this is me trying
James
Regulus aggressively slams an envelope in front of him and onto the poor glass table that he’s innocently sitting at.
“What is this?” Regulus demands, eyes glaring daggers down at a mildly terrified James. What a simply wonderful way to greet someone. James can’t help but flinch at the abrupt movement, staring incredulously back at Regulus whose shoulders seep with guilt and expression turns pained the moment James’ body jumps. Regulus’ eyes widen a fraction, and his lips part as if he’s at a loss for words to justify his own actions, before he abruptly kneels down in front of James’ chair, as if pleading for forgiveness. It is entirely too early for this, which is a sentence James never saw himself relating to, ever. And considering it’s midday, this is really saying something.
“I’m sorry, I accidentally drank seven shots of espresso and now I have way too much energy to function normally, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Regulus gushes, speaking abnormally quickly, and fidgeting nervously from where he’s still kneeling in front of James, presumably to level them, which is a nice thought. James still frowns, though, nonetheless.
“You didn’t hurt me, baby—hold on, seven shots? How the bloody hell do you accidentally drink seven shots of espresso?” James cries out, realising what Regulus said a second too late. He eyes him amusedly, the crazed expression on his face, and the way he looks like he’s about to bounce off the walls the very second James gives him permission to stand, positively buzzing on the spot. This is a very rare, very high on caffeine version of Regulus that James would quite like to treasure before it goes away again, and probably never comes back. Though before he does that, he has to fulfil his boyfriend duties and ensure that Regulus is okay, as rare occurrences aren’t always a good thing. He lets his expression flip from bemused, to curious, to suspicious, to accusatory as he gathers an inkling of an idea of what might have happened, and James does not approve. Since Regulus got his book deal a few days ago, which wasn’t really a surprise to anyone, but James is still bursting with pride nonetheless, he’s been staying up later and later working on all things related to this up and coming book of his, and the other one he’s decided to begin writing at the same time because Regulus is nothing if not an overachiever with a sudden disregard for his health whenever his work is concerned. James voices this concern, as he has repeatedly these past couple days that Regulus has spent happily staying over at his house, much to both of their contentment, and in response he gets the same defensive eye roll as always.
“I don’t think you understand, I want this, and I need to work a lot in order to get it, besides I don’t mind being tired sometimes, if that’s what it takes. This caffeine works wonders though, really, I actually think Sirius might be onto something with the amount of it he drinks. I can’t believe you didn’t see me drinking them! You were sitting here the whole time whilst I was just knocking them back, left, right and center, honestly, in your own home, too. You’ve got to be more aware of your surroundings; constant vigilance, James, constant vigilance!” James presses a hand to his mouth to stifle his uncontrollable laughter. This must be the most anyone in the world has heard Regulus speak in one go, ever. James nods encouragingly for the man yapping at a barely decipherable high speed and wild eyes to carry on. “I don’t know why you’re laughing at me, really, this isn’t funny, I genuinely feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t move right now. I’m going to move. Can I stand up? Okay, I’m going to stand up,” Regulus launches—launches—onto his feet, and immediately begins to pace back and forth across James’ kitchen, making him rather dizzying to watch. Teary-eyed from purely hysterical laughter, James watches anyway because there is absolutely no way he’s missing even a second of this.
“Regulus—” James manages to choke out between desperate gasps for air, before helplessly descending into more cackles as when Regulus turns his attention on him and pauses his nonsensical babbling about God knows what to hear what James physically can’t say right now, he begins to pace directly backwards and forwards to maintain eye contact with him, the idiot. Oh, how James loves his idiot.
“Well, you said my name, are you going to speak? You know, I prefer it much more when you call me baby, and don’t get me wrong, I love it when you say my name too, but there’s just something about it. Never stop, please. Oh no, should I be calling you something? I’ve always secretly wanted to call you sweetheart, or something French like mon chéri or mon soleil, because to me you are the sun—oh my god, what is in this espresso? Is this what overdosing caffeine does to me? It’s like–like a truth serum! I hate it, I can’t stop talking, I need to be quiet, James help,” Regulus’ face is lightly dusted pink and fixed in a mortified expression that James would find quite funny if it weren’t for everything his boyfriend just told him sticking in his mind like glue as he processes it all. And when he does, his heart just about melts enough for him to know that it’s never going to be able to go back to normal again, fundamentally changed by Regulus’ words. Regulus isn’t always the most open with his words, and opinions, and wants and needs, even when he tries to be, so hearing all of this for James, it’s a feeling so bright and full of warmth that he wants to bottle it up and hug it close to his chest forever. Share it with Regulus, so he can for once feel and recognise just how much love he has stored away inside, and how beautiful it is. How beautiful he is.
Unable to help himself, James rises from his chair and surges towards Regulus, drowning out the words still spilling from his mouth with a fierce kiss, the bitterness from Regulus’ espresso overtaking his taste buds. Regulus stills for a moment after his rounds of incessant pacing, stunned, before his energy travels upwards to his hands from his legs, causing them to roam James’ body hungrily, almost uncontrollably. The two of them fit together in that perfected way that they instinctively do after years of carefully studying each other’s cravings and tendencies, and normally whilst this would lead to something more, Regulus suddenly breaks away, actually jumping on the spot to a very dazed James’ confusion. Regulus winces.
“I’m so sorry, I physically can’t stand still right now, I feel like I need to run about three marathons before I can do anything sufficiently with you. I’m sorry, I’m never drinking coffee again,” He explains, if a bit unsteadily from all the jumping, and James just smiles affectionately, admiring the masterpiece right in front of him, because why on earth would he do anything else? James takes Regulus’ fingers and presses them quickly to his lips before he has to reluctantly snatch them away again to shake them out, energy coursing through his veins too rapidly for his body to cope.
“That’s okay, and I’m also banning you from drinking coffee and stepping foot in my kitchen ever again,” James says through a grin, shaking his head disbelievingly at Regulus’ pacing starting up again. Seven shots? Really, it couldn’t have been four, or five? Regulus begins to move in a way that looks dangerously close to skipping, striding around the room energetically in circles. Apparently not.
“Now that’s just unfair. Who is going to cook for you? Honestly, think these things through, James, before you say them. Oh, have you opened that letter? It had fancy, swirly, gold writing, which is the entire reason why I was so curious. I rather like the style of the envelope, why doesn’t everyone send letters like that? I would, if it was socially acceptable, of course—” James tunes out Regulus’ rambling, because if he doesn’t do it now, he never will, and turns to grab that envelope Regulus left on the table where he was sitting, raising his eyebrows curiously when he examines it in his hands. Regulus is right, it is fancy, swirly and gold, and not even just the writing; the whole damn thing. He moves closer to Regulus, as much as he can with the man always darting off somewhere, before he gently pries it open, wary of how generally upsetting it would be to destroy such lovely packaging. He pulls a sheet of thick, cream parchment out of it with his name inscribed across the top with the same impressive scrawl that the front of the envelope read. Regulus arrives with a punctuating, final jump beside him to read the letter over his shoulder, falling completely silent for the first time in about ten minutes with concentration.
