve this kind of horror.

“Nah, that’s for little girls.” She says, she has a smoker voice, a really bad smoker voice, so hoarse James can barely make out what she’s saying, but he nods nevertheless and tries not to look too stressed since the other boys are watching him. He’d have preferred the little girls piercing gun, and a decent jewelry shop with nice elderly ladies that smell of strong perfume rather than smoke, and there’s this sour smell too, are they hiding bodies in here?

“Want my hand?” Sirius offers, holding out his hand.

How often do they clean that needle? What if it’s riddled with diseases? What if she misses and impales his brain? What if someone’s old rusty blood is still on the thing? What if he gets an infection and loses his limbs? Gets a brain bleed? Couldn’t they have gone to a place with good reviews?

“Sure.” James breathes, grabbing Sirius’ hand and squeezing hard.

“Left or right.” The girl asks, looking super bored, twirling the needle around in her ungloved, and as far as he knows, unwashed hands.

“Left’s your good side.” Sirius says, patting the top of James’ head with an amused grin.

“Left it is.”

James breathes in through the nose and out through the mouth, banishes thoughts of bacteria from his mind, and closes his eyes until he can feel a stinging in his ear, then some pressure, and then another sting when the earring goes in.

“That was it.” The girl tells him, wiping the needle on her jeans and gesturing at the boys for the next to go sit down.

James can feel the diseases brood in his ear.

“Can I go? My bladder is filling up a little from the stress.” Peter says in a squeaky voice, flinging himself down on the chair with a face that looks entirely drained from all blood.

“TMI, Pete.” Remus sighs, standing ready with a juice box and some water for Pete.

Sirius gives Peter his hands, and Peter seems to be getting more afraid with every passing second. “I really won’t feel a thing?”

“Nothing at all.” James smiles at him, wanting to rip off his head because his own ear is throbbing a little, feeling warm, heartbeat banging against the earring. It’s making him feel sick.

“I felt that! I felt that!” Peter cries out when the needle goes through, his face getting even more pale than James thought was humanly possible, his eyes roll to the back of his head and by the time the earring is in Peter is passed out in the chair.

“Do you also want a hand, Moony?” Sirius smirks when Remus has managed to haul Peter to the couch with his juice box and sits down himself.

James is tuning everyone and everything out. His senses are flooding. There’s the smell of smoke, the flickering lights, the cars rushing outside on the street, the girls’ chatter, Peter’s whining, his throbbing ear, he swears he can feel the diseases travel through his veins and dismember his heart, it’s too warm, but he’s shivering, must be a fever already, and the blood in his hands has dropped to the tips of his fingers, which are also currently throbbing, headache, hair is tickling his neck, he’s going to be sick.

“You okay, James?” When he looks up again Sirius is sitting in the chair, a golden earring shining in his ear, looking at James with concern.

“Tired.”

“Are you programmed to always say tired?” Sirius asks as they walk out of the shop, the cold wind stings his ear even worse, and there’s only so much he can do to keep from ripping his ear off and stomping on it until no one will ever know it used to be an ear. Peter is being held up by a grumpy Remus, and the girls keep laughing at their earrings, which James must admit, are a bit ridiculous looking. It’s no longer the seventies, guys don’t have earrings anymore, and especially only one, who do they think they are? Some rock and roll band? According to Sirius that’s just what they are, but whoever believed a word Sirius says?

“Guess so.” James jokes, plopping himself down on the chair of the café next door to the shop and grabbing for the menu, focusing on that and not on how Sirius is obviously keeping a closer eye on him ever since the whole candle thing on Lily’s birthday.

“Maybe you could sleep more.”

“Only if you keep me warm.” James shoots back, winking at Sirius and tapping Lily’s shoulder, shutting Sirius down, not wanting him to get too close, “Lils you didn’t get that tattoo, right?” He asks, though he knows she didn’t, he just needs an escape from Sirius.

Sirius narrows his eyes at him, starts rocking on his chair, and eventually seems to decide to let it go, “We need a name.” He announces to the group.

“For the band?”

“Yup, for the band.”

James makes a point out of looking in every direction except for Sirius’ searching eyes, and hopes with all his heart that the throbbing in his ear will go soon, because he’s really starting to think something’s wrong.

Sirius plays with the menu in his hands, folding the corners and rolling it up, smacking Peter’s head with it, “I was thinking maybe Sirius Black & co.” He muses, tilting his head in that daring way of his.

“Absolutely not.” Mary spits back at him, snatching the menu from his hands and nearly knocking him out with it.

“Sirius and his friends.” He suggests, innocently sipping his beer.

“Never.”

“Sirius Orion Black.”

“There’s seven of us.” Remus sighs.

“Sirius Black and the six others.”

James feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, slightly shaking his head at Sirius. He’d have never even known people like Sirius exist if he hadn’t met him. He’s entirely unique, truly, one of a kind.

“Not in a million years.”

“Just Sirius then?”

Remus frowns at Sirius, “Thank god he’s not annoyingly self-centered, right?”

“Well you come with an idea then!” Sirius cries out.

“No I don’t know, I think this is something that should come to us.” James says, sitting back in his chair and mirroring Sirius’ careless motions.

“Come to us?”

“Yeah, we just live our lives, and one day we’ll come up with a great name out of nowhere.” James explains, chuckling when Sirius dramatically rolls his eyes.

“I think it should be ‘the stars’, or like, ‘Sirius the star’, something like that.”

Lily reaches over the table, snatches Sirius’ beer from his hands and sits back in her chair, holding the glass out of his reach, “Will you let it go now, you ass?”

“Fine, fine, but the lead singer does get more privileges, it’s just a fact.”

“I’m the lead singer too!” Mary exclaims.

“Well, yeah, but you’re not me.”

James looks around the table with a grin plastered to his face, he still can’t quite believe they all managed to find each other, it seems they just belong together. None of them are the soppy kind, only Lily just the littlest bit, and maybe James when he’s tired, so they’d never speak these words into existence, but they must all feel that they were destined to be friends. “I have to go guys.” He says, feeling a little sad to be leaving them, yet at the same time excited for his date. He still can’t quite comprehend how he got Regulus to accept his valentine’s day offer, but the letters work like a charm, and they’ve got their first official date.

“Oh, right! Your date with Loverboy!” Sirius jumps up from his chair and claps James on the back, wishing him good luck. 

“Have fun James!” The girls say.

“Be safe!” Remus grins at him.

James flips him off for that, and starts to walk down the street, hearing Sirius’ screams echo off the walls, “Don’t forget we’re going out tonight!” He yells. “Maybe you can bring Loverboy and introduce him!”

“All right, I’ll ask, see you later.” James yells back, knowing already though that he won’t be asking Regulus to come tonight. It’s far too soon for anything like that, it’s their first date today! And he survived Barty and Evan, barely, but imagine how intimidating it must be for Regulus to meet six new people all at once!

Other than some short conversations whenever they dropped off the letters, James hasn’t seen much of Regulus lately. He can’t tell yet, whether it feels awkward to have Regulus know so much about him, but he guesses he’ll see today.

What if they can’t talk like this, in real life? So far there’s never been a dull moment with Regulus, but who says the conversations won’t dry up and have them falling into awkward silences today? James likes to think he’s talented at filling up those awkward silences, but there’s really only so much he can do. And Regulus makes him nervous, makes it harder on the brain to behave.

James walks through the streets, feeling the anxiety rise inside him with every step. Already he’s thinking of all the things that can go wrong. The more he attempts to think of nice things, the harder visions of him tripping, giving away too much, or saying something wrong keep circling his mind. Like fucking vultures, awaiting the perfect moment to attack and cleaning his bones until there’s nothing left of him.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if this goes wrong. Ever since he met Regulus he’s been completely infatuated with him, for months his friends have teased him with it, and now finally he landed himself a date. The stakes are high. There’s so much to lose.

From the way Barty and Evan treated him he gets the idea that Regulus might just like him back as much as James does, but then again they seem to him to be total lunatics, so what can he gather from their behavior? The truth? Or a funny game they’re playing with him?

“Hi, Reggie.” James spots Regulus leaning against the wall of a building, scanning the streets and obviously looking for James. The moment he lays eyes on James he lights up, his eyes only, of course, the rest of his face remains protected, walls up, safe from the outside.

“Potter.” He says in greeting, granting him the tiniest smile and looking at James expectantly.

Regulus sees him strolling down the street, to the outside world looking utterly relaxed, leisurely whistling a tune, face tilted to the sun, kind of looking about him as if he expects to run into people all the time, which he does of course, everyone knows James Potter, everyone wishes he’d say hi back if they greet him. Regulus notices the way his shoulders are hunched, looking like a block of pure muscle, tensed with anxiety. How he scratches at his knuckles, which are bleeding and open most of the time. How he follows the lines the roofs make with his eyes. How he doesn’t walk on the cracks in the street, and even circles back to step on a leaf when he missed it initially. How he keeps clutching his ear with a pained face.

“Is that an earring?” Regulus asks after they’ve said hi, he feels a laugh bubble up inside him when James grimaces and shrugs, dragging a hand through his curls, not doing much to his untamed hair.

“No.” He returns, leaning against the wall in the same way Regulus was, standing close to him, eyes twinkling with glee. Does he get that happy just from seeing Regulus? That’s a first for him, usually people avoid him like the plague, moan and whine whenever they have to spend time with him, but James keeps going to every possible extreme just to get a glimpse of him.

“That looks like an earring to me.” Regulus mutters, feeling a strange surge of boldness wash over him, and he reaches out to James’ hair, pushing some curls aside so he can get a clear view of what definitely is a single gold earring in his left ear. It looks a little red, uncomfortable maybe, that could be why he kept touching it just now.

When James very quietly, almost unnoticeably so, gasps for air as Regulus puts a hand in his hair, Regulus feels his heart lurch through his body.

His hair is every bit as soft and dreamy as Regulus envisioned it.

Fuck, he almost can’t get himself to let go. Pull your hand back, Regulus! Don’t make this weird!

From the letters he has gathered James is much more troubled than he’d ever let on, than Regulus would ever have been able to belief if he hadn’t been able to look past his shallow popular guy act. Strangely, it only makes him attracted to James more and more. He likes finding out all these little things about him that no one else knows. Little trophies. No one knows James as he does. For once he’s special, needed, important. It feels good. Addictive.

“Maybe you need to get your eyes checked then.” James muses, pulling his glasses off his face and gently setting them on Regulus’. Regulus pretends to fight it, but in the end lets James put the glasses on his nose, holding James’ wrist.

James smiles, his genuine smile, “Looks good on you, Reggie.”

Regulus feels that warmth again, what is this? This is some new sensation. Sudden, unexpected, he promised himself he wouldn’t give in to human weakness. He wouldn’t fall in love. Least of all with James Potter, his brother’s best friend. What is he doing? He shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t want to break James’ heart, but he will. He knows that he will, if he lets this thing to go on any longer. Either that or he should come clean, but then that will break his heart either way. He’s fucked. It’s selfish, to let this go on. Selfish to keep circling back to James when he knows that it’s inevitable that one day he’ll find out. Is it such a crime, then? That for once, for the first time in his life, Regulus takes what he wants? And he wants James, he wants him so bad.

“Better on you, does it hurt?” He asks, giving James his glasses back, he prefers to be able to see James clearly, enjoy his boyish handsomeness in all its glory, and he points at the earring.

“It was a bit of a sketchy place so I’m not sure if it actually hurts or if I’m making it hurt by overthinking.” James says honestly, look at that, he’s come so far already. Just a few weeks ago he’d have likely bragged he didn’t feel a thing.

“Who forced you to do this to yourself?” Regulus asks, but he knows, he knows it must be Sirius. He remembers once, when they were still pretty young and didn’t resent each other so much yet, when Sirius decided he needed an earring if he wanted to be cool, and put a sewing needle right through his ear, just like that, but then it started bleeding much more than they expected it would and they realized they didn’t even have an earring, so Sirius ended up with some pain and none of that cool he wanted. It’s just typical Sirius.

“Oh, my best friend.” James sighs, turning his head so that Regulus can have a better view of the ear, “Does it look infected?”

“If you keep touching it like that it will be.” Regulus warns him, stepping closer to James and looking at the ear. It just looks irritated, a bit reddish, but nothing to worry about.

“It’s because we’re starting a band.” James confesses, smiling sheepishly. Regulus bites the inside of his cheek, a band, that’s no surprise. Sirius can never be satisfied, with nothing, there’s always more, better, greater. Being only a painter is just plain boring, he will be the lead singer of a band, a model, an actor, and whatnot. He could rule the world and still want the moon.

“What do you play?” Regulus asks, thinking longingly of his piano at uncle Alphard’s house. Is Sirius using it? One night a couple of weeks ago he couldn’t sleep, suddenly convinced that James had walked into his room in the house and figured everything out, he forced Barty and Evan to interrogate that Marlene girl without being too obvious about it, and thank god Marlene mentioned something of a locked room Sirius wouldn’t let anyone enter and an old piano gathering dust in the attic, but what if Sirius decides to use the instrument? Regulus’ initials are on it, he etched his name into the wood on one of the legs, James would know.

“Drums, do you play something, other than with my heart?”

Regulus snorts, “I used to play piano.”

“Used to?”

“I was forced to, now I don’t want to play anymore.” James looks up at that, a small crease forming in between his brows as he frowns. “Well, why don’t you tell me more inside?” He asks, glancing at his watch and opening up his bag, “Also… since it is valentine’s day and you agreed to spend it with me, miraculously, it’s an honor, you know, err- anyway, here.”

Regulus watches with anticipation as James’ cheeks color a bright red, right on theme for valentine’s day, and he looks through his bag, shoving aside some mess, until he pulls out a bouquet of hyacinths.

A bouquet of hyacinths?

Regulus blinks, swallows, feels his chest tighten, sees James’ pupils dilate and the blush spreading to his throat, he has a birthmark on his collarbone that tends to flare up whenever he gets nervous or excited, and right now it’s a burning red, his hands slightly shaking as he holds out the beautiful bouquet, a stunning smile spread across his face.

