cold feet

No matter what happens in a figure skating season, one truth is always guaranteed to stay the same: the weeks leading up to sectionals are a tense time, with coaches and skaters alike on edge. All it takes is one small inconvenience, and everything could come crumbling apart.

This season is not the exception; between 4 AM wake-up calls, back to back freestyle sessions, double run-throughs of his programs, off ice sessions, and half-hour lunch breaks,  the next month almost entirely passes Regulus by in a flash. When he’s not on the ice, he’s catching up on the piles and piles of schoolwork he’s admittedly slacking behind on, and he barely has time to think of anything else. Besides Lucius, he doesn’t see much of anyone; not even his own parents. Some days, he wonders if he should just ask Dumbledore about sleeping in here too. It would probably be easier, given his merciless schedule.

There is one part of his week that doesn’t revolve around sectionals… one blissful half hour where, every Tuesday and Saturday, he doesn’t have to think about competition at all, where nothing can be taken away from him. He hangs onto that as best as he can, keeps it in the back of his mind as something to look forward to when he wonders why he chose this sport. Learn to Skate sessions are coming to an end soon, and once this session is over he’s going to have to take the next one off. So, he resolves to make every last second of his coaching count. He’s ended up loving this far more than he thought he would, and he’s glad that Lucius brought it up to him. 

Plus… he doesn’t mind getting to see James twice a week. Not like he used to.

Regulus wishes he didn’t have to admit it, and even now it kills him a little to say. But at the end of the day, he supposes he is more like his brother than he thought. Because now he’s friends with James too, and it’s actually shaping up to be one of the better things in his life. It’s refreshing to see someone who isn’t on the same freestyle sessions with him every hour of every day, and nice to talk to someone who seems to care about him. Not his skating, not his placement at regionals, not his plans for the rest of the season… just him.

Taking their skates off at the same bench has become an unspoken part of their routine, one neither of them acknowledge. They never have much time to actually talk in class, so the bench is when their actual conversations can ensue. They never last long—Regulus is too busy to stay and talk for as long as he wants, and he thinks his mom might lose her mind if she knew they were still talking. But what little time, what few minutes they do get, Regulus has admittedly come to treasure. James asks questions, and Regulus answers.

“I was watching figure skating the other night,” James said one day, out of nowhere. 

“What?” Regulus had asked, blinking once or twice. He had to make sure he’d heard correctly.

And heard correctly, he did. “Yeah, there was a competition on. Skate America, I think?” James leaned back as he said it, glancing over to Regulus. “I had no idea what was going on, but it looked pretty cool.”

Regulus had laughed at that, and he’d had to bring himself to look away from James as he did so. “Is that the first competition you’ve ever watched?”

“Oh, one thousand percent,” James responded in complete earnest. “My mom always tried to get me to watch Olympic figure skating when I was younger, but I was never interested. It just seemed so boring.”

Regulus immediately became defensive, his head whipping over to James again. “Hey, take that back. It is not boring,” he said, and his eyes narrowed into a glare.

 James hadn’t responded to his claim immediately. Instead, he’d pursed his lips together, and stared at some point off in the distance. Finally, he’d mumbled something, his stare averting to Regulus. “I think I’m realizing that now.”

Regulus had turned bright red, and he hadn’t been able to hold his gaze.

He’s thought about that moment an embarrassing amount of times over the past several weeks. Enough for it to be concerning, actually. He’d wanted to ask James what he’d meant by that—but seconds later, he’d received the notification on his phone that his mom had arrived at the rink, ready to bring him home for the day. He hasn’t had the courage to bring it up since.

Needless to say, outside of classes whatever friendship he’s been forming with James has been put on hold for the moment. James does still invite him over to watch games, and Regulus feels equally terrible every time he says he can’t go. There’s two months between sectionals and nationals, he reminds himself every time he considers ditching training to go over to James’s instead. If you even make nationals. You can accept his invitations then. But for now, Regulus has to be happy with those mere half hour time slots, with the few minutes that they get after sessions.

He doesn’t have time to let someone new get too close to him, anyways—right now, he’s barely even talking to Barty or Evan. Outside of free program runs where Barty will pass Regulus his water bottle, or their lunch breaks where they scarf down their food in mere minutes, none of them have the time. Barty is too busy attempting to chase down the glory of his regionals win yet again at sectionals, Evan is too busy worrying that he might not be sent to nationals if he can’t skate clean, and Regulus…

SPLAT!