Dear Mr. James Potter,
I am delighted to cordially invite you to the annual Yule Ball, a famously extravagant charity Ball hosted in favour of Cancer Research UK Charity. As you may know, these are traditionally attended by the most important figures in society, accompanied by symbols of popular culture from the past year alike to yourself, meaning the event is heavily photographed and televised.
As per tradition, the event will take place on the 20th December 2024 at Hogwarts Castle in the Scottish Highlands (full address disclosed at the end of letter), beginning at 8pm. I recommend you research the nature of the Ball before you attend, so as to not be left clueless to any important events such as the red carpet entryway all guests must enter through at the beginning of the night, or the specific dress code to be followed (briefly entailed at the end of letter).
Tickets begin at a minimum price of £3500 per person, though anyone attending is heavily encouraged to donate more than the required amount. All payment methods are listed at the end of this letter. There will be numerous opportunities to donate money throughout the night of the event, in addition to tickets.
You are permitted to bring a maximum of two additional guests with you, preferably of some elevated status to increase the Ball’s value and television viewing rates, as all profits go towards the previously named charity. I sincerely hope you are able to attend, and look forward greatly to housing your presence in my home.
Kind Regards,
Sir Albus Dumbledore.
(See other side of page for additional information).
“Oh my god,”
“Oh my god,”
James’ jaw drops and so does Regulus’ as they slowly turn to face one another, and then both quickly reread the letter to verify that it really is real. James even actually pinches himself. It’s real, alright. The Yule Ball is the most highly anticipated televised event of the year on literally everyone who is anyone’s calendars, and for good reason. If you get specially invited by the eccentric billionaire and retired politician Albus Dumbledore, that’s how you really know that you’ve made it in life. It does not get better than this. People from all across the world, from presidents, to actors, to royalty, to soldiers, to athletes, like James, attend each year, making it an internationally whispered about event, an opportunity for the press to go absolutely wild, and a fucking insane party. And James lives for fucking insane parties. Like, ABBA used to go to the Yule Ball before they split up – James has seen all the photos – ABBA. Jesus Christ. He needs to sit down.
He walks over to his chair, plopping down in it numbly, his mind decidedly preoccupied with how the fuck did he get to this point in his life. Only the best of the best athletes manage to get invited, approximately six a year, and most are not from Britain, so why on earth was James chosen? He hasn’t done anything. He hasn’t broken any records, he hasn’t won the Euros (yet), and he most certainly hasn’t ever participated in the Olympics. He has won many national cups for his football team, and gained a considerable amount of popularity in doing so, but still, there will be royalty at this Ball. James is not royalty, last time he checked.
Regulus sits down in the chair beside him, despite his legs juddering like there’s no tomorrow, and presses a quivering hand on James’ knee, an expression of such pure adoration and pride on his face that alone almost tips James off of the verge of tears he’s currently balancing on.
“I’m so, unimaginably proud of you. You deserve this more than anyone, sweetheart,” Regulus whispers, reaching with his other hand to clasp James’ fingers, squeezing comfortingly. James swallows down the lump in his throat with difficulty, tears welling up in his eyes because of just—everything. Too much has happened over the past few days, and apparently James’ brain has reached its breaking point of refusing to process or truly acknowledge any of it. A sob breaks through James’ sheer, usually strong willpower to keep it inside, and he just crumbles under the unbearable weight that has been increasing with size upon his shoulders as the weeks since this last happened went by. Alarm flashes through Regulus’ eyes before he immediately leaps into action, folding James tentatively inside the warm safety net of his arms, whispering delicate words of assurance into James’ ear. Buried in the soft bundles of Regulus’ jumper, James allows himself to let it all out, every single precariously balanced emotion he’s been locking away deep down inside of the darkest corners of himself, where no one can find them until they stack just a little too high, and topple over the edge. It hurts, reliving the overpowering pain from the whole Sirius situation that he caused, that he’s been choosing to forget about despite Regulus’ several attempts to talk about it over these past couple days, and now that he’s remembering, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget again how this is making him feel.
They stay like that for a little while, James crying and Regulus letting him, knowing intimately just how much he needs to, and cradling his head gently for the entire time until James’ eyes are scrubbed crimson and raw, and he feels absolutely devoid of any emotion to ever cry another tear.
“Hey, I’m here, do you want to talk about it yet?” Regulus says softly, and James notes the ‘yet’ with a pang of regret in his chest. Cursing the stupid ‘talk about everything’ system he and Regulus invented for both of their benefits, James shakes his head stiffly, clenching his jaw. Regulus nods in understanding, as if he expected this, and silently envelopes James into another embrace that he melts into willingly, exhaling and shuttering his eyes closed. It’s then when he notices how Regulus’ body is still trembling with the largely irresponsible overdose of caffeine it’s desperately attempting to digest, and a hoarse, wet laugh chokes out of him as he remembers Regulus’ excitable bounding across his kitchen not too dissimilar to a dog’s. Clearly, Regulus mistakes this for another sob as his arms tighten around James’, and he begins to whisper quietly again. James isn’t complaining though, in fact he lets it happen rather happily, breathing in and out deeply until he feels steady enough to carry on on his own. Inhaling the sweet, familiar scent of his boyfriend that he’s practically insatiable to calms him down more than anything else in the world can, so he’s learnt over years of experience, and this is certainly not an exception.
Feeling rather at peace, James pulls back, untwining himself from Regulus’ body, though keeping their hands firmly interlaced, and lets Regulus’ eyes roam across his face for a moment to ensure that he’s okay, as they always have to do. Once satisfied, Regulus sits back slightly and waits patiently for James to speak as he knows he wants to, shooting him the ghost of a reassuring smile. Watching his thumb brush across the back of Regulus’ hand absent-mindedly, James attempts to recollect his scattered thoughts, and considers how to translate them into words that will even vaguely make sense out loud. Better to get this frankly painstaking conversation out of the way sooner rather than later, is his current attitude. He doesn’t attempt to voice that thought, though, knowing it’s extremely likely to spark an argument that he doesn’t particularly feel like having right now, simply refusing to potentially lose Regulus when he’s already potentially lost Sirius. James takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders slightly, exhales again.
“I think I’m going to take you and Sirius with me to the Yule Ball,” James tells him, his voice coming out surprisingly steady compared to how wobbly he feels inside. Regulus’ eyebrows twitch as if he wasn’t expecting this to be what James starts with, but, luckily, decides to just go along with it.
“I would love to go with you, and I’m sure Sirius will, too. Do you think he has an invite of his own?” Regulus responds, as reasonable as ever. James tilts his head to the side, he hadn’t considered this, but if he has an invite it’s almost certain that Sirius does as well. The letter said to bring a maximum of two additional guests, which is not a requirement, so James could just bring Regulus and they could go with Sirius and whoever he decides to go with, if anyone. Remus, possibly. That would be quite exciting, James thinks to himself, imagining the guaranteed amazing time the four of them would have. A thought crosses James’ mind.