“What?” The word feels like it’s being punched out from him.

“You had hyacinths in your home so I figured you liked them.”  James looks a lot less like the overly confident cocky guy he was when Regulus met him now, eyes widening more with every second Regulus continues feeling too stunned to accept the gorgeous flowers that James bought him to give to him on valentine’s day because he noticed them in some dark corner in Regulus’ apartment and remembered that? Is this a dream.

“Yeah, so, I looked it up, well I asked my friend, she really loves flowers, is named after one- that’s not important, err, well, blue hyacinths represent trust and sincerity and I just thought it was fitting for us because of the letters- and then of course one red flower because… well, romance and I like you but I think you know that by now I just think you’re really nice even though you may want me to feel differently and you’re so funny even when you don’t try, how do you do it? I just have a lot of fun with you, you know?” James rambles on, eyes wide behind his glasses.

He chuckles to himself, looking a little uncertain, pursing his lips, deep in thought, and then he looks up from the flowers, presses them to Regulus’ chest, and flashes him a smile, his big brown eyes glinting with glee when he notices the growing smile on Regulus’ face.

Regulus inhales a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of James’ hand travel through his shirt, all the way to his skin, and he puts his own hand over the flowers, slightly grazing James’, the world around him going dark for a second when he thinks his heart has stopped, and James- oh James.

Is this it? Is this what falling in love is like? But Regulus never meant to fall in love. That’s for weaker people. For people who are unafraid and willing to take that risk. Don’t people understand what an immense risk it you take when you surrender yourself to someone else? The kind of trust it takes? To commit yourself to them fully and only hope they will do the same to you and not shatter your heart and leave you behind without giving it a second thought?

He should’ve known from the expression itself that it’d be like this. Falling in love. Falling. Involuntarily. A person doesn’t willingly step into love, just by choice, an act of free will. No, you stumble into it, tripping over your feet, trying to grasp for something to hold onto, pull yourself back on your feet, yet finding there’s nothing, and you fall and fall, it’s embarrassing, overexposing, it feels stupid, stupid and humiliating as the air whooshes around your face and the ground comes closer, maybe it even feels like flying for a moment, but then the ground is there before you know it and you’re face-down, eating sand or gravel, and there’s no going back, standing up and walking off, there’s already been the falling, the flying, the dying, all that’s in between, and what it leaves you with is this horrible cheesy feeling in your stomach as you realize you have fallen in love.

James is just too irresistible. Even with his quirks, which Regulus knows to him aren’t quirks, but life-altering disabilities that he hates. Is that what unconditional love is? Fall in love with a boy he knows has issues that will absolutely end up compromising not only his own life, but them, should there ever be a them. He likes James, all of him, truly, from beginning to end, complete with his martyr complex, his inability to realize he’s not doing well because he’s afraid it makes him a failure, his cutting. All of it, it doesn’t matter. But who says James will do the same? Accept Regulus for the worthless piece of shit he is, the idiot who accepted his abuse for years and years because resisting seemed too much trouble, who bases his self-worth on the validation he, funnily enough, never receives. Could anyone ever love that?

“I really love y- these flowers, I love them, James.” Regulus stutters, heart dropping when he hears himself almost fuck this entire thing up before it got the chance to begin.

James laughs, oh fuck did he hear that? Did he hear Regulus stomping on the ground and crushing the seed before it could become a seedling? A beautiful flower, maybe even?

“You just called me James.” He says, looking taken aback by it.

Regulus clutches the flowers in his hand, “I didn’t!” He shoots back, fighting the lightheaded feeling in his head when James puts an arm around his shoulder and walks through the door of the pottery workshop with Regulus held close to him.

“You so did.” James laughs, hiccupping because he’s just that overjoyed.

“Hmm, whatever.” Regulus grumbles, standing next to James, feeling rather ecstatic himself as James talks with the lady who welcomes them and leads them into the workshop. They’re seated next to each other and given a clump of clay, and after a short explanation told to just make something of it.

It’s more complicated than Regulus had anticipated, and he gets even more frustrated when he thinks of how Sirius would likely be the best pottery maker the world has ever seen.

“Reg, having some improper fantasies about me?” James asks, knocking their shoulders together and pointing at Regulus’ clump of clay, which he hadn’t really been looking at, too focused on watching James’ hands shape the clay on his own tray, and sadly sees it has become a long awkward shaped creation.

“I’m not a fan of this.” Regulus groans, taking his foot off the pedal so the table stops spinning. He looks down at himself and notices he’s splattered with bits of drying clay, he punches on the lump of clay until it’s flat again.

“You said this would be your ideal first date.”

“I thought it’d be easier.”

“You just don’t like not being perfect at something on your first try.” James smiles, lines appearing around his eyes.

Regulus sighs, rolling his eyes, “I shouldn’t have put that in the letter.”

“Were you good on the piano?”

“I was a genius.” Regulus feels that longing for his piano itching at him as it always does. As much as he despised his lessons, having to prove how good he was, the playing for others, the pure anxiety that accompanied the black and white keys, he loved playing for himself, when there was no one else in the room to listen to him. Or when he knew Sirius was sitting just outside the door. He’d always try a little harder on those days.

“What did you mean with being forced? I don’t think anyone could force you to do anything, you’d just lock them up in a freezer.” James jokes, knocking their knees together, Regulus briefly looks up from his clay, which this time he’s attempting to shape into a decent looking vase or something, and sees James smile down at the bumpy clay on his table.

“My parents forced me, had a reputation to uphold and all that, it’s boring.”

“I don’t think it’s boring, tell me more.”

Regulus chews on his lip, thinking hard, how could he possibly tell James about his family without it being a story identical to the one Sirius has likely told him? How will he keep him from finding out? Now that he has James, he can’t lose him. Then the fall will have been for nothing, he won’t have James, only shattered bones and a hurt ego. “Oh, well,” He starts, focusing on the clay, carefully formulating the words before he speaks them, “I had to be perfect, good grades, prodigy on the piano, couldn’t taint the image of the family by being a failure, simply wasn’t allowed.”

“Sounds difficult.”

“It was… but I got out.”

“Got out?”

James has heard this story before. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This can’t be how he finds out. He can never find out. “I split from the family, ran away.” Regulus says, there must be many people that come from abusive homes and ran away, right? Sirius and he are hardly the only ones. There’s Evan, Barty, Pandora, at least, so there must be more.

“Hmm, what made you?”

“What’s up with all the questions, Potter?”

“Hey, that’s James to you, and I told you about my parents and how they’re always so overprotective I couldn’t tie my own shoelaces until I was ten, so I’d like to hear a little more about yours.” James says sternly, looking at Regulus with real interest.

“There’s not much to say, I can hardly call them parents, they were just abusive people that happened to create me. I was supposed to go into medicine, not because they wanted me to be a doctor, we don’t work in my family, but just for the status.” It sounds as ridiculous as the situation was. Who forces their child to get a degree in medicine when they won’t work a day in their lives? Useless. Wasted time, energy, money. Regulus can hardly imagine himself standing in a hospital, in paper scrubs, covered in blood and other bodily fluids, having to fake a smile as he talks to patients. It’s his own personal hell.

In reality, it was never really about med school. It was just the last straw in an endless succession of hurt. He swallowed their abuse for many long years, always waiting for the love that never came, for a miracle to occur, but it never did. When he was young he couldn’t understand Sirius’ urgency to get out, he figured they just had to endure until they were eighteen and then it’d all be fine. Except then he turned eighteen and realized his parents would never release their tight grip on him. He might’ve been an old man and still be at their complete mercy, as long as they lived. He would’ve never been free.

He doesn’t think he can explain that to James, with his loving parents, nor does he think Sirius can. No person who can’t relate will ever comprehend what drove them out of that place. Why they had to go.

“You’re not a med student.” James observes.

“No, got in a bit of a fight, things spiraled out of control and… I called Barty and Evan and then we just left, just like that. I never thought it would be so easy.” Regulus mutters, thinking of the stark contrast between the day Sirius left and the day he did. The boarded up windows and locked doors versus his shocked parents being inattentive for a moment, the moment Regulus used to get out of there. Since he was eighteen they couldn’t get him back. For years Sirius’ leaving made it impossible for him to go, his parents watched him more closely than ever, kept him glued to their fingertips, never not both eyes fixed on him, but in the end once he had gone, Sirius’ leaving made it easier for them to accept they’d lost them both. What’s one more son gone? Sirius was the golden child anyway, Regulus only a lesser replacement they never liked anyway, not a good option for an heir. Maybe they all benefit from this.

“So you gave up a life of never having to work?”

“I’d say it’s worth it. Wouldn’t have met you.”

“Oh so you do like me?”

Regulus laughs at James’ face, “Not at all. Now I want to talk about something else, I don’t like to be reminded of home.”

“Well, okay, my ear still hurts and you might have to take me to the hospital and give me your organs to save me.” James groans, itching his ear with his wrist because his hands are dirty.

“Just take some painkillers.” Regulus returns, feeling immensely dissatisfied as he looks at the monstrous thing he’s created. It’s just abstract. An abstract vase, or a carafe, or maybe some magical fairytale being that only Regulus knows exists. He’ll smash it once it’s been baked and sent home.

“Mmh, not my thing.” James says softly, and Regulus looks to his side, to the boy that entirely disregards his own issues, hides himself, and spends all of his very few and precious energy on making other people feel happy and good, as if he doesn’t exist himself, or doesn’t want to acknowledge his existence, as if he should always be perfect and can’t have a single flaw.

“Or does that make you feel weak?”

“Reggie, it’s valentine’s day, let’s reserve that shit for the letters and let me flirt with you.”

Regulus picks a piece of drying clay out from underneath his nails and sighs at that. James is too skilled at turning the conversation in any direction except for himself, the moment things get too real, too personal, he’ll change the subject, completely shut down, or even walk away. Pain doesn’t seem to exist in James Potter’s world. He won’t let anyone get remotely close to him. Regulus sometimes feels he’s looking in a mirror when he looks at James.

“What were you thinking?” James hisses at her the moment he lays eyes on Lily. They’re in the local police department, it’s only a small building, a front desk, some offices, a break room, and the few cells they have here.

Lily’s cell door has just been opened and she’s taken out of the small room, an officer guides her down the hall to the desk, where James stands with an anxiety riddled looking face, hair sticking up in every possible direction, lips pressed together tightly, hands still dirty with drying clay.  

She feels so horribly guilty, but she didn’t know who else to call. Marlene has a practical, Mary would’ve only lectured her, Remus might’ve murdered her, no, he would have, James was the only one she trusted to pick her up. “I’m sorry for disrupting your date.” Lily mumbles, leaning on the desk as the woman behind it hands her her things back and makes her sign some forms.

The other students waiting on plastic chairs flash her sympathetic smiles as James puts his arm around her shoulders and walks her outside.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers again, blinking against the sun and turning away from James. She’s simply too mortified to even look at him right now.

“What did you even do?” James asks, there’s also bits of clay in his hair, on his face, his clothes, and he sits down on a low wall, awaiting her answer.

“I told you about the protest.” The government won’t put in place this new law to protect the environment from deteriorating even further, it’s horrible, if things aren’t going to change soon they’ll be past the point of saving the planet. It worries her so, and the same goes for most students at the university, so they protested today, as students do, for the government to take on the law so that Lily and her classmates can still have a shot at saving everything by the time they graduate. She can’t bear the thought of working so hard all her life, doing a double degree, sacrificing social connections, sleep, personal time, all the things she’s done because she’s so concerned with the fate of the planet, only to not be done in time. For it all to have been in vain. To slowly watch everything die around her until, by the time she’s an old lady, they’ll be living in a dystopian world.

The police showed up to keep the protest under control, but it’s a basic human right, so several students rebelled against the officers and Lily, who feels so disconnected from everything, so outraged at everyone, and who can hardly remember who she is, whether she’s alive or not, and all other important things, joined those students.

She was dragged off and thrown in a cell.

It’s been a little over two weeks since her dad died, but her grief only keeps increasing. She pulverizes the crocuses she sees sprouting up from the frozen ground whenever she walks past them. Life should’ve halted. Shown some respect.

Lily remembers when she was in primary school one of her friend’s moms died, breast cancer, if she remembers correctly, and she remembers how she felts so bad for that friend, but how could she have ever understood the full weight of such a loss back then? How could she have known how it would haunt her every second of the day, how the memories never seem to stop rushing back, the words unsaid, the regrets, the missed moments. It truly is the worst thing in the world. It’s harder than anything she could have ever imagined. Everything around her has changed, while no one else seems to notice that anything has at all. Her existence has given away to some new layer of hell and the world she now lives in is different from the one she lived in before.

She no longer cares about anything. Why would she care when life can be ripped away so easily and nothing will be left of it? In a hundred years she might as well have not existed at all, so why put in the effort?

The sight of food repulses her, anything that sustains life should in her opinion be banned. Her ears keep ringing like she’s just survived a massive explosion. She’s tired, yet brimming with adrenaline all the time.

Her hair is unwashed, she’s not wearing jewelry, pajamas appear to be glued to her body. The way she used to obsess over her appearance, constantly needed to look perfect, compared herself, worried how others perceived her and thought not being pretty enough felt like the end of the world at the time now seems like the must childish and awful thing. How could she worry about her appearance when death exists?

When people say they don’t know what it’s like to suffer such a loss, they really don’t. Lily can’t even keep up with what it’s like herself, there are so many emotions, it’s absolutely overwhelming, they cancel each other out, resulting in numbness, a void. Drifting through empty space without oxygen.

Everything’s slipping from her fingers.

The control freak has lost all control.

“You didn’t lay your hands on the police, did you?” James asks.

“I’m so sorry James.” Lily repeats, her voice breaking. James rushes forward and wraps his arms around her, and when she raises her hand to her cheeks she feels she’s crying.

“It’s okay Lils.” He whispers in her ear, stroking through her hair.

“No.” She sobs, the tears flowing freely. “He’d be so disappointed.”