Regulus goes down so hard on the landing that the impact of the fall echoes throughout the rink, his legs hitting the ice a sensation that is now all too familiar. He practically goes into middle splits as he attempts to save himself from landing backwards and hitting his head, and has to use both of his arms to pull himself up once he’s recovered from the shock of the tumble.

Still slightly recovering, he looks over to Lucius now, dreading his feedback and knowing he will have to hear it anyways. To his surprise, Lucius doesn’t seem as disappointed as he’s been on the last few attempts.

Instead, he is nodding slowly, nodding hesitantly. “That one was way closer,” he notes, gliding towards Regulus now. Regulus supposes he’ll take what he can get.

”I can’t hold the landing,” Regulus states bitterly, with a shrug that he hopes tells Lucius he’s just as disappointed as him. “I just can’t stay on one leg, no matter what I do.”

”It’s a scary thing to try at first,” Lucius says, sounding not the least bit concerned. “I mean, quads are completely different animals than triples, they just are. The more you do them, the more you’ll take control. It takes time.”

Tell that to my mother, Regulus wants to spit out, aware that her eyes are on both of them from the bleachers up above. That’s been another factor only contributing to his stress—since his failure to capture gold at regionals, she’s at the rink with him nearly every minute of every day, hovering around like just her mere presence will intimidate him into skating better. It doesn’t, and now at dinner he has to listen to her ramble about every single thing he did wrong at practice, every detail that he could perfect. It’s tiresome.

She has especially been merciless since Regulus has started attempting quadruple toe loops—a jump that is considered the easiest quad, but still in an unknown and terrifying world Regulus is just beginning to venture into. Every day now, she observes Regulus as he turns around on his left leg, switches onto his right, and digs his left toe pick into the ice… and every day, she somehow finds a new way to insult what he is doing. ”Are you going for a quad, mon caneton?” she’d asked him just yesterday, “because to me, it barely seems like you’re making a triple.”

He’d been tempted to challenge her to do it then, wishing that he could watch her attempt something that men were just barely beginning to do consistently back when she had been skating. Even now, there are very few women in figure skating who can stick quads. Regulus doubts his mother would be one of them.

But he hadn’t said anything of the sort, instead resolving to her that he’d work twice as hard the next day in practice.

It’s the next day now, and he swears on his life that he has been putting in double the effort. To her, though, it won’t matter. Anything that isn’t landed on one foot and held on a perfect outside edge means that it wasn’t worth trying. If he could just get over the fact that this is a quad he’s attempting, get the daunting thought of trying to achieve four revolutions out of his head…

“Come on,” Lucius says to Regulus’s left, directing his attention away from the bleachers. Regulus realizes that he was inadvertently facing them despite his resolve not to talk to his mother, and that would be laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic. Always seeking her approval, even when he’s told himself he doesn’t need it. “One more time, and we’ll call it.”

Regulus isn’t sure that the woman observing him from above will let that happen, but he chooses to let himself believe the lie. He nods. “Okay,” he agrees, wasting no time in skating forwards and stepping into a series of backwards crossovers. Once he is going straight down the middle of the ice with enough speed, he takes a deep breath and steps forward onto his left foot.

He turns on his leg from an outside edge to an inside edge, holding it there for a moment before he swaps his left foot for his right. It’s just one more rotation, he tells himself, his left skate hovering in the air for just a moment too long before picking the ice. You landed it on the harness, you know you can do it. He tries not to think about the fact that the harness arguably feels much different from him trying to do the jump on his own.

He digs his left toe pick into the ice and jumps up, crossing his left leg on top of his right. Here goes nothing….

One, two, three, four—

He manages to barely make a fourth revolution before his right toe pick touches the ice again, which he supposes he’ll take. For a moment, he holds his breath, waiting to see if he’ll go down as his left leg swings out into landing position.

He quickly finds he’s unable to keep the balance, turning out of the jump aggressively and hopping onto his left foot just in time to save himself from tumbling to the ground completely. He skids to a stop nearly immediately, too surprised to do anything except stare at his skates remaining steadily underneath him. Quickly, his head snaps over to Lucius.

Lucius looks just as shocked as Regulus does at the fact that he’s stayed on two feet this time around, and slowly, he nods. “We’ll take that,” he says, to which Regulus agrees. “It’s getting better. Way better.”

”Yeah,” he nods, pushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. A step out isn’t a clean landing, not by any means, but the jump was rotated, and it’s better than landing painfully on his ass. “Thanks.”

