Frühstück am Abend
James made his way down the hall, eyeing his favorite paintings as he passed, and stopped at the door that led to his room and also Regulus’s. He closed the door gently as he made his way in, and knocked on the bathroom door on Regulus’s side.
“Reg, you there?” James called out.
He had to wait several seconds before there was any sign of life.
“Yes.” Regulus said, and James pushed open the door.
He stood in the doorway like an idiot, not sure if it was better to stay professional or go to Regulus like he wanted.
Regulus had his head tilted back and was holding ice wrapped in cloth up to his nose. He dropped his arm from his face and it hung off the bed, taking the makeshift ice pack with it. The bleeding had subsided, leaving a darkened stain trail where blood had been half wiped off.
“Was it my fault?” James came fully into the room, the click of the door shutting surprising Regulus. He had been expecting a formal check-in, almost medical, like a task to tick off so James could rid himself of any potential fault or guilt.
Instead, they were here in Regulus’s room together, James standing over him awkwardly with eyes like a puppy who knew it’d done wrong.
“I’m a mess, aren’t I?” Regulus said as he shook his head.
James offered him a forgiving smile—one of those in-betweeners, like earlier—and it made Regulus feel like he’d broken something intrinsic inside James.
“The ancients said it never hurts to be bled from time to time.” James said. When Regulus would think about that later, he’d laugh. At the time it felt humiliating.
“Sit for a second.” Regulus brought himself to sit up, scooting up the bed to make room.
James sat on the corner foot of the bed. It was a self-effacing gesture that claimed neither familiarity nor indifference.
“Are you going to be okay?” James asked. His brows furrowed genuinely, and Regulus felt no need to lie after all they’d done and said today.
Even still, there was no easy way to word the shape his heart was in. It felt disfigured in his chest after the push and pull of everything. The feeling was akin to how Regulus imagined an incompatible organ transplant; nothing would heal over properly, and the rest of him grappled with his heart like it was an imposter. It felt unfair to let James know that.
“I’ll get over it.” Regulus said as mercy.
James gave a nod and scooted farther onto the bed. He made no sudden movements, keeping the ball steadily in Regulus’s court in case he wanted to pull the ripcord. James picked up Regulus’s foot and pushed his fingers into the sole expertly, massaging and contorting so brutally that his toes cracked and he yelped out. It hurt in an all-consuming way. The muscles in his foot, after being poked and prodded, let out the tension they’d been holding before, tension Regulus wasn’t even aware he carried.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Regulus gawked.
“My mum,” James smiled, setting Regulus’s foot back down. “She did it to me all the time, when I was sick, sad, angry.” He laughed to himself the way soldiers did when they remembered home. “It always worked on me.”
“Do you miss England?”
“No.” James responded immediately.
“No?” Regulus raised his eyebrows.
“Just my mum. Some friends, too. But England can’t compare to here.” James smiled, a true James smile, so big it looked hard to keep up.
“You told Sirius you didn’t think much of France when you came the first time. Don’t tell me you were just appeasing my brother.” Regulus deadpanned and nudged James’ knee with his newly massaged foot.
“Nope. I wasn’t. Something changed my mind.” James looked down at the bedspread like it had lottery numbers stitched into it. He glanced at Regulus nervously.
Regulus pulled his feet in and crossed them.
“Something.” Regulus repeated quietly. It knocked the air out of him.
At the dinner table, outside Regulus’s window, voices grew loud in celebration. ‘Cheers!’ It cut through the air, making James look.
“I’ll leave you to rest, but i’ll be around,” James smiled, the bed dipping up as it lost his weight. “You’re sure you’re okay?” He asked again. Regulus hummed a yes with a ghost of a smile.
James left at that, and Regulus, alone in his room, pressed the ice pack back to his nose as he felt a hot trickle down his cupid’s bow.
James jogged down the stairs, where Emmeline and Pandora were waiting for him.
“Hello, James.” Emmeline waved from the sitting room couch.
“Oh,” Pandora stood, greeting him with a quick kiss on the cheek and an arm around his. “Sit, sit!” She ushered James to the chair beside the couch before plopping beside Emmeline and smoothing her sundress down.
“Pan. Em,” James nodded hello. “Alright?” He looked at each of them, confused but glad to see them nonetheless.
“How is he?” Pandora asked like it was obvious.
