Chapter 4
The hallway was unnervingly quiet as Regulus made his way toward the dungeons, his footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floor. The day had felt endless, filled with awkward encounters and a weight in his chest that wouldn’t lift. Three weeks had passed since the argument with James, and yet it still played in his mind like a loop, unbearable and unresolved. He tried to make sense of it, but no amount of rationalizing eased the pain. Every time the memory resurfaced, it felt as if the wound in his heart reopened, deeper each time.
He hadn’t expected to see James standing at the end of the corridor.
It was as if every move he had made had brought him to this point, as though some unseen force had pulled them together. No matter how hard he tried to break free, he was still trapped in James's orbit. Standing before the one person who could still make him feel as though he were falling apar. He couldn’t help but relize just how much control James still held over him.
James leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw set in that way that still made Regulus’s heart race. The moment their eyes met, the air between them thickened with tension. Neither spoke at first, the silence growing heavier with every passing second.
“I don’t think we’re done talking, Regulus,” James said finally, his voice tight, carrying a sharp edge of frustration. But underneath it, there was something else—something deeper, darker, that made Regulus’s skin prickle with unease.
Regulus’s stomach churned. Of course, he’d come back for more.
“James, I don’t have anything left to say to you,” Regulus snapped, the words sharper than he’d intended. His heart still throbbed with the pain, his emotions far too raw. “You don’t get to waltz back into my life like nothing happened. You don’t get to just—”
“Don’t act like I don’t know what I did!” James interrupted, stepping closer, his voice rising with the anger he was clearly struggling to contain. “I was stupid. I was selfish. And I—”
“Selfish?” Regulus bit out, his voice trembling with everything he’d been holding back. “You left me, James. You left me, and now you expect me to just forgive you because you’ve suddenly realized you were wrong? It doesn’t work like that. Not with me.” His eyes burned with the tears he refused to shed.
“You don’t understand—” James started again, but Regulus wouldn’t have it.
“No, you don’t understand!” Regulus shouted, his hands shaking with the raw intensity of his emotions. “You don’t get to just walk back into my life and pretend you can fix this. You broke it, James. You broke me. I was a fool to ever believe we had something that could last. But you made me believe it, didn’t you? You made me believe that you cared, and now you’re acting like everything’s fine just because you’ve decided to apologize. I can’t just forget what happened because you decided you should get a second chance!”
Before James could respond, a voice rang out from behind him.
“That’s enough, Potter.”
Barty’s voice was ice-cold, and for the first time, James hesitated. He turned to see Barty and Evan stepping out from the shadows, their expressions hard, unreadable. It was clear—they were standing with Regulus, ready to protect him.
“Regulus doesn’t owe you anything,” Evan said firmly, stepping forward beside Barty, his eyes narrowed, his hand hovering near his wand. “He doesn’t owe you forgiveness, and he doesn’t owe you the privilege of being heard out.”
James opened his mouth, but Barty cut him off.
“You’ve done enough already, Potter. Regulus is done with you. Step aside.”
James’s face flushed, but he didn’t move. His desperation for closure, for the belief that things could be fixed, held him there. But Regulus didn’t know that.
“Please,” Regulus whispered, his voice breaking as the weight of everything hit him. “Just… leave me alone.”
For a moment, James’s face faltered, but instead of retreating, he reached for Regulus’s arm—a tentative plea for attention. Regulus recoiled immediately as if the touch burned.
“Don’t touch me,” he hissed, his chest tightening painfully. “You had your chance, James. And you ruined it. Don’t think you can fix this by begging for forgiveness. You don’t get that power.”
There was a long pause. James’s face twisted with the weight of Regulus’s words, but it wasn’t enough to break him. “Reg… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear if I could go back—”
“Stop.” Regulus’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it cut through the air like a blade. “Stop making excuses. It’s too late for apologies.”
Without another word, Regulus turned on his heel and walked past James, the knot in his stomach tightening with every step. But before he could get too far, Barty and Evan flanked him, a wall of protection on either side.
“We’re going back to the dorm,” Evan said, his voice soft but firm. “Come on, Reg. Let’s get you out of here.”
