Bach
Alphard and Sirius were sitting playing a card game in the shade. Regulus was stretched out on the ground, his hands covering his eyes from the sun that shone from directly above them.
James came out of the side door wearing a blue billowing button up, the one he’d been wearing on his first day here. He had Pandora in tow, trailing behind him with her hand settled in his.
Regulus looked up, spotting them. He wanted to feel hurt, but how could he? Instead, he tried to feel nothing. Him and James were nothing. All Regulus could possibly think to do was smile. Him and James made eye contact, and he mustered up the most genuine smile he could.
James felt a chill run down his spine.
“Where are you two off to?” Sirius called after them, turning from his and Alphard’s game.
“Pandora’s showing me a spot,” James said, hurrying along through the courtyard.
“James, slow down, it’s not a race!” Pandora laughed, her flowing platinum blond hair swishing as she skipped to keep up.
It was down, hitting her lower-back, but it was usually braided back or up out of her face. She looked nice with it down and free. Regulus’s stomach stirred.
“Later!” James said, turning the corner that headed down and led further into the countryside.
Sirius and Alphard resumed their game. The wind rocked the tree beside the table, and dappled lighting draped over the three of them. Regulus started to count in his head.
One, a second passed.
James was with Pandora.
Two, another.
Regulus was here. He lived here. James was staying here.
Three.
He didn’t know where James was, where he went when he wasn’t with Regulus or at the chateau.
Four.
James loved to flirt.
Five.
Regulus was such an idiot to fall for it.
Six.
James loved to flirt. Pandora was stunning, and a woman. He was probably flirting with her right now.
Seven.
They had probably slept together. They seemed familiar. Pandora had been around the chateau more and more lately. It made sense. It was natural, even.
Eight.
I mean, they were probably escaping to do it right now, shamelessly, in some secluded and romantic opening in the orchard.
Nine.
James, his muscles flexed over Pandora’s delicate body. Their skin flushed from the sun and each other. Him, his soft exhales, his gentle hands with a sturdy grip.
Ten.
“Don’t you think it’s rude when he says ‘Later’?” Regulus said, disrupting the quiet of the summer afternoon. “Later.” Regulus said again with a lower voice to try and sound like James.
Sirius and Alphard looked up to each other, then Alphard looked down to Regulus.
“We’re all trying to show him a good time here.” Regulus added. Sirius snorted.
“When have you ever cared to show a student a good time?” He drew a card to play and winced. Bad luck.
“I don’t think he’s arrogant. I think James is shy.” Alphard said, a contemplative look in his eye. He drew a card and placed it on the table to Sirius’s displeasure.
“Well, I think you’re both wrong. James? Shy?” Sirius shook his head.
Regulus shook his head, too.
“You watch, this is how he’ll say goodbye to us when the time comes: With his gruff, slapdash, ‘later’.” Regulus frowned. He could picture it clear as day, but dropped the image immediately, soured by the concept.
“Meanwhile, we’ll have to put up with him for another two and a half months. Won’t we, now?” Sirius pretended to feel sorry for Regulus, reaching down to pat his knee in fake sympathy.
“It feels longer.” Regulus lied.
“I’m telling you, he’s just shy. You’ll grow to like him.” Alphard said to Regulus.
Regulus sat in that thought.
“Yeah, but what if I grow to hate him?” He said.
Alphard smiled at Regulus.
“Oh, my youngest.” Alphard said, entertained by Regulus’s over-the-top declaration.
“I’m not a kid.” He rolled his eyes.
“My mistake.” Alphard was still smiling.
It was his turn, so Sirius lightly kicked his leg under the table. He turned back to the game and they slipped back into the silent comfort in one another.
***
The next night, Sirius and James went to a party in the city of Vence. It was much bigger than La Colle-sur-Loup, and Sirius’s main stomping grounds when he wasn’t bumming around the chateau with his family or working at the Garage. James didn’t like it as much as La Colle-sur-Loup, if he’s honest, but he wouldn’t say that to Sirius’s face.
