Chapter Seven - Sun
The moment James slips the note under Regulus' door, his heart hammers. Regulus hears James outside, he wishes he would knock. Please, please, please, I'm sorry. He chants in his head. Until he sees a white paper sliding delicately across his floor. All the air leaves his lungs, and he doesn't know what to do. Any other person would just get up and retrieve the note. But not Regulus. His legs are glued to his bed, and his feet are bricks mounted to where he is. Unwilling to move so he can get the paper. He hears footsteps outside, pacing back and forth. Like James is waiting for something. Regulus isn't sure what James is expecting. James should know that Regulus would not be opening that door. So, instead, he flips over in his bed and closes his eyes.
The night threatens to engulf Regulus whole, dragging him down into its pit of darkness while his screams run dry and hoarse. There is no light, there is nothing except for blackness. He can't even see his hands as he shakily holds them before his face. Regulus knows he isn't asleep. He'd know his dreams. He'd feel them, understand they aren't real, and can't reach him. But this is worse than this darkness is reality. His lamp he kept on has gone out, he attempts to flick the little switch numerous times before a small sob escapes his throat. He was scared. A scream threatens, trying to break free. Call for someone! His brain is screaming. Regulus doesn't like the dark. It reminds him of home, no lights were allowed unless they were used productively. No night lights, for those were for children. And Regulus was not a child. Sometimes, he fears that he was never a child, even in his youth.
"Sirius?" He whispers the first name that comes to his mind. A whisper barely carried across the room. No audible noises were there except for Regulus' unstable, labored breathing. His flimsy attempt at calming himself down had spoiled, and now he was panicking. He felt every air fiber and became hyper-aware of the window beside his bed. Anybody could be out there, anything. "Sirius." He says again, this time it's louder. He dares to look outside. There isn't an etch of light in the street, except for a streetlamp that's burning low. Hardly enough for any comfort. Down in the street, he sees a figure. Under the lamp, leaning against it. It could be anybody. Hell, it might even just be a coat somebody left. But Regulus' brain spins, andhis brain sees Barty. "No." He chokes. Trying to move his feet from where he's lying, but no such victory comes. He's stuck. His eyes won't blink, and his head won't turn, and he watches as the figure strides along the dimly lit street, making its way closer and closer to their flat. "NO!" Regulus sobs, the unease taking hold of his body, and he thinks he might throw up. His head is spinning, and he really just wants his fucking light to turn on. He wants to call for somebody, someone to help. Weakness. His mother would've said, Blacks have no fears. And if there is a challenge, we face it ourselves. Help is for cowards.
But he isn't there anymore; he doesn't have to live with his mother, who is breathing down his neck and watching his every move. So he yells the first name he can think of. "JAMES!" He's crying now, his tears are hot on his cold skin. His eyes haven't moved from the figure. The darkness of the world is silencing. It's everything he'd ever been afraid of joining forces to take him away. Where? Regulus doesn't know. He doesn't care to know. He knows it's someplace worse than any hell books could tell." JAMES!" He cries again, his knees coming up to his chest, as he forcefully pulls his head away from the window to face his room. It's painfully empty and cold. Almost as if nobody lives there at all, Regulus feels like a visitor. A ghost passes through to the afterlife. Regulus wishes he could have the easy cop-out of death. Afterlife sounds so pleasing, even if he's being sent to hell.
"Regulus?" He hears outside his door, and his heart jumps. The voice is foreign for a moment before the knuckles rasp the door and a fragile. "Knock knock." Is said.
"James! Please help." He sobs, a small comfort wrapping around his heart, knowing he is no longer alone. James opens the door and walks over to Regulus' bed.
"What happened? Are you okay? Did you read the note?" James' questions are flying out of him rapidly, too quickly for Regulus to answer a single one. He just curls up in his bed and cries.
"It's so… dark." He chokes out, and James understands.
"There's a Power outage. The whole block is out. I'm sorry, Regulus. I know you hate the dark." James replies, hesitating about whether he should sit on the bed. Regulus senses this.
"Sit. Please," Regulus says, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry," he says eventually. James' face picks up, and his eyes glow with something Regulus doesn't understand. "For yelling and making you come in here," he adds. That makes James' face fall. A wave of emotion passes through his eyes before disappearing completely.
"No problem. I remember how the dark used to affect them. " They're awkward, and Regulus can't understand why; he figures the tension had been relieved these past couple of weeks. "I wish we had a generator."
Regulus agrees and curls back up in bed. James shakily moves to the other side and lays down. Regulus closes his eyes and can feel the warmth emitting from James. It seeps into his skin and warms the icy layer around his heart, chipping away at the walls he carefully crafts around himself. As he drifts off to sleep, he feels an arm curl around him and pulls him closer. He can see the darkness leaving his soul as James encloses himself around Regulus. He can see something in the darkness growing. It's not a dingy street lamp with a lingering presence; it's the sun. And this light is the most beautiful view Regulus has ever seen. The sun will always overpower the darkness.