Life Moves On
Flashback
Sometime between mid May and mid June that year
Time… passed by.
Slowly, devouringly, painfully by. Sometimes it felt like it would never end, the pain. The bitterness James felt in his stomach, it was all consuming him in ways he never thought it could. Sometimes, he would ask empty walls and boring wind how he got himself into that position. How he managed to let himself love and lose it all. They never properly answered him.
It was stupid, really. When you’re sixteen and get your heart broken, it fades away with time. Some days, maybe a couple weeks. Because at the end, when you’re sixteen, you don’t know love. You’re young and dumb and you think the world is going to end after that first heartbreak. That’s what everyone around you says. Or at least think. Except, for James, it wasn’t really over. Weeks went by and nothing happened. The feeling was still there, haunting him and watching his insides rot with mouldy crumbs Hope left behind.
He knew nothing. Still, he felt everything. How is it possible for one stupid teenager to find love, when everyone points at him for sleeping with delusion? He couldn’t achieve such a thing. People rarely do! Well, the answer to this riddle is simple. People frequently find love, but they never stay enough time to watch it blossom. James did. He poured water, he put it to rest on the sun, he put it to breathe on the shadows, he watched it. He accompanied the bloom step by step. He has been there since day one. Preserving and taking care of such a delicate thing with clumsy hands, but with eyes that gushed tender, warm hugs.
So, was he stupid?
Perhaps.
Still, he got to feel . Really feel the rush that only love gets one to feel, at least once. Never a passion came back close to punch him the way this one did. So, yeah, maybe he’s silly and doesn’t know anything about life, but he knew this. He met love up close, even when he didn’t know what it was. At least he got to experience what few people remain long enough to do. It was rare, and it was real.
The first week was the worst.
He had to pretend nothing was going on. He did well on that. When it was just him, Sirius and Pete, he would feel comfortable to crash out. They were there all the time for him, with yummy, comfort foods, kind words and a shoulder to cry on. James did. At first, he pretended he was okay in front of them too, but it didn’t last long. They saw right through him. All the mess, the held back tears, the thing trapped in his throat when he couldn’t watch them. Everything the others didn’t see, Sirius and Peter did. So they helped. They helped James get through that rough week, even if they didn’t understand because this happened once, right? But why is it heading to a completely different road? Why did the sad smile and the shrug turn into a river of tears and withdrawal? Why did it seem like someone else was taking over their friend’s body and forcing it into a routine in which he was trapped somewhere else?
Two weeks after.
They weren’t understanding it. And they weren’t understanding how Regulus wasn’t. How he seemed… normal. They didn’t understand when they got to school the day after and were… distant? And how Regulus spent all of his breaks with his other friends, being especially close to some blond guy. They missed something. Well, they missed the beginning of James' end. And what hurt the most, was that Reg wasn’t even a little poisoned with suffering the same that James was. Like he was some kind of fling so unimportant that he forgot, or worse, he wanted to forget because he regretted it. Regulus acted like James was a bad one night stand, like he was worth nothing and their time together was worthless.
It seemed like all of their nights together, cuddling, their kisses, their touches, that all of that meant nothing to him. And that stung. It stung like a pretty bullet hitting his shoulder: enough to put him down, but not enough so it would kill him so he wouldn’t watch his own misery, while the bulled shone in his flesh, and the only pretty thing he wanted to stare at, was the one shooting, putting him away.
Man down.
Man down.
Soldier down.
Soldier? What soldier? The battle didn’t even start, yet his body was already collapsing onto the floor, his glasses tilted to one side, almost slipping out of his face, blurring his vision. There was blood, sure. But where? Whose? His?
Red.
Red.
Reg.
Reg . Of course. He may have shot the bullet, but it was James who put himself on the ground. He was the one to surrender himself, he was the one to let go of his weapons, his helmet, his vest. He was the one to get on his knees and let the haemorrhage take over his soon to be corpse, because that body wouldn’t hold on too much time.
Breathe.
Breathe.
He was gone.
He was gone and left the gun. It was so pretty. Looked like a mirror, a broken one. It was James. He was the one to hurt his own self. He hurt himself by the hands of a shadow that resembled the boy he loved, isn’t that sweet? As he laid on that cold ground, as he pressed his wound with one hand and reached for the vestige of Regulus with another, he managed to breathe again. He let the oxygen enter his body, his blood, allowing his brain to properly function again.
