Private Jets and In-Betweens
The days between the first interview and the tour were long and almost-calm. Regulus spent almost all of those days trying to prepare himself for the inevitable reunion with Sirius. He had also spent that time avoiding his bandmates. He still went to rehearsals, of course, but immediately afterwards, he would run away to that little coffee shop on the corner where he would resist the urge to look at Sirius’s most recent posts. He already knew it would be riddled with photos from the interview and plastic smiles.
Regulus could not be more glad that, while there were occasional people on the street who would want to take a photo or ask him about the Marauders, he was still mostly unknown, at least in the coffee shop that had become his safe haven. Dorcas would call Regulus almost every day, asking for him to talk to her. He never did. Sirius didn’t text him at all. Regulus wasn’t sure if he was glad or infuriated.
“Hey,” said a tall, thin boy with tawny brown skin with dyed-blonde hair, black at the roots. He was wearing an apron and holding a notepad. “Are you going to order something today, Regulus?” Most of the wait staff knew his name at this point. They knew that he always sat at the counters at the window, in the seat closest to the door. They knew that if he did order food, it would either be a blueberry muffin or an apple danish. They knew that he only ever drank his drinks black, though they didn’t know that it made him laugh internally, knowing that his brother would have made a joke about their last name, before making Regulus scowled into his drink at the thought of Sirius’s loud, blaring laugh.
“Hi, um…” Regulus glanced down at the boy’s name tag. “Ryan. I’d like a large black coffee and an apple danish. Please.”
The boy- Ryan- smiled, like his order was some sort of inside joke. “Of course. Oh, and I, um, I get off work at six. If you, um,” the boy groaned, covering his face with his hand. “Shit, sorry, I’m not good at this. Just… Regulus, would you want to get dinner with me?” Regulus wasn’t particularly fazed by this. He just smiled at the boy.
“Sure, Ryan,” Regulus said. The boy seemed happy as he walked away, presumably to continue working. Regulus wasn’t particularly fond of the boy. He didn’t know him at all. Still, Ryan was pretty enough, and for Regulus, that would be enough for him to endure his company and probably get a free dinner.
Before Regulus left, he left Ryan a twenty pound tip, and Regulus’s number, written onto a napkin.
Of course, Regulus went back at six, when Ryan got off work. And of course, Regulus let Ryan bring him to a small Indian restaurant that Ryan wouldn’t stop gushing about. He listened (sort of) as Ryan chattered on and on about astrology, and gardening, and all his other dull interests. Regulus let Ryan bring him back to Evan’s apartment, and he even let Ryan kiss him, though Regulus was rather stiff and nonparticipating. He wished Ryan a good night, before stepping in, collapsing into his bed.
Regulus continued going out with Ryan. It never got more interesting, and Regulus never started feeling anything more for him. He supposed it just felt nice to be treated normally. At one point Ryan told Regulus that he didn’t really like the Marauders’ music. That was the most Regulus ever liked him.
As the days slipped away and Regulus knew he’d soon be leaving for the tour, Regulus spent more time with Ryan. He didn’t talk much with Ryan but that was fine. It felt normal at least. It didn’t feel like a countdown to a tour that Regulus didn’t particularly want to be on.
On the morning that Regulus was supposed to head to the airport and start the tour, Regulus texted Ryan, saying a simple ‘I’m breaking up with you’. He then shut off his phone, setting his phone on airplane mode. He grabbed his bags and went out with Evan to catch the ride that had been sent to them.
Though he rode with his best friends in the world, the car was completely silent throughout the entire ride to the airport. The limo smelled stale, and the air was stifling. Barty fidgeted nervously, flexing and relaxing his fingers. Evan seemed to be scrolling mindlessly on his phone as Pandora, who was sitting next to him, peered over his shoulder, making little excited faces at the things on the screen. Dorcas kept glancing over him with concern, and Regulus kept avoiding her eyes.
The limo pulled up to a small, private airport. Potter seemed to just appear outside the door, smiling with that obnoxiously pretty smile. He opened the door, glancing warmly at Regulus.
“Hi, everyone!” Potter said cheerfully. His hair was messy, falling into his face. He seemed to almost constantly be pushing it up. “So, um, we’ve been provided a private jet by the studio, so it should be a relatively comfortable flight. It will be long, though.”
Regulus rolled his eyes. “We know, Potter. Now, can you stop blocking the door so that I can get out?” This was going to be awful.
The inside of the jet was luxurious. That was to be expected though. Remus and Sirius were sitting next to each other, chatting quietly. Probably whispering nauseatingly sweet nothings to each other. Disgusting. He watched Dorcas’s eyes train on McKinnon, who was bobbing her head to whatever song was blaring through her headphones. He wasn’t surprised when Dorcas was quick to sit next to her. Barty and Evan sat together in front of Pandora. Regulus could see Barty offer Evan one of his headphones.
And well, Regulus had two options. He could sit next to Pandora, one of his best friends in the world, or he could sit next to Potter, the infuriatingly attractive asshole who stole his brother away from him. The answer seemed obvious to him as he moved to sit next to Pandora, but she shook her head.
“Pandora, please,” he whispered.
Once again, Pandora shook her head, smiling secretively. “Just trust me, Reggie.” And he did. He knew better than to doubt Pandora, and her secretive decisions. Somehow, though it never really made sense to any of them, Pandora always seemed to know what would happen, and they had learned to trust her intuition.