“Yeah, um,” It came out like a question. James cleared his throat. “Reg is fine. He’s just having a lie down.” His voice strengthened up to his usual standard. Pandora nodded seriously.
“Good, good. He needs to rest.” She said mostly to herself.
“Regulus hates being called Reg.” Emmeline gave a small laugh. James grinned toothily. On the inside he felt more like punching the wall. Emmeline, thinking she knew Regulus better, made something bubble up in James’ chest. All odds were that it was completely true, that she did know Regulus better, but that didn’t make it any less infuriating.
Her long midnight hair fell down pin straight with not a strand out of place. Her makeup was perfect, her outfit was a well thought-out two piece linen set, and she sat with prim posture that screamed ‘I know who I am’, and ‘I deserve Regulus more than you.’
If James was a betting man he’d go all in that Emmeline’s touch didn’t make Regulus bleed.
She could speak French, was here every summer, knew what she was doing with her life, was as sharp as she was delicate, and she was a woman. He wanted to break something. She had everything Regulus could never find in James.
James studied phonetics and language for years and he was still shit at every single one. His life was split between London and New York. He had nothing calling to him, and no direction past surviving his senior year. James was burly and abrasive with loud opinions and had always been told he was prone to being too much.
Nothing clicked into place when it came to Regulus and James except for the devouring draw of attraction; it had taken like a fire to oil when first they laid eyes on one another in that darkened bedroom. When they’d kissed, Regulus’s name was burned into James’ chest like a brand. But that was all. Nothing else slid into shape, their lives didn’t match, they would always live in fear of somebody or something coming for them together as two men.
Every touch between them was as damning as the last. James' head could rationalize all the ways he shouldn’t give in, but his heart was blind and fumbling over hurdles as it shoved all reason aside to weld itself to Regulus.
Emmeline and Pandora sat quietly looking between themselves.
“James?” Pandora waved a hand in front of him.
“Hm?”
“Emmeline asked if you were alright. You drifted off there, love.” Pandora tilted her head sympathetically. Oh god, did she tell Emmeline? Who knows? Does everybody know?
“I’m alright.” James squeezed out with a tight chest.
“Did you and Regulus have fun at Lac Léman?” Emmeline changed the subject. Pandora looked at her with a surprised expression.
“Yeah, we did. Amazing stuff. Alphard’s work is fascinating, and Reg knows a lot about the area. It was cool. We swam in the lake after, it was brilliant.” James let himself lean on who he usually was, sitting back in his chair and throwing a hand behind his head in a relaxed manner. He had to look at Pandora when he spoke, because if he looked at perfect-for-Regulus Emmeline he wouldn’t be able to do his dance of normalcy.
“That’s nice.” Emmeline said in a far-off voice. She wasn’t looking at James either.
“Em,” Pandora rubbed her back. James shot Pandora a questioning look while Emmeline wasn’t looking, and Pandora looked back with a shake of her head. James nodded quickly, hoping she’d tell him later what that was all about.
“I’m being silly.” Emmeline smiled and turned back to them, placing her hands on her lap. James watched as she fiddled with the gold rings that decorated her fingers.
“Let’s go somewhere tonight!” Pandora chimed happily, hoping to break the disconcerting tension that had suddenly appeared between James and Emmeline.
“Sounds wonderful.” James replied happily.
Emmeline looked to the staircase, then to Pandora who watched her expectantly.
“Yeah. Yes, that would be good.” She said, leaning into her best friend’s side. Emmeline’s head rested on Pandora’s shoulder and Pandora threw an arm over her with a grin.
“Then we’ll go. I can’t wait.” Pandora nodded decisively.
“Should we invite Regulus?” James asked.
“No, best not. Wouldn’t want to make him bleed.” Pandora said light and airily. It made the meaning of her words an easier pill to swallow.
***
“Where’s James?” Regulus came out into the garden, where dinner was about to be served. It was just his brother and Kreacher waiting for him.
“Out, I believe. Uncle Alphard as well,” Sirius set aside his book. It was something Shakespeare, which Regulus quirked a curious eyebrow at. Kreacher took the book with him on his way inside to fetch the food. “He had to rush to Nice for some meeting.”
“Shakespeare?” Regulus didn’t pay attention to whatever Sirius had said.
“Yeah. Problem?” His lips turned up, daring Regulus to ask.