Regulus won’t be able to pull this jump off at sectionals. It’ll take time for him to land it on one foot, time to get it consistent enough to even dream about attempting it in competition. But maybe, if he drills this enough, he can pull it off at nationals…

“Yeah, no problem,” Lucius replies before clapping his hands together—his signature indicator that they’re going to be moving on to something else, that they’re putting a pin in this for now. “Okay, so… we need to work on your step sequence, see what we can do to make sure it gets a level four—“

Lucius does not get to finish his thought, because suddenly his mom is yelling from the bleachers. “Wait, you’re moving on?”

Immediately, Regulus tenses up. He knows where this is going, has had it happen too many times before…

Thankfully, Lucius stands his ground, whipping around to face her. “Yes,” he responds simply, something that Regulus can only dream of doing. He turns back. “Anyways, I think we could maybe add a couple of loops, maybe toe steps—“

His mother isn’t done. “He didn’t land it clean!” she calls out, and Regulus doesn’t miss the fact that every single person on the freestyle session has now deliberately turned away from her. He only wishes he could do the same.

“So?” Lucius questions. “He’s just attempting them right now, it doesn’t matter—“

“You’re just gonna have him end on a bad one, then?” she retorts, gesturing over to him. “Make him do it again.”

“He’s done it enough,” Lucius says, firm and unwavering in his answer. Regulus feels seething jealousy at that. “We’re moving on.”

”No, you’re not!” she says, before addressing Regulus directly. “Reg, do it again.”

Regulus opens his mouth to respond, but before he does, Lucius puts a hand right over his chest and pushes him back. A deliberate way of telling him that he will handle this. “My skater is not going to be doing anything,” Lucius answers. “He did the jump already, now we’re working on other things.”

“He didn’t land it clean once!” replies his mother, her eyes narrowing. “How is he ever supposed to get it in competition if you’re letting him muck them up in practice?”

It’s clear by now that any sort of patience Lucius had has now diminished, and he steps forward angrily. “Would you rather he injure himself severely trying to do a jump he doesn’t have yet?” he says. “Do you want his career to end like yours?”

Regulus can’t help it—even though he appreciates Lucius defending him, he flinches hard at those words. Someone behind him audibly gasps. The air in the rink seems to stand completely still.

He finds his mother’s face in the bleachers, his heart dropping as he looks over her completely unreadable expression. She blinks once or twice, averting her gaze from Lucius to Regulus.

”Regulus,” she says coldly, firmly, “do it again.”

Regulus is sick of this.

He’s sick of being treated like he’s not a human, sick of being treated as though he isn’t allowed to make a singular mistake. He’s sick of these constant practices, sick of the reminders from his mother that he isn’t good enough, sick of never getting even a moment to himself. He’s done being talked about as if he isn’t there, done with being the reason that other skaters despise being on sessions with him.

He needs a break from it all.

Instead of doing as his mother says, he skates right over to the door and grabs his guards. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he says, not looking at her as he steps off of the ice and slips the guards over his blades.

Without another word, he opens the glass door that leads out to the lobby and exits.

He doesn’t go to the bathroom.

Instead, he grabs his skate bag from where it rests on the lobby bench, and steps out of the rink entirely.

From there, he has no idea what he’s doing, no idea where he’s going. All he knows is that once he starts moving his legs, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t have a destination in mind, doesn’t have a plan at all, really. He just knows that he can’t stand the suffocating cold of the rink any longer.

He walks and walks and walks, on concrete and grass and asphalt, ignoring the pain in his feet from not bothering to remove his skates, and only looks up once he sees the pool of water in front of him.

He pauses at once, wanting to laugh. He hadn’t even thought about where he’d end up, and of course it’s here. Like he’d ever have gone anywhere else.

He doesn’t even have a moment to take it in before an instantly recognizable  voice speaks to his left. “Regulus?”

Regulus freezes in his tracks.

❅ ❅ ❅

James Potter fucking misses Sirius Black.

Okay, there, he’s said it. As hard as he’s tried to just be happy for his friend, grateful for the opportunity he’s getting and glad that he’s away from his mess of a home, he cannot deny any longer the fact that there is a gaping Sirius-shaped hole in his heart, and nothing can seem to make it go away.