“Do you think you have an invite?” James asks, and Regulus’ eyebrows crease in consideration.
“I could have, my books have done rather well this year, and I haven’t been at my house to see if I got a letter, but I also keep my identity as an author as anonymous as possible, so it’s unlikely. If I have, I’ll be a bit concerned on how Dumbledore knows who I am, and where I live, so maybe it’s for the better to assume that I don’t,” Regulus thinks out loud after a few moments, speaking less quickly now, presumably coming down gradually from his caffeine-high. “I’ll find out soon enough, anyway, when I go back to my house, and I’ll obviously let you know,” He adds, and James’ heart grows a little heavy at the thought of Regulus leaving, but knows that he has to eventually, even if he despises the idea. He briefly considers asking to come with Regulus to his house, before deciding that he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it as even though he’s almost positive that Regulus will say yes, a small part of James still worries that he’ll come across as too needy or suffocating with all his affection, and god knows the absolute last thing he needs right now is more worries.
James nods in agreement to Regulus, possibly a few seconds too late due to being wrapped up in thought.
“You deserve an invite,” He says, and he means it so much it almost sounds fake and insufficient in his own ears because all words in any language that he knows pale in comparison to the giant, overwhelming waves of appreciation for Regulus that ripple across his body, drowning out his other, suddenly irrelevant thoughts for the few moments it lasts, leaving a fresh coating of warmth and love where negativity was beginning to crack through and show. The past hour or so is a prime example of that.
“Thank you,” Regulus smiles softly, glowing in the midday sun glinting through the window. A masterpiece. A couple quiet seconds pass between them that James spends simply admiring Regulus, but Regulus spends choosing out the exact words to break the happy, ignorant spell James has cast to distract himself, and hopefully Regulus, from the topic that really needs discussing. “Are we going to talk about Sirius?”
James huffs exasperatedly, tearing his eyes away from the halo of light blessing Regulus’ curls and instead fixating his gaze on a small patch of wooden floorboards as some sort of shy act of defiance.
“We already were,” He counters sharply, despite knowing too well that they are, indeed, about to have to talk about Sirius, no matter what he does to try and delay the inevitable conversation further. Regulus shoots him a flat look of warning, and James scowls, fidgeting absently with Regulus’ fingers intertwined with his own as he mentally prepares himself for what’s about to come. “Fine, let’s talk about Sirius,”
“Great, where do you want to start?” James rolls his eyes, but Regulus doesn’t back down, not even blinking. If he was capable of having a least favourite thing about Regulus, it would be when he suddenly adopts the persona of a professionally trained therapist whenever anyone anywhere talks about their feelings. Coincidentally, James’ therapist is also one of his least favourite people, and their sessions are actually one of his least favourite things. He wonders idly what his therapist would say about that.
“Hm, maybe at the part where we lied to him for seven years and it's completely my fault because you wanted to tell him but I was too scared and so we didn’t,” James snaps, not really meaning to reveal that much about what is plaguing his mind, but it’s nothing Regulus doesn’t know already, if he’s honest with himself. Regulus blinks once, twice, tightens his grip around James’ hand, and that’s the only sign of hesitation he gives to the clear sensitivity in James’ tone.
“Okay, firstly, I know you think that makes it all your fault, but what I think you forget is that our secret relationship includes me, as well as you. I didn’t tell Sirius either for seven years, and just because I wanted to doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared,” Regulus admits smoothly, and this really makes James stop and think before he opens his big mouth to argue back, as he was so pitifully prepared to do. Never, not once during the entire seven years James has been seeing Regulus for did he ever show even the slightest symptom of fear to the prospect of coming clean to Sirius, and yet here he is basically telling James that he was as scared as he was the whole time. Regulus must register James’ surprisement from where he’s shamelessly analysing every little twitch his face makes, and scoffs, frowning as he eyes him sceptically. “Surely you didn’t think I wasn’t scared? Of course I was. I was scared that I would lose my brother again, and that you would lose your best friend because of me, and then leave me because of it, and then I’d have no one,” Regulus says matter-of-factly, though he breaks eye contact with James guiltily, staring down at the table in front of him instead. James’ eyes widen, and a big, messy ball of emotions tumbles into the pit of his stomach at the thought of Regulus having the exact same self-deprecating thoughts he used to have, except in reverse. He thinks back to the nightmarish, destructive spiral these thoughts would often send him into to suffer through alone in the suffocating darkness of the night and absolutely cannot bear the idea of Regulus dealing with the same shit and James being too self-absorbed to notice. “Don’t worry, I obviously can’t think that anymore, and I know you won’t leave me now, or because of Sirius, anyway,” Regulus adds lightly with a strained smile, and James’ head snaps up at once.
“I’m not leaving you, ever, for anything, Regulus. They would have to pry you out of my cold, dead hands before I did,” James urges, such a firm, confident tone overtaking his voice that Regulus has to believe him. James doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t. Regulus’ face falls.
“Don’t talk about dying,” He orders, wearing a look of such distaste like James personally offended him with the speaking of his inevitable demise, and James pauses, taken aback before he lets a small, fond but apologetic smile encompass his features, squeezing Regulus’ hand.
“Okay, sorry,” Regulus nods to this, face blank after the moment of vulnerability. James waits, grasping for something to speak about until he realises that Regulus is also silent in expectation of his words, and that the ones he’s asking for are supposed to be about his feelings, or the Sirius situation and his feelings about that. Really, the whole reason they’re sitting together and having this conversation in the first place. Ugh. He runs a weary hand through his hair, sighing irritably. “Have you spoken to Sirius since the taxi back from Godric’s Hollow?” He asks because he’s genuinely curious, though in a depressed, self-pityingly sort of way. Regulus’ eyebrows twitch.
“No, not unless you count him calling me an arrogant prick on that stupid group chat as speaking,” Regulus replies bitterly but honestly, and James’ lips begin to curl upwards at the memory of having to actually beg him to not leave the group chat again if James added him back, and Sirius’ insult being the only reason he really stayed so he can quote en quote ‘yield vengeance when he least expects it’.
“I like the group chat,” James says defensively, and Regulus throws his head back, groaning in a slightly unnecessary display of dramatics.
“How? They never stop talking!” He complains loudly, his face twisted in genuine vexation that James can’t help but laugh about. An unknowing smile creeps onto Regulus’ lips at the sound, and so he carries on with his little performance just to hear it again. “I had to mute the notifications because there were so many, honestly, I’m this close to leaving again!” He pinches his forefinger and thumb together so the tiniest slit of air representing Regulus’ patience remains between them, and James chuckles at the man’s ridiculously passionate tone, shaking his head.
“You wouldn’t, I made you pinky promise, remember?” James pretends to pout, the sentence sounding slightly ridiculous coming from a grown man’s lips, and Regulus laughs, arching an eyebrow.