Barty remained silent, but his hand on Regulus’s back was steady, a quiet anchor that helped more than Regulus cared to admit. He let himself be guided, and felt the world shift as his friends surrounded him, ushering him away from the confrontation.
For the first time in days, Regulus allowed himself to be taken somewhere safe.
When they reached their dorm, the door clicked shut behind them, sealing out the rest of the world. Regulus sank down heavily on his bed, his mind still reeling from the encounter. The weight of everything—the argument, the loss, the anger, and the hurt—was unbearable. He felt like he might break at any moment.
Dorcas sat beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder, her touch a quiet reassurance in the chaos of his mind. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, her voice soft yet steady, like the calm in the eye of a storm.
Regulus wanted to believe her, more than anything. But every part of him felt fractured, torn between the desperate need to trust her words and the overwhelming silence inside him. How could he be whole again when everything felt so broken?
Barty and Evan sat across from them, still and silent, their gazes heavy on him. Regulus couldn’t bring himself to look up, his eyes focused on the floor as if the answers might be hidden there. He couldn’t find the words. He didn’t have any. He didn’t even know who he was anymore, or what he wanted to become.
It was Evan who broke the silence, his voice low and careful like he was treading on fragile ground. “You’re angry. And you’re right to be. But he’s the one who lost something—you’re not the one who’s broken.”
Regulus swallowed hard, a lump catching in his throat, the words hanging in the air between them like a fragile truth. Evan’s words settled over him like the softest of blankets, the warmth slowly seeping in. They were right, weren’t they? James had lost him—he hadn’t been the one to walk away.
“I don’t want to be angry anymore,” Regulus whispered, his voice breaking on the confession. “But I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to stop feeling like… like I’m not enough. Like I’m just… broken. Like I’ll never be able to put myself back together.”
Dorcas shifted closer, her presence a gentle balm against the sharp pain in his chest. She squeezed his hand, her touch grounding him. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough,” she said softly. “You don’t need him to define that for you. You never did.”
Regulus nodded, taking a shaky breath. The tears he’d been holding back for so long finally fell, and this time, he didn’t try to stop them. He let them come. Let them wash over him.
And in that moment, surrounded by his friends—his true family in every sense of the word—Regulus let himself believe that maybe he wasn’t as broken as he’d thought. Maybe, just maybe, he could start to heal. With them by his side, he might just have the strength to put the pieces back together.
—-
Regulus forced himself to focus, but the quiet library, usually his refuge, felt suffocating today. It was the one place where the weight of the world didn’t press in on him, where he could breathe. But even here, he couldn’t escape the gnawing ache in his chest—the familiar reminder of James Potter. He didn’t want to think about him, didn’t want to feel that unbearable pull, but the thought lingered. It always did, no matter how hard he tried to bury it.
He had managed, for a while. Schoolwork had been his distraction. As long as he buried himself in it, he could almost forget. But today, each page turned, every line read was a reminder—the empty space left behind by James, the loss that hung in the air.
And then came the footsteps.
Regulus didn’t need to look up. He could hear it—the unmistakable rhythm of James’ walk. Even in the stillness of the library, James was never truly quiet. The steady cadence of his steps was too familiar. Too constant.
Regulus squeezed his eyes shut for a brief second, willing the moment away. If he ignored it, maybe James would leave. Maybe it would all go away. But no. A chair scraped across the floor, and James was sitting across from him, his presence undeniable, impossible to ignore.
Regulus didn’t look up. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
“I’m trying to study, James,” he said, his voice colder than he intended, his walls firmly in place. He needed distance. Needed space. Anything to keep from giving in. “This isn’t the time.”
But, of course, James wasn’t going anywhere.
“I need to talk to you, Regulus,” James said, quieter than usual, softer. It made Regulus' chest tighten, his breath hitching as his thoughts spun wildly.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Regulus snapped, his voice sharp with malice. His hand trembled as he gripped his quill, the quiver betraying him, reminding him of the last time he let James in.
But James didn’t back down. He never did. “Please. Just five minutes. I won’t keep you from your work after.”
Regulus felt the weight of those words, heavy, too heavy. Five minutes? What could that change? Nothing. It wouldn’t fix anything.
But Merlin, it was so hard to ignore him.