Months went by until he was James again.
He opened his eyes. The ghost was left behind. His soul was no longer trapped, he was living again.
It took some time.
It took a great amount of time.
To be honest, the feeling never left him, but James learned how to live with it. Summer was knocking on their doors and he was finally able to enjoy the warm breeze hitting him with a big smile on his face.
Three weeks after.
“You’re already over him, aren’t ya?” Sirius asked, intrigued. There wasn’t a mocking tone in his question, he just seemed deeply sure that this was the reality. Like when it happened when it was Lily.
“Sirius, don’t be dumb!” Peter rolled his eyes. “He sure is.” He affirmed, shaking his head controversially.
‘Of course not!’ James wanted to scream, but he didn’t. It wasn’t their friend’s fault he was experiencing this, and they couldn’t possibly know how it felt like. “Yeah, whatever,” was what he said instead, trying to keep with the pose.
With time, James was getting better at masking his feelings in front of everyone, including Pete and Six. But sometimes he would say something sloppy that would reveal his real situation. They would notice and try to talk to him about it. But James wouldn’t let them, he would dismiss both of his best friends and say that everything was fine. Eventually, James said it so much that even he wasn’t able to tell what he was really feeling. Whatever was happening inside his own head. He was taking shifts with that ghost, locking himself away when things got hard, the withdrawal taking over his half dead body.
These first weeks, they all hated him together. Elliot. Sirius deeply believed his brother was a jerk, and an idiot for trading James like that. For trading James for his exact opposite. They all hated stupid little Elliot for some time. And it was a hard job. The boy was perfect. The literal representation of perfect. He made friends with the rest of the group so easily, that soon everyone had forgotten James was once in the picture. And no, James doesn’t blame them or get angry at them for neglecting his feelings. James was the one to mask away those, appearing okay, fine, cool, whatever.
But it hurt. Oh, how it hurt.
And it hurt the most when Sirius started to like him. Because, after all, James was fine. It seemed like another bullet penetrated his skin. And whose fault is that? James. JamesJamesJames. Because he was the first one of the three to be nice and friendly to Elliot. He was the first one to surrender and learn to love him, too. After that, it was only a matter of time until both of his brothers did too. It didn’t stung any less, though. The sleepless nights and wet pillows were still there, haunting and chasing him around, in a labyrinth that led to the same, hollow, dark hole. Where he would be trapped until he magically appeared at the start of the maze again. A never ending cycle. Sometimes he goes back to that dark night, and the stars are still there watching over him, even though he said goodbye .
I’ve known it from the very start
There was something about them and about their smiles that made James wish he just didn’t. He knew. He knew where it could go, what could happen. Still, he did.
We’re a shot in the darkest dark
But he could try, no? They could.
Oh no, oh no, I’m unarmed
Until there was a mirror shattering and cutting their intertwined hands. What could a gun do that words didn’t? It was a mass shooting, and he was the only one going down. No weapons, no armour, no shield.
The waiting is a sadness
Time won’t go by. There’s a trap in a dark green forest, and the animals pity his rotten flesh.
Fading into madness
WhereWhenHowWhyWhereHowWhyWhenWhyWhyWhyWhyWhyWhy? The rain washes all the fresh blood, yet the stain remains.
Oh no, oh no, it won’t stop
The laughter, the smiles, giggles and wrinkled eyes. Happiness. Out of…
All that happiness surrounding him was born with the end of his own.
The end of his soft smiles.
‘It’s better this way’
‘It’s better this way’
I’m standing on a tightrope alone
‘It’s better this way!’
End of story. If his loved ones are happy, why can’t he be, too? Why is he so, so selfish to wish things were different? To wish he was included in said delight? Why can’t he be normal again and praise their enjoyment?
I would stay forever if you say ‘don’t go’
But you won’t
Four weeks later - the beginning of encapsulated agony; a box that bleeds, but never floods.
The water is fine. Things are… easier. There are no earthquakes or tsunamis breaking his surface tension, it is okay now. He is light enough to walk over it again, it is not wounding his skin and dragging him to the depths, preventing his ability to hold back the air and letting the current invade his lungs and depriving his brain from… air. Simple, vital, peaceful air.