And that’s how Regulus ended up sitting next to one James Potter on a long plane ride.
“So,” James said. “How are you?” Regulus just glared at him, which, somehow, elicited a warm chuckle from James, and how fucking dare he? He had no right to create such a beautiful sound, something so warm, and so happy, Regulus felt something warm flutter in his stomach. Regulus turned away from him to glare out the window, putting his earbuds in.
“How did you get into music?” James asked, pushing his golden round-framed glasses up his nose. Regulus glanced back at him. He sighed, taking out his earbuds.
“I just picked up a guitar one day, and it just clicked,” Regulus said, feigning honesty.
James looked impressed, his eyes wide and starstruck, like Regulus was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “Wow. Really?”
Regulus scoffed. “No. It took years of tireless practice and classical musical training.”
James didn’t look disappointed at all by the truth, maintaining that starstruck quality.
Regulus sighed, looking into James’s warm, pretty brown eyes. “When I was four, my parents started me on classical piano. They weren’t into the arts, not really; they just wanted a child with musical awards. One of my older relatives was meant to take over finances, so they needed me to prove my worth via music awards.” Regulus ran a hand through his hair, though the curls fell directly back into their place. “They started me on violin when I was seven. I didn’t like it very much, but music made me calm. I like piano better. When I was fifteen, someone very close to me left, and I inherited their guitar. I taught myself to play it, and, eventually, I took some of my old poetry, and put it to the melodies I created. One day, after I had moved in with my friend Evan, he walked in on me playing one of the songs I wrote, and ended up calling some of our friends, screaming about how I’m some sort of musical genius,” Regulus looked at James, bored. It was a fond memory, but that didn’t change his disinterest in sharing it. “And that’s how I ended up in a band.”
James seemed intrigued. “Hm. I got really into music in my teens. My dad was playing some rock music in the car. Older rock, not any stuff I heard before. I looked at him and said ‘I want to be like that’. Two months later, for my birthday, I got my first guitar. I didn’t really stop playing after that.”
Regulus knew how bored he looked, how unimpressed. He silently hoped that that look hurt James. Regulus never really was one for emotional conversations. “Great, but I didn’t ask.” He put his earbuds back in, playing a Queen song, Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy. Sirius had always liked it when he was younger. Made Regulus listen to it so many times. Now, it just felt safe, familiar. Regulus never wanted to think about why.
About thirty seconds into the song, James tapped on his shoulder. Regulus paused the song, glaring at him. “What?”
James gave him a lopsided grin. “Oh, um, you were humming. I just wanted to tell you that you sounded nice.”
Regulus was caught off-guard by the sudden compliment, freezing up a bit. “Oh. Thanks.”
He expected the conversation to end there, but because the universe hates him and James Potter is a pain in the ass, he just kept talking. “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy, right? By Queen?” Regulus nodded. “Great choice! I love that song! I once tried to serenade a girl I liked with it when I was in highschool. It didn’t go too well, but at least I got some applause for my singing.”
Regulus just looked at him for a moment before hesitantly handing James one of his earbuds, which he took with an ecstatic grin. It didn’t take long before Regulus heard soft, quiet singing. And fuck, if he thought James’s chuckle was a beautiful sound, then James’s singing must be the voice of angels, holy and beautiful. The world seemed to stop, just so that Regulus could listen to James sing the beautiful, romantic lyrics under his breath.
“Ooooh, let me feel your heartbeat, grow faster, faster,” James sang quietly, under his breath, and Regulus could feel his cheeks heat, his heart rate quicken. “Can you feel my love heat?”
Regulus spent the rest of the unfortunately long plane ride listening to James quietly sing along to the music and trying to ignore the loud thumping in his chest. He didn’t make eye contact with James again, mostly staring out the window at the water below them. Regulus eventually fell asleep to the beautiful sound of James singing. He could spend the rest of his life listening to James sing.
He woke up just before the plane was about to land, drool dripping from his mouth. When he noticed James staring at him with an odd look in his eyes, he quickly wiped his mouth, embarrassed. There was still music playing from his earbud, but he didn’t know the song. It had probably just started playing random songs after the playlist ended.
“Good morning,” James said cheerfully. He took out Regulus’s earbud and handed it back to him.
“Thank you,” Regulus muttered. He would have to brush his teeth when they got to their hotel.
They didn’t talk again, and Regulus tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach whenever James glanced over at him. When the plane eventually landed, Regulus took his phone off airplane mode and checked his texts. There was a single text from Ryan. Right. He opened up the conversation to find a single message, a single word.
‘Okay.’
Regulus almost laughed. Honestly, he probably should’ve been upset, or infuriated by the nonchalant response, but he just didn’t care. He hadn’t wanted much from Ryan, and, frankly, he had been infuriatingly boring. He had been nice enough, and smart, but he didn’t make Regulus feel anything. Regulus almost unknowingly glanced over at James.
When on that plane ride did James stop being just ‘Potter’? Regulus couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was when James chuckled, sending out that lovely sound into the world. Maybe it was the kind, lighthearted conversation. Maybe it was when he sang. Maybe it was the minute that he started feeling real to Regulus. Human. When he stopped just being the source of Regulus’s misery, and started being just another person.
Regulus didn’t know or particularly care when James stopped being ‘Potter’. All he knew were the nauseating butterflies in his stomach, and the sun in James’s smile.