The days leading up to the match were fraught with tension, an invisible thread pulling tighter with each passing moment. At 26, James Potter was the captain of Arsenal’s first team squad, he was consumed by a relentless drive to push himself to the limit, to prove himself worthy of the title he held. But as the hours slipped away, his focus narrowed, his mind fixated on the singular goal of victory.
Regulus Black, the longterm boyfriend of James Potter has seen James’ unwavering determination and dedication towards football. Regulus was beyond proud of his boyfriend and quite enjoyed being a WAG to (unbiasedly) the best footballer in the premier league. However, since James recent promotion to being captain of Arsenal's first team squad, Regulus has noticed how James has pushed himself harder and harder, neglecting his own well-being in pursuit of glory. Regulus’ just watched from the sidelines, his concern growing and simmering beneath the surface like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt.
Regulus sits alone at the dinner table. James said he’d just go on a quick run and promised he’d be back before dinner was ready. That was two hours ago, dinner was long cold by now and James was still not home. Regulus felt his heart squeeze with guilt, he knew James was struggling yet Regulus was still mad at James for neglecting their relationship.
When James finally arrives back from his run, Regulus is still sitting at the dinner table. He has eaten his dinner and across from him James’ plate is untouched, served with the dinner Regulus made him.
“James,” Regulus speaks softly, sitting in the dimly lit room. “I think you should slow down. You’re pushing yourself too hard.”
James’ gaze struggled to meet Regulus’ however, James’ struggled to mask his irritation as he plastered on a smile. “I’m fine Reg. Just preparing for the game.”
Regulus’ heart sank at the deflection, at the wall James has built between them. “You’re not fine James. You’re exhausted. You’re barely sleeping, barely eating—”
“I don’t have time for that!” James snapped, his frustration boiling over. “I have a team to lead, Reg. I can’t afford to let them down!”
“You’re letting yourself down James,” Regulus countered, his voice tight with emotion. “And you’re letting me down too.”
The words hung heavy in the air between them, a painful reminder of the chasm that had begun to widen in their relationship. Regulus had always been there for James, had always supported him, but lately, it felt like they were ships passing in the night, their paths diverging as James became lost in the whirlwind of his career.
“I… I’m sorry,” James breathed out, frustration and exhaustion present in his tone. He still struggles to meet Regulus’ gaze. “I’m just stressed and I’m finding it difficult to manage my time properly. I’m so focused on the game, on winning. I can’t seem to turn it off.”
Regulus makes his way across the room to James. He reaches for James’ hands still feeling a million miles apart. “I know, James. But you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. It’s not sustainable.”
James knew Regulus was stubborn and that this conversation wouldn’t get anywhere if James kept pleading his case. Not wanting to make things worse James swallowed hard, guilt clawing at his insides as he looks into Regulus’s eyes. “I know. I’ll try to do better, I promise.”
But promises were fragile things, easily broken in the harsh light of reality. And as the days wore on, James’s resolve wavered, his mind solely consumed by the relentless need to be better forcing him to forget about resting, eating and his loving boyfriend.
On the day of the match, James felt like a coiled spring, his nerves wound tight with anticipation. But as he stepped onto the field, the roar of the crowd washing over him like a tidal wave, he felt a flicker of doubt, a shadow of uncertainty creeping into his mind. His one grounding thought was knowing that Regulus was out there, supporting him.
Regulus watched from the stands, his heart in his throat as he saw the strain etched into James's features, the weariness that clung to him like a second skin. He wanted to reach out, to pull James back from the precipice he teetered on, but he knew that James had to find his own way back from the edge.
As the game progressed, James's exhaustion began to catch up with him, his movements growing sluggish, his breath coming in ragged gasps. But still, he pressed on, driven by a determination that bordered on obsession, unwilling to concede defeat.
And then, in the final minutes of the match, it happened. James collapsed on the field, his body betraying him as the world spun dizzily around him.
The stadium fell silent, a hushed gasp echoing through the air as medical staff rushed onto the field, their urgent voices a cacophony of sound. But amidst the chaos, there was one voice that cut through the noise, clear and unwavering.
