when i come around

Regulus knew what he had just done. Well, sort of. He was really trying not to think about it because thinking would lead to too many emotions and perhaps even tears. Regulus hated crying. Hence why, when he arrived at the dinner (with no memory of walking down), he picked up a glass of something alcoholic on the nearest tray and downed it in one gulp. He screwed up his nose realising it was champagne , the bane of his existence. The very drink his mother and father had forced him to like because it was served at every social event and it was ‘high-class’. So of course Regulus had to like it, was he trying to disrespect his hosts? Unacceptable behaviour.

He shook his head, wishing it was void of all thoughts as he picked up another glass of the horrid, sour, bubby drink. He made a beeline toward the bar, hoping to find something better. And much, much stronger. He needed to forget the entire evening.

Every finger in the room is pointing at me 

I wanna spit in their faces, then I get afraid of what that could bring 

I got a bowling ball in my stomach 

I got a desert in my mouth 

Figures that my courage would choose to sell out now

I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets 

Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets 

I've been raising up my hands, drive another nail in 

Just what God needs, one more victim

They started serving dinner at seven, by which point Regulus was quite tipsy but hiding it well (his parents’ social events did teach him something after all). It was awful. There was assigned seating and champagne and seafood and no James. But Regulus sat through it, barely talking to anyone other than the few other dancers to whom he talked about performance and technique. Professional, dull conversation; it felt like that was all his life consisted of. That and disappointing various people. 

It was all very mundane and Regulus thought about leaving at least twenty times in the first ten minutes. But it was cold and James (who Regulus was sure didn’t want to see him) was in the hotel room and if he walked out it would make a scene, something Regulus tried not to do, unlike his brother.

So he stayed. An unfortunate occurrence, truly. He couldn’t remember when he went back to the bar but it must’ve been after dinner because he sat through that whole hellish affair. He spent two hours after the dinner hovering around the bar, the drink in his hand never empty. He knew it wasn’t good, of course he did, he’d been scared of drinking since he learned to talk, but if it would help him forget that he ran away after James said ‘I love you’, then he would gladly refill his cup time and time again.

For now it felt like the drinks were only making his loud thoughts even louder. He was overthinking it, over analyzing and each drink was making it worse. He decided to call Pandora. She’d know what to do. Hopefully.

The call rang out and he tried twice before giving up and sitting on the cold pavement. He felt tears behind his eyes and tried to ignore the pressure, because he was not going to cry, but then he heard a familiar tune. The classical harp piece he had as Pandora’s ringtone. He stalled for a second and then picked up.

The line was quiet for a moment until Pandora softly said, “Reggie?”

He hiccoughed and that was when he realised he was in fact crying. Sobbing would be a more apt word in fact. 

“Damn it,” he muttered, forgetting he was on the phone.

“Oh love. What happened?”

“I-” Regulus sniffed pathetically, “nothing.”

“Regulus…”

“It’s nothing Panda, I didn’t mean to call.”

“Ah, ah, nope, none of that. You’re going to talk and I’m going to listen and if you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you then I still want to hear something because you haven’t called in three days! THREE DAYS!” She practically shrieked the last bit. 

“Fine,” Regulus wiped his eyes, not wanting to talk at all , but it was Pandora, and in fairness he’d called so…

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” Regulus sighed.

“Is it James?”

“No.” There was a long silence until Regulus whispered, “yes.”

“Tell me what happened?” So Regulus did because somehow Pandora always managed to get him to talk. Thank god for her.

“I talk to you, Regulus randomly blurted as Pandora was contemplating the story he’d just spit out.

“That you do,” she hummed.

“Thank god for you,” he said staring into the pavilion where people were still milling about.

She laughed, “Reggie, you’re an atheist.”

“Eh.”

“Are you drunk then?”

“No?”

“Riiiiiiight.” There was a pause, then, “advice on the ‘James situation’ or no?”

 “Eh.”

“Right,” she said, taking that as an affirmative, “I think you should just talk to him, love. I fear this is what it boils down to. You need to be honest and tell him what happened and what you’re feeling. And yes Reggie, I know talking about feelings isn’t ‘your thing’. But. I think it would benefit both of you and it would get you to where you’ve wanted to be for how many years? Five? Six?”

“Shhh shh. And it’s seven anyway,” Regulus said petulantly. He did not want to talk to James. Well, about feeling anyway. That was very, very, very high on the list of things he did not want to do. Probably right up there with going back to the Black manor. 

Pandora laughed again, reminding him that he wasn’t alone, “You’re sooooo drunk right now Reggie.”

“Hmm, perhaps, Regulus paused, “Pandora?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me something?”

