Le Mot
“We saw Marlene, too. It was weird, she was so done-up. When she’s around us she’s always wearing those ripped up jeans like a delinquent. ‘I’m Marlene Mckinnon and don’t fuck with me or i’ll break your nose’, and all that.” Emmeline mimicked Marlene, dropping her voice and straining so it sounded like Marlene’s gruffer tone. “But she was wearing these black micro-suede shorts and—get this—tucked in her shirt! Said she lifted the shorts from a shop in Marseille. I believe it. They were stylish.” Emmeline smiled as she recalled the party two nights ago.
“Was she wearing makeup?” Regulus asked with a humored lilt to his voice.
“God, no. I mean it was still Marlene.” They laughed together as they walked.
“Right,” Regulus shook his head. “I’m sure Sirius will be sad to have missed it. He probably won’t even believe it.”
“Yeah, Marlene said Sirius hasn’t been around much at all. He’s been off with his mysterious date every chance he gets.” Emmeline wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Moony,” Regulus remembered. “What kind of a name is Moony?”
“Maybe it’s just her nickname.” Emmeline shrugged.
“Some nickname.”
“Yep.” She smiled.
They strode beside the river that rushed by, a soothing constant background noise. It hadn’t warmed up, and being near the freezing water dropped the temperature even more so. Regulus made the rash decision to offer Emmeline his arm, sticking them side-by side. She took it. The warmth of another body beside him warmed Regulus enough to bear the breeze.
“You should have taken a jumper. You brought a book, but not a jumper.” Emmeline smirked. “Do you really read that much, or is it just for looks?”
“I read, thank you very much!” Regulus acted fake-scandalized.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love to read, too. But I don’t show it off.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know… I think people who read are hiders. People who hide don’t always like who they are.” Emmeline looked at her feet.
Regulus contemplated that. Hiders.
“Do you hide who you are?” He asked, after a while.
Emmeline looked over at him strangely, like he didn’t know what he’d just asked. “Sometimes. Don’t you?”
“I suppose. Yes. Do you hide from me?” He was all at once very curious. He hadn’t considered that there were parts of Emmeline that he had no idea about. She always seemed so down on earth, so herself.
“No, not from you,” she looked away. “Or maybe, yes, a bit.”
“Like what?” Regulus was pushing them into rockier waters, he knew, because if he asked her things like that, it opened the floodgates for her to ask him questions like that.
“You know what, Regulus.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t at all rude. It was with a smile, like Regulus was messing around.
“Oh.”
“Oh.” She repeated with a small laugh.
“But what if we just said it, laid it out? Not be the hiders we are?” Regulus stopped, but Emmeline walked a few more steps before turning.
“I don’t know. It’s scary.”
“Even when it’s just me?”
“It’s scary because it’s you, and I think you can hurt me. I don’t want to be hurt.” Emmeline said.
There it was, laid out like he’d asked. He wished it could be rolled back up, tucked back away. Was this how James had felt?
He could have thrown up, right there.
Regulus had no idea how to respond to her. He sat with her words, watching her wring her hands.
“Not that you mean to hurt anyone, but because you’re always changing your mind, so no one knows where to find you. That is what scares me.” Emmeline clarified, but it only made Regulus fall deeper into his hole of ‘oh god, oh god, oh god,’ in his head. She saw it, and took his arm again, pulling them back along the trail.
“You really should have brought a jumper.” Emmeline smiled over at him.
Regulus smiled weakly, then stood up a little straighter, taking more lead again as they walked.
“It’s the dead of summer. I shouldn’t have to bring a jumper.” He shot back with no venom.
“It’s actually the latter half, now,” Emmeline commented, watching horses graze in the field on the other side of them. “Of summer. I’m going home next week.” She looked back at Regulus.
He stopped them on the path. “Is it? Are you?” His eyes widened a bit.
“Yeah, I am.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile.
“I hadn’t realized.”
“Well, there you go.” She continued walking. He skipped to catch up, taking her arm in his again.