"James," Regulus cried, his heart shattering as he watched his boyfriend lying motionless on the grass, his eyes closed against the pain. "James, please, wake up."
James stirred, his eyelids fluttering open as he struggled to focus, the world a blur of colors and shapes. And as he looked up at Regulus, his heart clenched with remorse, knowing that he had let him down once again.
"I'm sorry," James whispered, his voice barely a whisper as he reached out to touch Regulus's face, his fingers trembling with regret. "I never wanted to hurt you."
Regulus's eyes filled with tears as he took James's hand in his own, his touch a lifeline in the darkness. "You didn't hurt me, James. I'm just glad you're okay."
But James wasn't okay, not really. And as he lay in the hospital bed, his body weary and broken, he couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at his insides, the knowledge that he had pushed himself too far, had let his pride blind him to the truth.
Hours turned into days as James languished in the sterile confines of the hospital room, his body slowly healing but his spirit fractured and fragile. And through it all, Regulus never left his side, his presence a beacon of hope in the darkness, a reminder that he was not alone.
The days that followed James's collapse on the field were a blur of exhaustion and uncertainty, a fragile thread of hope woven through the darkness that threatened to engulf them. As they returned home from the hospital, Regulus's heart ached with worry, his mind a whirlwind of fears and doubts.
But as he looked at James, pale and frail in the dim light of their apartment, he knew that he couldn't let his own fears consume him. He had to be strong for James, to be his rock in the storm that raged within him.
"I'll make you some soup," Regulus said softly, his voice a gentle murmur as he moved around the kitchen, the familiar ritual a comforting balm against the chaos that threatened to overwhelm them. "You need to eat something."
James nodded weakly, his gaze fixed on the floor as he sat at the table, his shoulders hunched with exhaustion. "Thank you, Reg. I'm sorry for putting you through all of this."
Regulus's heart clenched at the vulnerability in James's voice, the raw edge of pain that cut through the facade of strength he wore like armour. "Please don't apologise, James. You have nothing to apologise for. I just want you to feel better."
But James felt like he wasn’t really ever going to feel better. And as Regulus watched him struggle to eat, his appetite diminished by the weight of his own guilt, he knew that they had a long road ahead of them, a journey fraught with obstacles and uncertainty.
The days stretched into weeks as James slowly regained his strength, well physical strength anyway. James was still struggling mentally, his thoughts limited to every mistake he had made over the last few weeks; it was like a thick, dark blanket that smothered him, giving him no escape.
"Are you okay?" Regulus asked one evening, as they sat together on the couch, the soft glow of the television casting shadows across the room. "You've been quiet lately."
James shrugged, his gaze fixed on the flickering screen before him, his mind lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts. "I'm fine, Reg. Just tired."
But Regulus knew better than to accept the facade James presented to the world. He could see the strain etched into the lines of his face, the weariness that clung to him like a second skin. And he knew that they couldn't continue like this, that they had to confront the darkness that had reached every corner of James brain, if they ever hoped to find peace.
"James," Regulus said softly, reaching out to touch his arm gently, his touch a silent plea for honesty. "You can't keep ignoring your feelings. I want you to talk to me. I need you to talk to me."
James's shoulders tensed beneath his touch, his defences rising like a wall between them. "I don't know what you want me to say, Reg. I'm fine."
But Regulus wasn't fooled by the mask James wore, the facade of strength he clung to like a lifeline. He could see the pain in his eyes, the fear that gnawed at his insides, and he knew that they couldn't continue like this, that they had to face the truth, no matter how painful it might be.
"James," Regulus said gently, his voice tinged with sadness. "I know you're scared. I know you're hurting. But you don't have to go through this alone. I'm here for you, always."
Tears welled in James's eyes as he looked at Regulus, his heart heavy with the weight of his own guilt. "I'm sorry, Reg. I'm so sorry for pushing you away."
Regulus reached out, taking James's hand in his own, his touch a silent promise of forgiveness and understanding. "You don't have to apologise, James. We'll get through this, together."
And as they sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, James felt a glimmer of hope ignite within him, a belief that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, as partners and as friends. And as he drifted off to sleep, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks, he knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be.