chapter xx
Regulus was alone for the first time since he got back from Sirius's. Pandora had had to go pick up a new copy of a syllabus from the library printers on the other side of campus - though fire on an alcohol-covered surface didn't hurt the surface, it did hurt nearby flammable objects (live and learn).
When Pandora was busy, Evan and/or Barty was always miraculously around, or Remus, Sirius, or James would insist on getting coffee or studying or practicing instruments.
Regulus didn't like being babysat, but he couldn't deny his roommate or two other closest friends anything after what had happened. If they felt safer when he wasn't alone, he wouldn't push it.
Thus, he was unsure exactly what to do for the next half-hour or so. His assignments for the rest of the month were complete, James was picking him up so he didn't have to walk to Marlene's study group in the dark, and he didn't have enough time to immerse himself in a book.
So that left one thing.
But Regulus knew he shouldn't, he knew it would be a step backward. He knew it was wrong and counterproductive and stupid, but it was there. Regulus stared at his scissors and tried to pretend he didn't notice them. If he was healthy, he wouldn't notice them.
The problem was, Regulus didn't know how to be healthy; he didn't know when he was if not sick, if not fucked up.
But he hadn't been recently. He had spent the day before laughing. He had wanted to be there, alive, just as he was. And that couldn't be right.
Regular had suspected, before, that we only fucked up so much for attention. Were he really sick, he'd be better at hiding it. He wouldn't have the days where he was completely and truly happy.
And now it was proven.
Just two weeks after his apparent break-down, Regulus was sitting in his dorm alone, and he didn't feel the need to die, didn't feel the need to vomit. He was staring at scissors and didn't feel the need to cut himself, which was proof enough that we really did need to.
His friends and his brother were convinced that he was sick. They had put so much time and work into making him better, so it wasn't hard to imagine what would happen when they realized he was faking it, that he didn't deserve their help. So he had to not be faking it. And the way to make sure of that was obvious.
—
Regulus made sure everything was spotless by the time James came to pick him up. His rubbing-alcohol-wiped scissors were standing innocently in his mug of pens, his chair was washed with extra-strength disinfectant and then dried, and Regulus left his favorite jacket on it to mask the scent.
He was wearing a long-sleeved burgundy sweater, dark enough that the inner elbow becoming wet wouldn't be noticeable if he jostled his arm or the bandages were weaker than they looked. He was perfectly prepared for a perfectly normal study group.
He was ready when James knocked on the door, three minutes earlier than expected. He stepped into the truck without a second thought, fastened his seat belt and turned James's AC on because the older man always overheated when there were multiple people in his truck. He listened to James's rambling, offering the occasional laugh or comment when necessary, and then, without warning, the cellist was staring at him, stopped at a red light.
"Reg, I-" James cut himself off and silence fell between them as the light turned green and the truck jolted forward.
Regulus didn't often mind silence. In fact, he usually preferred it. When there was too much being said, his head got jumbled and he could never quite tell what people actually meant, as it was hardly ever what they said.
But it was different with James. James said what he meant, seeming to voice every thought that flew through his head. Regulus didn't have to question his sincerity, it was blatantly obvious in his voice. When he was quiet, it meant he was uncomfortable or thinking something negative, and Regulus didn't like it. He didn't like the influx of silence, the way James was staring forward too intently and holding onto the wheel as if it was his lifeline.
But Regulus didn't know how to break it, so he sat there. He sat there, useless. The car stopped, presumably at a red light. Regulus couldn't be sure, though; he couldn't focus on the street ahead of him or the sounds of the other cars and the wind. Everything was too wrong for that type of focus.
There was a sudden gust of wind at his side, and all at once Regulus's arm started burning.
James's too-quiet voice announced their arrival at Marlene's and then asked Regulus if he was okay when he hadn't moved a minute later. The pressure left his arm, and he realized it had been from James's hand, trying to help him out of the truck. It took a moment, but Regulus came back to himself, stepping gingerly out of the truck and pulling his sleeve over his hand, giving his elbow a new spot to dampen so it didn't soak through after the movement.
"Sorry, just thinking. Sorry," he mumbled, giving James his practiced smile and pressing Marlene's buzzer so she could let them in.
James nodded, but he wouldn't look Regulus in the face, wouldn't meet his eyes. "No sweat, it's-" The buzzing-in sound interrupted his thought. " Well. Shall we head up, then?" James held the door open for Regulus, but he still wouldn't look at him. And Regulus realized: James had found out. He'd smelled the blood, or realized Regulus was too happy to actually be sick. Everything was about to come crashing down, but Regulus couldn't do anything but keep walking, and knock on Marlene's door.
It was opened and he was invited in. And he went, because he was a coward. He couldn't face James, not when James was doubtlessly about to call Sirius and tell him, and then Regulus would lose his brother yet again.
In the room with all the girls, a loveseat was free, with room enough for him and James. But he couldn't. There was a thin space between Lily and Dorcas, and Regulus slipped into it before anyone could invite him to the free seat. The girls, obviously surprised, shifted so he wasn't completely squished between them. And they didn't mention it. Lily, on the side of his injured arm, was looking at him out of the corner of his eye, trying to analyze his motives. Dorcas, on the other hand (pun intended), had already turned to look at James and Marlene, and a grin was overtaking her face.
The study session started and Regulus let himself grow comfortable in the familiar setting, cluttered and busy and oddly warm. And then he heard Dorcas's voice in his ear.
"Thanks. She never would have done it on her own."
Regulus had no idea what she meant by this until he followed her gaze to where Marlene was smushed tight against her other side. So he had been right.
"No problem," he whispered back. But that didn't seem like enough. "Uh... you know me. Always playing Cupid."
While the comment was a joke, he hadn't expected Dorcas to find it uproariously funny.
He certainly hadn't expected her to burst out laughing in the middle of Mary's defense of plastic rather than cotton gloves for strangulation.
With one look between Dorcas and Regulus's completely opposite expressions, Marlene broke out in loud snorting chuckles, which brought Mary and James to surprised laughter as well, and Regulus and Lily were the only ones displaying self-control or basic sanity.
By the time the buffoons had stopped laughing, Dorcas and Marlene had shifted so much that Regulus was again crowded on each side by Lily and Dorcas. And for some reason, he didn't mind all too much. He had never liked to be touched - though Sirius, Pandora, Evan, and Barty were exceptions - but it felt bearable in that warm room, surrounded by comfortable, laughing people.
Comfortable, laughing friends, as he decided they were.
Regulus smiled more as the night went on; he whispered stupid jokes to Lily and Dorcas and smiled when they whispered back through laughter. He got into a fake-heated debate with Marlene over whether leaving burnt hair or a chewed-up piece of gum at a crime scene would be worse. He shared looks with Mary whenever someone said anything especially stupid, though she seemed to be more amused than exasperated.
So maybe James still wouldn't look at him.
Maybe he was being too happy to be sick.
But the first problem was to be expected, and he could - would - remedy the second one back in his dorm.
When Pandora was away.