“Forgive me.” He said, looking down at her from her side.
“For?” Her voice came out a bit high-pitched, like she was trying too hard to seem natural.
“Everything.” Regulus said.
“Everything,” she smiled and shook her head. “I don’t get what you mean.”
Regulus furrowed his brows, a wounded expression painted across his features. Emmeline’s face was a practiced neutral. It was too pristine, like a cover-up.
“Emmeline.” They kept walking. The breeze blew her hair into her face, so she tucked it behind her ear.
“Regulus.” The river thrashed and flowed untamed beside them.
“Emmeline.” Regulus urged. She stopped, turning to him.
“What, Regulus? It’s okay. Really. I get it.” Her eyes were the night sky: the longer Regulus looked, the smaller he felt. It wasn’t because there was any flame to her gaze. There was no resentment or disgust, instead a just-as-upsetting lack thereof. She looked at him innocently and watery. If anything, she appeared embarrassed as a berry flush tinted her cheeks.
“You don’t get it.” Regulus was out of breath. They faced each other and she was just looking, waiting for him to tell her whose fault it was.
“Then let me understand,” Emmeline grabbed Regulus’s hand. “Please?”
Regulus stepped forward so that they stood close enough to feel each other’s breath on their skin. There was no pit in his stomach, no churning. All he felt was hollow.
Emmeline stepped forward again so they were impossibly close. With his hand in hers, she pressed both their hands onto Regulus’s chest. An inch before his lips, she stilled, waiting.
Regulus pushed a simple, sweet kiss into Emmeline’s lips. Neither of them reached for more. It was over before it started, and when he pulled away, Emmeline’s eyes were still closed. Her brows were knitted together and her mouth tipped down on either side.
“That's what I was most afraid of.” She still didn't open her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” They said in unison. Regulus blinked dumbly. Emmeline opened her eyes.
“I’m sorry for not being what you need,” Regulus clarified, stepping back to allow a comfortable distance back between them. “What could you possibly be sorry for?”
“I’m sorry that this wasn’t enough.” Emmeline blinked back a tear, but it fell anyway. Regulus swiped it away, and pulled her into a tight hug. He tucked her under his chin and clutched her back like she was going to float away if he didn’t.
“It’s not your fault, Emmeline. I — well, I think I…” Regulus trailed off, trying to force the words out of his mouth. She deserved to know everything. “I do love you. It’s just—”
“Regulus,” She cut him off. Her head fell against his chest, voice tight and strangled. “Regulus, I’m gay.”
If he wasn’t utterly petrified, he could have laughed. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t, still.
“You… you’re gay.” Regulus repeated back to her.
A beat.
“Yeah.” She croaked, pulling away to look him in the eye. Emmeline’s eyes were red and tired.
“Oh.” He said. All of his worry and guilt made way for pure, unadulterated shock. “Oh, I see.” Regulus looked up at the sky.
Dear God, is this mercy, or a cruel joke?
“Say something, Regulus.” Emmeline said, pulling his head back down to her.
“So am I.” He said plainly.
They stared at each other.
“Oh.” It was Emmeline’s turn to be baffled speechless.
She was the first to laugh. It started small, like a scoff. Regulus bit back a disbelieving smile. Emmeline put her hands over her face, and a giggle fell out from behind them. Regulus huffed out a laugh. Eventually, neither of them could breathe as they convulsed into absurdity, cracking up at the irony of their mismatched halves of matching misfortunes.
“I thought you just didn’t like me!” She doubled over.
“I thought you were in love with me!” Regulus wheezed.
“I was trying to be!” Emmeline could barely speak between laughing spouts bursting out of her.
As the moments passed, the river still ran and the breeze still blew. Nothing broke in two, and they were still just Regulus and Emmeline. If anything, they were the most Regulus and Emmeline they had ever been.
“I think we could still be content with each other. You know, now that we can be honest. I wouldn’t mind it. You still make me happy.” Emmeline sighed.