She gasps for air in between her sobs, her chest is rising and falling rapidly, she can’t suck enough oxygen into her lungs, they won’t expand, her grades have dropped, she neglected her assignments, didn’t attend her mandatory classes, has been drinking every day to take the edge off, and now she got arrested? She’s a total failure. Shouldn’t she be honoring his memory? Working extra hard? Instead she’s only making more mess.

“James I can’t breathe.” She chokes out, a panic like nothing she’s ever felt before rising inside of her.

Her dad is gone.

She will never, ever get him back. Touch him, look in his eyes, feel his presence, laugh at his jokes, sit on the couch together, tell him about her day.

Reincarnation, heaven, some other form of after-life, she doesn’t believe in it. Before birth there was nothing, and after death there will be nothing once more. The soul’s consciousness is so brief, she believes it will seize to exist when the brain dies. Which means she will never reunite with her dad.

She can’t breathe.

“Lily, come on- Lily!” James shakes her shoulders, sits her down on the wall, and does what she’s done for him a million times. He starts to exaggerate his breathing, following the counts Lily taught him, and he gestures at her to follow his lead.

It’s much harder than she thought it’d be. Is this how James always feels?

He’s rubbing over her back, and continues breathing until Lily has got her own breathing under control, slowly she feels the oxygen drift back up to her head, and goes back to normal, the tears dry, the numbness returns.

“I think you’re allowed to be a little lost.” James tells her.

Lily shakes her head, when her mom’s dad died she bounced back so easily, just moved on, as you’re supposed to. And though her university is quite understanding and have allowed her extra time and extra resits for the exams she didn’t pass, and aren’t pressuring her to follow the course of this period, she knows that other people deal with it much better. “This happens to everyone at some point. I’m overreacting, I know I’m failing him-“

James stops her, “Not at your age, and the way it happened with you. Stop belittling yourself and forgetting about all you’ve accomplished just because you feel shit.”

“Well what have I accomplished? I only ever cared about school and nothing else. I’ve accomplished nothing, nothing that’s worth anything, at least.” Lily feels more tears coming up. All that ambition, that drive that people praise her for so, it’s her greatest flaw, she must always be great or nothing, and nothing isn’t an option, so greatness it is, but was it worth it to neglect all else for her education? For her dreams? Her desire to be perfect always at everything? Couldn’t she have spent more time with her family? If she keeps failing everything and flunks out of university she’ll be left with nothing.

“I’m proud of you.” James says with an honest voice. He’s not sounding like he wants to suck up, or pities her, he just sounds like James. Direct with his words, speaking from the heart.

“No you’re not.” Lily argues, because it can’t be true. James fights these battles every day without anyone knowing a thing, he must think she’s a loser for spiraling as she is.

“Are you proud of me?”

Lily frowns, “Of course I’m proud of you, what you do every day is-“

“I’m just that proud of you.”

“I don’t think I can believe that right now. You just picked me up from jail.” She sobs, pointing at the building behind them.

James hops off the wall, helps her down and starts walking in the direction of home, “Believe whatever you want, it won’t change how I feel, now come, we have to go home for dinner.”

“How was your date?” She asks, thinking a normal conversation might make it all go away.

“Lovely, really good.”

“Does your ear still hurt?”

“Oh absolutely.” James chuckles, and Lily accepts his arm, glad she called him and not anyone else. No one would have understood like he does.

“Aw look at Pete!” Sirius cries out, several beers in, sweating profusely, pointing at their own little Peter, standing against the wall with his new girlfriend Sylvie- or something, Sirius can’t remember her name.

The bar is crowded, no surprise on a Friday night when happy hour has just ended. The place is bursting at the seams with drunken students looking for someone to kiss. Walking around cross-eyed, stumbling on their feet until they find the perfect one.

Lately the girls have been going clubbing quite a lot, and Sirius won’t lie, he definitely felt left out. He wanted to join them, but they wouldn’t let him on their girls nights, so finally after much begging he managed to drag everyone out the house so they can go clubbing together. Besides, they need to scout for places where they can play, and this bar seems just perfect. It has a tiny little stage, it’s always crowded, the acoustics are decent, people barely pay attention to the music so they can use this place for practice and be as imperfect as they want. It’s truly got it all.

“Moony, come on!” Sirius grabs Remus’ wrist and drags him through the crowd, pushing aside bodies and squeezing himself in the gaps he can manage to make, pulling at Remus’ wrist to make sure he’s still following.

“What’re we doing?” Remus bends down until he’s at Sirius’ ear-level, and yells in his ear, trying to make himself be heard over the loud music. Sirius doesn’t like the abominations they play at the club, it’s always those Spanish summer songs mixed in with whatever’s on the radio at the moment, do people actually sit down and listen to that, willingly?

“Just wait!” Sirius yells back, turning and seeing Remus’ eyes light up yellow whenever the lights fall on them.

He reaches the bar, keeps holding Remus’ wrist, it’s innocent anyway, and leans over the sticky surface when someone approaches him.

“Do you have a manager near?” He shouts over the music, the guy nods and walks off, returning a few seconds later with another man, this one a little older.

“How can I help?” He asks.

Sirius tightens his grip on Remus’ wrist, filling up with nerves suddenly, this could be the beginning of it all, “Do you ever have bands play live here?”

The man looks at the little stage, “Sure, interested?”

“Yes!” Sirius shouts back, a little louder than he needed to, but he’s just so excited. This is the defining moment. Today his story will start. Today will be the beginning of the movie they will one day make of him. This is it this is it this is it. His heart is drumming in his chest.

“You can come next Friday!”

“Thank you!” Sirius exclaims, shaking the man’s hand and writing down his information on a napkin.

Marlene is sitting on a bar stool, feeling every bit as angry as she does so often lately. Shockingly, Dorcas once again couldn’t, or wouldn’t, make free some time to join them tonight, so now she’s on her own. Peter is kissing his girlfriend in some dark corner, James is chatting up with the many people he knows, Sirius and Remus are talking to someone at the bar, and she has no fucking clue where Lily and Mary are.

Furiously, she sips her cocktail, which was far more expensive than she’d anticipated, and costs her several hours of working. She’s an assistant in some courses, has to clean up the blood after a dissection practical or help explain the anatomy chapters in the textbooks. It’s easy work and pays well, but it doesn’t justify that cursed cocktail. Or the three others she had before. She must be broke by now.

If she wasn’t this upset she might’ve wondered why Sirius is holding Remus’ wrist like that, but she’s not in the right headspace for unnecessary worries at the moment.

They can’t go on like this any longer. It’s becoming more and more clear with each time Dorcas is unwilling to see her, plan in such a way that they can spend some time, or claims that she really does need to finish that assignment right away. How will it be in ten years? Marlene coming home to an empty house because Dorcas refuses to live together, hoping she can see her girlfriend in the evening, except Dorcas will still be working on her formulas. That sounds horrifying.

She has to pee, and then she’ll go home. She wants to practice some more. Her dreams are starting to shift away from birthing cows and driving on muddy roads to touring the world and making albums. Maybe it’s naïve, but Sirius is right. This is her only life, she owes it to herself to at least try to make the most out of it. She doesn’t want to have any regrets on her deathbed, and as long as she’s in the same band as Sirius Black, she will definitely make it, because there’s not a doubt in her mind that he will.

Things are changing so rapidly, and it’s terrifying. Almost impossible to keep up with. She’s facing a massive dilemma, finish her degree for the security of it, or take a risk and follow Sirius in his madness? Be honest and clear with Dorcas, or accept how things are and be unhappy in her relationship? Growing up is the most terrifying occurrence ever. Marlene hates every second of it.

She slips from the barstool, and immediately comes to the realization that she got her money’s worth, and those cocktails will be the death of her. The world spins around her, she’s unsteady on her feet, and has to hurry outside if she doesn’t want to embarrass herself and puke in the middle of the bar.

Oh fuck, she’s not going to make it. Her bladder is close to bursting, vomit is banging against the back of her throat, balance is something unknown, do her eyes even still work? She will fall. She can hardly walk.

With great difficulty she manages to stumble into the bathroom, rids herself of all bodily fluids, and stumbles back out again.

“Sorry.” She says with a slurring voice when she bumps into someone and nearly knocks herself off her feet.

She grabs the girl’s shoulders to steady herself on, and when she looks up she’s staring into two large blue eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asks, and Marlene enthusiastically nods, feeling even warmer and dizzier than she did before.

“Yeah, had too much to drink!” She yells in the girl’s ear, smiling widely. The girl returns her smile, and puts her hands on Marlene’s waist. Marlene feels her eyebrows shoot up and she looks down at her waist, noticing just how close she’s standing to the other girl.

“I’m Marlene!”

“Stevie!”

“Named after Stevie Nicks?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, cool! I’m in a band!” Marlene tells her, feeling the need to prove herself somehow. Her waist is burning. She’s feeling delirious.

“Then one day when you’re famous I can say I met Marlene in a crowded bar!” Stevie returns, stroking a strand of Marlene’s hair, now bleached and cut, “I really like your hair!”

“Thanks!” Something’s pulling them closer to each other. Marlene sees the way Stevie’s eyes flick down to her lips, how she’s digging her fingers into Marlene’s waist, and it feels so easy to give in to that. She’s been with Dorcas since she was twelve. They grew up as one item, as a pair, as a couple. Marlene has never been with someone else. She’s never kissed someone else, never been in love with someone else. There are times when she hardly knows who she is on her own, because Dorcas is so intertwined with her own identity she forgets which parts are hers and which Dorcas’. She never got the chance to develop as her own being. Who would she be today if she hadn’t been so heavily influenced by Dorcas?

She wants to kiss Stevie. She wants to try. She wants to see what it’s like with someone else. How can she be fully committed to Dorcas if she’s never known anything else?

“I’m sorry I have a girlfriend!” Marlene says just before their lips can connect. She darts back, Stevie’s hands leave her waist, and she feels awful.

“It was still nice to meet you!” Stevie yells as Marlene sprints through the crowd, panic settling in her bones, trying to ignore the fear of herself, of her desires, her doubts, her confusion.

She’s loyal to Dorcas. She would never do that.

With tears burning behind her eyes she stumbles through the door and into the cold outside air, seeing her friends scattered throughout the street. Sirius is jumping up and down, Remus is smoking, James is holding up Peter, and Lily and Mary are sitting on the ground. All eyes turn on her when she inhales the cold air, feeling better already, and Sirius comes running at her, shouting, “We’ve got a gig here next week! We’re famous!”

“You’re Marlene’s friend?” The boy asks Lily, narrowing his eyes and looking around the street carefully.

“Yes, so do I get family discount?” Lily shoots back, watching as the blonde one inhales deeply.

“We’re not family.” The boy with the piercings tells her, looking around the street again.

Lily looks too, curious to see what he’s looking for, and she notices another boy, standing a little further away, looking back at them.

“Who’s that?”

“No one.” The one with the piercings says, handing her the weed and holding up his hand, waiting for Lily to hand him the money. “Have you ever done drugs?”

Lily opens her wallet, she always carries around cash in case there’s something wrong with her bank card, and she picks out the money until she’s got the right amount. “What do you care?” She looks at the strange pair and tries to remember their names, but her mind comes up empty.

“I don’t.”

The blonde one now tunes into the conversation as well, gaze fixed on her, “You know it’s not bringing back your dad, right?” He says.

Lily feels her heart skip a beat, Dorcas must’ve told them then, they are her roommates after all.

“I’m aware.” It won’t bring him back, but it’ll help her get from one day to the next. It will take away some of the sheer panic she feels when she thinks of him, and not only him, but all of it, life, existence, death, the insanity that consciousness is and how terrifying yet accepted through denial it is in this world to not have a single answer to any of the big questions, to never get those answers, all they can do is wait for the light to go out, and then what? Her voice will be forgotten first, then her smile, her face, her name, her stories, and eventually she’ll die all over again, and be one of the billions that lived, dreamed and felt, but vanished just as easily. It’s sickening. She needs this weed or she might lose her mind.

“Lily!” She spins around and sees Mary crossing the street, her heels clicking against the stone, looking both worried and angry.

“Wish Potter a very good night, will you?” The one with the piercings says, winking at her, Lily frowns, what do they want with James? But they turn their backs to her and walk to the third boy before she can get a response out.

“Is that fucking weed?” Mary cries out, pointing at the cigarette Lily is holding.

Lily looks down at her hands, “No.”

“It fucking is!”

“Oh. Didn’t even notice.” She shrugs, sinking to the ground, her back against a wall. She barely even cares she’s sitting on the street, only happy to be off her feet, and she digs through the pockets of her coat until she can find one of the lighters she stole from Remus.

Mary groans, “Can you stop running off, I get your world has fallen apart but- weed, Lils, really?” Lily flicks on the lighter, holds the spliff to it, and ignores Mary. Mary’s life moves on, she’s back in school, doing assignments, sewing, pretending the nasty words of her classmates don’t hurt her and her biggest concern at the moment is catching up with lag that’s the result of her devotion to Lily. Lily’s biggest concern is remembering to breathe, which her body no longer does automatically for some reason, and attempting not to think too much of her dad. Or of Petunia, who calls occasionally and is surprisingly sweet, but makes it feel forced. Or her mom, who hasn’t left the house in weeks and only says as much as hi whenever she’s in the same room as Petunia during a call. If this happens to all people at some point, why hasn’t there been found a solution yet? Why should every person suffer this intensely, by default, as if it’s part of life?

“Wanna share?”

“Why the fuck not?”

James is cracking his knuckles, one by one, starting at the pinky, to the thumb, and over again, he feels close to exploding. There’s heaps of restless energy brimming right underneath his skin, when he looks he thinks he can almost see it bubbling, like little insects crawling around and bumping up, trying to get out. He feels queasy in his stomach, warm in his chest, and chaotic in his head, on the verge of breaking out in panic once the moment comes where he fails to keep his stress somewhat under control.