Regulus tried to breathe, and tried to focus on the
book in front of him. It didn’t help. The words blurred as his thoughts spiraled back to that night, the fight, the coldness in James’ eyes when Regulus had walked away. The sting of everything James had said and done.
"I don’t want to do this," Regulus whispered, the words barely audible, though he knew James heard.
“I know,” James said, almost like a confession, his voice thick with something Regulus couldn’t quite place—guilt, regret, maybe both. “But I can’t just walk away and pretend nothing happened.”
Regulus finally met his gaze, though it felt like a mistake—like opening a door that might never close again. James’ eyes were softer than he remembered, full of quiet desperation that made Regulus’ resolve falter.
But no. He couldn’t give in. Not again.
“I’m not going to let you off easy, James. You don’t get to fix everything with five minutes of talking. It doesn’t work like that.”
James didn’t move. He didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between them, and Regulus hated how it made his heart race. James was waiting. Waiting for him to decide. Waiting for him to break.
“I’m sorry,” James said, his voice barely a whisper, as though he feared it would break if he said it louder. “I’ve been sorry for a long time. I don’t want to be the idiot I was when we ended things. I don’t want to lose you, Regulus. I know I wasn’t the best at showing you I care, I pushed you away. It was a mistake. I don’t know how to fix it. I just want a chance to show you I’m trying.”
Regulus squeezed his eyes shut again, the pain curling deep inside him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that James still had this power over him, that despite everything, Regulus still felt drawn to him.
"I don’t know if I can trust you again," Regulus whispered, his voice thick with emotion he didn’t want to acknowledge. "You hurt me, James."
“I know,” James answered, his voice breaking. “I know I did. And I don’t expect you to forget that. I just… I can’t stand knowing I let you go and didn’t even try to make things right. I’m sorry. You have to realize that by now. I never wanted any of this to happen.”
The words hit harder than anything else. Regulus stared at James, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. He wanted to look away, to pretend it didn’t matter, but it did. It mattered more than he could express. It hurt more than he could put into words.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that,” Regulus whispered, his hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the table.
James leaned forward slightly, hesitant but desperate like he couldn’t bear the distance between them anymore. “Just give me a chance. To show you. To fix what I broke.”
Regulus felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know
what to say. He wanted to say no. Wanted to tell James to leave him alone, that he couldn’t keep doing this. But all he managed was, “I don’t know if I can believe you.”
And that, perhaps, was the hardest thing to admit—because part of him wanted to believe. More than anything.
James stood, a sad smile tugging at his lips. It was a smile Regulus hadn’t realized he missed until he saw it again, though this time it was laced with sorrow.
“I know,” James said softly, before turning away.
—-
Regulus hadn’t expected James to keep pushing. He thought the apology—if that’s even what it could be called—would be enough to ease whatever guilt James was carrying. But no. Barely a week later, James ambushed him in the library. There he was, sitting in the same spot, his eyes searching Regulus like he was waiting for some answer, some reassurance that things could be okay again—something Regulus wasn’t sure he could give.
It was maddening.
Regulus ran a hand through his hair, fingers tangled in dark curls as his mind spiraled. He had wanted to move on, to walk away without the weight of James’s presence lingering. To bury the past, to pretend their time together hadn’t meant more to him than he’d ever allowed himself to admit. The truth was, he was nothing—he had always been nothing.
The sooner he accepted that, the better. Who was he to think someone as good as James would ever choose him? The worst part? Even if James had, it would never work. Regulus had known that from the start. So why did it hurt so much when it came true?
But sitting here, across from James, all the old feelings started to creep back in. The anger. The hurt. That small, dangerous spark of something that was undiniably still there. He hated it. Hated how badly he wanted to believe James when he said he could be better.
“I don’t need your apologies,” Regulus said, his voice breaking the silence, “I need actions. If you want me back—if you want to prove you’re not the same person who walked away—then show me.”
James blinked, clearly surprised Regulus had said anything at all. He opened his mouth to speak, but Regulus raised a hand to stop him.
“No, you don’t get to say anything yet,” Regulus continued, his tone freezing. “I don’t want to hear about how sorry you are, or how you’ll change. I want to see it. Show me, James. Because I’m done with empty promises. I’ve been hearing them for a year, and they all sound the same. I’m tired of being the one left picking up the pieces when you decide you’re done.”