So, it’s no surprise at all that the second the weather has become colder, James found himself in this place. In this clearing, where no one else thinks to go, where it frosts over in the wintertime and becomes so unbelievably beautiful one would think they’re dreaming. James first discovered this pond because of Sirius—because one day, when they were both 11, Sirius just showed up at his door, looking like he might explode with excitement if James kept him waiting any longer.

James remembers vividly how he’d complained. “Sirius, it’s eight in the morning,” he’d complained, rubbing his eyes. Eight in the morning on a Saturday, nonetheless.

Sirius hadn’t cared. Dressed in his heaviest winter coat with his hockey skates in hand, he gestured to the outside world, glistening with a gorgeous white coat of snow. “Come on, get dressed and bring your skates,” he’d said. He’d looked so eager about it that who was James to say no?

Thirty minutes later and after a long, trudging walk through the snow, they’d arrived at the destination Sirius was so enthusiastic about. And immediately, James understood.

The pond ahead of them was frozen over completely, and the way the surface of the ice shone in the sunlight was enough to make anyone freeze in their tracks. The ice was somehow perfectly clear, allowing James to see all of the branches and rocks that resided in the pond. On the edges of the clearing stood trees frosted over in white snow, a perfect picturesque winter wonderland just begging for James and Sirius to partake.

Sirius had wasted no time. “Well, get your skates on,” he’d demanded. But James had reservations.

”Are you sure it’s safe?” he’d questioned as he’d finished tying up his skates. Sirius rolled his eyes.

”Yes, it’s safe, I’ve done this millions of times,” he retorted. James still wasn’t convinced.

”But what if the ice br—“

Sirius smacked him on the shoulder before scrambling up to his feet. “Tag, you’re it!” he yelled out as he got onto the ice, skating to the other edge of the pond.

From there, James had wasted no time in getting up and rushing after him. “Hey, that’s not fair!” he’d cried, hardly thinking twice as he stepped onto the pond’s surface and skated after him.

Later, once they’d both tired themselves out enough, they’d collapsed together onto the ground near the edge of the pond. At some point, they got up and built a snowman. James had insisted on naming it Sid, after Sidney Crosby. Sirius had shaken his head and declared that Alex Ovechkin was far better, sparking a heated debate.

Eventually, they came to a compromise and gave it two names. Sid Alex. The sun was setting by then, so they agreed to call it a day.

Since that first day, Sirius and James have become frequent visitors to this pond. Every winter, they lace up their skates and head out here, bringing sticks and pucks as they skate around the surface of the ice and make up the most ridiculous minigames for two. James’s heart hurts when he thinks about how this winter, the ice will remain smooth, how their blades will not scratch the surface up until the pond is unrecognizable.

He didn’t expect the pond to be frozen over yet. He doesn’t really know why he came here. All he knows is that suddenly, things feel too much without Sirius, and this was the only place he could think to go where no one else could find him.

Which is why when Regulus enters the clearing, his face flushed and sweat clinging to his skin, James’s mind immediately swirls with questions. “Regulus?” he asks, his confusion imminent.

Regulus’s head snaps over, and he freezes. Based off the look on his face, James doesn’t think he was expecting this either. He looks almost… guilty? Like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

A moment passes. When Regulus speaks, it’s hesitant, it’s skeptic. “..Hi.”

He can’t hold back his questions a moment longer. “Aren’t you supposed to be at training right now?” Then, when he looks over Regulus another time, he notices the blades attached to Regulus’s shoes, his hard guards pulled over them protectively. “Wait, did you come here—“

"Yeah,” Regulus says breathlessly, at last taking a seat on the ground. He’s a few feet away from James, and James finds himself wishing that he’d sat even just a couple of inches closer. He takes his bag off of his shoulder now and unzips it, beginning the process of trading in his skates for shoes. He doesn’t look at James as he does it. “I did.”

"’Shit, what happened? Are you okay?” James asks. He’s greeted with complete silence, the only noise being Regulus trying to catch his breath. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want—“

”I’m fine,” Regulus suddenly snaps, raising his voice. James flinches, reminded of their early days, and even Regulus grimaces after a moment. “Sorry…” he apologizes. Then… “Are you okay? I mean, why are youhere too?”

James absolutely was not expecting that curveball of a question from Regulus, but he figures he has nothing to lose by being totally honest. He sighs. “I miss Sirius,” he says at last, and the words are way harder to get out than he thought. He realizes this is the first time he’s directly admitted this to anyone. “A lot,” he adds, after a moment. “We usually come here every winter, so um. I don’t know. I went for a walk and ended up here.” 