“I do remember, and fortunately for you I take my pinky promises very seriously,” Regulus recites, face stern as if speaking on an incredibly important matter to the high courts, and they both laugh fondly before dissolving into comfortable silence, and then Regulus fixes James with a regretful look as a warning for what he’s going to say next, and James feels the humour drain from his demeanour. “I have to ask, have you spoken to Sirius since the taxi?” James grimaces, going back to fiddling with Regulus’ fingers, twisting his rings around in mindless circles.
“No, and he didn’t even call me an arrogant prick on a group chat,” He says this as if it’s something to be pissed off about to make it a little easier for himself, and Regulus allows it, smiling lightly at his joke to play along. He exhales tiredly. “I want to, though, so badly,” He admits miserably, and huffs at the face Regulus makes, and the way his mouth opens to say what he already knows all too well, “I know, I know, I shouldn’t talk to him first, and I won’t. He said he wanted space,”
Regulus nods in acceptance of this, and says with a falsely breezy tone, “Yep, and we’ve got to respect that,” James raises an eyebrow accusingly, and Regulus’ shoulders droop marginally in defeat, “I want to speak to him too, just want to know where he stands on all of this, really, and for him to be okay about it,” Regulus tilts his head in thought, “and to be okay in general, I suppose. I do need his blessing, though,” Regulus says this last part unconsciously, a faraway look in his eyes that he doesn’t think he would come back from for at least another minute or so if it wasn’t for James’ eyes bulging and lips parting to let a high-pitched involuntary noise of shock escape from them. Sirius’ blessing? As in for marriage? Oh my god, James thinks to himself with a rush of excitement and affection so strong it makes his heart almost implode, does Regulus want to marry him?
Regulus starts, staring at James with big, fearful eyes as he seems to realise his mistake. He opens his mouth, takes in James’ visible shock and elation, and closes it again. He opens it, and James can’t help but positively buzz in his seat, yes, he did admittedly expect a more traditional and proper proposal from Regulus, but— “This is not me proposing to you, James,” James’ brain promptly shuts up, and strangely he feels a bout of soothing relief course through him, cooling where his cheeks would be burning red if they were a lighter colour capable of showing such things. Although he would honestly agree to be Regulus’ husband anywhere, anytime because he’s really just that smitten for him, he would prefer to not have him do it on a random Tuesday morning sitting at James’ coffee table shortly after James has just bawled his eyes out because of the realistic and imminent possibility that they both might lose Sirius (who therefore would not be attending the wedding) and all whilst Regulus is coming down from the questionably frantic result of downing seven shots of espresso in a row. James’ expectations probably shouldn’t be so low that he was fully prepared to accept his fate and say yes to Regulus right there, right then. Though like he said; anywhere, anytime would be good enough for him.
“Oh, okay,” James responds simply, as if he didn’t internally and externally freak out for the duration of the five whole seconds that he thought Regulus really was proposing to him. Regulus’ shoulders sag, the panic that he was apparently withholding seeping out of him and James just eyes him coyly, still smiling so widely his cheeks are beginning to hurt because his boyfriend just accidentally mentioned that he wants to marry him, a subject that they’ve never, ever spoken about before, not even briefly. A long, long moment of silence passes between them filled with James desperately attempting to discern the conflicting emotions flickering all over Regulus’ face, and Regulus desperately attempting to finish his internal conflict so emotions can stop flickering all over his face and James can stop looking at him like that because it’s making it really fucking hard for him to concentrate. And this is a matter that needs his concentration. Eventually one of the tugging sides of Regulus’ gut wins over the other, as he looks up from his lap at James with a shy, slightly nervous expression that tells him as much.
“But, hypothetically speaking, how would you feel about marriage?” Oh, James is so glad this side of Regulus won, because it feels as though all the wind has been knocked out of him and he has to take several breaths before he can gather enough to reply. Regulus is watching him with a small smile, possibly the softest, most loving one he’s ever seen and that’s the entire other reason that he needs to take another new round of breaths before he can physically speak without the words ‘I do’ accidentally falling out of his mouth.
“I don’t think you understand how much I would love to be your husband,” He says, meaning every single word, and Regulus’ breath hitches as if he didn’t watch James almost descend to the heavens above as soon as he mentioned the word ‘blessing’. “I do want Sirius to be okay with us first though, if that’s okay,” He tells him, thinking that even though he’s barely considered the idea of marriage before because he’s never really known if that’s something Regulus would even want (seemingly, yes, it is), one thing he’s absolutely sure of is that he needs Sirius to attend the wedding. Although it’s a bit unrealistic and slightly delusional to declare such a thing when they’re currently not even speaking to one another, or Sirius isn’t speaking to him, rather, James can’t truthfully say whether he would be able to mentally handle having a wedding ceremony without Sirius standing right there beside him as his best man, laughing and crying together as they have done for the past twelve years.
Regulus doesn’t bat an eye at James’ request, his understanding, hopeful facial expression not deterring in the slightest as he nods in agreement.
“Why do you think I need to ask for his blessing first?” He points out with a knowing smile, and James loves this man—his man—so incredibly much he has a feeling one of the heart attacks he gets when Regulus presses his cold rings against his jaw will be the death of him one day.
“So, were you planning—” James begins, a smirk crawling across his lips when he glances down and abruptly registers that Regulus has been fiddling with his ring finger, slowly circling the spot where an actual engagement ring would go for what must be quite a while now, intentionally or not, James will never know. Trailing his words off, he spends a second staring blankly at his hand and Regulus’ resting on top of it, willing the butterflies in his stomach to calm down for one bloody moment so he can focus and finish his sentence that he’s practically forgotten all about now. Clearing his throat, James shifts his gaze back up sheepishly, feeling rather overheated quite suddenly to see Regulus eyeing him amusedly, mirroring a smirk of his own now. Probably was intentional, James’ genius of a brain supplies for him. James readjusts his jumper uncomfortably, feeling the strong, extremely unrelated to the topic of the current conversation, urge to rip it off, and maybe Regulus’ in the process too, for good measure, obviously. Regulus watches this intensely and swallows hard, opening his mouth to say exactly what James’ body would quite like to hear right now when it gets rudely interrupted with a yawn, and James notices Regulus’ eyes drooping slightly with the longing for sleep. Regulus blinks surprisedly at himself, apparently not having realised the after-effect of that stupid caffeine dosage would lead to his body crashing out with the loss of energy it experienced whilst Regulus was sprinting up and down James’ kitchen, either. Regulus yawns again, and again, pressing a polite, instinctual hand to his mouth each time just as he and Sirius were raised to – well, Sirius told James once that they were raised on the strict expectation to not yawn at all, but were taught to cover their mouths in the case of absolute emergencies – and James decides that Regulus needs to go to sleep in the next few minutes or his body will do it against his will slumped against James’ coffee table. And that would mean Regulus would wake up later in pain from the awkward position he’s bound to fall unconscious in, and James just cannot have Regulus being in pain, ever. Not on his watch, certainly. So James raises his eyebrows at him suggestively, not in the same way he was a few minutes ago, and promises himself before he endures Regulus’ guaranteed frantic and fairly convincing string of protests that he will absolutely be making sure that he gets enough rest over these next couple hours, no matter what.
