Chapter 3
The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow upon the room where Regulus lay, his mind a tumultuous sea of conflicting emotions. As he stirred from his sleep, the events of the previous night flooded back with a jarring clarity, like shards of glass piercing his fragile resolve.
Regulus sat up slowly, his gaze sweeping across the familiar surroundings that now felt tainted with regret. James lay beside him, his features softened by sleep, a gentle reminder of the vulnerability they had shared in the darkness of the night.
A wave of self-loathing washed over Regulus as he buried his face in his hands, his heart heavy with the weight of guilt. What had he done? How could he have been so reckless with James's heart, knowing full well the impossibility of their situation?
Images of his family, of Bellatrix, flashed before his eyes like a cruel reminder of the life he was expected to lead—a life devoid of the love he had glimpsed in James's eyes. He felt suffocated by the constraints of duty, trapped in a web of expectations that threatened to consume him whole.
He couldn't allow this... this foolish infatuation to jeopardize everything he had ever known. He couldn't subject James to a life of secrecy and shame, condemned to the shadows of their forbidden desires. But the thing was, he did not want to just love James in the dark. More than anything, he wanted to love him outloud, out in the sunshine.
But his parents would never allow that. Not only was James a Potter- a family that opposed his family’s own views at every point, but he was also a boy. And yet, as he looked upon James's sleeping form, a tenderness stirred within him—a yearning that defied reason and rationale. How could something so beautiful be so utterly unattainable?
Guilt gnawed at Regulus's insides as he wrestled with the implications of their shared confession. He couldn't shake the sense of betrayal that lingered in the air—a betrayal of his family, of tradition, of everything he had been raised to believe.
Regulus's thoughts swirled in a maelstrom of self-recrimination. He couldn't afford to indulge in fantasies that could never be realized. He owed it to James, to himself, to put an end to this before it spiraled out of control.
With a heavy heart, Regulus turned to glance at James one last time—a silent farewell to the love he could never truly claim. And with each step he took towards the door, he felt the weight of his choices settling upon his shoulders, a burden he would carry for the rest of his days.
But deep down, in the darkest recesses of his heart, Regulus couldn't help but wonder if he had made the biggest mistake of his life. Not the confession, that was not the mistake. The falling. The falling and leaving. And as he walked away from James, from the love that had dared to bloom in the darkness, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was leaving behind a part of himself, perhaps the best part, that he would never be able reclaim.
Regulus stumbled out of James's room, his steps heavy with the weight of his conflicting emotions. As he walked away, he fiercely wiped the tears from his eyes, cursing himself for showing such weakness. How could he let himself be so vulnerable, so reckless?
Memories flooded his mind—of a younger Regulus, alone in the cold darkness of his family home. He remembered the times he had cried, seeking solace in tears, only to be met with harsh punishment. His parents had scorned his tears, deeming them unworthy of their pureblood son. "I'll give you something to cry about," they had said before unleashing the searing pain of the Cruciatus Curse.
Regulus's jaw clenched at the memory, his fists tightening at his sides. He hated that part of himself—the part that yearned for love and acceptance, the part that cried out for connection. It was a weakness, a vulnerability that he couldn't afford to show, especially not now.
As he made his way through James's home, the unfamiliar corridors seemed to mock him with their warmth and comfort. This was not his world. He didn't belong here, wrapped in the arms of forbidden desire. James deserved better—a life free from shame and from the mess that was himself. He was drowning in a sea of self-loathing, suffocated by the weight of his own inadequacy.
As he reached the front door, Regulus paused, his hand resting against the cool wood. His mind raced with thoughts of James—his infectious laughter, his unwavering loyalty, the way he saw through Regulus's facade with disarming clarity. They had become more than colleagues; they were friends, confidants. And now, Regulus feared he had jeopardized it all.
Regulus leaned against the wall, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as he struggled to compose himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the tormenting thoughts that threatened to consume him whole.
James deserved better—a friend who didn't burden him with the weight of their own forbidden desires, a companion who didn't drag him into the depths of their own self-loathing. Regulus's chest tightened at the mere thought of losing James, not just as someone who loved him, but as a friend—the one person who had managed to see beyond his mask and still accepted him for who he truly was. Who somehow still thought that he was worthy of love, evidently.
But how could James continue to stand by him, knowing the darkness that lurked within his soul? How could he bear to look into those eyes filled with warmth and understanding, knowing that he was unworthy of such kindness?
Regulus clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to stave off the overwhelming tide of despair. He had always been a burden—a disappointment to his family, a failure in the eyes of society. And now, he had dragged James down with him, ensnaring him in the tangled web of his own insecurities and inadequacies.
Unable to bear the weight of his thoughts any longer, Regulus pushed himself away from the wall, his movements heavy and unsteady. Without another glance back at James's welcoming home, he focused on a distant point in his mind, feeling the familiar pull of apparition.
In an instant, Regulus vanished from James's home, leaving behind the warmth and comfort that now felt suffocating. He materialized in a secluded alleyway, his breaths still ragged as he struggled to regain his composure.
Alone in the quiet solitude of the alley, Regulus sank to his knees and eventually slumped with his back against a brick wall, the weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Tears streamed down his cheeks, unchecked and unbidden, as he cursed himself for his weakness.
"I'm sorry, James," he whispered into the empty air, his voice choked with anguish. "I am so, so sorry for everything."
He thinks to himself that receiving the Cruciatus Curse from his mother would have hurt less than whatever this pain was.