attic

James' heart beat wildly as he ran, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, each beat looked like a deafening echo in his head.

His body was tense, his muscles burning with the effort to maintain the frenetic pace. Drops of sweat ran down his face, mixing with the dust and dirt accumulated on his skin. As he jumped from one roof to the other, his mind was in a whirlwind. He knew he couldn't stop, he couldn't waver even for a second.

His thoughts were taken by images of his collectors, faces distorted by anger, his voices echoing in his mind like a sinister choir. He wondered how he had arrived at this desperate situation, but he knows and when he started taking a larger part of his thefts without warning, he also knew that they would come to him.

But his boss hired him exactly for that, for his agility in assaulting the exuberant houses of London and running as if the world was not after him.

His ability to get into trouble was what put him in this, when he didn't think it was fair that he took away a small part of all his work. His ambition made him want too much and now everything was stored in his small room under his boss's stairs, he had nothing. But there was no time for remorse or lamentation.

He could only look forward, focused on the next jump between the roofs, at the next opportunity to escape. Every time his feet touched a new roof, he felt a brief moment of relief, immediately followed by the fear of being reached. But he refused to give up. Fear fed his determination, pushing him forward, even when his muscles screamed for rest.

He jumps from one roof to the other, while the furious collectors chase him down. The sharp wind of the night whips his face, while he skillfully dodges obstacles. Each jump is a sigh between life and the imminent capture. The collectors scream and curse, throwing objects to try to stop him. But James is agile and disappears into the darkness of the city, leaving his stalkers behind, frustrated and exasperated.

Until a tile gives way under his feet.

All he feels when he falls is an exauting pain and soon after, just darkness.

•••

When James finally opened his eyes, it was like emerging from a dark tunnel. His mind was blurred, his thoughts moving slowly as he tried to situate himself. The first thing he noticed was the throbbing pain all over his body, as if he had been run over by a train.

Looking around, he realized that he was lying on the floor of an unknown place, covered by broken ceramics from the roof.

He looked up at the plants and flowers distributed on tables and on the floor, covered by the darkness of the night. A greenhouse.

"Fuck you."

Thank God, he didn't fall on top of that huge flower pot next to the door.

He got up, removing the dirt from his clothes and evaluating the hole in the roof. No, he would never be able to get out there, it would have to be through the door. He struggled to open the latch and spied through the crack, to a huge backyard of a Victorian house whose windows should be worth more than the expensive apartments in New York.

His chin fell off.

His ankle hurt, but when looking at that house and thinking about its misery, there was nothing in the world that would not make him steal it.

With his mind still cloudy and his body sore, James found himself surrounded by the darkness of the night. The vision of the imposing Victorian house in front of him aroused in him an instinct for survival.

With cautious steps, he approached the main entrance, carefully observing every shadow and movement around him.

A silent sigh when he notices the lock. A lock for the door outside the house? Wasn't it locked inside? James bursts the lock and enters the dark interior of the mansion. The smell of old wood and dust flooded his nostrils as he advanced through the gloomy corridors, with only the dim light of the moon to guide him.

His steps were light, almost imperceptible, as he searched every corner in search of something of value. His agile fingers slid over old furniture and adorned works of art, in search of the prize that would relieve his debts.

Ready to go to the second floor, from the apparently uninhabited mansion, James froze on the stair handrail, when a melody cut the silence of the night, echoing through the corridors of the Victorian mansion with a mesmerizing sound.

With cautious steps, he followed the sound, pulling the revolver of the holster attached to his waist (at least that he still had), moving silently towards the living room and he finally reached the half-open door, he spied inside, his heart beating hard in his throat. Inside, he saw a lonely figure sitting at the piano, his skillful fingers sliding through the keys with impressive dexterity. Fear and curiosity fought inside him as he watched the scene, not knowing if he should run away or hide. For a moment, he forgot his own desperate situation, lost in the beauty of the music that filled the air around him.

The boy, sitting on the piano, wore a long sweater, looking ethereal sitting on the piano and illuminated only with the light of the moon coming from the only uncovered window of the house.

When James woke up from his daydream about having seen an angel, he was startled to notice that the melody was gone and the boy was now looking at him with his head tilted, nothing but curiosity in his eyes about having a stranger in his house.

James can finally see all his beauty of delicate traits and an aura of nobility. Her black hair falls into silky waves, highlighting her deep gray eyes like a stormy sky.

When James saw him, he fell in love instantly and that boy sitting on the piano smiled, because he knew.

"Who are you?" His voice was nothing more than a whisper, touching James like that silk he stole and never wore.

He looked like...

Untouchable.

Maybe that's why James couldn't answer.

"You have a gun." He found, as a fact, beautiful wide eyes.

James choked, taking the revolver out of his sight, "Well, I was stealing the house."

The boy blinked, understanding, but seeming confused, "Is it still your intention?"

James stepped back one step and shook his head, embarrassed, "Well, no. Not anymore...”

He didn't know why, that house would probably yield a theft that would save him from hunger in months. But there were blue eyes, very blue, that he preferred to see.

The boy nodded, watching him, he turned in front of the piano and thought for a moment before saying the thing James least expected.

"Well, then what I have left is to offer you a cup of tea."

With a little smile.

A small smile to an unscrupulous thief, offering a kindness that he never received, that no one was able to offer, that he never thought he deserved. All this, just for smiling and offering a cup of tea.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" James asks when the boy gets up calmly, with a lot of effort and his forehead frowns in confusion.

