Chapter 15
James hung his cloak on the mantelpiece, listening to the chattering of the people on the other side if the door. Then he took a steeling breath, swung it open and was immediately greeted by Frank and Alice. They had a son now. Neville. He couldn't be happier for them.
He made his rounds, chatted with any and everybody, hugged people he hadn't seen in years or months. Hadn't really known or dared to ask if they'd survived the war. And still, all the while, his attention was in the middle of the room, on the cozy couch of Sirius's town house where Regulus sat and chatted with Remus.
He looked good. He always did, but today he had his hair styled to fall into his face a little. More curly than usual and glittering black. His usual baggy shirt had made way for a gray one that was still wide, but short enough to have rucked up a little at Regulus's bent back.
He had his feet tucked underneath Remus, his arms folded on top of his knees and looked happier than James had seen him in a long long while.
"They've been gossiping all night," someone breathed directly into his ear and James startled.
"Jesus Pads."
"Sorry." Sirius grinned. "They're really getting along now, Remus and him."
James took a swig of the ominous mixture of alcohol in his cup, "that's great," he said.
There was a churning gut feeling of jealousy in his stomach he chose to ignore. Not only because Remus was irrevocably and unquestionably in love with Sirius, but also because Regulus deserved absolutely any happiness he could get his hands on.
Even if he wished it had been him to bring that happiness. Even if he still wondered if Regulus would have stayed if he had done better, done more somehow.
He shook off his own thoughts, turned back to Sirius who was still watching the two people he loved most on that couch together. "So I take it Reggie is doing okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, he's ... better. Every day a little better." Sirius glanced at him. "You should go talk to him you know."
"What. No, me? Why?"
Sirius shrugged a shoulder, took a sip of his own cup. "He asks about you sometimes. All sneaky and nonchalant like its this big secret. But, I don't know. I just think you should maybe talk to him."
James stared at Regulus. He asked about him? Out of politeness? Maybe he wanted to test if Sirius knew about them. Or did he genuinely want to know?
Maybe he needed something. Help. Maybe there was something wrong. Or he wanted to talk about the past, about how James had failed to keep him safe, about all the happiness he'd promised and never delivered.
James must have been quiet for too long because he heard Sirius swallow and cautiously speak again. "You could drop by more often you know. We wouldn't mind. Reg wouldn't mind. You don't have to ... I don't know, stay away or anything. We miss you. I miss you, I-" Sirius swallowed and James looked over at his friend, "this is hard Jamie. Seeing him like this. Seeing him at all and I- I don't understand ... Where are you?"
A thrumming pain flooded James's chest. He was a selfish prick. A self absorbed spoiled brat, just like always, who didn't stop to think how he was hurting those around him. "I'm sorry Sirius."
"It's alright. It's not ... I'm just saying; you don't have to stay away."
James felt his throat close up and quickly looked away. Shame flooded him. He had spent the past few months doing everything in his power to avoid seeing Sirius since that by extend meant seeing Regulus. He nodded. "I'll- I'll go talk to him. Apologise to him as well."
"Jamie I didn't mean-"
"It's fine Sirius. I was being a jerk. I- I thought you guys might need some time to figure stuff out yourselves but ... I never meant to leave you alone with this Pads." Sirius traced his eyes over James's face and James could only hope he saw the sincerity in it. He pressed their foreheads together for a second, then he smiled.
"Go on, talk to him. He just got up."
~~~
James saw Regulus slip out of the balcony door and just watched for a moment. Regulus still moved with an aristocratic sense of grace, but he had always been timid. Hidden. His movements stilled sometimes like he'd been caught doing a wrong.
Sometimes he'd freeze in time but right now he was leaned against the bannister, the wind playing with his curls, illuminated by the glow of the city.
James wiped his sweating palms to his jeans and opened the glass door. Regulus turned his head. If he was surprised to see James he didn't show it.
"Can I ..." James gestured a little nonsensically with the hand that still held his cup, hoping he somehow conveyed his meaning.
Regulus's face gave nothing away. "Of course." He said, politely taking a step to the side so James could join him.
"So ... how's living with the love birds going for you?" He asked.
"Very well. They've been nothing but kind to me. Thank you for asking."
James wanted to reach out. To wipe away the layers of detachment from Regulus's skin, to hold him, warm him from the outside in, trace his marred skin with his lips until the flesh beneath let go of its string tight tension. He looked away.