“Sure, love.” So she did. She told him about how her and Lily were going on a trip to a lake and how she’d finished another project, and she’d posted new things on her etsy shop, and how she was planning new lessons this year for her Art and Modern Culture class, and how she couldn’t wait until he got back, and that she’d gone over to Evan and Barty’s flat, and all the little things that were going on with her. Regulus listened contentedly, leaning against the brick wall behind him, another horrible social event that he’d gotten away from just around the corner.

They hung up after a bit, Regulus promising to text the group chat ‘the second he got back’.

Regulus stumbled back toward the pavilion and then felt a horrible tug in his stomach and bile rising up his throat. He ran (as best he could) toward the bathrooms. He  clutched his mouth, remembering how much he hated being drunk and got into one of the stalls just in time to empty his entire dinner into the toilet.

He wiped his mouth and washed his face, cleaning up as best he could and then going straight to the bar. Nobody he knew had stuck around and he was thinking about James again, and now there were more thoughts crowded into his head. Horrible memories, anxieties, anything and everything his horrible brain could throw at him to make him miserable. But he refused to be miserable. He’d cried one time that night already which was one too many. So he got a couple more drinks, music blaring into his already pounding head, until there was a pleasant buzzing in the air.

Soon to be put to the test 

To be whipped by the winds of the west

Stands on shifting sands 

The scales held in her hands 

The wind it just whips her and wails 

And fills up her brigantine sails

His thoughts were twisting together, he couldn’t make heads or tails of anything but at least it felt less like he was doing any thinking at all now. Suddenly he was stumbling out of the pavilion. Getting away from the loud, loud music that was making his head pound, walking left (or maybe right) and trying to remember where the lift was. Maybe he’d past it. 

Somehow he ended up stumbling down a corridor. It looked quite long, like it stretched on forever and ever. There were doors on either side and if he really squinted there was a three on all of them…or maybe a two. He collapsed against one and closed his eyes for a second. 

It's a bad idea and I'm all about it 

Give it one more chance and then I finally had it 

When you wake up, I'll be gone again

…

It's an all-night drive from your house to Reno 

To the T-bird graveyard where we play with fire 

In another life, we were arsonists

…

Mama told me that it don't run on wishes, but that I should have fun 

Pushing the flowers that come up into the front of a shotgun 

So many hills to die on

When he groggily blinked open his eyes, he was in a bed. There was music on at a low volume so he couldn’t quite catch the tune. He tried to sit up, only to pitch forward, almost falling off the bed. He assumed this was because he was still very, very drunk which meant that not too much time had passed after he’d apparently fallen asleep. There was a rustling noise behind him and he managed to flip over, only to see an unruly mop of hair poking out from beneath the covers on the bed next to his.

“James?” It was out of his mouth before he could even think about it. The whole night felt like a fever dream and there was absolutely no way that was James laying close enough to touch except he turned around and sure enough Regulus would recognise that face anywhere.

“Regulus?” James got up and then a second later, “oh good you’re up. Feeling better?”

Regulus was absolutely astounded. He vaguely remembered walking out of the hotel room after James had told him that he had feelings (perhaps something about love?) and here he was mere hours (probably?) later asking Regulus if he was feeling okay. The nerve. He was too nice for his own good. 

“You’re too nice.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You,” Regulus gestured in James’ direction, “you’re just,” he sighed, “so - so sweet and - and, ugh, genuinely just, yeah, nice .” Regulus thought for a moment as James tried to process this, “sunshine,” Regulus blurted randomly.

“I- Pardon?”

“Actual fucking sunshine.” He scrunched up his nose, but felt a smile tugging at his mouth. He grinned, just thinking about James. Oh he was so far gone.

“Oh. I-um, thank you?” 

Regulus hummed in response. He felt a tug in his stomach and his eyes widened. He tried to get off the bed but ended up tangled in the sheets, half-stumbling, half-falling. He tried to advance in the direction of the bathroom until he felt hands rest on his shoulders. James seemed hesitant at first, but realising his gentle guidance wasn’t getting  them anywhere, he stopped for a second and then picked Regulus up and ran into the bathroom. Regulus hated being drunk.

James brushed his hair off his clammy forehead, steadying him. He stood up shakily and James put an arm around his shoulders to support him. 

They got back to the bed and James sat Regulus down as he averted his eyes and said, “I-um, I think we should, um talk.”

He sat across from Regulus on the other bed. Regulus hummed, swaying and then laying down, because staying upright was far too much energy.

“I-I understand if you don’t want to be here, or -”

“James.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve got a cluttered brain.”

“What?”

“Worrying.”

“Okay?”

“No. You should call Pandora. I’m not good at this.”

“I think I missed something.” 

Regulus shook his head and they were silent for a bit, listening to James’ old-sounding speaker playing very softly.