They weren’t home until deep into the night when it was broaching morning. The chateau seemed older and creepier like this, in the dead silence, when no talking, laughter, or lounging was being done. It was built in the 17th century and by now it surely carried the lives and deaths of the multiple dozens of people who’d inhabited it. When you couldn’t see the view of the vast expanses of land rolling out the window, it felt like you were completely cut off from the world. The house was just so big.
Regulus knew when James and Sirius got home that night because he was sleeplessly wandering the library. It bred a soul-stirring energy to be alone there, one that Regulus took an odd comfort in. What had alerted him of their arrival was a vase they’d knocked over—it didn’t break, thankfully, because Alphard would have had both of their heads—but it notified Regulus of their presence.
They were drunk. He could hear their slurring whispers carry through incoherently in the quiet halls, giggling when the floor creaked under their tip-toed steps. Sirius was a happy drunk, and so it seemed was James. They couldn’t get a meter before bursting into a fit of stifled laughter, trying not to wake anybody.
Regulus couldn’t really hear what they were saying, not until they were about to pass by the library’s archway. He stood still and waited in the darkness so they wouldn’t notice him. He had no intention of having to deal with them.
“Shh. Regulus’s room is right above us. Light sleeper” Sirius giggled when James hit another creaky spot on the floor.
“Reg’lus…” James slurred in a daze.
“Yeah, Regulus. ‘M sorry about him, by the way… I hope he isn’t giving you,” Sirius hiccuped. “...too much trouble.” He finished.
“No, no. He’s been… Well, he’s been…” James jumbled his words and trailed off in thought.
“What?” Sirius stopped and swayed right in front of the archway that opened to the library.
“Um,” James started. He faltered. “Just can’t help but notice how he doesn’t like me much.” James said, instead of whatever he’d been about to say. They were both quiet, then, and he heard James’s footsteps continue towards the staircase. Sirius lingered for a moment before following. Eventually, their creaking steps grew smaller and smaller until Regulus heard both of their doors shut.
Regulus let out the breath he had been holding.
***
James was nursing a nasty hangover. Sirius was nowhere to be found that morning, and Alphard was away hashing out details for his and James’s first venture of the summer; something about recovered artifacts. Out in the shade of the orchard, Regulus practiced on his acoustic guitar. It was the one Alphard had given him for his 19th birthday, a 1930’s build made with maple wood.
James went with his book and a notepad in hand to sit out in the silence of the countryside when he spotted Regulus. His hair was tucked behind his ears again, and his eyes flicked across the sheet music in front of him. His elegant hands plucked the strings in quick succession, with an easy synchronization that created a more full sound than James had heard anybody else play. Regulus wasn’t wearing a shirt, just swim shorts and some slip-on shoes James knew to be Sirius’s. James tried not to count the freckles he saw on Regulus’s bare back as he passed behind him. There were eight.
The grass was soft under his bare feet as James made his way casually to a sunny patch in the orchard, not too close where they were sitting together, but not so far that he couldn’t hear Regulus play. He threw down his belongings—sun lotion, a small notebook with a pen, and the book he was writing his dissertation on—and sat down, laying himself out to soak up the sun. He slid his feet down to lay flat. James resisted reaching for his book as long as possible, sitting with himself as the soft sound of Regulus’s guitar drifted through the morning air.
He had to pick it up, eventually. He wasn’t behind on his dissertation, per say, but he also wasn’t weeks ahead like he was used to being. James wasn’t a casual type of student. He lived his work, breathed his assigned readings, and read essays for dinner. He wasn’t always like this, either. It was something about his coursework that enthralled him so much that it hardly felt like work at all. That was until he hit his senior year.
Things had gotten bumpier. Double majoring in Linguistics and Philosophy did not get any easier as you got further into it. At some point it didn’t matter how passionate James was, his brain had to slow down. This summer was exactly what he had needed.
Maybe Alphard had sensed this. He’d been James’s professor for two years now. Once James took a class from him the first time, he’d vowed to try and keep him as a professor as much as possible. Every turn Alphard took back at university, James seemed to be around it ready to ask a question. That is to say, they saw a lot of each other in school, and Alphard had more than certainly noticed the dip in enthusiasm.
