Chapter 2
One of the first things James’ therapist had told him when he opened up to her, was that the things he had done during crisis, did not define who he was as a person. She had reassured him over and over and over that just because he was bipolar, that it did not mean that was all he was. He was still james.
It had pulled a massive weight off his chest at the time, but now, walking through an unfamiliar town in only his socks, James thinks maybe bipolar is all he ever will be again.
You can’t really come back from what he had done. No one would ever trust him fully again. Running from a fucking hospital- god what had he done.
He supposed it was fitting. He’d been running from something everyday since he knew how. First the disappointment of the ones around him, then his own mind.
James knew his last dose of meds would be wearing off soon, he’d been walking around for hours at this point, through alleyways and walkways as far away from the hospital as he could go. He just needed to think, decide what to do next, and he couldn’t when his brain was so fogged from the medication and sedatives they’d stuffed into him.
A clear mind, that’s all he asked for.
It’s dark before the fog calms down and james is shivering in the light shorts and shirt he’d been wearing. Suddenly, with alarming clarity compared to any other thought in his mind, James finds himself wanting to go back.
Not to the hospital or to his house but back in time.
James almost crumples to the ground at the thought, all the fight and defiance leaving his body at once. He finds himself steering himself towards an old park bench as he wills himself to cry.
He thought maybe he just had to get it out of his system. He hadn’t cried in so long, the numb taking over his life in a way that consumed him.
So no, he didn’t cry on that park bench. He simply sat and stared. Off into the distance as if he could see far enough away that he went back in time towards who he used to be. The boy with the smile that had lit up a room.
The boy who went to parties and laughed loudly, the boy who ran and who screamed in delight when his team scored a goal. The boy who rallied those around him. The boy who was long, long gone, and who wasn’t coming back.
His therapist had once told him that when he feels like the worlds going to end, it just feels that way because his brain won’t let himself see the opportunity to get better. He thinks that’s a load of shit.
He feels like the world’s going to end because the person who everyone loved and cherished is dead. And the shell of who he was, was all that remained.
For a brief and horrifying moment James finds himself wondering if it would be easier on everyone if he were to be dead. After all, maybe there wouldn’t be so much grief, given the fact that the version of himself people would miss died the day his symptoms began to show.
James is automatically horrified with himself for such a thought. Normal people didn’t think things like that. But everything hurts, All the time, and he doesn’t know what to do with that.
A harsh wind whips around him and james finds himself falling back into the moment, yanked from his head by the reminder of where he was, and how he had gotten here.
He was cold, tired and just so fucking over everything. He’d done somthing stupid and selfish by running away, and he knew people were probably sick with worry by now.
Sighing, he whips his head around to find a telephone box not far from where he had sat on the park bench. Pulling himself up, he scours his mind for any number he could call, one that he could remember.
There’s only one persons number he knows off my heart, and his heart clenches at the thought that he had worried his best friend again.
He dials the number and waits as it rings, feeling oh so tired as he prays to a god he doesnt believe in, that sirius would pick up the phone.
“Hello?”
James could sob in relief. He scrambles for a moment for words and breaths shakily into the phone
“Wait- james?? Hello!? James is that you?” There’s a storm of worry in his voice and it’s pinched in a way James knows sirius has been crying. He never wanted to make anyone sad, he’d just needed to get away.
James chokes on a tearless sob, “padfoot” is all he can manage and James listens as there’s rustling and yelling on the other end of the line, then suddenly Sirius’ voice is back,
“Where are you mate? James? You gotta tell me where you are.”
He sounds terrified and james is overcome with guilt like no other.
“-m sorry pads” he hiccups, “m so sorry- this isn’t me, this isn’t me… I don’t know why I’m like this. Please please don’t be mad”
Sirius’ response is instant and softer than before, as if he’s pulled himself together at his words.
“James, prongs- buddy, it’s okay, no one’s mad, we’re just worried about you. Can you tell me where you are?”
James hates himself for the way he can’t seem to focus enough to answer the question, mind only focused on the pure hatred he feels for himself in that moment. He heaves for air as he finds himself pushing out words he doesn’t have control over,
“I know that I can be fucking crazy and sick and self destructive but under all that deep down I’m still me and I need you to tell me that I’m still me… Sirius, tell me please, padfoot tell me I’m still me”
He doesn’t know why he’s begging Sirius for this. He knows the answer anyway. Knows that he’s not him anymore. He’s a shell of who he was, this fucked up illness like a parasite on his brain.
The other line is only silent for a beat and he can tell sirius is scrambling for words. Suddenly there’s rustling on the other line and sirius lets out a yelp before there’s another voice coming through that makes james almost crumble
“Jamie love, it’s me, can you tell us where you are?”
Regulus
His regulus.
Yet James can’t help feel dizzy with the weight of what it meant that sirius didn’t answer.
“Reg please” he cries out, “I want to be me again, I don’t know what’s happening to me, please”
And James isn’t exactly sure what he’s asking for, isn’t sure if it’s anything regulus can fix, but he begs anyway.
“You are the same James that I’ve always loved. You are you. You just aren’t feeling well at the moment and need some help to feel like you again, but you will Jamie I promise you will”
There’s a tremor in his voice that tells James that regulus is scared, but is pulling himself together for James like he always does.
“Promise?” James asks, feeling oh so like a child, but he’s just really fucking tired and so he pleads with his boyfriend like a tall child.
“I promise.” Regulus tells him softly, and james breathes a sigh of relief. Regulus doesn’t make promises he doesn’t keep, and despite the fact that deep down, he knows regulus can’t promise this kind of thing, james trust him. He trusts him with every fibre of his being.
“Love, can you look around and tell me if there’s any street signs? Could you tell me what’s it says?”
James finds himself lifting his head slowly, gazing around him before his eyes lock onto a street sign just up the road, he briefly curses his bad vision despite the fact he has his glasses on.
“Magnolia avenue” he whispers into the phone, and in that moment it clicks in his muddled brain that being found meant going back to the hospital.
The hospital where they poked and prodded, sticking him with needles when his emotions became too much for them to handle. The place where they took everything from him and expected him to feel better.
Just like hours earlier, his first instinct at the thought is to run. Drop the phone and run until he couldn’t breathe. But he’s tired of hurting the people around him. So fucking tired of it and it aches.
“Stay there Jamie, sirius and I are coming- we’ll be there soon you’ve just got to stay there for me” regulus begs him over the line, as if he can read his thoughts, and james nods despite knowing regulus can’t see him.
No one speaks for a moment or two, and James finds himself wishing he’d just taken that stupid beanie his mum had offered him. He doesn’t know why it made him lose it. He just gets so worked up all of the time now, like he can’t control himself and It’s terrifying really.
“I’m really sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this.” He finds himself whispering into the phone, silently begging for forgiveness
Regulus lets out a soft, sad sound. “It’s not your fault Jamie love, you aren’t feeling well, we don’t blame you”
And that’s just it isn’t it? Because he’s not well. He’s infected by this disorder and it’s taking everything out of him.
As a set of headlights coming into vision, James finds himself crumbling to the ground, dropping the phone as he pulls his knees to his chest and heaves for air.
He wants to go back. He wants to go back. He wants to go back.
He wants to go back to before he lost control.