James flinched, but Regulus couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed to be angry—he needed something, anything, to block out the ache in his chest.
“I need to see that you’re serious, not for a day, not for a week. I need to see that you care about me more than your pride, more than your friends, more than whatever else you’ve been putting before me. Show me that. If you want me back, you have to prove it. I get it, you’re scared. I understand that. But I’m done hiding. I won’t settle for anything less than real change. If you’re not ready for that, I won’t hold it against you more than I already do with everything else. Now’s your chance to leave.”
There it was. Regulus hated how much he had just exposed, but it was the truth. He couldn’t go through this again unless it was real. If James wasn’t ready to prove he had learned from the past, then there was no point in trying.
James looked stunned, his face pale beneath the soft library light. Regulus almost felt bad for him, but then again, he didn’t. James had walked away, and now it was his turn to prove he could fight for Regulus. Not just with words, but with actions.
“I—I don’t know what you want me to do, Reg,” James said, his voice quieter than usual, as if struggling to keep his emotions in check.
Regulus leaned forward, eyes narrowing, not giving an inch. “I want you to stop thinking everything will work itself out just because you decide it should. I want you to put me first, for once. To show me I’m not just an afterthought.”
James seemed ready to respond, but then he closed his mouth slowly. Regulus could see the wheels turning in his head, and for a moment, the air between them thickened with a strange, tense silence.
“Prove it to me,” Regulus said again, his voice low but firm. “Show me that I’m not just some project you can fix when it’s convenient. I won’t be a consolation prize, James. I won’t be the thing you ‘work on’ when everything else falls apart. If you want me back, you have to prove you can be better. Not by talking about it, but by showing me.”
James stared at him, his expression unreadable, but Regulus could see the shift in his eyes. For a moment, it seemed like James might walk away—like the weight of what Regulus was asking was too much to bear.
But then, slowly, James nodded. It was subtle, but enough to make Regulus’s heart stutter.
“I will,” James said, his voice firm, quieter than before, but no less resolute. “I’ll prove it to you. I won’t just tell you. I’ll show you. You don’t have to take my word for it. I’ll make you see that I care. That I’m willing to do what it takes.”
Regulus studied him, searching for any hint of insincerity, any trace of the old James who couldn’t keep a promise. But there was nothing. Only the quiet sincerity of someone finally ready to meet him where he was.
Regulus exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him. He wasn’t ready to forgive. He wasn’t ready to say everything was okay. But for the first time in a long time, he felt a flicker of hope.
“Don’t make me regret it,” Regulus said, his voice softer now but still edged with a warning. “Don’t make me feel like I’m just waiting around for you to get your shit together. I won’t do that again.”
James nodded, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of his lips—genuine, but cautious. “I won’t. I promise.”
Regulus couldn’t tell if he was ready to trust James again. But for the first time in a long time, he felt like there was something worth trusting. Something worth fighting for.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start again.
—-
The weeks following Regulus’s ultimatum were a strange kind of limbo. He hadn’t known what to expect from James—certainly not an immediate change, not some grand gesture to magically fix everything. But there was something different now, something intangible in the air. A quiet tension lingered, an anticipation that hung beneath every interaction.
James was trying. Regulus could admit that much.
He wasn’t making grand, public declarations, but James started showing up in places Regulus frequented—subtle, unassuming. Not in a way that screamed “Look at me,” but in a way that made Regulus feel like he couldn’t ignore him. He’d sit across the library from Regulus, far enough to keep a distance, but close enough that Regulus could sense his presence. Sometimes, he'd quietly slide a cup of coffee across the table, just a small gesture to say, I’m here, and I’m thinking about you.
At first, Regulus resisted. He’d shoot him a glance—half annoyance, half disbelief—that James thought this was enough. He’d ignore the coffee, pretending he didn’t see it, pretending it didn’t matter. But then, on the fourth day, James sat down beside him, his voice casual as he asked about the essay Regulus was working on—he listened like it was the most interesting thing he had ever heard. And for the first time in a while, Regulus felt the faintest stir of something that resembled hope.