Usually he was good at talking to people. And he liked to think he'd even been good at talking to Regulus once. But as he stood there and stared into the night he started questioning this deep in his core.
He was a bullshitter. He talked and yapped until the day had passed, but here, where it mattered, he had no words to grasp.
"How are you?" Regulus suddenly asked like he'd been gearing up for it.
"Good! I mean fine. Yeah, fine. Very fine. Better than .. others? I think." What the fuck?
James felt heat creep up his cheeks but even so, he didn't miss the twitching of the corners Regulus's mouth.
Something flooded him. Relief or hope or happiness. A rush of lightness. Of I can do this I've done it before.
"I meant more," Regulus spoke up again, never looking at James, only the night, "how have you been. Since. Well. How's ... it been?" His tone was careful, guarded. Like he wasn't sure if the question was welcome, or if he even wanted to ask it.
James blew out a breath. "Hard. It's been really hard." He leaned forward onto his forearms and considered.
If you want to be trusted, be honest. That was what his mom had taught him. And he needed Regulus to trust him again.
The realisation hit him hard. He needed Regulus smiling again. Needed him dancing and arguing and fuck. "I've been pretty alone you know. Sirius has Remus and Pete ... we're not even sure where he is right now. He's reported missing but they've made it pretty clear it's more likely he ... switched sides? I don't know. I don't fucking know anything anymore."
Regulus was quiet and James understood. What do you say to that? Nothing. You said nothing.
James turned to face Regulus and saw his mouth twisted up like he was in pain. The mask had cracked, but this wasn't how he'd meant to do it. "Reggie ..." he reached out instinctively and pulled back when Regulus flinched.
"I'm sorry," Regulus said and his voice shook and cracked and broke, "I really am so incredibly sorry."
"For what?" James asked softly.
"For leaving. For coming back. For using you, for not writing, for doing all the wrong things."
James swayed back. He was over this. It had been years ago. He'd nursed his broken heart back to health and now he was fine.
Completely fine.
He wanted to tell Regulus that. Wanted to say that it didn't matter. That the past was the past and they'd clap each others back and drink to everlasting friendship. When he opened his mouth his voice came out a rasp. "You broke my heart Reggie."
"I know," Regulus whispered.
"I would have done anything for you. Anything."
"I know."
"And you left without explanation, without a goodbye and I almost went mad."
"I know James."
James took a shuddering breath, looked at the broken, lovely man in front of him. "But-" he said, "but. It doesn't matter anymore."
Regulus's eyes dulled. "Oh."
"Not because," James hurried to say, "not because, you don't matter anymore. To me. It's just .. it's been a long time you know."
"Yes," Regulus said quietly, "it feels like it anyway." It did. Oh how it did.
In theory James knew it was the war. People always said it, that war aged you more than life ever should. That even if your limbs stay intact your bones hollow out and with every wretched thing you are forced to do a piece of your soul stays behind.
He looked at Regulus, his features still fine, his grey eyes constantly framed by red, from lack of sleep or emotion he couldn't tell, the delicate shape of his fingers as he traced his curls from his face.
And yet now there were scars on Regulus's wrist, his shoulders were broader and there was a trace of stubble on his skin. Finally James looked away. "Your voice is deeper."
Regulus hummed.
"Permanent spell?"
"No. It's-" Regulus swallowed, cleared his throat, "there were days when I only screamed. It- I don't know. The healers said it damaged something on the vocal chords. It hurts, sometimes, you know. But ... small price to pay I guess." Then he laughed, rough and scratchy.
James's heart had stopped. He couldn't even imagine, couldn't even think ... "I am so-"
"Don't say you're sorry. Don't James. I knew what I was getting into. I chose that. I wanted it. I deserved what I got."
For a moment James's vision went white with fury, with despair. Then he did what he had been wanting to do since he'd come out on this balcony. Since he sat on that goddamn bed at St. Mungos and waited for Regulus to wake up. He took his hands.
"That doesn't mean you deserved that. Regulus, look at me. You did what you thought was right. What the people you trusted told you to do. You did not deserve any of this."
He tried to put as much conviction as possible into his words, to tell Regulus with his eyes and the squeeze of his hands that if he could he would take all of his pain his sorrow and blame.
That there still was nothing he wouldn't do.