James’s copy of Heraclithus had a broken spine, a small chunk of the cover missing, and some warping on pages nearing the end. He didn’t mind. Books were meant to live an interesting life in his opinion. His bookshelf at home was stocked with well-worn and used up copies of anything from philosophy and historical biographies, to comic books and dystopian young adult novels.
He kept starting and stopping sentences, rereading and backtracking pages. His nasty hangover headache was still ever-prominent. After a handful of minutes trying his best, James dogeared his page and tossed it to his side, where it fell closed next to his bottle of sun lotion.
Regulus’s playing changed. It wasn’t that same full sound he’d been hearing. This one was small and slow, less sure of itself than the pieces previously played. James looked up and tried to focus, tuning out the singing of birds and the river’s current.
It was a melancholic sound. It was beautiful and troubling. James stared. Regulus looked up and their eyes met, which stopped his playing.
“Sounded nice.” James said, his voice carrying to Regulus.
He had an unreadable expression on his face. His gaze broke with James to flick down to the book that he’d cast aside.
“I thought you hated it.” Regulus said.
“Hated it? No,” James shook his head. “Play it again.”
Regulus hesitated over the fretboards.
“The same one?”
“Yeah, the same one.” James nodded enthusiastically, gesturing for Regulus to play it again.
Instead, Regulus stood up at once and propped his guitar against a tree beside him. He started stalking towards the chateau.
“Follow me.” He said.
James followed behind him without question, his curiosity and boredom of his current task pushing him towards whatever Regulus had to show him.
Regulus led them into the sitting room with the baby grand piano. He sat down and wiggled his fingers over the keys for a moment, his eyes closed, like he was feeling the energy of the instrument radiating off of it.
When his fingers made contact with the keys, James flinched as the sound came out all at once, bright and punchy with none of the same dynamics or feeling the piece had when Regulus was on the guitar. It was a happy-go-lucky tune, with no grit, no shadow, no sense of unsureness.
“You changed it.” James said dumbly after Regulus finished and turned to him.
“I just played it the way Liszt would have played it, had he altered it to his liking.” Regulus said, looking up to James from the piano bench. James decided not to get too close, instead standing by the doorway and crossing his arms in on himself.
“But it’s Bach. Right?”
Regulus nodded.
“Just play it again. Please?” James asked him, shifting his weight onto one of his feet.
“Right. The thing I played outside?”
“Yes.” James breathed.
Regulus’s hands stretch over the keys again, coming down slower this time, but just as loudly and even more obnoxious sounding. It was an arrogant and brash sound.
“I can’t believe you changed it again!” James cried out, shaking his head and with an exasperated smile.
“Ah, not by much. That’s how Busoni would've played it if he’d altered Liszt’s version.” Regulus shrugged, his hands finding the edge of the bench on either side of his legs.
“What’s wrong with playing Bach the way Bach wrote it?” James asked, stepping a little closer.
“Bach never wrote it for guitar. In fact, we’re not even sure it’s Bach at all.” Regulus said in a pretend far-away and wistful voice. He was getting James riled up, now. He was getting to him, Regulus could see it in his eyes.
James shook his head, again, and looked back out the doorway he’d come into.
“Forget I asked.” James said, leaving the room. He got to the archway of the courtyard, out of sight from Regulus, when he heard him play a third version.
This one was soft and sweet. It was still unsure, treading lightly and not making any sudden movements, but it was thick with emotion, growing softer and more strong at certain portions. James leaned on the doorway as he listened, his eyes fluttering closed, imagining Regulus’s hands floating over the keys with care and purpose.
James carefully walked back to the sitting room. Regulus finished playing, his hands still on the piano’s keys.
“It’s young Bach. He dedicated it to his brother.” Regulus said, almost too quiet for James to hear. He didn’t look back at him, instead fixing his eyes on his hands over the piano.
***
Regulus spent more of his days with Barty and Evan. Barty was good for him in the sense that he pushed Regulus out of his comfort zone, taking him to parties and making him play rugby back in school. Evan was good for him because they understood each other on a deep and profound level. They never lied to one another, they couldn’t really; the other always knew.
