Chapter 38
As unwilling as he is to accept it, Regulus has to learn to cope with his realization.
He sure as hell doesn’t want to. He’d much rather the feelings don’t exist at all, and that he could carry on with his life without worrying over some stupid boy. That’s all James is. Just some stupid boy—who’s managed to consume his every waking thought, who’s managed to make his heart skip a beat every time they’re in the same room as each other. Some stupid boy, with stupid perfect hair and stupid beautiful eyes and stupid kissable lips—
Regulus stops his train of thought there. No, James isn’t some stupid boy, is he? He wouldn’t be in this mess if that’s all James was to him. He has no choice but to accept it, to recognize that his silly little crush isn’t going anywhere.
So the crush exists. And the way Regulus sees it, there are three routes he can take. The first is to tell someone else how he’s feeling. It wouldn’t solve the problem of his feelings existing, but it would feel nice to get it off of his chest.
Except for the fact that his options as to who he can tell are incredibly limited. First up is Barty, who has been pestering Regulus about this exact situation for as long as he can remember. Come on, he used to say when they were kids, you have to like someone ! He could never accept the fact that Regulus simply didn’t, that he just didn’t have the time or the freedom to let himself like someone. As they’ve gotten older, the interrogations have mostly stopped. But Barty still occasionally brings up the subject, and though he may not outright ask, Regulus knows what he’s inferring. And he absolutely does not plan on telling him about this. He would never hear the end of it.
His next option is Evan—Evan, who is still cold with him, who still brushes him off like they don’t even know each other. He’d told him they were good, that there was nothing to worry about, yet everything except for his mouth tells a different tale.
Yeah, Regulus definitely can’t confide in Evan.
The last halfway decent option he can think of is Sirius, which— Absolutely fucking not. He thinks he’d rather do anything else than tell Sirius about this. Hey, Sirius, you know your unfairly attractive best friend that I got really close with while you were away? Well, what if I told you that I may be in l— may like him a lot? Like, in more than a friend way?
There is no way Regulus could ever fathom saying that. Especially considering the fact that he has absolutely no clue where his brother stands when it comes to the topic of sexuality, and he doesn’t really plan on finding out. He doesn’t see it ending well.
So, he rules out the choice of taking the first route.
The second is to just… tell James how he feels. Which Regulus ruled out before he’d even begun weighing his decisions. Maybe it would help him get over all of this faster, to just hear it from James himself that he doesn’t feel the same way. But he also fears what might happen if he did.
For one, he doesn’t fancy getting the living shit beaten out of him. Not that he thinks James would do that—but it’s not like James has ever been capable of shutting up. He can envision it all too easily; James saying an offhand remark afterwards about Regulus to one of his teammates, and the next thing Regulus knows, he’s getting backed into a corner, a hand around his throat. He knows how this goes with hockey players, knows how vicious and cruel they can be.
The sad part is, he doesn’t think that's what scares him.
Actually, he pictures James’s reaction as the most terrifying. He pictures James offering him a sad smile, a pitiful smile, one that tells Regulus he feels sorry. He pictures him saying that he doesn’t feel the same way, but telling him that they’re always going to be friends, that he wouldn’t change that.
He thinks that would be more painful than any punch that could be thrown his way.
So he resolves not to tell James, to spare himself of the mental and physical pain that would come with it.
Still, it doesn’t stop him from envisioning what the outcome of this path might bring. He can see it so clearly in his head—can see it going so well, can see it working out for them. He can imagine the confession spilling out of his lips as they walk out of the rink together, can see James approaching him with a soft look in his eyes, can see him gently brushing a thumb along Regulus’s cheek. He can hear James breathe out softly that he feels the same, that he’s wanted this for months, can picture him leaning in, can imagine what it will feel like the moment their mouths meet—
And then he has to stop himself, to remind himself that there’s no point in visualizing a scenario that will never happen, that will never come true. There’s no point in regretting a thing which cannot be.
So he rules out the second route as well.