James looks at Regulus with gentle adoration that he’s never, not once, felt for anyone or anything else, and swipes his thumb back and forth over the soft skin of his hand in an attempt to cushion his next words that Regulus is already narrowing his eyes in outright rejection at.
“You need to go to sleep,” James tells him honestly, and predictably is met with extensive and profuse disagreement that Regulus is ‘perfectly fine’ and ‘what do you take him for? A toddler?’, a reaction that James luckily is intimately familiar with, and has an effective backup plan for. He stands up, never letting go of Regulus’ hand, this is a key factor to his plan, as he uses it to tug Regulus out of his own chair with just enough force to ensure that it will work, but not enough to accidentally hurt him; the element of surprise being the only real reason it works at all. Regulus inevitably stumbles slightly, but James presses his free hand to the small of his back to steady him, meeting his furious scowl with a bright smile of his own, the one that Regulus always says makes him look like the Sun. The one that James knows he can’t refuse. Despite this, Regulus holds his ground firmly, glaring at James murderously for a full thirty seconds before another yawn involuntarily encompasses his features as James knew it would, also conveniently proving his point, and Regulus’ scowl only deepens when faced with James’ smug expression once his eyes open again.
“You need to go to sleep,” James repeats earnestly, fixing him with a look that hopefully correctly conveys that Regulus would have to be a fool to argue back with him now, and they both know Regulus isn’t a fool. Most of the time. Regulus’ jaw clenches and he keeps his frankly pointless act of defiance up for exactly one whole minute until his head drops into his free hand with heavy reluctance as his exhaustion grasps hold of him, and the incoherent grumbling James hears from it is what tells him that he’s won this time, officially.
“Fine,” Regulus drawls as he resurfaces, his voice sleepy and low and his eyes halfway to being closed indefinitely. James beams with satisfaction, immediately leading him carefully to his, practically their, bedroom before he can change his mind, and yet during the short journey he still manages to anyway. “Wait,” Regulus says, but his tone is clipped, almost like it’s paining him to delay his direly-needed slumber any further, but he simply has no choice. So much for ‘I’m not tired at all, James’. This does make James stop in his tracks, though, because Regulus has never been a sore loser enough to carry on fighting with him well after he’s already won an argument between them, so either he doesn’t know the man he’s planning to marry very well at all, or this is about something serious enough for Regulus to pass up valuable rest time James can tell he’s desperate for. He turns around to face him, feeling concern crease his eyebrows and then confusion when Regulus is mirroring his frown. Thankfully, Regulus doesn’t make him work out the problem for himself, rather pointing out to James that the problem to work out ishimself.
“What did Sirius mean the other day when he said you vented to him about being too emotionally dependable on me to the point where it’s unhealthy?” The way Regulus says it, the way the words are so obviously loaded with so many emotions and paired with the raw combination of pain and concern stinging his pretty grey eyes, James can tell that this is something Regulus has been worrying himself into spirals about, and that truly breaks his brand-new, fundamentally changed heart for the first time ever. James exhales a shaky breath, he really isn’t prepared to have this conversation today, and yet, it looks like he’s about to have it anyway. To be honest, he had been hoping that Regulus would have forgotten all about what Sirius said by now, considering the fact that he hasn’t brought it up over the past couple days, presumably because he knew how badly James would normally react to it, but obviously fucking not. James doesn’t want to act out badly, though, not now when even the smallest difference in a pronunciation of a word could send Regulus running for the hills, screaming about how he’s a burden to James and that James deserves better than him. It’s happened before. Really, James just wants Regulus to go sleep; he keeps yawning still, and he’s sure that if Regulus didn’t seem to be fighting with every inch of willpower his body contains to keep his eyes open for this then he would’ve passed out by now. And so, to speed up this whole process, James takes a moment to sort out how to summarise his many, messy feelings into a single sentence that won’t sound painfully cringe-worthy or devastating once spoken out loud. It’s a thin line, it turns out, but James just about manages to walk it, he thinks. He heaves a deep sigh, runs a hand through his hair, and forces himself to just go for it. Despite how much he hates the idea of the conversation topic being this, he owes Regulus some sort of explanation at the very least, he regrettably knows that much.
“Basically, you make me so happy that whenever I spend time away from you my bottled up negative emotions come out, and it’s turning into a bit of a problem since it is a bad way of dealing with things, but never fear, I’ve got a therapy appointment tomorrow afternoon that I’ll be talking about it in, and I’ll let you know how it goes because I’m guessing that’s something you’d want?” James explains casually, not stuttering once, and really he feels like he should be crying whilst he’s talking about a subject so sensitive to him, but he meant it when he said that he’s simply got no tears left to cry earlier. This means that he’s left staring plainly at a wide-eyed Regulus who apparently needs the better part of a minute to process everything he just said, run James’ words through his head a few times to make sure that he’s not missing something, and that there really isn’t more to James’ oddly flippant demeanour and smooth summary other than that he simply can’t be bothered anymore. After what feels like an eternity of being eyed apprehensively by an exceptionally sceptical Regulus, Regulus finally nods with slight hesitance in understanding of him, and James almost whoops in celebration of not having to suffer through a gruelling, all-telling assessment on his mental health as he usually does in these sorts of situations with Regulus. In all fairness, he does admittedly put Regulus through the exact same shit when the roles are reversed, partially because he can’t help being overly-invested in his well being as his boyfriend, and partially out of spite. Sometimes, James thinks Regulus just does the whole ‘professional therapist’ act out of spite, too. Now is not one of those times.
Regulus’ eyebrows are still furrowed, but the exhausted look on his face gives James the impression that he’s completely ready to accept his fate of just agreeing with James and dropping the subject, and then allowing himself to be dragged off to sleep, finally.
“Right, fine, okay, sounds like you’ve got it sorted, just…talk to me about these things in the future, please? And yeah, I would like you to update me about it soon, if that’s okay,” Regulus exhales heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as if not being able to interrogate James on his emotions for once is giving him a headache, though when he opens his eyes from where he had them screwed tightly shut, they have a gentle twinkle of affection alighting them like lightning does to a stormed sky, and James can tell, right then, that he’s been forgiven for all of his sins committed over the past couple of days. “I care about you, James,” Regulus tells him, a lazy half-smile plastered across his face contradicting his firm, unwavering tone that leaves absolutely zero room for any doubts James was harbouring towards the sentiment, which he wasn’t at all. How could he when his boyfriend is literally about to faint from exhaustion, and yet still insists on staying awake for another fifteen minutes to have a conversation about James’ mental health that very well could have waited until tomorrow, just because he cares? James much appreciates the reassurance that he would have killed for about five years ago during the more questionable era of their relationship, though, and smiles genuinely and warmly, making the quick decision to show it before he’s forced to pick Regulus up and throw him into bed as the only sure-fire way to coax him into sleep is by giving him very little choice. James knows, he has experience; lots of it.