That’s why Barty and Evan were the only people Regulus confessed about James to. Evan brought him up one day, just in passing. Regulus had frozen for just a moment, but Evan had caught it of course.
“Regulus?” Evan raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
“I didn’t do anything!” Regulus protested.
“You’re right. You didn’t do anything. You froze when I mentioned him. I was about to say that he seems like a bit of a peacock.” Evan deadpanned.
“He’s a prat.” Barty chimed in from his spot on the couch, draped completely over the other two, with his head hanging off the couch dramatically. It couldn’t have been comfortable.
“Why’d you freeze, Regulus?” Evan teased, poking him in the shoulder.
“He just drives me crazy.” Regulus said, trying to be vague. It was completely true, anyways.
“In, like, an ‘I hate his guts’ way, or in an 'I have a crush, but i'm Regulus Black, so everything’s more dramatic’ way?” Evan snorted.
“Please, Evan, Regulus isn’t into male-model types,” Barty said, laughing at his own joke. Regulus said nothing. Barty stopped laughing. “Oh my god. Regulus, are you into male model types?” Barty lifted his head to look at Regulus in shock, maybe horror.
“No, you idiot. Regulus is into James!” Evan swatted Barty on the hand and shoved him off of the couch, clattering to the floor.
“Ow! What? Regulus, he’s a prat! Him and Pandora have been dancing around in a mating dance for days now!” Barty cried from the floor at their feet.
“Maybe James isn’t a prat. Regulus wouldn’t be into him if he was.” Evan said, surprising Regulus. He never rushed to anybody’s defense.
“He could be a prat.” Regulus said.
Maybe Evan received this as a concern of Regulus’s, because he had put a hand on Regulus’s leg in a friendly manner.
“Regulus, you are my best friend. I’m always watching,” Evan started.
“Comforting.” Regulus drawled.
“Shut up. I know James has a thing for you. Because I'm always watching. You’re welcome.” Evan said.
“Well, you aren’t watching close enough, then. He does not have a thing for me. Like Barty said, he’s sneaking around with your sister.” Regulus said. He looked away from Evan and focused on a painting on the far wall.
“When you aren’t looking, he studies you like you’re one of his fancy old statues.” Evan shot back. Regulus snapped his head towards Evan, who looked increasingly bored.
“He does not!”Regulus exclaimed. He wasn’t sure if he meant it more as an argument or a statement of scandal.
“Does too.”
“Okay, he could still be an arsehole. Maybe he just thinks Regulus is hot. Because Regulus is hot.” Barty cut in.
“Yeah maybe. I don’t know why I would have heard him with Pandora, then, talking about how he can’t breathe right when Regulus walks into a room.” Evan shrugged nonchalantly.
“You heard what?” Barty shot up and clutched his nonexistent pearls.
Regulus’s face went white. Where did he put information like that?
“But whatever, if you guys think it’s nothing…” Evan said.
“No!” Regulus and Barty cried in unison.
“Did you hear anything else?” Regulus asked, trying not to feel humiliated asking Evan if his crush said anything about him.
“Hm… Oh, yeah. He said he almost kissed ‘somebody’ at the river, which I know you two snuck off to alone the other day.” Evan smiled proudly.
He liked having information others didn’t. In school, Evan always knew the most insane gossip about people. He’d never show how much he enjoyed it, not to anybody but Barty and Regulus.
Regulus swallowed.
“Oh, shit.” Barty faced Regulus, his eyes wide and mischievous in realization.
“Well… That’s not strictly— I mean, he could still just—” Regulus tried to get through a sentence.
“Yeah, whatever.” Evan rolled his eyes, and pushed Barty again when he tried to throw himself back over the other two. They glared at each other in a stalemate.
“Let me on, Ev.” Barty complained.
“No. you’re too bony, it hurts.” Evan said, standing his ground and pulling his knees to his chest so that Barty was blocked from his favorite spot, over top of his friends’ laps.
Regulus wrote in his diary that night:
‘I thought he didn’t like me. I was so harsh with Bach. I thought he hated me.’