This all but limits him to the third route, to the easiest path—keeping his mouth shut and saying nothing at all, even when he thinks the silence might kill him.
There are times when it feels harder to keep his mouth shut than to just let everything out. It happens when he and Sirius are having one of their late-night conversations in Sirius’s room and it seems so easy, so simple to just open his mouth and tell him what’s been going on. Even when he and James catch a moment alone outside of his house, and Regulus glances over at him and wonders what would happen if he just leaned forward and kissed him as hard as he could.
But this isn’t the easiest path because it’s the easiest action. It’s the easiest path because the outcome carries the least amount of harm.
He tells himself that as the week goes on and he adjusts to his new feelings, adjusts to what it’s like to actively have a crush for the first time. It’s funny—all of the years he thought that he was above it, considered himself too busy or too driven to have the time for any of this nonsense, and he now finds that he’s no better than anyone else. He could laugh if he weren’t so miserable. Nothing helps him; not even sleep. When he lies in bed at night, all he can do is imagine James. James’s eyes staring intensely at his, James’s hot breath as he leans forward, James’s hands pulling him in, running through his hair, touching him—
He’s restless. And he despises it.
He isn’t sure whether it works in or against his favor that he rarely gets a moment alone with James at first, between Sirius being back and nationals preparation. There have been a couple of times, times when Sirius didn’t tag along to the rink and Regulus walked out with James to his car, times when they’ve been hanging out altogether and Sirius runs to the bathroom or goes to the other room to take a phone call. Between his teammates in Kamloops, his doctor, his physical therapist, and Frank all checking up on him, he seems to be incredibly popular. But none of them have been enough for Regulus to do something incredibly stupid, to fuck up the already so delicate friendship they’ve built.
That changes a few days before Sirius is set to have surgery.
Regulus is home by himself for once, and he’s pulled up his favorite figure skating programs of all time on the television. It’s something he used to do a lot more when he was younger, but stopped at the demands of his mother: you have to develop your own style, mon caneton! However, considering the fact that she currently isn’t home, he doesn’t see the harm in doing so. He’s too stressed about his own programs to even consider watching back the run throughs that she’s recorded at the rink, and he finds it strangely calming to watch his most beloved athletes skate their programs instead. It’s nice not to be thinking about his own routines for a few minutes, even if he’ll have to go right back into it tomorrow.
The door clicks open and Regulus tenses up, his right hand immediately finding the remote and preparing to click pause. Then, he hears the voices speaking.
"—there’s hockey on right now if you wanted to watch—“
“Nope,” Sirius retorts, sounding bitter. Regulus tenses; he was expecting his mother or father to be home. He’s not sure if this is worse. “Absolutely the last fucking thing I want to do.” Regulus watches as the two of them come into view, Sirius immediately making a beeline for the stairs. He hears the clomping of his footsteps only seconds later, and then the slam of a door.
And then he watches as James hesitates at the edge of the stairs, totally frozen in place. He doesn’t know what to do; Regulus doesn’t blame him. The closer to his surgery they’ve gotten, the more bitter Sirius becomes. Regulus has no idea how to handle it either.
Eventually, James turns away from the stairs—and looks right to Regulus. He’s startled for a moment, like he didn’t realize Regulus had seen the whole thing. Then he clears his throat and speaks.
“Oh, hey Reg.”
The nickname makes his stomach flip. “Hi,” he manages, swallowing thickly. Please don’t come over here, please don’t come over here, please don’t come over here, he begs in his mind.
James comes over.
“Sorry about that, I don’t…really know what’s going on with him,” he says after a moment, glancing back up to the stairs. Regulus shrugs.
”He’s been like that all week,” he responds. “Give him time.”
James nods after a moment, though Regulus doesn’t see James doing as he says. “I just— yeah, okay,” he says, staring off at some point in the distance. “Okay.” The noise of the TV suddenly feels much more announced, much more prominent, as a familiar song starts up. Amid the silence James hears it too, and glances over at the screen. “Hey, isn’t this the song you skate to?”