They were laying down on the trail where they had stopped and broke down. Regulus shifted onto his side to look at Emmeline fully. She gathered herself and moved to mirror him.
“I think so too. Maybe we can shake on it.” Regulus offered his hand.
“On what?” She smiled and asked.
“If nothing else, we can always fall back on each other. We don’t have to be alone, even if we never find someone a hundred percent right. We can choose us and be happily lonely together.” He supplied.
“So, like, if neither of us find real love?” She asked to further define his offer.
“Yes. I suppose so. Though, I think this is real love. Just different. At least, to me.” Regulus said. His hand still hung between them.
Emmeline took it and shook on it. “Me, too.”
The sun fell further and further in the sky, and eventually Regulus walked Emmeline home. They bid farewell with knowing smiles and a fond exchange of kisses on cheeks. They walked away from each other lighter than before. It felt good to be understood to such a degree that they were.
***
Regulus was sitting at his desk, smaller than the one in his real room, with not enough leg room. Some storage boxes were stuffed beside where his feet folded together.
‘Please don’t avoid me.’ He wrote on a small pad of paper.
Regulus ripped it out.
‘Please don’t avoid me, It kills me.’
It got crumpled and fell alongside the first one.
‘Your silence is killing me.’ He scrawled out in his fancy script handwriting.
“Way too dramatic.” Regulus whispered to himself.
‘Can’t stand knowing you hate me.’
Another wadded ball on the floor.
‘I’d sooner die than know you hate me.’
He laughed, half-defeated, closing his eyes tight. It was impossible. There was no combination of words that could string together what he wanted to say, not without sounding like a totally desperate fool.
‘Can’t stand the silence. Need to speak with you.’
And that would have to be good enough. He folded the page up, and stared at it for a long minute, before quickly shoving it under the bathroom door that led to James’ room, because if he went so slow that he could stop himself, he’d never be able to do it.
***
Morning birds sung as Regulus bounded silently down the stairs, a practiced pad of toe-to-heel he’d learned as soon as he could walk. It was a habit he never kicked, even in the safety of Alphard’s home.
Him and James ran straight into each other, Regulus thudding against James’ solid chest. James caught them both, and righted Regulus with tender hands on each of his shoulders.
“Sorry! You were so quiet, I didn’t hear you coming around the corner.” James took his hands back, leaving two freezing cold spots on Regulus’s sides. It darkened his mood.
“It’s fine,” he grumbled back.
“So. How was your night?” James leaned against the bannister. His hip jutted out like he was in some heartthrob magazine.
“Alright enough.” Regulus stripped his words of any interest, matching the too-casual air James had about him.
James smiled. “Good, good. Same here.”
“I have to go. I’m headed to town.” Regulus gestured to the staircase James blocked with his stupid perfect legs.
“Oh, yeah. I am too. Would you mind waiting while I change clothes?” James looked down to his wet swim shorts.
“Sure, fine.” Regulus felt carved out by every hollow and meaningless sentence that left their lips.
James moved his body to let Regulus pass.
Regulus pinched himself as he reached the kitchen, wanting to pound his head against the wall for agreeing to go to town with James. He couldn’t take another moment of it: The chit-chat. He hated keeping him close when it was never more apparent how far away they were.
Nothing was right, it was all going wrong. Emmeline would leave in days. James pretended nothing was ever or would ever be complicated between them. Sirius had found the love of his life, and Regulus hadn’t even gotten to meet the poor idiot yet.
“I’m picking up a book. I’m sure you know the bookstore. You’re probably infamous, there.” James laughed at himself as they rode.
There was an easy way you could talk to someone, as you rode bikes side-by-side. It was simple in the way you never had to worry to fill silences, because first and foremost you were biking, not talking. If you didn’t want to respond, you were really just catching your breath as you pedaled on, and it granted you however long it took you to form your next sentence.
“What book?” Regulus spoke after a stretch of trail had passed them by.
“Armance. It’s by Stendhal.” He supplied.