“None. Just look out for flying pigs, tomorrow.” Regulus drawled as he sat down, smoothing a napkin over his lap.
“Ha, ha. It’s for Moony.” Sirius grinned proudly.
Kreacher placed two plates in front of them, an elaborate crêpe with swishes of creme as garnish. The retort was knocked out from under Regulus
“Crêpes?” Regulus whipped around to Kreacher, astonished. Kreacher nodded and looked quickly to Sirius, then hurried away.
“Crêpes!” Sirius agreed happily.
“We haven’t done this in ages. Not since we were young.” Regulus gawked at the blueberry peeking through under the thin layers of crêpe.
“Why not? Since it’s just us,” Sirius looked at Regulus with sentiment glimmering in his eyes. “And I think you could do to remember that you’re still young, little brother.” He leaned over and tousled Regulus’s curls.
Regulus smiled down at his breakfast-dinner. His brother had this special power of knowing exactly what Regulus needed. It might be late, it might not feel right at the time, it might seem so small that it barely counts, or it might be so enormous that it saves Regulus’ life. Sometimes it was forcing him to follow as they ran away from their parents, and sometimes it was crêpes for dinner.
They dug in, and ate in delighted quiet as the air around them held unspoken but very present love for one another.
“You like him, don’t you?” Sirius glanced over to Regulus.
“Who?” Regulus looked up.
“Oh, you know who. James!” He smiled toothily with a knowing look.
“Come off it, I tolerate him.”
“You definitely like him.”
“Everybody likes James.”
“Fair play. Regardless, I’m happy — it’s so rare for you to connect with one of Uncle’s students.” Sirius ate a healthy portion of crêpe in one bite. He was so sure of himself it made Regulus roll his eyes.
Everybody didn’t like James so much it felt like it was killing them, Regulus thought bitterly.
“He likes you, too. More than you like him, I'm sure.” Sirius added.
“Is that your impression?” Regulus’s fork had frozen on its way to another bite.
“Nope,” He smirked wickedly. “That’s James’ impression.”
“What did he tell you?” Regulus’s mind raced for a way to ever recover his dignity in his brother’s eyes. Would he judge? No, never. But the look of pity in Sirius’s eyes every time they remembered James would be unbearable. He would rather wither in the shadows, thank you very much.
“Not important. I just wish you’d be less prickly. It’s not everyday you get to make a new friend, Reggie.”
Friend. Regulus untensed.
“Yeah. I’ll try.” He took a bite to excuse himself from not saying anything else.
“Love you, Reggie.” Sirius said.
Regulus smiled at his brother.
I love you, too, He thought, but the words didn’t quite find their way to his lips. Some invisible force always stopped him.
Sirius smiled back, because he knew.
***
James had been gone for a couple hours. Regulus was reading on his bed in his pajamas, flicking attention every so often up to the clock and back to the words.
12:17.
He tossed onto his side, eyes heavy but determined to stay open until James had the decency to come back. Everything was decidedly too much. The bed made too many noises when he moved about, a tag on his sleep shirt itched his side irritably, and his thoughts that had nothing to do with his current book. That last part made comprehension virtually impossible, and he let the pages shut without marking his spot. He stuck the book in time-out below his nightstand. It had failed in its goal to distract Regulus.
He tugged off his shirt in a swift motion. Usually he’d hang or fold it carefully and put it away. Right then he was far too wound-up for anything of the sort. Shirtless, he tugged off his bottoms and layed out in just his pants. The summer air helped, hitting bare skin as it breezed through his cracked window.
He closed one eye as the other stared thoughtfully at the bathroom door. It was cracked, and a sliver of James' room was visible. It was desperate of him, but he wanted James to see him. Regulus wanted James to want him. He needed James to want him so badly, that he couldn’t help but go to him when he got home and saw Regulus there, mostly naked in bed, a mere paces away from James’ own.
Regulus pushed himself upright and opened the bathroom doors to both his and James’ room. The bed had been made by Kreacher and the only clutter was a stack of books on the desk that Alphard had left James to look over. Regulus was settled back in his own bed as quick as he’d left it, paranoid James would be there any minute.
He spread his blanket half-on-half-off. He was exposed, but comfortable.
James skipped every second stair as he made his way to his bedroom. Him and Emmeline had had loads of fun once they learned to steer far from the topic of Regulus. James wasn’t sure what she knew or what was going through her head, but it was clear she cared about Regulus. He wished he’d been privy to how much. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it absolutely did to James.