Regulus is stunned that James remembers, blinking once or twice. “Yeah,” he says, and that’s all it takes for James to take a seat beside him on the couch, gazing up at the television. He scoots over, creating an inch of room between them, as he speaks again. “This is, um, Johnny Weir. At the 2006 Olympics." He forgets that’s how this whole mess began, all that time ago. Because James watched him skate to this song, skate to The Swan, and Regulus hated that he did. He should’ve just left him alone about it. Maybe if he’d just ignored him, he would’ve never fallen so far.
“Woah,” James breathes out from next to him as Johnny snaps up into his opening triple axel, completely entranced the way that Regulus once remembers himself being. Johnny Weir—the first skater that he ever fell in love with. He still remembers watching his old performances with Sirius, the ones that happened before he was even born. He remembers attempting to recreate his choreography out on the ice, mimicking each graceful and articulated movement of his fingers. He remembers the admiration he had, the pure wonder every time he graced his screen. And he definitely isn’t trying to distract himself from the fact that there might be a connection between him and really liking guys whose names start with the letter J…
James doesn’t talk much from next to him as the program goes on, Johnny performing every single element just as gorgeously as Regulus recalls. Regulus glances over to him at some point, and finds that James has become completely sucked into the routine, leaning forward on the couch with his mouth falling open ever so slightly. Regulus can’t stop the tiny smile that forms on his face as he turns to look ahead at the screen again.
Eventually, like always, the program ends. As Johnny exits the combination spin and steps into his final pose, his right hand gently grazing his left cheek as his other arm lingers in the air behind him, Regulus finds his stomach twisting. Yeah, he thinks to himself, only holding back a grimace because James is right next to him and would ask him what’s wrong, that was definitely a crush. Jesus, how could he have been so oblivious? How could he not have known until James?
"Holy fuck,” James says at last, and Regulus can feel the air shift as James turns over to look at him. He can tell by the airiness in James’s voice that he truly is blown away. “That was gorgeous.”
"Yeah,” Regulus says, eyes still trained on the television. He’s afraid of what will happen if he looks over. Though he’s created space between them, James is still closer than he’d like, and Regulus fears that James will be able to look right at him and somehow just… know. “He was always my favorite when I was little. Before Hanyu.”
James’s next question immediately wipes any semblance of a smile off of Regulus’s face. “He won, right?”
Regulus refocuses his gaze to the floor now, and can only bring himself to shake his head. “He never won an Olympic medal.” At these games or at Vancouver in 2010, he wants to add.
"What?” James suddenly asks, seeming genuinely puzzled. “How?”
Regulus sighs, wondering where he could even start. James has opened the floodgates, and now Regulus will likely make him regret doing so. “I mean, the answer that the judges will tell you is because he didn’t jump quads,” he begins, “but they also underscored him. This sport, it’s all political, and the judges were old and they hated him. They thought his costumes were too flamboyant and that only girls should be skating to these songs and all that other bullshit, and so they never gave him the scores he deserved. He should’ve medaled at Vancouver, but he didn’t because everyone knew he was—“ He cuts himself off there, realizing what he was about to say. But James is looking at him far too curiously now, and Regulus can’t just end the conversation. He clears his throat before continuing, “—everyone knew he was gay. And they didn’t want him standing on the podium tainting the image of figure skating.”
James seems more puzzled at this explanation than anything else. “They thought he tainted the image?” he asks after a second. “ How?”
Regulus nods at this. “Yeah,” he says simply, trying not to think too hard on the angry passion he just displayed for this subject. James doesn’t know anything, he tries to remind himself. Not unless you make it obvious. “We’re supposed to be classy and traditional. They didn’t think he was.”
James’s expression shifts at this, changing from confusion to curiosity. “I thought they were more accepting in your sport.”
He says it like he’s genuinely surprised, like this is completely new and contradictory information to him. But it’s the way James says your sport that makes Regulus tense up slightly, that fills him with nerves as he wonders if James is purposely inferring anything. “It’s getting better now,” he says cautiously, “but it’s still all political. You still can’t taint the image.”