The little things were starting to mean more than the big promises.
It wasn’t perfect. Regulus wasn’t ready to forget everything, wasn’t ready to pretend the hurt and betrayal were gone just because James had done a couple of nice things. He was still angry, still scarred by the way James had walked away from him. But maybe—just maybe—people could change. Maybe James meant it when he said he wanted to prove himself.
___
It was on a rainy afternoon in the library weeks later when Regulus realized how much had shifted. He sat at his usual spot, flipping through his Potions textbook. The rain pattered steadily against the window, offering a calm rhythm to the usually chaotic library atmosphere.
James was there, too—sitting in his usual spot. But this time, instead of quietly working, James was glancing up occasionally, watching Regulus with a quiet intensity that didn’t go unnoticed. He was waiting. Waiting for something—for Regulus to acknowledge him, to take the next step.
Regulus hesitated, his quill mid-air. Part of him wanted to just go over to James and tell him they could try again. But no—he couldn’t give in that easily. He needed to see more. He needed proof that James wasn’t just putting on a show for a month or two, before going back to his old ways.
Their eyes met, and without a word, James gave him that look—the one that had made Regulus feel like he was being seen, truly seen, for the first time. And for the first time in what felt like ages, Regulus considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe, they could try again.
“You’ve been sitting there for ages,” Regulus said, his voice laced with dry amusement. “You’re making a habit of this.”
James didn’t smile right away, but Regulus could see the slight relief in his posture. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words sincere but lighter than they should be. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to leave you alone or…”
“Stop overthinking it,” Regulus cut in, his concern only growing. “You’re not bothering me. I’m just…” He hesitated, unsure of how to finish. “I’m just tired of waiting for you to screw it all up again.”
James’s expression softened, and he nodded, acknowledging the weight of Regulus’s words. “I get that.”
Regulus set his quill down and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You’ve been trying, James. I’ll give you that. But you know that’s not enough, right?”
“I know.” James’s voice was steady, unwavering. “But I’m not asking for your forgiveness right now. I’m not asking you to forget what happened. I’m just asking for the chance to show you I can be better. For you.”
Regulus didn’t answer immediately. He let the silence stretch between them, letting James's words settle into the air. He could hear the sincerity, feel the resolve in them. A part of him wanted to believe it, to give James the chance to prove himself. But another part—one that had been burned too many times—was hesitant. Scared. Scared to trust, scared to open up again.
But he couldn’t stay angry forever. And for reasons Regulus couldn’t quite explain, he was starting to believe James wasn’t just saying it. He was trying.
“You’re right,” Regulus said finally, his voice quiet. “You don’t need my forgiveness right now. But I’m not just going to fall back into this with you. You have to show me you’re serious.”
James leaned forward, eyes locked on Regulus’s, unwavering. “I will. I promise. I’m not going to give up this time. Not like last time. I’ll keep proving it to you, every day, for as long as it takes.”
Regulus searched James’s face, looking for any hint of insincerity. But all he saw was conviction. Real conviction. And for the first time in a long while, Regulus found himself unsure of what to do next.
“I’ll give you one thing,” Regulus said, his voice softer now. He looked down at his desk, then back up at James. “You’re right about one thing. You are trying. But it’s not enough yet.”
James’s lips quirked into a small, cautious smile. “Then I’ll keep trying.”
Regulus exhaled slowly, feeling a tension in his chest that he hadn’t realized was there. It wasn’t relief. It wasn’t hope. It was something more complicated, something uncertain. But maybe that’s what moving forward felt like.
“We’ll see,” Regulus said, his tone guarded, but not as cold as it had been before. “We’ll see if you can prove it.”
—-
James still hadn’t backed off. He didn’t give up. And Regulus was starting to wonder if that was a good thing or not.
It wasn’t like he didn’t notice—he noticed everything. How James had begun showing up early for their shared classes, offering to help him with coursework when Regulus was drowning in assignments. How he’d linger in the library, staying behind just to make sure Regulus wasn’t the last one to leave. The little notes James slipped into Regulus’s books—subtle reminders like, I’m still here, as long as you’ll have me. Small things, things that made Regulus feel seen in a way he didn’t expect.