It's been such a long day already. He woke up tired and agitated, walked to campus on an empty stomach, couldn’t bring himself to walk into the class, just like yesterday, and the day before that, and nearly every day this week, and instead hid in the library, not wanting anyone to know he’s not attending his classes and give them cause for worry. And then he walked home, still too listless to eat, was forced into the basement to practice, got his ears pierced, saw Regulus, picked up Lily, act okay during dinner, sit with Sirius and help him rhyme words for songs, get ready, and now he’s here, in the crowded bar, his ear still stings, people smell of a mix between sweat and cheap beer, it’s warm and too sticky, his eardrums tremble from the loud music, the colored lights keep shifting in and out of his vision, and drunken students that he’s painfully jealous of for being able to live so carelessly keep bumping into him and knocking him off his feet. He doesn’t think he’s had anything to eat today. Tears prick behind his eyes. He’s close to having a meltdown.

“You weren’t very fast yesterday.” Marcus yells in James’ ear, punching his shoulder. He’s standing with some of the boys from his football team, keeps zoning in and out of the conversations, and just wants to go to bed.

“Think I caught something, maybe.” James says, coughing a little to show them. In reality he’s just been so drained of energy lately, mentally at first, but now that he keeps forgetting to eat it’s difficult to run as fast as he did at the beginning of the year, when his body was strong and healthy, and not weakening like it is now.

“They say there’s a flu wave.” One of the boys offers. Miraculously, they still accept him. Though James doesn’t join them after or before practice any longer. He thinks that as long as he keeps delivering them wins they don’t mind what he does or doesn’t do. He’s their strongest player, and right now they’re only worried he’ll actually get a flu and won’t be able to play.

“Remember to eat your vitamins, won’t you!” Marcus says with a laugh, squeezing James’ biceps. James laughs back, what will they do when he lets them down? Kick him off the team? He looks down at his arms and sighs, he really should rediscover his appetite before he loses all of his muscle. He can’t be kicked off the team. Football is such an essential part of who he is. He’s always been the annoying football jock, the head of the team, the bulkiest guy on the field, worshipped by the other players. He can’t lose that status.

“This’ll make you feel better.” One of them holds up his bottle of beer, and the others all chuckle at that. James falls silent, he can’t remember which of the excuses he told with his football team. Was it the health excuse? Or did he say his parents would pay for his degree as long as he wouldn’t drink? Did he fake having diabetes with them? There’s so many lies they all get tangled up in his head.

He cracks his knuckles once more.

His mind feels so messy. All of the tiny things that bothered him and exhausted him and overwhelmed him this past year have accumulated and grown into an insurmountable pile of an emotions he can’t define, and now he feels he can’t put things into perspective anymore. A tag itching his neck is the end of the world. Cleaning his water bottle is the end of the world. Reading his mail is the end of the world. Wearing denim jeans is the end of the world. Hearing someone breathe is the end of the world. Being too tired to pick himself up out of bed is the end of the world. Not finding matching socks is the end of the world. The sun shining in his eyes is the end of the world. The tiniest set-backs, the most unimportant non-issues, all of it can set him off.

“Only if you pay.” He grins, the boys exchange glances, start getting excited, and then one of them runs off to the bar and returns with a beer for James.

With a wink he takes the beer, clinks his bottle with all those of the boys, and drinks like he’s been dying of thirst. The boys whoop and cheer at him, clapping their hands together. They’re so clueless of who it really is standing with them, but at least they adore the James he gives them.

“I can’t believe my eyes!” Marcus cries out, looking extremely content now that James is finally drinking for once.

James lets them talk, he makes the appropriate amount of eye contact, keeps the smile on his face, and comments whenever needed, but is silent most of the time, sipping his beer and wondering why he doesn’t give in and have a drink more often. What will one drink do? Students can’t even be classified as alcoholics anyway, he thinks, because they drink all the time and it’s accepted. James is a student, which means he can drink. The beer tastes nasty, but had he been here for a nice tasting drink he would’ve gotten a mocktail, this beer confirms his existence as a normal boy, captain of the football team, popular, drinking together with his friends as all his peers do.

By the time he’s got his third beer in his hands he’s starting to feel the full effect of it. For someone who never drinks this relatively little amount of alcohol is doing a lot more than it would on the other boys in the football team, who drink daily. He feels a sense of peace wash over him, for the first time in ages he’s somewhat relaxed, he can even shake off the thought that maybe he left his charger in the wall back home. His head is buzzing, but in a good way, the thoughts have transformed from loud screams into whispers he can ignore. He’s not feeling a thing.

“Want another one?” Marcus taps his beer and points at the bar, James shakes his head, says goodnight to the boys and follows a stumbling Peter outside the bar. The cold of the night feels fresh against his overheating skin, he drains the last bits of the beer out on the street, and throws the bottle into the trash.

“Oh, James!” Peter spins around after he’s finished kissing Sybill goodnight and waving her off as she disappears into the night with her friends. “The cocktails here are something else.” Peter slurs, dropping himself in James’ arms and letting James hold him up.

“James! James!” He hears somewhere, but now that he’s outside on his feet he feels much worse than he did earlier that night. His body really isn’t used to alcohol anymore, and though he remembers the solace it brings him mentally, it’s not doing any wonders on his physical state.

“James!” When he turns around, struggling to hold up Peter, he sees Sirius running at him, coming to a stop just as they were about to collide, and look James up and down.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

James sighs, Sirius is almost worse than Lily, “It’s nothing I’m just-“

“Tired.” Sirius ends the sentence for him, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, I’m-“

“Drunk.”

“What are you so excited about?” James asks, flashing Sirius a smile.

Sirius glances to his side, where Remus is standing, his eyes traveling from James to Sirius, constantly going back and forth.

“We can play here next week, but I thought you didn’t-“

“Wow!” James cuts in, no one other than himself needs to know of his reasons why he would or wouldn’t be drinking, he doesn’t need to explain himself to anyone, it’s his right. “That’s really exciting! We should really start to practice some more, right Pete?” He says quickly, before Sirius can object and guide the conversation back to James’ obvious drunkenness, Peter nods heavily, but the corners of his mouth sink downwards when he wiggles his bandaged fingers.

“They’ll kill us.” Peter whines, earning himself quite a forceful punch to the shoulder from Sirius and an angry shush from Remus. James giggles to himself, he’s still enjoying the effects of the beer he had earlier and doesn’t have a care in the world at the moment.

Quietly, Sirius creeps through the house, he knows exactly which of the floorboards creak, and which don’t, and like the obedient servants that they are they follows Sirius down the hallway, starting in Marlene’s room. With more care than James has ever observed in Sirius he pushes the door open, tiptoes inside, pokes Marlene’s cheek with a finger to make sure she really is passed out and puts up a thumb.

“Plug it in.” He whispers at Peter, who starts looking around the walls for a place to plug in the glue gun. “There!” He adds, when Peter can’t find a socket.

James and Remus pick up Marlene’s desk chair, which is light enough, it’s a cheap thing from the Ikea, while Sirius gathers some smaller things, a lamp, a candle, some nail polish and her perfume, one eye on Marlene to ensure she won’t wake, and they wait for the glue to heat up.

“This is damaging property!” Peter hands Sirius the gun, face red with stress, and Sirius scoffs, “We can dissolve the glue and wipe it off, it’ll be fine.” He replies, snatching the gun from Peter’s hands and smothering the lamp with glue, then  getting up on Marlene’s nightstand and sticking it to the ceiling exactly where it would’ve been standing safely next to her bed, normally.

Luckily for them Marlene went a little crazy with the cocktails, and Lily and Mary somehow obtained some very strong weed, so all three of them are off the planet, and they can move from room to room without being noticed, sticking any and all lightweighted things to the ceiling, having enormous difficulty controlling their laughter as they watch the ceilings grow more and more filled with the girl’s stuff.

When they’re in Mary’s room, by far the scariest, should Mary wake up now she really would kill them, Sirius climbs up on a wobbly chair, nearly topples over, and is caught just in time by Remus, who puts his hands on Sirius’ waist and steadies him. Sirius looks down, smirks at Remus, and sticks Mary’s hairpins to the ceiling one by one while Remus gently rubs his thumb over Sirius’ waist in a very intimate way.

“What the fuck.” Peter breathes out, nose scrunching in mild disgust as he looks at Sirius and Remus. “What the fuck is that?” He now asks James, pointing at them.

James shrugs, “I don’t know.” He whispers back.

“If I fall just let me fall, yeah, I want none of that.” Peter tells him, climbing up on the desk and swatting at James’ hands when he tries to grab Peter’s waist.

The stick of glue on the gun has run out, and they’re satisfied with their work anyway, so on their socks they move back into the hallway, their hands are all slightly burned and covered in glue, but Sirius has a massive smile on his face, Remus is smirking contently, it was his idea after all, Peter is already worrying about tomorrow when the girls will see, and James is starting to plan his schedule for tomorrow, trying to figure out where he can squeeze in a little extra time to go to the store and maybe buy a little bottle of something.

They walk past the door that’s always locked, and James pushes down the handle, rattles the door a little, and tries to look through the key hole to see what’s in that mysterious room.

“Stop that!” Sirius tells him.

James straightens himself, notices a spot on the door that’s a bit lighter than the rest, where there likely used to be a name plaque, and he wonders why Sirius gets so neurotic when someone mentions the room.

“Is this his room?” James asks, leaning against it. If Sirius thinks he has a right to know why James is always tired and why he’s had a drink tonight, then surely James has a right to know what’s in the room.

“Yes, so stay away, please.” Sirius says softly, and James can tell from the way he’s said it that he really doesn’t want people near that room, so he walks away from it, trying to picture who the mysterious little brother whose name he doesn’t even know could possibly be. Does he look like Sirius? Talk like him? Move like him? Dream like him? Is he loud and slightly annoying and won’t take no for an answer? He guesses he’ll never find out.

“Goodnight.” James blows them all individually a kiss, pulls his door closed behind him and is just about to fall asleep when he hears a loud gasp. He races back into the hallway, thinking maybe one of the girl has woken up already, but instead finds Peter in the door opening to Sirius’ room, mouth fallen so far open his jaw must be unhinged, eyes bulging from his head, eyebrows shooting up like rockets, and looks into the room to see what Pete’s seeing.

James snickers when he sees Sirius and Remus, both wide-eyed sitting up in bed staring back at them.

“Pete you have to keep this a secret.” Sirius pleas with him, rubbing over the fresh hickey on his throat.

“I knew something was going on! I knew it I knew it I knew it!” Peter cries out, long since forgotten that they were supposed to be quiet.

“Shh!” Everyone shushes him, except it’s too late, they hear a loud bang, which means one of the girls has stumbled out of bed and is noticing the prank they’ve played.

“Fuck.” Remus jumps from Sirius’ bed, thank god he’s fully dressed, and sprints as far away from it as he can.

“You bunch of fucking marauders!” Mary’s voice booms through the house.

James squints against the pale winter sun, it’s harsher than it is in summer, lower in the sky too and hurts his eyes. It’s one of the first truly sunny days, unlike the ones where the sun and rain fight for a spot in the sky, and the campus is more crowded than ever, with people walking the paths and pointing at the first of the flowers.

After a full weekend of doing absolutely nothing yet feeling more exhausted than ever, he decided he’d show up to class today. He’s not entirely sure what the course is about, food systems maybe? He couldn’t bring himself to look at any of the older lectures, or read the book, every time he thought he’d gathered the motivation his body simply wouldn’t respond.

The weekend was busy enough as it was, so he can hardly blame himself. He had to practice for the band, and even though it wasn’t more than an hour a day, and he didn’t do a single other thing the rest of the days, it still felt like too much. But Sirius won’t let them rest and especially now that they’ve got a name, thanks to Mary’s shocked response in the aftermath of finding half her room glued to the ceiling, Sirius is convinced they’re going to be playing Wembley in a couple of years.

He spent too long procrastinating getting dressed this morning, so now he’s running late, but it’s okay, people are more surprised when he turns up to class on time than when he doesn’t. Because of the sun the sky feels too warm, the freezing winds have dropped, and now he’s sweating underneath his thick winter coat. If he can’t get the coat off soon he’ll melt.

People walk too slow, or in the middle of the hallway, and he’s overheated, and feeling murderous, and by the time he opens the door to the lecture hall he’s seething.

He doesn’t greet anyone, finds the seat nearest to the door, drops his bag down and gets rid of his coat. Finally he can breathe again and he sits back on his chair, closing his eyes and tuning out the professor. He’s not here to learn. He can’t learn in a crowded room full of clowns and monkeys that are loud and annoying. All of his studying his does at home on his own time, which is why he prefers to go to as little lectures as he possibly can.

“Here, James.” A girl he doesn’t think he’s ever seen before taps his shoulder and hands him a piece of paper and a pen.

“Sorry?”

“It’s the attendance list.”

“Attendance list?”

“All the classes are mandatory, didn’t you get the email?” James feels his heart drop, oh fuck. He definitely got the email, but he hasn’t looked in his inbox for several weeks now, too lazy, or tired, or whatever it is that keeps him from finding the strength to read his email and respond.

“No, I did, thanks.” He whispers back, grabbing the piece of paper and looking at all the names and signatures. Fuck fuck fuck. This is week three of the course. Also the first time he’s gone to a class. How many classes has he missed already? At least two a day, if not more. It’s a full day course, isn’t it? Or did he have two courses this period? He figured he could just show up to the exam, fill in some stupid answers and pass as he always does.

Behind Lily’s name there’s an empty space too, and he looks around the room, unable to find a redhead anywhere. He knows she went to some classes and got excused from many too, maybe he can find a good excuse for his own absences?

He’s so fucked.

He signs his name and passes on the paper with a pained smile, the anxiety inside of him growing and growing, about to turn into sheer panic.

The lecture drawls on eternally, when finally people start packing up their bags and leaving the room James is shaking from head to toe.

He hurriedly walks down the stairs, waits until the few suck-ups have left the professor alone, and takes his chance after a good look around, making sure no one’s left to eavesdrop, “Excuse me, could I ask you something?”

The professor turns around, she looks nice, okay, that’s good, when they look nice they will be understanding and this can all be worked out and nothing’s wrong.

“Yes, of course.”

“I’m James Potter, I’m afraid I’ve missed some of the classes.”