Taking a step to close the gap between them, James wraps both of his arms around Regulus’ waist and spends a minute just savouring the way sweet vanilla and bitter coffee cloud his senses until all he’s left with is the bittersweet reality that he cannot realistically simply stay put in this spot, in this moment for the rest of eternity. A man can try, though.
“Eu conheço, meu amor,” He whispers devotedly into the crook of Regulus’ neck, grinning against his skin when he feels Regulus’ body gasp sharply in response, and he presses a tentative kiss down before moving up dutifully to Regulus’ parted lips, pressing a slower, even more tentative kiss to those too. It’s calm and beautifully unexpecting of anything else to follow afterwards except fond, shared smiles, James leading Regulus by the hand into their bedroom and climbing into the sheets with him at midday for a nap when he’s not even the slightest bit tired; it’s love. Their love.
With their limbs entangled and uncomfortable pairs of jeans stripped off, they both settle down happily and familiarly curled together, and Regulus sighs contently against his pillow before finally, finally closing his eyes in the hopes of getting his well-deserved rest. James watches this, his heart fluttering lightly in his chest at the glorious sight that he admittedly should be used to after owning the privilege of waking up to it most days for the past seven years, and yet he suspects it will never grow old, even as Regulus does. It’s as he admires Regulus’ relaxed features, eyes flicking to the dark curls that he knows exactly the texture of when it’s gripped tightly under his hands, that his eyes catch on the glowing alarm clock perched innocently on the nightstand next to Regulus’ head, the numbers branded across it making James gasp and then groan as he realises what they mean for him. 12:56, it reads. James has football training at half-past one. Meaning he has to leave literally right now, unfortunately, if he doesn’t want to be in a rush. The Gryffindor Lions’ training ground isn’t too far from here, but James is the Captain so he is unofficially obligated to arrive earlier than his teammates anyway – don’t ask him why, it’s just the rules. Sighing, and a lot less contently than Regulus did, James crawls out of bed as gently as humanly possible, tugging on his jeans quietly. Fortunately, his exercising bag is already packed after he did it this morning when he was feeling inspired once back home from his daily run, meaning that he doesn’t have to risk awaking Regulus with the unpleasant banging of drawers or James swearing to himself under his breath because he can’t find the right shin-pads he wanted to wear today, as is a frankly shamefully common occurrence. He does regretfully have to wake Regulus up anyway, though, because he’ll be damned if he ever leaves his boyfriend alone to wake up to an empty and cold bed with no explanation. He makes his way over to stand next to the side of the bed that Regulus is sleeping on—that he always sleeps on; the left—and kneels beside him, wincing as he brings a timid hand up to cradle his face, raking it through his hair gently as a means to awake him. Regulus stirs, making an adorable noise of protest as he flutters his dazed eyes open, coming face to face with James’ big, brown ones. He immediately relaxes at the sight of them, the corners of his lips faintly pulling upwards which is such a lovely thought it almost convinces James to just call in sick and spend the rest of the day here with Regulus; except despite how much his heart aches in longing for this very obtainable day-dream, his team needs their Captain.
“Reg? I forgot I have training in half an hour so I have to go, okay?” He says softly, trying not to cry with guilt when Regulus’ face falls in disappointment. It quickly recovers, though, and Regulus shoots him a small smile and as much of a nod as he can muster whilst lying down to make up for it, and James has to tell himself firmly to not read too much into whatever that was, and that it’s probably nothing. Shaking himself, James presses a kiss to Regulus’ forehead, sweeping his hair out of the way momentarily, and Regulus smiles fully now, leaning into it eagerly. James is very aware that he’s the only person to walk the earth that Regulus would ever allow himself to appear eager in front of, and certainly does not take that honour for granted.
“I’ll be back around eight. Sleep well, I love you,” He says, pulling back to take one last savouring look at Regulus’ faint freckles, his regal cheekbones, the rosy blush dusting them discreetly, before he has to bear a good seven hours without seeing them again. James likes to think he doesn’t have attachment issues, but well. How could he not when Regulus Black shares pieces of himself so scarcely among even his closest friends and family, and James, for some godforsaken reason that he praises to every day, gets the most?
Regulus hums affectionately and closes his eyes again, shifting under the duvet until in a suitably comfortable position, which James takes graciously as his cue to leave. He grabs his phone and wallet off of his nightstand, just about to turn into the hallway to retrieve his weighty duffel bag and his car keys when something stops him in his tracks, and James is so very happy it did.
“I love you too, sweetheart,” Regulus mumbles sleepily against his pillow, being a painstakingly light sleeper must have heard James’ footsteps begin to recede out of the room, and James’ heart that grew teeth specifically to bite a long time ago, now stretches into a beaming smile and does a happy little dance inside of his chest, almost flying out of it in excitement. He doesn’t know where this ‘sweetheart’ thing suddenly came from, but it’s safe to say he’s really fucking loving it. With a parting glance back to an unconscious Regulus twisted up in his sheets, an image he missed an obscene amount during the taxing two weeks Regulus spent in Italy and he spent the end of in Godric's Hollow, James collects the necessary things he’ll need to survive until the evening, and locks the front door behind him. He spends exactly three whole seconds staring through the polished wood, thinking about who is lingering on the other side, until his usual alarm set on his phone to remind him to go to football training for the unlikely occasion that he completely forgets—today, he only partially forgot—vibrates against his jean pocket. It’s relatively easy to forget you have work when it’s something you enjoy so immensely, and has odd training hours that change almost every other day, James finds. Clicking the alarm off with a heavy, wistful sigh, James clambers into his car somewhat reluctantly and flicks the radio on, turning it up loudly once channeled to his favourite pop station.