"You're in here, I just fear the world outside," he says, crossing his hands. "We are safe here." Whisper, as if it were a secret, as if James was now also safe and didn't need to do anything that the world out there made him do.

As if he were good.

"Now, do me a favor and close the door where you entered, there is security in here, but I'm afraid something bad may come in." He goes out through the side door, into the kitchen and James stands still for a moment reflecting the situation.

James, most likely, it's already something bad that came in.

He runs to close the door, promises himself that he will fix the broken latch and goes back to the kitchen.

There's a lot in his head all the way, maybe it's a trap, maybe he'll arrest him for entering his house or kill him or James will wake up soon from this ephemeral dream. But everything goes away in a second when he sees the boy sitting at a small round table in the corner of the kitchen, with a teapot and cookies.

Naturally, he as someone who grew up on the streets, should be thinking about the origin of this tea, maybe the boy will make him sleep and steal his revolver. But no, at this moment he is not rational enough for that. Now all he sees is a cup of tea being placed in front of him by thin and delicate fingers.

And then he looked at James, as if there was something worth seeing.

"Who are you?" He asked, with his cup of tea in both hands.

James raised his shoulders, God, as he wanted to be better arranged. He cleared his throat, "I... I'm James Potter."

The boy bit his lower lip and put his cup on the table after a sip, "And where are you from, James Potter?"

"A ship," He replied and the boy smiled instantly.

"A ship." He repeated, incredulous.

“Yes, I was born on a ship on my way to London, I was told. I don't know my parents," he added, reluctantly, but there didn't seem to be pity in the boy's eyes.

He settled down in the chair, leaning closer to the table, "And you steal things."

"And I steal things, yes. From time to time." James nodded, seeing him completely interested in every word, but wanting to be better, he added: "It wasn't always like that, I wanted to be a mechanic. I'm good at fixing and opening things. But it ended that way,"

He smiles and the boy smiles back, more and more excited, "What's the best thing you've ever stolen?"

James thinks for a moment, but he doesn't need much while watching the hopeful boy, "I'm starting to think I haven't stolen yet."

The boy's cheeks blush in a deep shade of red in his white skee, his smile becomes shy and he looks at James as if he understood. “Aren't you the charmer.”

“Regulus.” A thin and scale voice echoes around the house and the boy gets scared, widening his eyes and getting up in a hurry.

Regulus.

Regulus, is he Regulus?

James doesn't even care that there is anyone else in the house, but he got some precious information.

"You have to go," He whispers and gets up to look through the kitchen door, he closes and locks it. “Maman is at home. She won't like you. Nothing that comes from outside is good." Regulus - Oh, his name is Regulus - says everything hurriedly and James' brain almost melts when he pulls him from the chair by the arm, with almost no strength, but James surrenders anyway.

He lets himself be dragged up to a small and narrow staircase in the kitchen, Regulus pulls him with a lot of effort, they pass through a door and he extends his hand through a hole outside, passing a padlock on the door from the outside, locking himself in a small hall to a corridor full of doors. There's little light, but James notices.

"Regulus, are you stuck here?" He asks, swallowing it dry when he notices every detail. The windows closed, the house looking uninhabited, his total innocence in accepting James in the house, his lack of sense of danger, the fun with so little information.

Regulus gathers his dark eyebrows and he looks fun when he carries James to the attic of the small gallery of rooms in that huge house. "Don't be silly, I'm protected, the world out there is terrible, don't you know?"

James stops in place, even if Regulus insists on pulling him, "But I'm from outside."

The boy shakes his head in denial, "Mom too. But here it's safe, no real bad things come in, you wouldn't be able to get in if it were bad."

Regulus looks into his eyes deeply, there is something under that blue sea in his pupils, admiration and pure devotion and James wonders if it is directed to him, if that boy felt the same as he did as quickly as James did. "You're not bad because you steal, James, you need to do that, don't you? But mom gets confused sometimes."

Maman. James learned a long time ago that not all parents are good parents.

"So why are the doors locked?"

Regulus thought for a moment, frowning, "To avoid the good things of going out."

The problem, James realized, is that Regulus is a good thing.

So good, that in minutes, James feared losing.

"Do you think you can get through here?"

“Regulus.” He called, watching the boy open a small window with a key he keeps on a necklace on his chest — his only source of freedom, James thinks.

"Yes?" The boy tilted his head in response, lovelyly.

"That's your name, isn't it?" Regulus nodded and shudders when the window opens, the cold wind of the night entering under the thin cloth of the sweater.

Now that you know this, James knows that he would probably forget his own name before forgetting his.

James bent down at his height, a huge difference between the two, "You're stuck here, aren't you?"

Regulus' lip trembles, but he vehemently denied it, shaking his head for long seconds as if he wanted to convince himself of it.

James didn't reflect on his next words, he didn't think about anything else but Regulus' soft skin and lips, other than his safety. James met him less than an hour ago and fears what he would do for him.

"Regulus, please come with me."

"I'm sick, James, I can't go. Here it's safe for me,” James swallowed it dry when he realized that Regulus really believed in it. Sick? Is that why he can't leave? But what about the locks? Outside.

"I'm going back, okay?" The words came out as a promise, in the night air. "Wait for me."

“Regulus! Where are you? It's tea time." The next scream makes the boy shudder and he pushes James into the window, pushing the gold cord where the key was hanging from his neck to James' hand.

“Go.” He asked and James obeyed, locking the window behind him, leaving the first thing that seemed worth it in a long time.

He put the cord around his neck and saw the request that he fulfill his promise in it.