The stars, the moon

They have all been blown out

You left me in the dark

No dawn, no day

I'm always in this twilight

In the shadow of your heart

 Then, Regulus’ breathing started speeding up out of nowhere and he felt a clenching around his ribs, like a rope slowly tightening around his heart and lungs. He put a hand on his chest as he struggled to breath evenly. He wasn’t thinking straight but he knew he had to count. Probably. So he started muttering numbers and trying to breath slowly insead of gasping in air like a person drowning.

Suddenly  James was right in front of him counting with him. 

“I’m-I’m alright,” Regulus finally said when his breathing had evened. 

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No, alcohol makes me anxious. Makes my body anxious.”

“Okay. Okay, um, how much alcohol did you have?”

“Not that much.”

“Will it happen again? Can we make it better?”

“Probably not.”

“To which?”

“Both. I don’t know. I thought it was getting a bit better but I guess I haven’t been drunk in a while,” he giggled a bit, finding the concept of being drunk suddenly hilarious.

“You thought it was getting better?”

“After the studio,” Regulus made a face that probably resembled a childish pout.

“The studio? Before you taught?”

“Mhm. When I danced professionally. Fucking awful,” he muttered.

“I thought you liked it,” James looked tentatively at him as if having a conversation would scare him away. Or maybe it was because it was about his past. That was surely scary.

“I did…” And then Regulus started talking. And he couldn’t stop. He tried, pausing at some points in his story, or trailing off but James would quietly prompt him or say the exact right thing and Regulus would start up again. He told James about his horrible dance teachers as a kid and how he loved dancing but when he got a new contract, everything went to hell. He told him about Walburga and her particular methods of punishment for when he messed up a performance or adjudication. He told James about his horrible feelings during his last few shows, the sinking ‘I don’t want to be here’ feelings he’d get, the way he almost didn’t want to be anywhere at those moments, the feeling of nothing. He told James about quitting,  how hard doing something you’ve wanted to do for so long is, especially when you’re quitting the only thing you’re absolutely certain you love in life. He told him how Sirius had helped him, making sure he was okay, helping him get a job, making sure he was talking. He went quiet at the end and James asked,

“Do you still feel like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like…nothing.”

“Not often,” Regulus said, alcohol loosening his tongue.

“Right now?”

“No.” 

They were quiet for a second and then James whispered, “thank you.”

“What?”

“For telling me. Thank you for telling me.”

“Hopefully I won’t remember this,” Regulus muttered, more to himself than out loud. James looked hurt. 

“Why did you listen?”

“What?”

“You-you let me talk.”

“Because I think maybe you needed to. Or at least it was good for you. And...I like learning about you Regulus.” 

Regulus felt his face go warm. Under any other circumstance he knew he would probably object or say something but he was comfortable, laying curled on the comforter and his brain was pleasantly foggy.

You handed me a mug of mulled wine 

In comfort with these brothers of mine 

And fathers to alleve my head 

Unto you, and you just said 

"Oh hon, stay here as long as you like." 

Well I like

His comfort was suddenly interrupted as a blast of cool air suddenly hit him from their air conditioning unit which seemed to malfunction at least every other night. He shivered.

“I’m cold,” he didn’t realise he’d said until James responded.

“So get under the covers.” 

He did but the comforter was as cold as the air aggressively blowing out of the unit right next to him. He shook his head and got up, stumbling toward James.

James’ eyes widened as Regulus fell onto his bed.

“Regulus, what…” he trailed off as Regulus pulled himself up and curled around James, tucking his face into James’ shoulder and clutching his shirt. He felt instantly warmer. 

“Regulus, go back to your bed.”

“You’re warm.”

“And you're drunk.”

“So?”

“I’m not doing anything-”

Regulus lifted his head to face James, “I don’t want to.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to do…to have sex.”

“So why…” he trailed off again.

“‘Cause you’re warm,” it came out muffled as Regulus tucked his head back into James’ shoulder.

James hesitated, but then slowly pulled the cover over both of them, trying not to move too much, as Regulus was practically curled up on top of him. Regulus started nodding off but he quietly said, “James?”

“Yes?” James whispered back.

“I don’t hate you.”

“...I’m glad,” he sighed.

“James?”

“Yes?”

“I really, really like you.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, love.” Regulus recoiled as if stung. He knew he’d left his one chance when he shut the door on his way to dinner, but his traitorous mouth opened despite his brain knowing better.

“I mean it,” he breathed out.

“Regulus, I’ll remind you again, you’re drunk. Really drunk.”

“Drunk words are the deepest of sober thoughts.”

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow then. Go to bed now, yeah?” There was silence for a few second and then James said,

“And Regulus? If this is all to get in my pants again, just. Just don’t.”

Regulus looked up at him through bleary eyes,

“It’s not.” James smiled at him and his heart practically melted. He smiled back because he had no restraint at all.

He fell asleep to the sound of James’ heartbeat and it was the best he ever slept.

I keep going back for more 

Where there's nothing from before

I can't be your midnight love, oh-oh-oh 

When your silver is my gold