Feeling a little bit better as he reverses out of the driveway, James hums along to the ending of a slightly overplayed song that he apparently has picked up after being subjected to many listenings of it on his way to and from training like he is now, and drums his fingers appreciatively on the steering wheel as the intro to ‘Paper Rings’ by Taylor Swift blares out of his speaker afterwards. It’s only when the chorus hits and he’s shamelessly singing along to the catchy ‘I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings’ line that James remembers he and Regulus are practically newly engaged and he fully slams his foot on the brake in shock. It’s a goddamn miracle no one else happens to be around because that could have ended very badly, but James doesn’t find himself minding very much at all because he and Regulus are engaged— well, practically, but still. Simply unable to contain himself, James lets out what he would to call a happy shriek but others might misconceive as a deluded scream, and cranks Paper Rings up as loud as his car goes, belting along to it because he is literally going to marry Regulus and whilst he likes shiny things, he would honestly be ecstatic with paper rings if that is all Regulus has to offer. But James isn’t stupid, he knows that Regulus probably has his eye on some ridiculously expensive and extravagant pair of rings that are also somehow impossibly sentimental in such a jaw-dropping way that it almost makes up for all the unnecessary money spent. James doesn’t need anything fancy, he must have told Regulus this over a thousand times throughout their relationship only to be faced with the exact same response in return that ‘James, I would give you the entire fucking universe if I could, but unfortunately I can’t so you and I will both have to settle with small, shiny, admittedly over-priced rocks instead, okay?’. And James melts into a puddle every single time, his sense and his heart both going with it, leaving him only with the mindless inclination to just agree with whatever Regulus says for the rest of his days. Which is something he does most of the time, anyway. Excitement fizzes uncontrollably through his veins, James has never given marriage too much thought, but he always imagined that it would be him proposing to Regulus, who is not always the best at grand romantic gestures. When he is though, it’s fucking amazing, like James knows everything about this ordeal, from the proposal, to the wedding, to the vows, to the rings and everything that will come in the years after that will be.
Paper Rings ends, and James feels so elated by the end of it he could run twenty laps of the pitch fuelled purely by happiness, and he just might have to when he arrives at the training ground because the energy coursing through his body is getting a little too much for him to handle when trapped sitting down in a metal box cruising down the middle of a random road. At least his coaches will be happy, especially Kingsley.
Focusing on driving more than the music playing like the sensible young man he is, James blinks when he tunes back into a song he doesn’t know just in time to catch the singer droning on about the struggles of having parents that don’t accept him for who he is. And the reason James blinks is because his initial thought is that he feels sorry for the poor sod, as he personally couldn’t say that he relates to the sentiment of the lyrics, and he imagines the deep-rooted pain someone who does must be forced to bear, until he realises with a piercing pang of dread that he can’t actually say that he doesn’t relate to the lyrics, because what if he does? James has never, not once in his entire existence spent living in the Potter household heard either of his parents say anything even remotely homophobic—he knows, he’s been paying attention—and yet not once in his entire existence has James ever even remotely hinted at his homosexuality, either. Sirius brought boys home with him occasionally when he was living with James at their parents’ house, and his mother and father didn’t even bat an eye—again, he was paying attention—and yet James still has this restless niggling worry at his side that it could be different with James because even though they’ve always unhesitatingly treated Sirius as a son of their own, James is their own blood, and he has not the faintest idea of whether that would change things or not. Over the years his parents have made the infamous, presumptuous comments of ‘Have you found a girlfriend yet?’ or ‘I’ll be telling your future wife that you did that at your wedding’, which is to be expected, really. It doesn’t hurt exactly because it’s not like his parents are doing it on purpose, but it’s growing harder and harder to shrug off their suggestive looks and knowing winks whenever they’re out as a family and happen to walk past literally any girl James’ age when he has a practical fiancé who is a man waiting at home for him as soon as he arrives back. Sirius used to inadvertently join in too, which didn’t help much either, but that most likely won’t be a problem anymore, James suspects. He’s explained as much to Regulus in an increasingly frustrated manner that’s always without fail met with fierce agreement over the time that’s passed because this is getting slightly ridiculous now; James should be able to openly love who he wants in his own childhood home without any hesitation whatsoever, and if his parents can’t grant him that it might just break him, but at least he’ll have Regulus to fit the pieces back together. Though then again he used to think the exact same thing about telling Sirius of him and Regulus, possibly on an even larger scale due to the whole sibling betrayal stuff and all that jazz but look at him now – he’s sitting in his car as normal, perfectly content and certainly not broken. Fragile, maybe, but not broken.
It’s as the last verse of this frankly terrible but epiphany-triggering-so-James-can’t-really-complain song roars out unpleasantly in his ears because he never turned the car volume back down, James makes a decision. A decision that if James is going to be married by this time next year at the very earliest, knowing Regulus’ impatience, then he needs to know right now whether his parents will be attending the wedding as he refuses to save seats for sentient question marks. Sirius is an exception, and unfortunately for the rest of his family James only has so much patience to go around for these sorts of things – perhaps Regulus is rubbing off on him. He wouldn’t be surprised, considering they’ve been together for a grand total of seven years. Seven years spent cowering before purely made-up demons that plague his mind consistently with all of the ways this could go horribly wrong, to the point where James is finally declaring he’s had enough fighting hypothetical battles, and is just about ready for a real one.
“Hey Siri, call Mum,” He tells his mobile phone with a perhaps unnecessarily strong tone of defiance and challenging smirk on his face considering he’s speaking to a small, metal device, but it hums obediently at him, possibly even timidly, before automatically connecting to his car’s aux with the unmistakable monotone trill of a ringing phone. Fortunately, his mother doesn’t give him a chance to change his mind as she almost immediately picks up the phone with the same cheery greeting as she always does that never fails to flood his insides with instant warmth and affection.
“Hiya sweetie, how are you? Is everything alright?” She asks brightly, her accent never as thick as he instinctively remembers it from when he was young, the years in England gradually smoothing out the rolled r’s that James never got the chance to inhabit for himself. He takes a moment to breathe, swallowing harshly before responding, and making the slightly painstaking effort to not automatically put on a whole happy façade for his mother, because she just asked if he’s alright and this needs to be a conversation purely about honesty.
“Hi Mum, I’m…no. No, everything isn’t really alright, sorry,” James winces as his tone, a perhaps too-transparent projection of the mixed emotions swirling around uneasily in the pit of his stomach comes out a tad bit sharp and accusatory, quite misdirected. Even through the phone, James feels the atmosphere flip completely and his mum’s demeanour change into something strange and unreadable because it is very, very rarely that James ever allows himself to be perceived as something other than happy to anyone, even his own mother, at times, but he’s trying to be better, and maybe the first proper step in that is not only to stop lying about his emotions, but stop lying in general as well. Exactly two seconds of stunned silence, and then.
“What’s going on, Jamie?” His mother asks, unmistakable concern flooding her voice, and her words coming out slightly more urgently now, like she knows this can only be about something truly serious. James is quiet for a moment as he tugs his car into a sharp left towards the entrance of Gryffindor training ground parking lot, and decides that he’s not about to have one of the top ten most important conversations of his life at work in his car over the phone and without his father present. He just won’t. But he’s also getting a sort of ‘it’s now or never’ sense from his brain, and so he decides to put into practice one of his all time favourite coping mechanisms; forcing his future self to deal with it instead. He clears his throat as he mills around searching for his designated parking spot, thinking that he’s left his mum in accidental tense anticipation long enough.
“I want to talk to you and Dad about it in person, it’s…it’s something quite important to me,” He says carefully, rolling his car to a neat stop in his parking space but not cutting the engine off just yet as that would mean ending the call. James hears a small intake of breath on the other line and leans his forehead against his steering wheel, shutting his eyes in silent prayer that his mum won’t just dismiss his feelings or, worse yet, assume something that forces him to correct her and talk about Regulus with her here and now, when all he wants is to do this his way like he never got to with Sirius. And, because she’s Effie and can do no wrong, of course she does neither.