She arches an eyebrow, takes her glasses off and clips them to her shirt, “I’m afraid you’ve missed all the classes, I’ve sent you multiple mails but have gotten no response from you.”

James gulps, she doesn’t sound so nice and understanding, fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s in such big trouble, he stuffs his hands down his pockets because he’s shaking so badly, “I’m so sorry I-err, I have a disability.” He stammers, his heart is beating so loudly she must be able to hear, he can feel sweat pool on his forehead. His glasses are sliding down. He might pass out. There’s chaos everywhere, a tornado rushing through his brain making a mess and leaving behind irreparable wreckage.

All she does is look at him, unimpressed, and she continues putting her notes in her bag. She must think he’s joking. The annoying football guy who thinks he’s too good to come to classes and now fakes something he will never understand just as a lame excuse to save himself.

“I have autism.” James blurts out.

Her face melts, her entire demeanor shifts, and she gives him a big smile, “Oh, have you seen one of the deans yet? They can help you figure out what facilities you need, is it annoying for you to make eye contact? I can look away?” She talks to him like he’s a toddler, and even does as she says, looking at a point next to his face instead of at his eyes.

“Is there any way for me to catch up with what I’ve missed?” He says, steadying his voice. He doesn’t want to be babied. He’s an adult, a normal adult, who can take care of the mess he’s made in an adult manner, he’ll show her.

“Oh sweetheart no, attendance is mandatory and you’ve missed way too much, you’ll have to retake the course another time.”

James thinks he might be having a heart attack.

“Retake another time?”

She gives him a pitying smile, “Yes, if you’d let us know at the start of the course we could’ve looked for a solution, but it’s much too late now, I can’t make such an exception for you, you’ll have to retake it next year.”

“But I’ll probably have another course this period next year.”

“You should really go and see one of the deans, if you can’t combine this course with the one you’ll have next year at the same time it’s going to take you an extra year to graduate.”

He feels his knees buckle. Bile rises up his throat.

There’s all this static in his head, static that reflects every of the falls he’s made, all of the times he’s failed, he’s had to struggle, put in more effort, work a little harder, be a little different. It’s all coming together now, and he can’t fight himself out of the whirlwind back into safety, he’s stuck inside of the tornado.

“Thank you for your time, have a nice day.” He mutters, turning his back to her and taking the stairs two at a time, ignoring her calling him to come back, and he sprints down the hallway, following the signs that lead him to the dean’s office.

This is everything he didn’t want. He didn’t want to discuss his autism with the deans. He didn’t want facilities. He didn’t want an extra year. He wanted to study normally.

What now? He won’t pass this course. He really is going to be sick. The headache he has is killing. This will kill him. If he doesn’t pass the course… this is only the beginning. He’ll be unable to pass any course. He’ll drop out. He won’t finish his education like so many other neurodivergent people, and like them he’ll live out the rest of his life on a meager allowance he gets from the government, unable to be employed. This is his worst nightmare. This is the end of everything. He’ll have to move out. He’ll lose his friends. Go back home. His parents will force him back into therapy. He will be dependent on them. He will forever be disabled. He cannot study. He can’t he can’t he can’t. He can’t be normal.

His heart is in his throat, he’s shaking so badly he keeps almost falling over, his eyesight has suddenly gone black, he pushes open the door to the deans’ office.

“Can I make an appointment, it’s urgent?” He asks the first person he sees.

“I have an opening now, you can come with me, I’m Minerva, one of the deans.” The lady tells him, holding out her hand.

“James Potter.” He follows her into an office and sits down on the chair, tapping his foot against the floor, bouncing his legs, scratching open his knuckles. Why can’t he do things normally? Why does this disability always have to haunt him wherever he goes? Why does it limit him so intensely? Why him? What did he do to deserve this?

“What’s the issue, James, you look stressed?”

“Err, they- I- they won’t let me finish the course.” There’s so much pressure on his chest. He can’t breathe properly.

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?”

His mind goes blank. Tell her a little bit? A little bit of what? The question is too broad, James doesn’t know what she wants him to tell her, he’s panicking, his life is ending, he’ll be unemployed, disabled, forever, he can’t think.

“What do you study here?”

That’s an easier question. “Marine sciences.”

“Which course are you having trouble with?”

He never checked which course it was. Maths? Economics? Law? Or was it that food course?

She turns to her computer, clicking around, James’ knuckles are bleeding badly, his jaw is cramping, he’s so nauseous. “I could just have a look at your program, let’s see… ah, marine food systems?”

“Yes.”

“Why can’t you finish the course?”

“Too many absences.”

“And why is that?”

“I have autism.” The second time he has to make that confession today. He hates it.

Her eyebrows raise, he tries to focus on the grey streaks in her black hair, on her pointy glasses, her stern looking face, but he’s too panicked.

“I haven’t seen you here for that yet.”

“No, I didn’t come.”

“We offer facilities to make your time here easier.”

“I know that.” He doesn’t want those.

She opens up a notebook, “We could make another appointment, for tomorrow maybe? And if you bring your diagnosis and psych evaluation we can determine what facilities will help you the best. I see this is a short course, it ends this week, so you can just start with the new course next week and we’ll figure out when you can retake this one.” She tells him in a calming voice, but James feels the furthest from calm a human possibly could. Nothing’s going as it’s supposed to. This is exactly how it started when he was in secondary school. He was exhausted, couldn’t get out of bed, started building up too many absences, was forced out of school and made into someone sick. Someone who can’t live as others do. Someone who always has to struggle through the simplest tasks. He doesn’t want this again. What if it happens again? What if it never stopped? What if it never will stop?

“I feel sick.” Is all the explanation he offers before he exits the room, the building, and walks home.

The bell rings. James is home alone. Everyone else is on campus, in class as he’s supposed to be. He’s faking a flu. Has been all week. Sirius is worried sick that he won’t be able to perform tomorrow night. Says they’re nothing without a drummer. He keeps getting emails from the dean, but ignores those. He didn’t go back.

Instead he’s been in bed all week. Sulking, feeling sorry for himself, not putting in the least bit of effort to make himself feel better. He’s letting this heavy weight, this tangled mess of emotions drag him under, drown him, and he doesn’t even care. He’s so devastated. This year everything was supposed to be different. University was the big change, the new beginning, where he’d be better. But he’s right back where he’s always been. The disappointment he feels in himself is too much to swallow.

He’s such a failure. Such a complete, total failure. How did he never before realize that he wouldn’t get better, that he wouldn’t change? Was he really that in denial? He’s chronically ill. He was born with this disease. He’s not getting rid of it. Those childhood dreams of one day growing out of it, they’re all fake. Fantasies. Fairytales. As real as the magical worlds he dreams of. That neverland he never reached because he couldn’t find the second star to the right. All he can do is accept it and learn to live with it, but that is something he can never do. Acceptance is madness. Learning to live with it impossible. Some days might be better, but the bad days will always return.

“Regulus?” He’s surprised to find Regulus standing at his door. So far Regulus has absolutely refused to come here, not even to drop off his letters, so what brings him here now?

Regulus almost looks a little taken aback when he sees James, and James knows exactly why. He hasn’t slept in a long time, still can’t find his appetite, and locked himself up in the darkness of his room for several days. Of course he looks like a monster.

"We’re going on a walk.” Regulus says, glancing past James into the hallway. The estate must feel rather homely to Regulus, who comes from wealth, he must miss it, the high ceilings, the thick rugs, the paintings and wooden floors.

“No.” There’s not a single bit of energy left in his body. Walking the stairs leaves him winded. Walking? It’ll kill him.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to walk.”

“Walking has been proven to clear the mind and make you feel better.” Regulus says, putting his hand on the door as if it’s a living being, something he misses terribly.

“I won’t walk.”

“Yes you will.”

James groans, he doesn’t want Regulus to see him like this. He doesn’t want to shatter the image. He can give Regulus little bits of information, some sob stories, but he can’t know all of it. All of it is too much. All of James is always too much. “What are you even doing here?”

“I haven’t seen you or heard from you all week, I can tell something’s wrong. Put on your shoes.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking again.”

“You never asked you just told.”

“James will you please put on your shoes.”

That catches his attention. He thinks it over, weighs the options. Regulus always cheers him up. The walk could be good. He just called him James again. “Fine, but I won’t talk about it.” He says, stepping aside to let Regulus in and looking through the heaps of shoes to find some of his own. He sits down on the stairs as he puts them on and watches carefully as Regulus slowly enters, hesitantly, one hand flat on the wall, taking small steps as he looks around him with amazement.

“I know it’s fancy, my best friend owns the place.” James explains, reaching for his coat while Regulus glances into the kitchen, his eyes traveling over every inch of the room.

“Does it remind you of home?”

Regulus’ head snaps in James’ direction, as if he’s caught in a crime, “A little, I guess.” There’s a tortured longing in his voice. James feels bad for inviting him in and exposing him to an environment that reminds him of his home so, it can’t be nice.

“I’m ready, we can go.” He says quickly, walking out the door and waiting for Regulus to follow. He does so, reluctantly, and looks over his shoulder several more times as they walk the path to the street.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think that… you know.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t miss it.”

For once James can’t think of a joke, or a question to ask, or a story to tell. His mind is empty, his thoughts blank, his emotions turned-off. He feels as if he’s walking on a tightrope, over a massive canyon, so far from the ground he can barely make out the shapes of the trees, or the rushing of a river, so close to the sky he thinks reaching out to it might make him touch the moon. The rope shakes, it trembles in unison with James’ body, it’s not tight and far too unsteady. He’s not secured anywhere, if he falls, that’s the end of him. Instead of getting sick with fear and doubt, looking down to confirm in how much trouble he is, feel the fear within himself, reach for the sky and get lost in dreams, or look back and overthink, all he finds himself able to do is fix his gaze on the end of the rope, turn off his mind and get there, no matter the cost.

“Actually, I do miss it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t miss home the way that it was, it’s just… I think I miss what it could’ve been. Or should’ve been.” Regulus confesses, shielding his eyes from the lowering sun. James lets the sun blind him, he trudges on through the mud that’s left on the fields after the long winter rains, and listens to the loud chorus of the birds.

“I get that.”

“What do you miss?”

James exhales, but the temperature in the air is rising and there’s no longer a white cloud of smoke coming from his mouth. He only did as much as blink and suddenly winter’s come to an abrupt ending. He panics. Yet another week has passed. One to add to all the previous ones that came and went so quietly. He feels the weight of being young in a new spring press him down into the warming earth. Live life to the fullest. Enjoy every moment. Don’t waste a second. It’s the wise words wise people say. What if he can’t? What if he’s wasting the gift of life because he’d rather survive?

He can’t think of a way to answer Regulus. He misses everything. The carelessness of youth he never experienced, the sense of truly belonging in a place, feeling right, living life to the fullest, enjoying every moment, not wasting a second.

“I used to always compare myself to other people my age, I saw their parents taking them to the zoo and waterparks, and really loving them, just- as parents do, and I was so jealous and I couldn’t understand why I didn’t get that. Why I had to work a million times harder for only a sliver of attention. And now I look back and obviously I can’t change it, and it’s no use endlessly comparing, this is just the way it is and it doesn’t make me any less or any different, this is just me. Maybe it was supposed to be like this.” He says soberly. James needs a moment to process that, he’d never really given much thought to whatever it might be Regulus struggled with. It’s so strange, to have been hiding for so long and suddenly have found someone he can be honest with. Someone who gets it, returns the honesty.

“Doesn’t it make you angry?”

“Did you really just ask that?” Regulus says, bending down to pluck one of the early crocuses from the earth. He tucks it behind James’ ear. James laughs at it, that’s the last thing he expected Regulus to do. Is he secretly kind of sentimental and sweet?

“Oh, of course, you’re always angry.” James smiles, throwing a flower at Regulus’ face. He ducks, picks it up from where it fell and straightens one of the petals that folded, very gently placing it behind James’ other ear.

“Exactly, so why’re you angry, James?”

“Everything’s so difficult.” James shrugs, he cannot think of a single way, a combination of words, even a feeling that encompasses the everything that resides in his body, lives up in his head. It’s too much. Too everything.

“Everything is quite a lot, what’s the biggest issue?”

“Everything.”

Regulus snorts at that, “James, come on, what’s bothering you the most, right now.” He tries. James keeps his gaze focused on his shoes, thinking over his options. It’s so incredibly difficult to be truthful, but Regulus actually wants to know. He was concerned about James’ silence these past few days and came to check on him, take him outside for some fresh air and distraction, he wants to help, he wants to be there for him. It would be so stupid to turn that down. To turn Regulus down.

“I have to retake this period’s course another time.”

“Okay, so?” Regulus asks, looking unimpressed. This is the kind of thing that would never in a million years bother a normal person. A little maybe, initially, a bit of disappointment, but then you get over it and move on. James can get stuck on unexpected events like these forever and ever. Allow it to ruin months of his life.

“So? So now I have to retake it next year but then there will be another course so I have to study here a whole extra year just for that one course and who knows what else will go wrong? I could fail a test and have to retake it, or get more absences, and before I know it I’m stuck here until my death.” He explains, why doesn’t anyone understand this is only the beginning? Everything will go downhill from here on.

“You’re just filling it in now, assuming the worst case scenario.”

James scoffs, he’s being realistic, “And I so don’t want to go back on Monday and start the new course.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know.”

Regulus openly stares at him, he always does, and points at the hill they’re walking on, sloping downwards. It gives away to a wide view, more hills, bare trees, muddy grass underneath a pale blue sky and illuminated by the harsh winter sun. “Here, let’s run down the hill.”

“It’s slippery.” James objects, kicking at the wet grass.

“We’re going to run and then you say what’s upsetting you, my brother used to do it with me, it works.” Regulus holds out his hand, cocking his head to the side with an expectant smile.

James sighs, he doesn’t want to run, or talk, or accept any of the difficulty in his life. He’d rather pretend none of it exists. Continue walking the tightrope, not looking at anything except the end of the line.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” He mutters, feeling slightly annoyed at having to run down the slippery hill.

“I didn’t know you had it in you to be this grumpy, just try it and then you can hate it, okay?”