Regulus is staring at him intently, soaking in every word that he says. He glances away for a moment once he’s done, and then looks back. “I miss him too,” he says, at last. Then, he laughs. “God, it’s like… you try to just ignore it, tell yourself you don’t, and it doesn’t matter. It just makes it worse.”

James swallows hard at that, Regulus exactly nailing what he’s been trying to put into words for the past several months. His efforts to push aside his emotions have only doubled his pain at not having his best friend beside him. “Yeah,” he says, after a second. “Exactly.” He thinks back to all of the games he’s played so far this season, the blind and stupid passes he’s made where if Sirius had been there would have been genius. He thinks about all of the times that the team’s gone to get food, and he’s inadvertently turned to Sirius to ask if he wants to share something. He thinks about their races out of the locker room, about their 6 AM wake up calls on days where they would travel across the state for tournaments, and realizes just why the lack of Sirius’s presence has affected him so much. It isn’t because they’re best friends; it’s because Sirius is a part of James entirely, something he’s gotten used to just being there without question. It’d be like if he woke up tomorrow and discovered a limb or organ was missing. He scoffs at this epiphany. “Nothing’s the same without him.”

Regulus raises an eyebrow at this, looking over to him. “Now you know how I felt when you two became friends,” he says, and he doesn’t say it in a way that’s cold or hurtful. He speaks as someone who came to accept this truth a long time ago. “He has that effect on people.”

”He does,” James agrees, and Regulus looks away. James feels a twinge of guilt in his chest. He’s blurting out an apology before he can even stop himself.  “Reg, I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like this. This fucking sucks.”

Regulus is quick to forgive, quick to shrug it off. “It’s okay, James. You didn’t know.”

"Yeah, but I still caused it. I still—“

Regulus cuts him off, their words overlapping. “I just said it’s fine.”

"But it isn’t fine,” James says, “is it? I’m the reason you and Sirius—“

"James!” Regulus suddenly exclaims, and by this point he reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. The gesture effectively silences James, who is wondering  when they closed the gap between them. Did he move closer to Regulus? Or did Regulus move closer to him? Once Regulus has ensured that James is not going to try and apologize any more, he looks him in the eye and speaks. “I promise you, it’s not your fault I felt like that. I promise you. I would tell you if I thought otherwise. Got it?”

The way Regulus is looking at James, so intent and unwavering, tells James that arguing about it any more would be useless. Besides, James’s throat has tightened up, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get more than a word out. He nods. “Okay.”

Regulus removes his hand from his shoulder now, but not before squeezing James’s shoulder tightly. Then, he averts his gaze away, and it’s silent for a minute. “I remember the first day he took you here,” he says finally. “He invited me to go too, and I said no.”

James has never been told this in all of the years he and Sirius have known each other. “Really?” he replies, not subtle with the shock in his voice.

”Yeah,” Regulus says, regret decorating his words. “I wanted to go, but you two were already so close by then… I thought it would be miserable. So I said no.”

”….Oh,” James responds, unsure of what else he can say.

”This is my first time back here in years,” he says, taking a moment to look around. “It hasn’t changed at all.”

James smiles at that. “It hasn’t,” he agrees. Except for the fact that Sirius isn’t here. “I wish it was spring already,” he says after a moment, glancing over to Regulus. Spring is when Sirius will be home. And finally, Regulus meets his eyes again. James suddenly wants to shrink away from his stare. He feels way more vulnerable than he probably should.

 “Me too,” Regulus admits again, softly, and James relaxes. For a second, he thinks that is going to be the end of it, that their conversation is done. But then Regulus speaks again. “I walked out of practice today.”

James isn’t entirely sure he’s heard him right. Regulus, walking out of practice? His head snaps over quicker than lightning. “What?”

"Yep,” Regulus confirms, nodding. “I walked out two hours before I was supposed to go home. I should still be at the rink right now.”

"What happened?” James asks, his curiosity immediately overtaking him.

Regulus breathes in deeply before he answers. “I came in second at regionals,” he admits, not looking at James as he says the words. James won’t tell him—but he already knew. He watched the results come in on his phone, courtesy of Sirius telling him where to find the website, and had secretly wondered if Regulus would ever bring it up to him. “And ever since then, my mom has been watching over me like a fucking eagle. She comes to every single practice, every single day, like her being there is somehow going to make me skate better.”