“Okay, do you want to come round for dinner on Friday and we can talk about it then, if that’s what you want?” She asks politely, the concern not completely gone just better hidden, but you don’t come out of someone’s womb without knowing a thing or two about when they’re lying, as is the other way around because James knows his mum can sense the exhaustion and general off-ness in his own voice and is for some reason, probably his benefit, actively pretending not to.
“Yeah, Friday sounds good. Don’t…please don’t invite Sirius, I need this to be just us three,” He clarifies slowly, realising that his family automatically invites Sirius to everything since he’s an official member of it too, which is something he’s immensely grateful for normally, but is proving to be a significant inconvenience to him right this second as now he’s given Effie an opening to ask questions, and material to make dangerous assumptions with, and those two are the absolute last things he needs right now. More silence.
“Okay, I won’t, don’t worry,” Effie reassures him, but James remains quiet because he can tell from the air of unease that has suddenly encompassed her body-less presence in his car that she’s not quite done talking yet. “Jamie…are you okay?” She doesn’t attempt to hide her distress anymore, and wow does it show, almost unbearably so. James hesitates. He has no tears left to cry, so he’s not worried about suddenly breaking down minutes before he has to go to work, but he is worried that he can’t very well break his promise to himself to be nothing but one-hundred percent honest on this phone call, though he certainly doesn’t need his mother worrying herself sick about him after hearing the dire truth of his mental state and frantically turning up at his front door only for a sleep-rumpled Regulus to answer. And so, he decides to compromise.
“Honestly, I’m not,” He answers with difficulty before thinking about Regulus and instinctively finding his empty ring finger that he earlier encircled lightly with a heavy promise, smiling softly to himself and tilting his head, “well, I am but—” He thinks about Sirius, and sighs wearily. “No, no I’m not,” James’ mother waits a good ten seconds in case James changes his mind for a third time before providing her response that makes James’ head fall against his steering wheel again because he needs some moral support for this conversation if he’s going to make it all the way through training without exploding sheerly from withholding so many complicated emotions inside.
“I’m sorry, Jamie, I hope it gets better and if it doesn’t by Friday when you speak to me and your father about it, thank you for feeling comfortable enough to share it, whatever it is, with us by the way, then we will make a plan to make it better, agreed?” James exhales deeply, screwing his eyes shut.
“Agreed,” He replies and it’s like ripping a plaster off because he knows that no effective plan could ever be made to fix what he broke with Sirius, or fix what he broke between Sirius and Regulus either, and that thought, that thought is the one that is very quick and very fucking painful.
“You’re so strong, James. I love you, and so does your father,” Effie tells him meaningfully, firm belief sharpening the edges lost to her voice from the concern that quickly softened them, and James smiles something faint and relieved, lifting his head from his steering wheel.
“I love you guys too,” He says, and he does – so much. He hears the line disconnect and finally cuts his engine off, staring into the large bushes his windscreen is facing for a long, thoughtful moment before climbing out of his car. His body works on autopilot, pocketing his phone, wallet, keys and swinging his heavy duffel bag over his shoulder with a strain he’s only just starting to grow used to despite his years of refining the swift movement.
He starts off towards the large red and gold and glass building, nodding to the giant roaring lion mural hung across the front of it as per tradition, and blinking as he abruptly falls into step with Peter who seems to have appeared out of thin air, though he was beginning to feel a bit lost in his own head, which is always dangerous, and so James finds himself delighted at the friendly face and distraction.
“You alright, Captain?” Peter asks, squinting his eyes at him in the bright sun that is causing his thick crown of blonde hair to turn more into a halo as they near the entrance to the building. James looks away, he’s really beginning to get sick of this question. Still, he’s grateful for Peter’s presence though, and shoots him a smile that isn’t even that false, knowing Peter means well.
“I’m okay, well, truth be told, I’m not, but I think I will be soon,” James explains casually as they arrive before the set of modern revolving doors that James remembers feeling intimidated by his first time here as an innocent seventeen year old with a hell of a lot to prove, and thinks briefly how far he’s come since then.
His words make Peter stop fully, turning around with an alarmed expression on his face to direct at James. Jesus Christ, maybe he should’ve pursued an acting career after all because it seems like he really had everyone fooled with his sometimes real, sometimes not but nevertheless perpetually brimming with positivity act. Even his own mother. Admittedly, James didn’t really mean to tell Peter the actual truth, he must have been in an honest mood after that conversation with his mum, and before that, Regulus. Oh well, too late now. And isn’t he supposed to be giving up his happy façade, anyway? This makes him feel slightly better after revealing that James Potter can, indeed, feel upset and vulnerable to someone who has never, not once, no matter how many matches they have lost together, seen this side of him. What isn’t making him feel so good is how Peter’s mouth is hanging open and he looks like he’s going to inquire further on James’ personal business, though. And after a very quick debate on what would be the best way to handle this, James simply carries on walking ahead like nothing is wrong in the world before he can hear another sound escape Peter’s mouth, leaving him staring agape after him outside. A few confident strides indoors and James realises Peter hasn’t attempted to catch up to him at all, still staring through the broad glass doors intensely, which James does think is a little bit odd, but wisely decides to overlook it.
“Are you coming?” James yells to Peter, a grin tugging at his mouth as watches the boy abruptly recover from whatever spell that was cast on him and quickly scurry forward, a sheepish look on his face when arrives beside him. Sparing Peter the mercy of asking what on earth that was all about, James adjusts his gaze to focus on the room in front of him; the room that will always be like a home to him with its high ceilings, and flooded daylight from the many, many windows surrounding him. The crimson red and rich gold colour-combo swallowing up any and all plain white surfaces and walls with overflowing Lions’ memorabilia displays. His team, incomplete as not everyone’s here yet, lingering around the room already clad head-to-toe in those same colours, speaking enthusiastically with one another in the way that James loves and encourages so much, and is so happy to see that it’s working. This room, these people, his team will be there for him when he has no tears left to cry and when he has too many. They will be there for him no matter if he’s okay or not, or just pretending to be, because either way he will be and that’s the important part. Because James may not be alright all of the time, but he’s learning to make peace with that—at least he’s trying, anyway.
James takes a deep breath, smiling as his teammates notice him and Peter and immediately crowd around them, talking at them excitedly and not seeming to mind that James doesn’t have it in him to respond just yet. Not today. But they know he will, and he knows he will because their team is built on a solid foundation of respect, attitude and trust. And who is he to betray the virtues that he didn’t personally create but has helped maintain tirelessly here over the past season? The people standing around James trust him to lead them. James trusts the people standing around him to guide him. And, most of all, James trusts himself; he trusts that he will be okay. Well, he’s going to try, and doesn’t that take him halfway there? He thinks so, anyway.