James had learned how to be present. He wasn’t the cocky, carefree Gryffindor anymore, the one who had only cared about the next big adventure or the next joke to crack. Now, Regulus wondered what was so wrong with that person in the first place. He was quieter, and more thoughtful, and it unsettled Regulus. It made him question if it was enough if this time—just maybe—would be different.
But then there were days when James would show up at the worst possible moments. When Regulus wasn’t ready for him, when he was still lost in his thoughts, still angry, still hurt. Those moments—when James would quietly try to get his attention, waiting patiently with that same determination—were the hardest. Regulus would snap at him, brush him off, and then feel like an idiot afterward. And James? He’d nod, and retreat, never pushing too hard, but always showing up again the next day, waiting.
Maybe that was the worst part. The waiting. Regulus wasn’t sure how long he could keep up this game, this constant push and pull of not allowing himself to get too close but also never being able to completely shut James out. His chest felt tight, the weight of it all pressing down on him.
It was after one particularly rough day—a day where James had quietly sat with him through a long, silent study session—that Regulus finally cracked. Not with words, not with an outburst like he was used to. But with an invitation.
“Dinner in the courtyard tonight,” Regulus said, barely looking up from the parchment he was scribbling on. He hadn’t planned on saying it. It just slipped out. “I’ll save you a seat. If you want it.”
James froze mid-pharagraph, clearly taken aback. Regulus felt a sharp pang of uncertainty. Had he misread the moment? But then, James nodded slowly, like he was letting the weight of the invitation sink in before responding.
“I’ll be there,” he said simply, with a soft, genuine smile.
And that was it. No elaborate promises, no pleading.
Just James, doing what he always did—showing up. And Regulus, bracing himself for whatever would come next.
—-
That evening, the courtyard was quiet. The rain had passed, leaving the air cool and crisp, and the sky was deep indigo, punctuated by the faint glow of stars. Regulus had found a small table tucked away beneath one of the old stone arches. The shadows of the castle’s towers cast long silhouettes across the grass.
The other students had scattered to their common rooms, leaving the area almost deserted, save for a few scattered couples and the occasional group of first years. It felt like the perfect place for a conversation that Regulus wasn’t sure he would ever be ready to have.
When James arrived, he was alone, dressed casually, a slight smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t look like the James Regulus had known—wild, always full of energy, as if he were chasing after something. Now, he was just... there, calm and unassuming. Regulus wasn’t sure if he liked it or if it just made him more confused.
James sat down across from him, the table creaking slightly under his weight. He didn’t speak immediately, just leaned back in his chair, giving Regulus the space to say whatever he wanted to say. The silence stretched between them like a thin wire, taut and ready to snap.
Regulus picked at the edge of his parchment, his thoughts scattered, unsure how to begin. It wasn’t like he had a script in his head. It wasn’t like he could just roll out the words, and make it all better in one go. He had no idea what he was doing.
“You’re really here,” Regulus finally said, his voice quieter than usual, a slight tremor in it. “After everything.”
James raised an eyebrow, but his smile didn’t fade. “I told you I would be. I meant it.”
Regulus nodded, his chest tightening. Half of him wanted to believe it, wanted to reach out and grab hold of the small bit of hope James was offering. But the other half—the part that had been hurt, the part that had tried so hard to protect himself—was still afraid.
“I didn’t ask you to change, you know,” Regulus said, his eyes flickered up, meeting James’ gaze, a storm of emotions swirling behind his own. “I didn’t ask you to suddenly become someone else. I just... I just wanted you to stop pretending. To stop shutting me out when things got hard. To stop making promises you didn’t mean.”
James was quiet for a long moment, his gaze steady and unflinching. Then, his voice was barely above a whisper, sincere in a way that made Regulus’ stomach twist. “I know. I wasn’t good at that, was I?”
Regulus exhaled through his nose, the frustration building again. “You weren’t good at it. And I didn’t know how to make you see that. I didn’t know how to make you care when it felt like you were always running away.”
“I wasn’t running away from you,” James said softly, his voice raw, like it was the first time he had ever said it aloud. “I was running away from myself. From what I felt. From how much I cared about you.