It is June now, classes are almost over, he passed all his exams, which means they are over for him and pretty much for everyone he knew, ‘cause aren’t they all little geniuses? Or they put all the effort possible to get away earlier and enjoy almost three months at James' grandparents place. James, Sirius, Peter and Regulus were all very up and happy to do it at 7 am on a Saturday morning because they were heading to the Caipirinha Beach House, like they did every summer since forever. Elliot wasn’t going, thank god. Because apparently, he is part of the friend group now, ugh.
“God, I miss my old pal Malou.” Pete murmured, grinning at James and looking all ready for the beach. He was wearing sunglasses, a hat, already had his face whitewashed with sunscreen and a football ball under one of his arms. A loose white tank top (which he never wears) was contrasting with a bright blue pair of shorts that looked like they came direct from Bikini Bottom. It was a skin he only had for these months of the year and honestly? He looked good in it.
“Whoa, whoa, slow down there,” James alerted, glaring at his smiley friend. “She’s Mrs. Potter to you,” he shook his head. Peter just winked and frowned at Sirius, who was struggling to carry the bag with all the booze without making it sound like he was carrying a bunch for bells or alarms. Really subtle. It’s not like their parents cared about that, too. Effie would probably show up with another two bottles of some expensive whiskey to give them something other than the dozen cheap things they got at the grocery store yesterday. Booze on the beach is heavier in their teenage broke ass wallets, even the lowest of the lowest in quality. 70% alcohol would taste better and cost less.
Regulus was lost in his thoughts. He was taking a large suitcase, like all of them, but he was carrying tons of books in his hands, with a full bag on his back. James wasn’t taking any bags, so, “c’mon, let me carry those, yeah?” he asked, no, he notified him, taking the books from his hands. Regulus didn’t even have time to think or dismiss James, he had already taken care of the things.
Reg only smiled and appreciated the gesture, “thanks.”
Thanks.
No. No, not again.
James smiled back and directed his attention to something else, like his mum appearing out of nowhere with a bag full of good booze and shoving it into Sirius's suitcase, while his father was looking for the keys to the car that he definitely didn’t leave on the table like he said. Peter gave James an awkward kind of smile, like he knew whatever the fuck was that it sparkled on his heart, mixing along with the ache and becoming an intangible mess of loose beatings.
“Ah, Mum! Always saving the day!” Sirius exclaimed, adjusting his own pair of sunglasses. It was actually quite sunny outside, which means that by the time they reach Caipirinha, it will be even sunnier. James doesn’t know what happens, but every second on that place had a high temperature to match. Maybe it’s his grandparents’ vibes that lighten up that beach enough to bring the sun to the coast.
Effie laughed, “I know. I’m the best,” she stated as Monty cocked an eyebrow at both of them. “What? I am,” she huffed.
Monty just shook his head, at the end unfazed by the fact his wife was spoiling their children with alcohol.
“Just don’t get too wasted, okay?” She warned, and then directed herself to Peter, who posed like a sweet little angel. “Watch them for me, will you Pete?”
“Of course!” he grinned. “I won’t let them get into too much trouble.” He added, acting like the innocent child he wasn’t. Pete was one of those friends you tell your parents you’re going out with because they trust them, but they were, in fact, the type of friends that had almost zero responsibility and led you to the most awesome time while drunk. Or sober.
“Alright, fellas, let's go, huh?” Monty said, shaking the found keys next to his head, a victory grin spreading on his face. Everyone’s face lit up as they ran to the car, leaving James behind with his thoughts, slowly looking back at his mum.
Effie just had to look at the way his eyes shivered to see underneath the protective layers of rock covering his softened, delicate insecure unspoken words. She tilted her head, coming closer to him as the boys and Monty backed away to put their suitcases on the trunk of the car. She looked gorgeous, as always. Her dark curls were wild today, matching the way her eyes sharpened every time one of her children appeared to be the slightest off. “Everything okay, honey?” She asked, reaching to take his hands on her own, locking their fingers together as she brought James to stand next to her, so they both could watch the porch as they talked. But James also knew she did that so he could talk without the pressure of a Mother’s glare pressuring him. So he could know it was okay if he didn’t want to talk at all.
“Yeah. Jus’ tired.” He lied, covering his tracks with a weird smile, avoiding looking her in the eye doing so. It wasn’t entirely untruthful, though. His eyelids were heavier from the lack of sleep, the dark spots under his eyes told the same thing.
His mother only nodded, respecting his (poor) choices, “if you need me, I'm here,” she offered him a warm smile.
In the end, everything would be fine as long as he had his family nearby. Even if the wound was caused by a member of it.