The sound of fear and hope
The aftermath of the previous concert still lingered in Regulus’s mind as he prepped for the upcoming show. His parents’ disdain, so thick it felt tangible, haunted him despite their absence. The tension, the rejection—it was all too familiar, but this time it carried with it a new kind of pressure. There was something else, something simmering beneath the surface—a determination fueled by the memory of James’s unwavering support, Sirius’s fierce protection, and the quiet solidarity of his bandmates.
Dorcas tossed him a bottle of water, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You look like you’re about to fight a dragon, not play a gig.”
Regulus caught the bottle with a practiced flick of his wrist, managing a wry smile. “Might be easier than dealing with everything else.”
“Yeah, well, dragons don’t have crappy parents, so there’s that.” Dorcas grinned, but her eyes, sharp and perceptive, held an edge of concern.
Before Regulus could respond, the door creaked open, and James and Sirius stepped in. James was carrying a guitar case, though Regulus knew he wasn’t planning to play tonight. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed ready to take on the world, the set of his jaw making it clear that he was spoiling for a fight—though Regulus wasn’t sure what that fight would be.
“You alright, Reggie?” Sirius asked, his voice softer than usual, as if trying to mask the concern he felt for his brother.
Regulus nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure it was true. “Yeah. Just… ready to get this over with.”
James leaned casually against the wall, his trademark grin softened by something gentler—an understanding, an empathy that made Regulus’s chest tighten. “You’ll be brilliant. You always are.”
Regulus felt the lump rise in his throat, his heart beating a little faster. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, so he simply nodded, focusing instead on the setlist taped to the wall. His breath hitched slightly when he noticed James’s gaze on him—steady, reassuring, but Regulus couldn’t quite make himself return it. His mind was still stuck on the incident, on everything he feared would come next.
“Alright, team,” Dorcas called, her voice breaking through his spiraling thoughts. “Let’s get out there and show them what we’re made of.”
The band moved in sync, a well-oiled machine, making their way to the stage. The hum of the crowd seeped through the walls, fueling Regulus’s adrenaline. He took his place behind the drums, briefly glancing at his bandmates. Evan was tuning his bass with practiced ease, Barty twirling a drumstick with a kind of nonchalance that hid his concentration, and Pandora was adjusting her microphone stand with precision—her usual meticulousness evident.
Regulus inhaled deeply, the familiar rush of energy grounding him. This was where he belonged—on stage, surrounded by the music and the people who believed in him. Or so he tried to convince himself.
The first few songs blurred together in a whirlwind of pounding rhythms and soaring melodies. Regulus lost himself in the music, the only place where he could escape the weight of his thoughts. Every beat, every crash of the cymbals, was a release—a chance to leave everything else behind.
But as the music slowed during a brief interlude, his gaze flickered to the edge of the stage. James and Sirius were standing side by side, their expressions filled with pride, but Regulus could see something else there too—something unspoken. There was an undercurrent of tension, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they saw the cracks forming in his resolve.
“You’re killing it out there,” Dorcas said as she passed him a fresh pair of drumsticks. “Keep it up.”
Regulus nodded, offering her a small smile that barely reached his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was truly killing it, but for the moment, he didn’t have to think about it. He just had to keep playing.
The final song of the night was one that Regulus had written in the aftermath of the previous concert. It was raw, a reflection of everything he’d been grappling with—the pain, the confusion, the desire to break free from his past. As the first notes rang out, the crowd fell silent, sensing the shift in tone. It was a different kind of energy—one that felt personal, almost painful.
Pandora’s voice was haunting as she sang the opening lines, and Regulus felt every word, every syllable, resonate deep within him. It was the only place where he could let his emotions run wild without fear of consequence. He closed his eyes, letting the music consume him, the beats serving as a cathartic release from the swirling chaos inside him.
When the last note faded, there was a brief moment of silence, the kind that always felt like it hung in the air longer than it should. And then, as if the tension had been released all at once, the crowd erupted into applause. Regulus opened his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something like hope. Like maybe, just maybe, things could get better.
Backstage, the atmosphere was electric. Bandmates and friends were congratulating one another, exchanging high-fives and enthusiastic praise. Regulus was still riding the high of the performance, but his mind kept drifting back to the person who wasn’t there. The one person he’d been avoiding since that night.
James.
“Reg, that was incredible,” James said, appearing at his side before Regulus could slip away. “You were incredible.”
Regulus hesitated, his chest tightening as he fought the urge to turn away. He wanted to tell James everything—about how scared he was, about how much he hated that the music felt like the only escape. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stood there, frozen, as James smiled at him, eyes full of warmth and something softer—a tenderness that made Regulus feel small in comparison.
Instead of speaking, Regulus pulled James into a hug, the gesture awkward and uncertain, but sincere. He could feel James’s surprise, the tension in his body for just a moment, before he melted into the embrace, his arms wrapping around Regulus with a comfort Regulus didn’t know he needed.
James didn’t hesitate. He held Regulus tightly, murmuring, “You’re not alone, Reg. You never have to be alone.”
Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, biting back the tears he didn’t want to shed. “Thanks,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For everything.”
Nearby, Sirius watched the exchange, a soft smile tugging at his lips. His eyes softened as he looked at Regulus, but there was still that guarded look in them. Remus, always perceptive, nudged him gently, a knowing look passing between them.
“Looks like things are finally looking up,” Remus said, his voice quiet, almost like a prayer.
Sirius didn’t immediately respond, his gaze lingering on Regulus. “Yeah,” he agreed, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “I think they are.”
But Regulus wasn’t so sure.
Later that evening, as the band celebrated their success, Regulus couldn’t shake the feeling that something still loomed between him and James. Something unspoken, something fragile. He had pulled James in closer, but in his heart, he wasn’t sure if the space between them could ever truly be bridged. The fear of rejection—the fear that James would be angry, that he would turn away—still lingered. It was a fear that he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried.
But for the first time, as the laughter echoed around him, Regulus allowed himself to believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for them. That James wasn’t angry. That maybe James was just as scared as he was.
And maybe, for the first time, they could be scared together.