James nods along, because he fears that if he opens his mouth to speak Regulus will be shocked at the words of choice he has addressed towards Walburga Black. 

"She loves to yell out every single one of my mistakes, too. She yelled at me in the middle of a lesson today,” Regulus continues, “and I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. I told her I was going to the bathroom, and I left.”

"Oh,” James responds, at a complete loss for words. As if he needed another reason to believe that Regulus and Sirius’s mother is just awful.

"I’ve never done anything like that before,” Regulus says eventually. “But.. I don’t know. I’m just so sick of it.”

”Sick of what?” James asks, not entirely sure what Regulus means.

Regulus doesn’t waste a second answering. "Her ruining skating for me,” he replies. After a moment, he elaborates.  “…I love this sport. I love doing it. I’m good at it,” he says. “But I’m not the best, and she wants me to be the best, and it’s so exhausting.”

James is all too familiar with this conversation. It’s one he’s had many times with his parents, about what would happen if he never makes the show, if he plays for University of Minnesota and turns out not to be any good. And so he knows how to answer. “If no one was watching you,” he asks, turning to face Regulus, “would you still skate?”

Regulus looks over to him, and immediately the confusion is imminent. “I don’t get what that—“

Now it’s James’s turn to repeat himself. “If no one was watching you,” he says again, “would you still skate?”

Regulus opens his mouth and then closes it again, facing the water now. “Yeah,” he replies. “I would.”

”It’s not about her, then,” James declares with a shrug. “Fuck what she says. You’re skating for yourself.”

Regulus’s eyes widen at the statement, at the very thought that maybe not everything has to be about her. But James knows that the second you’re not skating for yourself, you will be absolutely miserable. “James—“

"Just because she wants you to skate doesn’t mean that’s why you’re doing it,” James points out. “You have to do it because you want to be doing it. You know?”

Yet again, Regulus’s lips part with the start to an argument, but shut as James’s words sink in. Finally, he nods. “Yeah,” he mutters. But he still doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

“Regulus,” James says after a moment, “I’ve told you before that you’re an incredible skater, and I meant it. You are. And if your mom can’t see that… then, that’s completely on her. That's her problem.” Regulus laughs at this, though it’s small, suppressed. “Okay?”

James can tell that Regulus still wants to argue, that he has a hard time believing his words. But finally, his resolve seems to wither. “Okay,” he agrees at last. Then… “Thank you, James.”

Their eyes meet again, and suddenly, everything feels different. But James attempts to brush the feeling aside, attempts to tell himself it’s nothing as he struggles to form a response. “Yeah,” he replies. “I mean it.”

The lack of space between them now is suddenly all the more noticeable, all the more confining. James has to remind himself to breathe as neither of them pull away, as neither of them dare to move. 

James wants to say something. But he’s at a loss for words.

He doesn’t know how to articulate the emotion coursing through him right now. He couldn’t name it if he tried. But he knows one thing: this is definitely different than when he is with Sirius. It’s much different. Regulus thinking that James could ever view him as a replacement for his brother is laughable when James compares the feeling.

Right as he inhales softly, about to speak again, about to express the thoughts in his head, Regulus gets up to his feet. “I need to get back home soon,” he says, glancing at James apologetically.

And while James wishes that wasn’t the case, he gets it. “Yeah,” he replies. “Yeah, that’s fine. Good seeing you.”

Good seeing you? Is that actually what you just said? James questions, wanting to slap himself across the face the moment he says it. But Regulus doesn’t seem to mind as he takes a step backwards, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

He doesn’t leave immediately. Instead, he turns to face James again. “Wait, really quickly,” he says. “This Sunday, the rink’s having this whole sectionals send-off thing for the figure skaters. I’m, um, skating my free program in it.” He pauses before glancing away. “Anyways, you don’t have to go, it’s just if–”

“I’ll go,” James says decisively, nodding. The surprise on Regulus’s face is obvious, like he didn’t expect James to say yes in any way, shape, or form.

“Really?” he asks, blinking several times in quick succession. 

“Yeah, what time does it start?”

Regulus seems to be in absolute disbelief as he answers. “It’s at noon,” he says. “Rink A.”

“I’ll see you there,” James says simply, grinning.

He still doesn’t think Regulus believes him, but at last the boy nods, the corner of his lip turning upwards ever so slightly. “See you.”

With that, he turns around and disappears through the trees, leaving James behind in a clearing that is all too familiar and yet still continues to find new ways to surprise him.