Regulus hummed acknowledgement. He could recall the title from the bookshelf at home. It was a story about a love killed by the lovers themselves. Regulus said nothing about it.
“It’s his debut novel.” James said to himself, since Regulus had absolved into quiet listening.
When they got to the bookshop, Regulus started to feel jumpy and nervous. This bookshop felt like another one of his places. It was another piece of him he was showing to James, now, one of his chapels, one of the places that had watched him become who he was.
Would the next time Regulus came to that bookshop be painted over with that memory, of him and James, strolling the aisles with their casual faces of intermittent interest, the occasional brief meeting of eyes as they held up books, saying ‘look, here,’ and the one or two stifled laughs pointed at romance book covers they found obscene?
Regulus made his way to the counter, while James was busy browsing around. He placed the balance of Armance charged on his uncle’s account, and borrowed a pen from the young girl cashiering.
‘Zwischen Immer und Nie, for you in silence, somewhere in France in the mid-eighties.’ Regulus wrote on the inside cover.
He hoped that the future would find the book still in James’ possession, and he’d open it one unassuming night, and burn for what was just in reach that he was too afraid to take. Regulus hoped the sting would grow as he became farther and farther away, and that the scorch marked R.A.B. never faded off of the inside of James’ heart.
Maybe someone would sit beside him as he prepared to read aloud, and they’d ask: ‘Who is in silence, somewhere in France in the mid-eighties?’
Regulus hoped when they asked, James couldn’t bury the sadness it brought him back to. He hoped his face showed the sorrow he never let himself feel, for himself, or maybe even for Regulus, because Regulus couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. If feeling sorry for him was all James could give, if pity was all that made him reach out and touch Regulus back, he would take it. Standing in that bookstore, he’d take it like it was the warmest hug, like it was a sweet song of declaration, like it was all he needed to keep on breathing.
James took the book and read the inside cover with a grin from ear to ear. He couldn’t feel how Regulus felt, or what he’d meant by it, so he beamed and said thank you.
On the ride back, James got too cocky as he sped down the gravel road. His foot slipped off the pedal, and he had to catch himself by swerving right in front of Regulus. He recovered with white-knuckle grip on the handlebars. He looked over at Regulus, who was staring as wide-eyed as he was, and then they were both smiling.
They were infectious smiles, ones that couldn’t help but break free. They shared them like another secret. The secrets were piling up. They kept smiling at each other, except it felt more like a tender kiss between husband and wife as they grinned at each other with everything but tears in their eyes. It was something like, ‘I know you, I see you, you know me’. It was loaded, like a gun fitted with two bullets.
They passed Monet’s spot. It was like a tripwire, and Regulus and James both stepped right on over it as they biked on without sparing it a glance.
James, through their open door, changed back into at-home clothes: another tripwire. Regulus looked away.
That night, Regulus listened for James at his door, then made a distinct effort to be heard present in his own room, as soon as he was sure James was on the other side. James pretended he did not hear. The gun slid a few feet away from them.
Regulus had gotten used to the kinship that had comforted him in his yearning for James because he knew James yearned straight back at him. Maybe James still yearned, but now the ache in Regulus’s chest was a lonely one. A canyon grew between them, and he watched as who they could have been fell out of reach below. The outline of James and his untouchable heart was becoming a dot across a divide.
Something inside of Regulus was angry, just through-and-through pissed. He’d never fought for something he wanted so hard, not for anyone or anything before. Yet, still, there was not a thing that could be done; not when you wanted the one you couldn’t have, and he wanted you back, but not enough to do a damn thing about it. It drove Regulus mad to know it came so naturally to James to deny himself. He missed the James he’d met as their lips and souls danced, the version he’d gotten to know under the trees of his spring.
This wasn’t a dance, anymore, but a bloody war of self-control.
It stopped in its tracks, the next morning, as Regulus picked up the folded cut of paper he’d slipped under James’ door the day before. There was an addendum:
‘Grow up. I’ll see you at midnight.’