Emmeline was deceptively hilarious. She did impressions under her breath and whispered quiet cutting comments about people standing right there. She was never cruel, but brutally honest all the same. James had his drink coming out of his nose at one point as Emmeline mocked the man who’d been failing to hit on Pandora all night. James would be content sitting beside her at every party just to hear the things she came up with.
She didn’t really dance, not until James and Pandora coaxed it out of her, and even then it was only a handful of songs. She watched, instead. She drew. She sketched small scenes she witnessed like it was breathing to her. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the party was Emmeline Vance drawing the bartender in a pocket-sized sketchbook.
James saw what Regulus might have, that night. They made sense: Lovely Emmeline who observed it all, and piercing Regulus who saw through everyone.
Pandora had been a wonder, as always. She was the hit of the club. James watched the men orbit around her like they were bewitched. He made sure to stay close by and stepped in as her fake boyfriend on more than one account, whenever Pandora gave the signal. It was an entertaining cycle that kept all three of them in high spirits, sharing drinks between them that guys bought Pandora (and Emmeline, who was getting almost just as much attention, being the mysteriously aloof girl in a booth.) James was happy.
Everything came back to him as his stupor wore off upon the image of Regulus, asleep, a spread of pale freckled skin steeped in moonlight with his comforter thrown aside.
Regulus heard James’ breath catch.
Yes. Say something.
He heard him step from the hardwood of his bedroom to the tile floor of the bathroom.
Come here. Please.
James sighed deeply, closing Regulus’s door with a finality. Regulus heard James close his own bathroom door, too.
“Traitor,” Regulus swore to the empty air. The darkness said nothing back. “Traitor.” His voice rasped, so breathy it was almost silent. It was as much an accusation as it was a name being called.
And that was the poison of James, wasn’t it? The off and on. The opening of doors just for them to shut. The push, the pull, the kiss, the shove. They were always one way or another; obsessed or indifferent. They were either speaking or they were dying. When they spoke, it was worlds apart, and as they died, they were side by side. It was the paradox of them.
‘Hello…’
‘Later!’
‘Look, we can’t talk about this sort of thing. We really can’t.’
‘I like the way you say things.’
Regulus thought about everything, re-lived their first moment to their latest, and he let himself cry.
***
There was an uncharacteristic chill in the air and clouds covered the sky in grays. Regulus was lying on his back, across the couch, with his head on a cushion next to where Sirius sat. His brother was absentmindedly playing with Regulus’s hair as he watched some brain-dead Italian soap opera. It had been a day or two since his poorly timed bloody nose.
“The speed they talk makes it funny, even when you don’t understand it.” Sirius smiled down at him.
“Hm.” Regulus hummed a response, eyes glazed over in thought. Sirius didn’t mind. He barely noticed. He kept watching the small box television with an intensity that burst into a laugh every now and then.
Regulus moved a hip up to slide a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it with a lighter he’d stolen from Sirius’s room.
“Not in here, Reggie,” Sirius whined. “Since when do you smoke regularly?”
Sirius shook his head when Regulus shrugged.
“Nasty habit. I was hoping you’d leave it.” Sirius turned back to the TV as Regulus sat up to move out of the sitting room.
“You smoke.” Regulus argued back.
“Yeah, but you’re supposed to be better than me. Second time’s the charm, and all that.” Sirius ruffled his hair and pushed him away, making a big show of fanning smoke out of his face.
“Whatever.” Regulus rolled his eyes. He used Sirius’s knee as a handle and stood up, making his way around the corner to Alphard’s study. There was no sign of his uncle. He walked in and sat right in his chair, picking up the phone and dialing the Rosier residence.
“Allô, oui?”
“Emmeline.” Regulus greeted into the phone.
“Should I get Evan?” She said, her voice falling flat. It stung. He hadn’t spoken to Emmeline since he’d stood her up by accident.
“No, no. I was trying to reach you.” He assured her.
“Okay. Are you still sick?”
“Yeah. I mean — no.”
The line went quiet.
“Come out with me. We can go walking. Or biking, if you’d prefer that.”
“Okay, I'll see you later.” She hung up.
Regulus took a long drag of his cigarette, and leaned back in Alphard’s chair. He let out a shaky exhale of smoke and anxiety.