"Oh.”
Regulus fears that he’s completely ruined this conversation, that he’s about to find out the worst from James and then his crush will only feel like more of a crushing weight on his chest. James is frowning now, and Regulus is wondering if he’s just trying to be nice about this.
Or maybe he’s caught on.
”Well, that’s fucking stupid,” James says at last, and Regulus feels like he can breathe. “Fuck those judges.”
Regulus laughs at this, nodding along. “Fuck them,” he says in agreement.
He didn’t react as horribly as you thought he might.
A moment passes between them as they meet each other’s gazes on the couch, and Regulus almost spills his guts right here and now. He’s not sure if it’s James’s reaction being better than he anticipated giving him a confidence boost or the fact that the gap between them has seemingly shut closed by itself. But he wants to speak, wants to tell him everything, wants to see what would come of just blurting it out and watching his reaction.
His phone buzzing in his back pocket is the only thing that brings him back to his senses.
As he pulls out his phone and looks at his screen, he immediately glances back up to James. “Mom’s on her way back home,” he says, his heart sinking. “You should probably—“
"Yeah,” James nods, quickly bouncing up onto his feet. “Yeah, of course.”
He’s gone soon enough, and Regulus is left to wonder what the hell he was thinking.
❅ ❅ ❅
It happens again shortly after.
”God, you fucking idiot!” James is yelling at the screen. “Finish on that chance! Fuck!” Somehow, he’s finally managed to talk Sirius into coming over and watching hockey at his place, and Sirius had insisted that Regulus go too. ”Please, it’s the Canucks playing and he gets so passionate, it’s so funny,” Sirius had explained, “you have to see it.” Regulus wondered to himself if there was possibly any way that James could become even more enthusiastic than he was while watching Sirius, and decided there was no harm in going. Maybe he’d get so terrified of James that it would shake away any sort of feelings for him.
Sirius is laughing from beside Regulus, his arms crossed in amusement as he watches his friend. “That good luck sweater not doing you any favors?” he asks, referring to James’s bright blue Canucks jersey that he wears. Regulus has never seen it before; he watches as James turns to face them, the 43 with the name Hughes disappearing as he’s greeted with the giant whale logo on the front. James just shakes his head, storming back to the couch.
“Good luck doesn’t mean shit to this team,” he says simply, grumbling as the buzzer that ends the period sounds. “They’ve had, like, a million lucky opportunities and they’ve messed up every single one.”
Right then, Sirius’s ringtone goes off; Regulus fights back a laugh as the familiar Bluey theme song starts, equally amused every time. He hopes Sirius never changes it. He checks it and then looks to them. “I’ll be back,” is all he says before he disappears around the corner.
Regulus looks over to James now, who is still silently fuming as he slumps over on the couch. It’s a little hard not to find humor in his wallowing considering the fact that he’s practically swimming in his jersey, resembling an upset child on Christmas. “I mean, I don’t think I could even push a puck,” he says after a moment, “so, they’re doing better than I would.”
”You’d probably be better,” James remarks snidely, still slighted by his team. Regulus can’t pretend he doesn’t know the feeling; it’s heartbreaking to watch skaters on the television mess up every element in a program, over and over again. Still, considering the fact that the Canucks play 82 games while there’s only a few competitions throughout the entire season, it’s entertaining.
Then, James gets a glint in his eyes. Regulus catches it, and fear begins to build up as he watches James glance outside. Oh no, he thinks. He’s gotten an idea, hasn’t he?
”Get your coat on.”
That’s how Regulus ends up outside in the freezing cold, his trembling hands gripping one of James’s street hockey sticks as he attempts to get a hold of the ball on the floor. He’s thankful that, at least, it isn’t currently snowing. He thinks snow would make this a million times worse than it already is.