He knows Regulus well enough by now to know that he won’t give in. He’ll stand there with his hand out waiting for James to take it until he does, and if James had the nerve to walk away, he’d probably kick him down the hill and watch him roll.

Regulus’ hand is cold, icy, but after the initial touch he can feel the warmth of his body, the beating of his heart, the life coursing through him. It’s reassuring. Regulus squeezes his hand, smiles at James and starts to run. What choice does he have? He runs down with Regulus, hand in hand, thinking of how absolutely absurd this is. Regulus Black, his mean ex-coworker who sneers at everyone is running down a hill holding his hand?

“I just don’t want to go anymore. I’m so tired, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back there and now I will have to drop out and move back home and be the town’s joke and everyone will know I failed massively and I will forever be the disabled boy who can’t live normally and then I die with nothing to show for it.” He shouts, his lungs opening up with the exercise, the air that tells spring is on its way, the easiness with which the words seem to glide off him.

They come to a stop at the bottom of the hill, no broken bones, no one slipped, just a little breathless, Regulus with red cheeks, gazing at one another. “Hmm, you’re thinking in extremes. Not everything’s so black and white, James.” He breathes out, swinging James’ hand from side to side.

“No I’m just being rational.” James argues, walking again, Regulus’ hand still in his.

“It’s no use losing all hope in your education because of only one minor setback. You’ll go back to your classes on Monday, and you’ll pass the course with ease as you always brag about, and the next one, and the next one, and then you’ll graduate and get a great job you love and it’ll be okay.”

But that’s not true. Academically speaking, James does pass with ease, but that doesn’t account for the immense mental exhaustion university causes. Nothing is easy, not as easy as he makes it seem. Who knows if he’ll be able to graduate? So little disabled people do. And a job? He’d never be able to work full time.

What if it won’t be okay?

“I don’t think it’ll be, I just wanted to be normal.”

“Normal’s boring.” Regulus says in an attempt to cheer him up.

“Not to me. Normal is my dream.”

“Is that what you miss?”

“Yes.”

Regulus plays with James’ fingers as he thinks, a deer shoots across the meadow into the trees, the outside world looks so calm, such a stark contrast to what James feels brewing inside of him.

“Evan follows half his courses, it’s easier for him that way, makes him less tired and it ensures he’ll be able to graduate. And sure it’ll take him a little longer to graduate but it’s worth it, if he has to do all courses at a normal pace he won’t graduate at all.”

“Doesn’t he want to do all the courses at once, like normal people do?” James asks, his voice dipping down at the end of the sentence.

Will any of this ever pass?

“No because knows this works best for him.”

“Oh.”

Regulus sucks in a deep breath, stops James is in his walking, and forces him to look, “Maybe you could try to do what’s best for you sometimes. I only ever see you miles outside of your comfort zone, going over your own boundaries again and again for others. You don’t always have to do things the way that you think they’re supposed to go, or the way you’re told they’re supposed to go- or, actually, the way some entitled men one day decided things were supposed to go.”

“I kind of do, it’s the foundations of our society.” James frowns, he appreciates Regulus trying to talk him through this and make him feel better, but only James has lived inside his head, only he knows what everything’s like, only he can help himself. He doesn’t like to share this weight, be a burden, have others worry, he can fix it on his own.

“No but you don’t, no one will mind if you take an extra year to graduate, but if that makes it easier for you to get from one day to the next it’s so worth it.”

He sighs, feeling defeated when he shakes his head and murmurs a response, “I don’t know, Reg, I just can’t really think about anything today, my head’s so full.”

“You don’t have to think today, I just wanted to tell you, and you have all weekend left to think.”

“Yeah.”

“James?”

“Reggie?”

“I’ll like you just as much if you go to school a little less, you’ll be the same James.”

A smile forms on his face, he turns his head to the side and wraps an arm around Regulus’ shoulder. “That’s really sweet.” He whispers in Regulus’ ear, watching him blush.

“You better never tell a soul I said any of that.” Regulus returns, trying really hard to transform his face back into his usual Regulus sneer, but he can’t manage to wipe the massive smile off his face.

“I’ll put it in the paper, shout it from the rooftops, I’ll get it tattooed on my forehead!”

“If a little piercing bothered you that much you should never get a tattoo.” Regulus flicks at James’ ear, he yelps and holds Regulus even tighter, surprised at Regulus’ lack of resistance. Does he like this? Being held by James? He’s leaning into him. Resting his head on James’ shoulder. He likes this.

“Right, hey, Reg, why does Evan only do half the classes? You don’t have to tell me if he wouldn’t want to, of course.”

“No that’s okay, Evan has autism.”

“Hmmokay.” He hums, taken aback slightly by Regulus’ easy way of letting the world fall from his mouth. James still feels a sense of shame whenever he confesses it to someone. People just have such a stereotypical view of autism, they can’t accept someone like James could also have it. He doesn’t want to be seen differently, treated differently, as happens oftentimes whenever he does tell, so he just doesn’t anymore.

“You do too, don’t you?” Regulus asks, his voice free of any form of judgement.

“Definitely not.”

“Who knows?”

“You apparently.” James says with a chuckle. Regulus has proven time and time again that his opinion on James won’t change. Even after seeing the scars. Even after reading the letters. Even after listening to him talk. Even after seeing him like this. What’s a stupid label to add to that?

“And?”

“Lily, she helped me get your flowers.”

“Is she the redhead?”

“I knew you stalked me.” James teases him, but Regulus shakes his head, blushing once more, “She followed you to our date last week.” He explains.

“Oh, yep, that’s absolutely her.”

“Anyone else?”

“My parents.”

“I meant of your friends here.”

James shakes his head, “Oh, no, no one else.”

“Are you ashamed of it?”

“People just don’t get it, it’s easier not to tell. Do you tell people that you’re a vampire?”

Regulus jabs his elbow into James’ waist, “I told you to stop with those jokes.”

“Don’t you have any fun mental diseases?”

“No I’m perfect.”

“That I already knew, love.” James muses, plastering a smile to his face and telling himself he has to be thankful for this moment and enjoy it. Look around, see, feel, smell. He’s holding Regulus, the sun is out, the grass smells fresh, the birds chipper, Regulus is warm and smiley, why does he still feel so sad?

“Oh my god I didn’t look I promise!” Peter cries out as he walks through the back door of the bar, spinning around the second he lays eyes on them and running back inside.

Remus sighs, “I told you we could never keep it a secret.”

“What is there to keep secret?” Sirius grins, wiggling his eyebrows.

Remus rolls his eyes at the look on Sirius’ face, finishes his cigarette and throws it to the ground, stubbing it out with his shoe. What is there to keep secret? He doesn’t have a clue. Sirius confessed to being gay, but Remus is unsure what that means to him. Is he gay? He just doesn’t know. Some girls he’s known in the past he really did like, but never the way he likes Sirius. It’s probably best to keep things undefined anyway, as long as they don’t stick a label on whatever this is, Remus isn’t compromising his chances at reuniting with his mom.

It goes with ups and down, like the tide rolling out and rushing back in, covering the sand with white foam, throwing the cracking shells around in the bubbling water. Some days he almost goes as far as to flip off the sky, say fuck it to everything, and love Sirius openly. God praises about love, doesn’t he? Loving Sirius shouldn’t be a sin.

But then there are the days where he wakes up with a stomach ache and sinks to his knees, begging for forgiveness, hating himself for throwing away his eternal afterlife with mom for a boy. More than a boy, Sirius.

Is it all worth it, or is it not?

He can’t tell right from wrong anymore. Maybe life is just the grey area in between, but then that would mean his whole upbringing and his mom’s faith is all a lie, so which is the better option?

“What’d you do to scare off Pete?” James says, letting the door fall closed behind him and joining them.

“Exist.” Remus grumbles in response. Now that Peter knows, and James apparently already did, thank you Sirius for keeping your mouth shut, everything’s even more complicated than it already was. It’s suddenly real. As if this solidifies his decision, his sin, as if this is the final act that leads to him going down rather than up once he dies.

How could he value these beliefs so much when he’s never shared them? It doesn’t make much sense. He’s never rejected the church, he’s not such an extreme person, but he’s never believed in any of it either. The big ‘what if’ keeps him awake. What if he thinks none of it’s real, only then to find out that it is? What will he do then?

“He just thinks I can’t keep my hands of Moony, rightfully, I mean look at him!” Sirius claps Remus on the back and laughs.

That’s problem two that keeps him awake. How could a boy like Sirius ever fall for him? He’s rich, brought up well, has everything he could want, is beautiful beyond comprehension, perfect in every sense of the word, minus his imperfections, and Remus wholeheartedly believed he was the type to never commit to anything. Be single for all of eternity and work his way through the entire human population. Settling down for Remus, who is awkward, quiet, covered in scars and has nothing to offer is about the weirdest decision he could’ve made.

He fears that it isn’t really him that Sirius likes, but some imaginary version of him he’s created in his mind. A better version of who he really is.

It doesn’t matter which version of him Sirius likes, he deserves better than either of them.

“We were just smoking.” Remus says.

“Yeah, okay, Pete only came to say we’re all ready and the bar’s filling up nicely… so, ready?”

Remus feels a rush of nerves pass through him, a little for himself, the thought of getting on that tiny stage and playing the bass, an instrument he gave up on years ago and only has been playing again these past weeks, is making his physically ill, but most of the nerves he feels are for Sirius. Sirius, who knows this is his vocation. Sirius who is destined to be great. The pressure is on, all of them will be the best they possibly can be, for Sirius. This will be his night, the beginning of his great life.

Which leads to problem three.

One day Sirius will be world-famous, get bored of Remus and his tea and books, realize there’s so much more, so many better people, better things, better places and experiences waiting for him, and he’ll pick up his things and leave. Remus never believed in love anyway, it hurts more than it does good, if you ask him, so why go through all that effort? People die, or they change, and in the end it’s just him, in pain and alone, it always has been, and he thought it always would be. Until he met Sirius. Sirius is the exception. He could never fall in love again now.

He watches as Sirius drags a hand through his curls, a little anxiously, but still looking painfully cool, and nods.

They have to start with a banger, of course, a song everyone knows and loves, can sing the lyrics to and enjoy. Sirius finds himself half-surprised so many people have stopped chatting and instead have turned towards the stage, screaming the words and dancing with friends. The university is brimming with aspiring bands, and Sirius has seen many of them up on this very stage, failing to catch the attention of the people on the floor the way they did manage, somehow.

“I ain’t gonna face no defeat

I just gotta get out of this prison cell

Someday I’m gonna be free, Lord”

Tears well up in his eyes. He doesn’t cry, he hasn’t since he left home and broke down in Mary’s car, but he’s made it. He’s actually made it. These lyrics dragged him through the long hours at home, the punishments, the resentment, the pain, the confusion the hurt, the wondering what on earth he’d done wrong to upset mom so badly, the plans he made to turn her back into the mom he used to know, the first time he realized she wouldn’t, the record has seen him through it all. He’s played it until it got so wonky and scratched the music started sounding weird, but even then he never stopped listening.

He's made this life for himself, and he will continue to make it.

“Can anybody find me

Somebody to

Love”

Mary sings the high notes in an angelic voice, grinning as she looks to her side, and Sirius grins right back at her, clutching the microphone, singing the words with her.

When the song ends the bar erupts in applaud. He keeps having to remind himself this is nothing. This bar doesn’t pay them, so many bands have played here and amounted to nothing, but he won’t be one of those. He’ll work hard, sing, practice, play in every bar in the world, write the best music to have ever existed, and be the biggest star in history. He can’t fail at this. Whether it’s his pride or delusion he doesn’t know, but he’s certain he won’t fail.

He laughs into the microphone when Mary graciously bows, and turns around to face his friends. Every single one of them are smiling, eyes twinkling. Remus winks at him, Marlene and Peter are standing back to back, and then James starts the next song, slamming his drumsticks down onto the surface. The drums tremble, but the words they painted on are still easily read. ‘The Marauders’, it says. Even though Mary got dangerously close to going at them with a knife she gave them this name, and the glue did in fact come off like Sirius predicted, so it’s all good in the end.

“I never did believe in miracles

But I’ve a feeling it’s time to try”

He and Mary sing, twirling around each other and nearly tripping over the cords of the microphones that are starting to get tangled on the ground.

The ways of magic are clear to him now. He won’t pretend all of it’s easy and uncomplicated, especially with Remus’ belief, but he’s certain they’re made for each other and will figure it out. Ten years ago he thought he’d end up marrying a girl his parents would choose for him, he thought he’d never have freedom or be happy, and today he is standing on a stage with his friends, singing his favorite songs to the boy he loves, he has an obligation to young Sirius to make the most out of every moment of this beautiful life.

Even when he’s scared Remus will see the monster his parents have made of him, even when the guilt he feels at having left behind Regulus threatens to consume him, even though he is unstable, reckless, tends to overthink his impulsive decisions in hindsight only and is afraid to commit to such a big phenomenon, he will try for Remus.

Love and pain have always been intertwined in his life so far, he can only see them as an inseparable pair, and maybe they’re not supposed to one without the other, but even then loving Remus is much more magical than anything else.

“You, you make loving fun”

He turns around when he sings the words, and sings them directly at Remus.

It’s nothing less than the truth.

Sirius doesn’t much care for science. The scientists among them say science is art, because life is art. Sirius only thinks art is art. Human creations are art, all the rest if life.

But he does know this; he knows he’s made up of atoms, that these atoms have been part of the ocean as a wave breaking on a rock only to then form another wave, another, yet another, or a bear guiding her cubs through the forest, wild horses running across the plains, the translucent wings of a dragonfly, orcas hunting for seals, a sunflower seed pecked up by a bird, the paper on which a masterpiece has been made and perished, the fairytale- like strings of branches on a willow tree, a star, the empty space in between stars, the first fire, and now, now after the immense and incomprehensible journey the atoms have made, they brought him here, now he’s Sirius Black, and all of those atoms love Remus Lupin, every last atom that makes up his body will carry this love as it moves on when Sirius himself has perished, and even in millions of years when earth has been destroyed and no one will remember either of them, these atoms will continue to love Remus in Sirius’ name. none of that will perish. It’s too strong. The universe will remember them and how they loved.