”Okay, now just shoot at the net,” James says from beside him. Regulus wants to retort that it’s easy for him to do, considering that he’s probably been doing this since he came out of the womb.
He looks at the net first, lying straight ahead of him and providing him an easy pathway. He wonders how many nights James has spent out here by himself, how many nights he’s done this with Sirius. He wonders if James is about to think less of him after all of these pitiful attempts. Breathing deeply, he draws the stick back, and then attempts to hit the ball as hard as he can.
He watches as it pathetically rolls forward, and doesn’t even make it to the net.
It’s not surprising, considering that his last ten attempts have gone like this. But it’s frustrating nonetheless. “James, I’m not getting this,” he says exasperatedly, slamming the stick on the ground and looking over to James. “I suck.”
James shakes his head. “No, you don’t suck, you’re just not shooting it hard enough,” he says. And then, to Regulus’s horror, he watches as James approaches him. He’s expecting James to grab the stick from him, to show him how it’s done, so he pushes it out in front of himself, ready to offer it up.
Regulus is mortified when that isn’t what James does at all.
“Here,” James says, approaching him from behind and closing the distance. Then he reaches his arms out, placing both of his hands on top of Regulus’s, and Regulus freezes completely, forgetting how to act, forgetting how to think—forgetting how to breathe.
From there, James uses his arms to guide him, to guide his direction with the stick. He digs it much further into the ground with more force than Regulus would ever dare to use, cradling the ball with the blade of the stick. “You have to think of it more like you’re scooping up, like you’re pulling. And then, when you have enough tension, you just—“ He pushes the stick forward now, and all of the force he’s built up against the ball releases. Regulus watches as the ball flies now, hitting the top corner of the net and bouncing against the post on the way in. “—Push.”
For a moment, Regulus can only stare at the ball in the back of the net, dumbfounded by how effortless it is for James. Then, he feels James’s breath against his neck, feels his heart pounding as James leans forward and talks right into his ear. “That make sense?”
Regulus can’t help himself—he turns around to look at James.
Their eyes meet, and everything shifts.
For a moment, all Regulus can do is stare, never having been this close to him. And he’s noticing so many new things about him. He’s noticing the specks of hazel amongst James’s dark brown eyes, noticing the way that his hair is curlier in the front, noticing the length of his eyelashes. And he wants .
He wants more of this. He wants James to hold onto him like this forever, wants to never let him go. It terrifies him how much he wants.
He flinches away before he can do anything he regrets, shaking his hands out of James’s as the stick drops to the ground. Though the cold bites at his skin, his body has never felt warmer. Then, he clears his throat, not trusting himself to speak.
Finally, he does. “I think I’ll stick to figure skating.”
It’s quiet between them for a minute, Regulus refusing to look at him. He trains his eyes on the ground instead, clasping his hands together and already missing the feeling of James’s.
The door opens, and Regulus thinks hearing Sirius’s voice is a blessing in disguise. “Hey, third period’s on!” he calls out to them.
Regulus makes a beeline for the door before James can say anything at all.
❅ ❅ ❅
The inevitable question from his brother comes the next day.
“What the fuck is going on with you and James?”
He asks it as they sit in the bleachers, atop a blanket so that their legs don’t touch the freezing metal. It’s bad enough sitting on these bleachers in the summertime; in the wintertime, when the rink is at least 20 degrees colder, it’s a million times worse.
Regulus finally glances away from the ice as the whistle sounds, signaling a stoppage in play. He and Sirius are watching the Marauders play their very last game before the Christmas break, and it couldn’t be going better. With just minutes left to go, they’re up 8-0. Though Regulus thinks it’s great, he also thinks maybe he’d be happier about it if the game wasn’t at 7 AM and he was more awake. “What?” he asks, though that isn’t his full question. What part of it are you referring to? Where do you want me to begin?