Isn’t that magic?

Remus blushes and Sirius wishes he could paint it right now.

Dorcas cheers for Marlene, calling out her name and whistling, watching Marlene seemingly grow bigger and brighter with each passing second. She reaches into her bag and grabs one of the roses she bought for tonight, and throws it on stage.

“I love you Marlene!” She shouts.

Marlene throws her head back laughing.

“That’s my girlfriend!” She tells the people standing next to her, throwing another rose in Marlene’s direction.

Will this be enough to make her stay?

They’ve been together for such a long time. They grew up together, does Marlene really think Dorcas doesn’t feel the change?

When they just got together everything was new and exciting. Marlene wasn’t out and they had to keep their relationship a secret. It was like a thrill, a constant surge of adrenaline each time someone came too close to finding out.

Now they’re pretty much a married couple. They quarrel and argue over nonsense, they rarely share their true thoughts and emotions, and like a shiny new object it almost feels as their relationship has been worn down to shreds.

Dorcas loves her, she is still as much in love with her as at the beginning, but is that the same for Marlene?

Why is she distancing herself?

At home there were never a lot of issues between them, but now it’s all been turned around.

It’s just, Dorcas has to spend a lot of time on her school work, more than Marlene does, and whenever she’s free she’s too tired to actually go out. And she’s afraid of moving in together because all her life she’s heard adults say that’s what kills relationships.

She must be doing things wrong, but Marlene never tells her, so how is she supposed to know? She can’t read minds. If only she could know she could make changes.

How can she make Marlene stay?

Once the songs end Lily locks herself up in the bathroom. She sinks down on the closed toilet lid and looks at the little pills in her palm. It’s irresponsible. It’s exactly what gets so many young people killed. Buy a few pills on campus, think it’ll be fine, die.

She just can’t breathe anymore.

She can’t recover from this.

She needs the extra help.

Someone bangs on the door, shouting at her to hurry up, so Lily throws the pills into her mouth and swallows them with a sip of her beer.

James chugs his beer before Sirius can return from the bathroom. He doesn’t appreciate being watched and judged as he is, but he won’t say anything about it, he doesn’t want to cause any trouble.

His entire life’s gone to shit already. He’ll never amount to anything. He’ll be lucky if he can manage to graduate, but the real world won’t be so forgiving of his disability. Already here at university they’re less forgiving than in secondary school. It’s the little steps that lead to hell.

Regulus seems to like him now, but how long will that last? James knows he’s a difficult person. He knows he’s too much, he’s exhausting, annoying, loud. He knows that if he spends too much time with Regulus, he’ll discover something about him that he doesn’t like. He always does. It’s either they breathe wrong, they move slow, they’re clumsy, they cough too much, they slam the doors, and slowly all the little things start piling up until James can no longer bear to be in the same room without getting so agitated he feels like exploding. And if it’s not that that kills them, it'll be Regulus finding out James is much more of a disaster than he thinks.

What’s even the point in being sad when he can be numb?

The beer helps.

“Why don’t you play here again next week?” The manager asks.

Sirius’ eyes widen, he glances to his side, squeezes Remus’ hand, “Yes we’d love to!” He returns.

Remus smiles to himself when Sirius is tapped on the shoulder by a group of people who’ve come to tell him they liked the songs. He’ll make it. Remus might too. He’s not so worried about the future as his friends all seem to be. Sirius spends every second of every day fighting for the perfect life. Marlene’s doubts seem to growing stronger. Lily isn’t doing well. Mary doesn’t like it at school, it’s not at all as she expected. James is hiding something. Only Peter really enjoys what he does, though he’s worried about the job options.

But Remus is quite content. He'll see where he ends up, because at least he knows he won’t end up back on the streets, and truly, anything’s better than that.

Growing up isn’t all that bad as he always thought it’d be.

Growing up is the absolute worst thing that’s ever happened to her.

“But you could stay?” Marlene pleads, tugging at Dorcas’ hands to try and keep her from pulling on her coat.

Dorcas bites her lip, looking so sad, but why? What’s she so sad about? Marlene can’t read minds, she doesn’t know what’s wrong, she doesn’t understand why they’re drifting apart, but they are. How can she possibly stop it if she can’t tell what the issue is? If only Dorcas would just tell her what is bothering her.

“It’s a graded practical, Marls, this counts to my grade.” Dorcas returns, buttoning up her coat.

Why on earth can’t life stay the same as it’s always been? Why can’t they stay the same?

“For once could you please not leave because of school? For once could you stay and dance with me?” Marlene attempts to pull her back into the bar, the music is bad, and the bar too crowded, but they can dance. No one here cares about two girls dancing together, they’ve finally made it out of their small town, they can finally hold hands in the street, and now Dorcas still won’t dance with her.

“I’d love to-“

“But I’m not important enough.” Is that it? Does Dorcas prioritize her education over love? Or is Marlene just being a total bitch right now. Dorcas was there during the performance. She threw roses onto the stage, applauded her, supported her, is Marlene asking too much? Maybe she’s overbearing, maybe it’s healthy to develop without breathing each other’s air day long. But maybe Marlene just wants to feel like her girlfriend actually wants to be with her. It’s almost like the only reason they’re together is because that’s all they’ve ever known, because they’re both scared of ending something they thought would last forever. Is that good enough a reason to stay doing this?

“Come on Marlene I don’t want to fight.” Dorcas says softly, pulling away from Marlene.

“But what if I do! Couples fight! We never fucking fight so there’s just all this unresolved shit hanging between us!” Marlene bursts out. If she could get Dorcas to explode, to shout at her and tell her all that’s wrong, they could mend what’s broken, now the seams only keep ripping further.

Dorcas turns around, “Marlene I love you so much but you have to understand that this is important for my future!”

“For our future.” She counters, biting back tears. How could this have gone so badly so fast?

“Yes for our future!”

“And what then? You’ll be a workaholic-“

“I’m not a workaholic!”

Marlene raises her hand to stop Dorcas talking, and she asks the question she’s asked a million times already. “Move in with us.”

Dorcas presses her hands against her eyes, clearly equally frustrated, “Marls, don’t ask me to do something I don’t want to.”

“But why? Is it because of me?”

“No it’s not because of you! I’m just scared if we live together we… we’re still young, we don’t have to rush anything.” Dorcas rambles, pulling the door open.

“You’re right I don’t want to fight, it’s not worth my energy.” Marlene yells at her, turning her back to Dorcas and disappearing into the crowd. She’s too upset to even look at Dorcas’ face right now.

“Marlene don’t walk away angry!”

“Goodnight Dorcas! Go get your precious sleep!”

Lily’s made a mistake. Taking those pills was a horribly stupid mistake. She’s ruining herself. On purpose. And now the walls are closing in on her, she’s feeling feverish, and she might very well be dying.

Air. She needs fresh air. A quiet street. A moment to think.

She bursts out the door, hearing the clicking of Dorcas’ heels further down the street, she stumbles, trying to follow Dorcas and ask her to sit with Lily for a bit, but by the time she looks up again Dorcas has turned around a corner and Lily doesn’t think she has the strength to walk fast enough to catch up on her.

Her breathing starts to speed, she can feel her pulse banging through every inch of her body at an unhealthy pace, this isn’t the kind of girl she is, what’s happened? She’s losing her identity, can’t remember her morals, her body doesn’t know how to breathe anymore.

“Lils?” She turns around, brushing the wet hair from her sweaty face, and through her hazy vision she can only just make out Sirius.

“I took pills.” She bursts out. Sirius’ figure blurs in front of her eyes. Her temperature is too high. Her organs will shut down soon.

“First time?”

She nods. Lifting her hair off her back to allow her sweaty neck some fresh air.

“Am I dying?” She asks, panicking, she doesn’t want to go yet. There’s so much left to do. Her mom won’t survive it.

Sirius snorts, “Let’s wander around a bit so you can cool down.” He proposes, taking her hand and leading her through the street.

Lily clutches onto his hand, taking tentative steps, and slowly the booming music of the bar fades and it’s just the two of them.

“Have you ever done drugs?”

“In a faraway past.” Sirius mutters back.

“Do you think it’s wrong I’m leaving Petunia and mom alone back home while I’m here living life as if nothing’s wrong?”

Sirius’ grip on her hand intensifies, she knows this isn’t something they discuss, but who else could possibly understand? If she’s dying tonight she wants to at least have no regrets. She needs someone to tell her what she did wasn’t wrong, that will give her some peace.

“You didn’t leave them.”

“Didn’t stay either.” She objects. Mom and Petunia have to be there, constantly in the place where her dad’s absence is reflected in every room, every street, every shop, all the places he’s ever been. They can’t escape it like Lily can here.

“Petunia hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“Is he a lot younger than you are?” Lily asks, she knows that Sirius has a little brother, but that’s about much as he’s ever told.

“Little over two years, but he was always very mature.”

“Petunia’s six years older than me, it’s always too big a gap, you know?” Lily sighs. Petunia enjoyed being the center of attention at home, the only child, and then Lily came and fucked it all up. The older she gets the less she understands it. When she was young she knew her place, she knew she was the disrupter, but now she looks back and wonders how anyone could be so cruel to a little girl.

“I just never know if I should accept my defeat and let it go.” For the first time in years they’re on speaking terms, but it’s only out of guilt. Dad never liked their animosity. It’s not sincere, and Lily’s sure they can go on like this forever, calls once a week, maybe some tea once a month after university when she moves back home, but they’ll never be like other sisters.

“Don’t.” Sirius says briskly. “Don’t ever give up, siblings are so important Lils, I wish I’d known that when I was young.”

“Why don’t you just call him?”

“I don’t know where he is, or who he is. I’m afraid if I search for him and find him he’ll be exactly what our parents hoped he’d be.” Sirius confesses, tipping his face up to the sky so he can look at the stars.

“I’m not doing so well, Sirius.”

Sirius stops walking, puts a hand on her forehead and squints his eyes at her, looking concerned. “Are you actually dying?”

“No, I mean, with dad dying.” She whispers, it’s hard to speak the words, her mind still can’t accept that he really is gone, “I keep doing things the wrong way.”

“The pills were really stupid,” Sirius starts, pulling her in for a hug and stroking through her damp hair, “And James told me about the protest, but after I ran away I did all sorts of drugs, I’d throw rocks through windows, I stole a car and drove it into a tree and I couldn’t understand I’d fucked up until afterwards, you know how I am, and I wouldn’t accept Mary’s help… anyway, Lils, if you need to keep doing stupid things to get through this I’ll support you, but you’ve got to let us help you, right now you’re just seeking for comfort in all the wrong places.”

“Okay.” Lily whispers, burying her face in Sirius’ curls, “I’ll try to be better for dad.”

“No, you’re going to try to be better for yourself.” Sirius counters, squeezing her shoulders.

James doesn’t know where all of his friends have gone, one moment he was quickly chugging a beer, and the next of all them have seemed to evaporate from the bar, leaving James stranded by himself. All right, he thinks, that’s all right. He has an eye on the exit, he can leave whenever he wants, he’s not thinking of numbers, of fire hazards, of alcohol poisoning, of resting equal weight on both feet, of the door to the bathroom being locked, of cracking his knuckles or scratching at them. With the alcohol he feels relatively normal. As normal as he’ll ever be able to be.

Is that the price he has to pay? Be a drunk forever? But then that’s not a very normal life either.

Normal is so far out of reach.

A sudden sadness threatens to nearly crush him, he can almost feel his ribcage caving, his heart shrinking, his stomach thrums with anxiety.

He’ll be like this forever.

That’s not a thought he ever allowed himself to truly consider. Ever since the diagnosis it had been there, right underneath the surface, but even then he’d denied it. It simply couldn’t be true. He had to grow out of this, as he was promised when he was young. One day all the anxieties, all the troubles and limitations would disappear and he’d be able to return to the person he was always supposed to be, the person he always assumed he would one day be. Successful, employed, married, a dad, happy, careless.

All those years, though he feared them, he rejected the words of his therapist, the threats. James had meant to defy the odds and show even people like him can make it.

What will he do if that never happens?

If, like his life so far, the rest of it will too be a long sequence of making it to the weekend, of counting down seconds, of breathing exercises and surviving without feeling. Surviving without living.

Some people have said to him it’s better to feel pain than nothing at all, they’ve told it’s a waste to not feel a thing just out of protection, but they don’t understand, they don’t understand that if James wants to survive, he can’t live.

He looks up, finding his ghost of a reflection staring back at him in the dirty glass of the window. Clutching the beer, his face nowhere near as sunny and happy as he’d like it to be. Who is that person? When James was young his parents would always tell him bits of folklore. There was this one story that always stuck.

The changelings. What other possible explanation could there be for who he was, what he was? Why he was so enormously different from all the other kids in class. Why he felt so misplaced, so alien, everywhere he went.

He simply had to be a changeling, he had to. This couldn’t actually be him.

No, he was certain, certain that one day when he was young, the real James had wandered a bit too far into the woods, that he had been stolen, hidden in the hollow bark of a tree or thrown down an underground network dug by rabbits, by the changelings. The fairies, the one that took his place and pretended to be him, the being he is today, right now.

He sighs at his reflection, empties his beer.

With a rising headache he retreats to a corner of the bar, digging through the pockets of his coat to find some gum, instead his fingers close around a piece of paper.

He takes it out, a frown on his face, and recognizes the fancy cursive of Regulus’ handwriting. His fingers run over the paper, Regulus must’ve put the note in their sometime during their walk.

James opens it, looking around to ensure no one’s glancing over his shoulder to read the words only meant for his eyes. Regulus writes the same way he presents himself to the world, controlled up to the very last detail. Every line that makes up every word is meticulously placed, scribbled down in black ink, a fountain pen, James guesses.

James,

I told you earlier that not everything’s so black and white, and you think in extremes too much, allowing the world to fall apart at every minor setback. I know those words don’t mean much to you because you don’t like to listen to what people have to say when it concerns the way you live your life, but I also know you like metaphors, and stories, do you like myths? I like myths, they’re the great life lessons, aren’t they?

I’m sure you’ve heard of Icarus, who was told to fly in the middle of the sky, far enough away from both the sun and the sea, to avoid death, but ended up coming too close to the sun and plummeting to his death amongst the waves. Don’t let that be you, don’t let your wings melt and your feathers drag you down, don’t fall, soaring in the sky should elate you enough on its own, no need to want more than the magic you’ve already got and risk it all just to end up with nothing.

Besides, I can’t swim that well, so I’d have to let you drown.

No, that’s mean, you know I’m here if you need me, I’ll try to swim for you. I’m still your shark, aren’t I? Or have I been replaced now that you’re in a band and have a ridiculous earring?

Your Reggie

Mary can’t see anyone in the bar, where has everyone gone? She goes to pee and suddenly no one’s standing in the same place, and there’s too many bodies thrown together in the dark to be able to find them back so easily.

A redhead should be easier to find, but Mary lost sight of Lily as they were in line for the bathroom, and she’s not here. Maybe she went for some fresh air?

She takes another spin through the room, and finally her eyes fall on James, standing in a corner, clutching a piece of paper and looking like he’s on the verge of a breakdown.

With difficulty she manages to push herself through the crowd, feeling glass crunch underneath her shoes, elbows poking her, people stepping on her toes, but she keeps her eyes on James, who isn’t moving anyway, until she reaches him.

“Did you see Lily?” She yells at him, raising her voice over the loud music.

James snaps out of it, adjusting the glasses on his nose and hurriedly folding the piece of paper, Mary wonders what it was, it seems to have shaken him a little, but then again he’s James, he’s not so easily shaken and is probably totally fine.

“No not in a while!” He yells back, his pupils are dilated, Mary doesn’t think she’s ever seen James drink before, but he’s an adult, she’s not telling him what he can and can’t do, and though Lily often worries about him for reasons that are beyond Mary, she can’t detect a hint of negativity in his face. He’s fine, he’s James, James is always fine.

“Reading a love letter?” She jokes, pointing at the piece of paper, but on the inside she’s starting to feel worse. He hasn’t seen Lily in a while, neither has she. And Lily shouldn’t be alone right now. She’s not thinking clearly, only looking for short-term fixes to help her out of her grief, but not realizing the consequences of her actions, scarily like Sirius.

James flashes her a cheeky grin, “Might just be.” And fixes his gaze on something next to Mary’s head, she turns and sees Peter parading around a tray with shots. “Want one?” He asks. Mary nods, she could absolutely use some extra alcohol before she takes on whatever situation she’s going to find Lily in.

She wobbles on her heels, pointedly ignores a boy who’s been making eyes at her all evening, and rushes to James’ other side when the boy steps closer to her. She’s been groped in bars enough times to know to be alert, and reaches for James’ arm for a little extra protection.

“Cheers!” James takes two glasses of the tray, filled with some clear liquor, vodka, she assumes, and hands Mary one of them. Peter walks on, tray raised above his head, Sybill following on his heels, creating a path through the crowd that some others use to find their way to the bathroom.

Someone bumps into Mary, she only just saves herself from spilling the liquor all over her shirt, but doesn’t care enough to see who it was, just some drunk student, James clinks their glasses together and throws the contents of his back, sighing contently when he’s finished it. Mary follows, can’t quite make it out what exactly it is she just had, it doesn’t quite taste like anything she’s had before, but Pete bought it so it’s fine.

A slight tremor appears in her hand, but she ignores it, dancing with James for a bit while other girls try to get close to him. He doesn’t have eyes for them the same way Mary doesn’t have eyes for the boys inching closer to her.

She’s starting to feel a little dizzy, but it’s Friday night and she’s young and having fun, James is here to take care of her, she’ll survive the hangover.

“You were great!” Stevie rests her hand on Marlene’s shoulder and puts her lips to Marlene’s ear, totally unnecessary, to say it.

She swallows, not making an effort to put some more distance in between her and Stevie, even though she knows she should. She knows she’s drunk and angry and hurt and not able to make a decision right now, she knows she should go home and sleep it out, make up with Dorcas tomorrow, but she wants so bad to do something to hurt Dorcas the way that Dorcas continuously hurts her. She wants to get revenge for all those times Dorcas didn’t have even a minute to spare for her, all those times she made Marlene feel not important enough.

At the same time, she wants to save them, either together or individually. She wants to do what’s best. Is it breaking up? Is it fighting through this and getting out better on the other end? Is it all worth it? There’s really only one way to find out, to be certain that Dorcas is the one for her.

How could she ever be sure if she’s never had anyone else to compare Dorcas with?

“Thanks!” Marlene leans into her, her mind is screaming at her to step away, get her coat, go home.

She doesn’t know what Stevie’s seeing in her eyes right now, but it must be some sort of consent, because Stevie closes the distance between them, and before she knows it Marlene feels their lips brushing together, not quite a kiss yet.

Pull away. She tells her legs to pull away.

This is stupid, it’s stupid and stupid and stupid. Cheating is awful. Even thinking of cheating is awful. It’s the worst kind of betrayal. What if Dorcas did this to her? Would she be able to recover from that? It would haunt them forever. She doesn’t think she could ever look Dorcas in the eyes again. Dorcas gave her heart to Marlene, and now Marlene just throws it away like that?

But did Dorcas give her heart to her? Or has she reclaimed it? Has she been reclaiming it? Is her unwillingness to move in a subtle way of showing that she’s done? Or is it a psychological game to make Marlene hate her and be the one to break them up, so that Dorcas doesn’t have to be the villain?

No, no that’s not Dorcas. Dorcas is genuine, honest, passionate. Dorcas would walk through fire for her.

“I’m sorry.” She says, stepping away, shaking her head.

What has she done?

Regulus evidently worries about him. James is already a burden to him. He doesn’t want this. Therapist and client. What did Lily call them again? Caretaker and patient, rather than boyfriend and girlfriend? He knows how this ended with Lily when she got too close. He knows that’s how it’ll end with Regulus too.

He doesn’t want to be Regulus’ project. He doesn’t want to fly in the middle. He doesn’t want to fly at all anymore.

The alcohol is making him much more emotional than usually, it’s working the exact opposite of what he wanted. Instead of being numb, he suddenly feels everything, and he can’t make sense of any of it. So many emotions he hasn’t allowed himself to feel, either ever or in years. So many new emotions. It’s overwhelming.

Sun or sea?

Edinburgh is on the coast. People may see him as the sun, but James has always preferred the water.

He turns over the piece of paper, Regulus only wrote on one side of it, leaving the other empty, and he takes a stray pen from his coat.

I’m sorry, it’s all just too much. I don’t know anything anymore. I can’t even do simple tasks. I feel dead all day long. I can’t rid myself of this sorrow. I have so many dreams, and none of them will ever come true. I can’t move. I don’t want to be anyone’s burden anymore.

Love, James

He’s almost out of the street the bar is in when he hears his name being called, “James!” he looks up and sees Remus coming towards him.

Fuck. He curses underneath his breath, for the millionth time that night stuffing the letter in the pocket of his coat, hiding it.

“Are you going home already?” Remus asks, flicking some ashes off his cigarette to the ground.

James shrugs, “I couldn’t find any of you so I figured you’d all gone already.” It’s the truth. He knows Peter left a little earlier with Sybill, and Mary hasn’t returned from her rescue mission yet, so she’s probably found Lily and taken her home.

“Oh, no I was just having a smoke and I think Sirius is on a walk with Lily, but I don’t know where any of the others are, are you okay?”

“Yeah why wouldn’t I be?” James returns, smiling, his fingers tracing the words he’s just written down on the paper, his explanation, his last plea for forgiveness, the final goodbye.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Remus blows smoke into the dark night air, looking at James with his stern face. Remus is too observant. James doesn’t know what made him that, but somehow Remus can read people’s faces, and James doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like to be read, when he just wants to hide.

“What’d Lily do now?” He asks, redirecting the conversation.

“Not sure, but I’m tired so I propose we find everyone and go home.” Remus sighs, walking back to the bar, just in time to hear an earsplitting shriek.

Lily turns to Sirius, bile rising in her throat when they hear the scream, and without exchanging a single word, Sirius takes her by the hand and runs through the streets back to the bar.

Once they get there the lights are on and people are walking outside in hordes, looking agitated and confused.

It’s nowhere near closing time yet.

Mary can hear the blood rushing through her ears, it’s deafening, drowning out all other sounds in the bar, as if she’s stuck underwater. She feels weightless and floats across the floor, her vision blurry, feeling like she’s close to passing out but going on still, she can’t find Lily, she won’t rest until she’s found Lily. Lily keeps running off, she could be in trouble, she could have fallen and hit her head, or crossed the street without looking, or smoked too much weed, or gotten too drunk. The possibilities are infinite, and Mary needs to find her.

From one moment to the next, things shifted, she was dancing with James, and then she was not. James is nowhere to be seen. Neither is Peter. And the rest? They’d been absent for a while now.

Her eyes catch on the exit to the back alley they used earlier that night, the one close to the stage, maybe Lily went there. It’s worth a shot. If she’s not there Mary will call someone and look for Lily together, outside, she’s somewhere outside and Mary hates not knowing where that is.

Still without hearing a thing, she makes her way to the exit and pushes open the heavy door, stepping out into the alley.

It’s a little alley between several buildings, shops, restaurants, other bars, that kind of thing, the emergency exits lead here, at the end of the alley she can see the street, a car passes by. The alley is empty, except for some garbage, cigarette butts and other mess. There’s only the walls, the one flickering light, and herself.

Mary lays her hand on the wall to steady herself, her knees keep wobbling, she hasn’t got a tight grip on reality, the pavement and bags of trash warp and move, Lily isn’t here. If Lily isn’t here, and she’s not in the bar, she could be anywhere.

The door she’d just come through opens once more, and she looks, relieved, thinking James saw her going outside, or maybe Peter, or Remus going here for a quiet smoke.

Instead she sees the guy that’s been following her around all night.

At once an uneasy feeling creeps up on her.

She turns her back to him and attempts to set a step, but there’s no strength in her muscles, her legs are like jelly, and she trips against the wall.

Footsteps approach her, her heart drums in her chest. She’s so drunk, she lost awareness of her surroundings. Always, always, she’s alert, always careful.

All she wanted to do was find Lily.

Drunk, drunk? Is she drunk? She looks at her hand, the tremor, the weak legs, the feeling of being underwater. She’s had a bunch of drinks throughout the night, but she’s careful, always careful. She keeps her glass close to her, stays clear of others, covers the top. She’s so, so careful. Did Peter buy those shots? But James was fine. Someone bumped into her, didn’t they?

A shadow falls over her, obscuring the light coming off the lamp on the wall. The darkness is horrifying. Like staring into the pits of hell.

She rises to her feet, makes sure to keep her hands on the wall, and shuffles over the ground. Her heels slow her down. Whatever was in her drink slows her down. She can’t run. She can’t think. She can barely keep her eyes open.

The rushing of blood in her ears is getting worse, they’re ringing now, ringing with fear, with knowing she’s in danger.

Mary likes true-crime. Lily can’t stomach it, and Marlene doesn’t much care for it, but Mary is obsessed, fascinated, absolutely intrigued. She knows of all the serial killers, all the cults, the kidnappings, she’s read the books and watched the shows, the documentaries, seen the movies.

She loves the macabre, she loves the thrill, is hungry for the gory details, none of it is frightening enough to make her want to turn away, she only finds it amusing. She can spend hours reading explicit descriptions of murders. She can completely lose herself in what the psyche of the killer must be like. What brings a person to such a thing? What is it like?

Whenever she read the cases it is always about the crime and the criminals, she never gives much attention to the victims, never wondered what they went through in their last moments, what the families felt afterwards. That’s not entertaining, is it? The victims are gone and forgotten but the crimes live on.

Mary is careful. She is always careful. Her mom raised her to be careful. To know what it means to be a woman, to know of the risks. But the serial killers and the crimes, that feels fictional, that doesn’t happen to real people in real life.

Does it?

She looks over her shoulder, the guy is just standing there and smirking, clearly enjoying Mary’s panic. Her knee is scraped from her fall, but she has to keep going, she can’t stop now. She has to get to the street, she saw a car only a little earlier, there can be another car, other people. She doesn’t have to become a victim.

“Hi Mary.” He says, his voice smooth. Mary’s stomach twists, she has no idea who the guy is, but he knows her name, how long has he been following her?

Her mind should get clear, the adrenaline should be surging through her, but she still feels drowsy. She can’t run like this. Can’t fight. But she’ll try. Of course she’ll try.

“You’re so pretty.” He was just behind her, and suddenly he’s standing in front of her, holding up her arm, his eyes dark.

She keeps her eyes on the ground, if she doesn’t know who he is she might walk out of here alive and well. All of those years of obsession, and none of it will help her now. She wasn’t careful enough.

“So pretty.” He repeats, his warm breath washing over her face. He pushes her back against the wall. Mary tries to push him away, but he gets closer and closer.

“No, no.” She mutters, but her voice is weak, all of her muscles have lost their strength. She doubts she’s loud enough even for him to hear, let alone for someone else. Someone out on the street, or inside. Someone to save her. Can someone please come and save her?

He presses his body up against her, his mouth latching onto her neck, she claws at his skin.

“Stop that.” He hisses, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to her sides.

Mary’s mind is blank. Her heart is racing. She doesn’t know what to do.

She’s always boldly said that if it came to it, if it was between life or death, her or someone else, she’d fight. Deep down she figured she wouldn’t be able to do it, she’s not a violent person.

She’s changed her mind.

With all the strength she can summon, she kicks up her knee, hitting him, and when he doubles over in pain she runs.

Except, she can’t quite run. Her legs are still made of jelly.

Instead she stumbles.

He throws her to the ground, she hits her head, and then he’s on top of her, and there’s absolutely nothing she can do about it. He’s drugged her. She can barely blink. He has her.

He

Has

Her

All that’s left now is close her eyes and hope it’ll be over soon.

But not before she screams as loud as she can.