Sirius sighs, with a look on his face that bears into Regulus’s soul. “Come on, dude,” he says. Regulus has to turn away. “Look, I didn’t want to bring it up. You guys just started liking each other.” If only you had any idea, he thinks to himself as Sirius speaks. “But James hasn’t left me alone about this entire thing. He would not stop asking if you were mad at him. I told him you weren’t, because you gave me no reason to think you were. But then at James’s place yesterday, I poked my head out the door and you were refusing to even look at him. What’s going on?”
Regulus glances back over at him now, frantic as he attempts to think of a defense. “Nothing!” he exclaims, which he immediately regrets. Sirius knows him too well for him to be spewing bullshit that he’ll see right through.
"Regulus, you can tell me…”
"I swear to god, it’s nothing,” Regulus says in a pitiful attempt to double down. “I’ve been busy with training for nationals, it’s not my fault—“
"Yeah, but he’s the only one you’ve been a dick to,” Sirius points out, and Regulus can’t deny it. Instead, he shuts his mouth and focuses his attention again on the game ahead.
They watch the game together for a minute, until the silence is too loud. “You don’t have anything to worry about, you know,” Sirius says after a moment, and Regulus’s heart skips a beat. Huh? he wonders, glancing over again. Does he… know?
Regulus speaks, his heart finding the back of his throat. “I don’t?”
Sirius nods. “I don’t know what you’ve told yourself, but James isn’t going to steal me away again.”
Oh.
Regulus tries to keep his face from falling, but he can’t deny the relief that comes over him as he’s saved from having to reveal himself to Sirius. He plays along with the reasoning that Sirius has invented for his behavior. “He isn’t,” Regulus repeats, waiting for Sirius to affirm it.
Sirius puts his hand on his brother’s shoulder, looking incredibly genuine. “No.” He clears his throat before he speaks again, turning towards the ice and then back towards Regulus. “Look, I’ve been fucking terrible to you the past few years. I left you behind, and then I blamed you for pushing me away. And I’m so, so sorry for that.”
Regulus shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry,” he says after a moment. “I was a dick too.”
"Yeah, but—“
" Sirius,” Regulus cuts him off. Once Sirius’s mouth closes, he continues. “You didn’t leave me behind. At all. We just…chose different paths. And I hated you for not taking mine, but I think you taking mine would’ve driven you fucking crazy.” Sirius laughs at this, a confirmation of what Regulus knew to be true already. “And for what it’s worth, you’re doing pretty alright on your path,” he says, and he watches Sirius’s eyes light up in amusement at this statement.
"Yeah?” Sirius says.
Regulus nods. “Yeah.” He pauses before he speaks again, contemplating what to say next. “I think I just need to get used to this,” he eventually decides, bringing the conversation back to why it initially started. It isn’t exactly a lie—he does need to learn how to get his feelings under control better. But the next statement is a lie. “To how things have changed.” To this seething jealousy, to my heart skipping a beat every time James is even in the same vicinity as me, to feeling sick to my stomach nearly every minute of every day. But he can’t say any of that out loud.
Sirius’s expression is completely understanding. Regulus nearly feels guilty for keeping the truth from him, for only telling him part of his reasoning. “They won’t go back to before,” he says finally, his voice firm as he makes the declaration. “I promise.”
Regulus nods at this, offering him as best a smile as he can.Before he can speak, however, the final buzzer sounds, and the home crowd erupts into applause. (Even when the Marauders play their games at the earliest hours of the morning, the bleachers are still packed with high school students and parents alike. Regulus can’t fathom it. He doesn’t see why Sirius moved to Canada for the hockey when Minnesota is the next best thing.) Regulus looks forward and watches as the players hop over the benches, just as enthused as the crowd as they rush out and practically tackle Peter to the ground. He has to put a hand over his mouth to keep from cackling as Peter waves his hands around in the air, uselessly attempting to get everyone off of him. Once he’s managed to pull himself together, he claps as enthusiastically as he can manage, and, just for a moment, he allows himself to forget about everything else except for this. To forget about James, forget about nationals, forget about Sirius’s injury, forget about everything else in his life. For right now, all that matters is him and Sirius, just like it used to be.