Regulus froze, the words cutting through him, deeper than he had anticipated. He looked at James—really looked at him for the first time in what felt like ages—and saw it. The vulnerability. The rawness of someone finally confronting their own pain. And for a moment, everything seemed to shift, the weight of it all pressing down on Regulus’ chest like a heavy stone.
“You’re still running,” Regulus whispered, barely able to form the words. “But not away from me. Away from everything else. You don’t know how to be what I need you to be. And I don’t know how to be what you need me to be, either. I don’t know if we can fix this.”
James opened his mouth, but Regulus wasn’t done yet. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to be done, not when so much had been left unsaid for so long.
The silence between them hung thick, a suffocating weight, but Regulus had to say it, even if it was going to hurt both of them.
“I’ve been wrong,” Regulus started, his voice breaking slightly as the words fought their way out. “I’ve been wrong about everything. About you, about me, about us. I’ve been... selfish. I wanted you to be something you’re not, something I thought you should be. I’ve made you feel like you weren’t enough. But you are, James. You always have been.”
His heart was pounding, each beat heavier than the last. Regulus' hands clenched into fists on the table, knuckles white. His chest felt tight like it was going to collapse in on itself. But he had to keep going. He had to say it all.
“I tried to make you come out before you were ready,” he continued, his voice almost raw with guilt. “And that wasn’t fair. I didn’t stop to think that maybe you just weren’t ready. I expected too much from you, too soon. You never have to come out if you don’t want to, for me to decide I had any right to tell you to was wrong. You didn’t need to change for me, and I should’ve seen that. I should’ve understood that better. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it.”
Regulus hesitated, his gaze falling to the table as if he could find the words hidden there, his fingers drumming on the wood. “But I think… I think I’ve also been afraid of you, in a way. Not in the sense that I’m scared of you, but in the sense that I’ve been afraid of how much you are. I’ve been afraid of the way you’re always so loud, always so… there. You’re a Gryffindor, James. You light up the room when you walk in, you play those stupid pranks, you laugh so loudly that it’s impossible to ignore. You’ve always been bigger than this world, and it’s terrifying. But it’s also beautiful.”
He finally looked up, meeting James’ eyes, the weight of his own emotions nearly too much to bear. “I’ve been trying to fit you into some box that’s smaller than what you are. I’ve been trying to make you into something you’re not, something quieter, easier for me to control. But that’s not who you are, and it’s not fair of me to try to turn you into smoke. You deserve someone who can love the entire you. Someone who can stand beside you and watch you burn bright without trying to put out the flames, someone who burns just as bright as you.”
James stayed silent for a moment, his eyes searching Regulus’ face, and for a moment, Regulus thought he saw understanding. But then James opened his mouth, his voice clear, no hesitation in it at all.
“I don’t care,” he said, his words firm, like a promise. “I don’t care if you made mistakes, so did I. We were both wrong in so many different ways, but why should that matter? I don’t care if you thought I was too much, or fuck maybe you still partly do. I don’t care. I don’t care if you think i’m not good enough, because for you i’ll make sure I am. I’ll spend every day proving to you that I can be better and that we can fix this. Fix us. I just… I just want to be with you. I’ll be whatever you need me to be, Regulus. Whatever it takes to make this work, I’ll do it. Because I’m not afraid of you, or of what I am. I’m only afraid of losing you.”
Regulus’ heart skipped a beat, the raw honesty in James’ words piercing through the fog of his own uncertainty. James continued, leaning forward slightly, his voice softening, but still so very certain.
“I don’t care if I have to sit in the library and study with you, Merlin those were some of the best times I’ve had in a while. I don’t care if we shout it to the world or settle down in a little town away from everyone. I’ll win over your friends even though they hate me, I’ll adopt a cat with you because I know you have always wanted one. I’ll do anything if it means I get to be with you. I’ll be whatever I need to be to make you happy, because you’re the only thing that matters to me. I’m willing to try, Regulus. To fight for us.”
Regulus stared at him, the world suddenly feeling like it had shifted in a way he couldn’t understand. James wasn’t asking to be someone he wasn’t. He was willing to change evry [art of himself just to make Regulus happy. To fit into the life he envisioned for himself.
“I love you,” James said quietly, the words hanging between them. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
For a moment, Regulus just stared at him, the weight of it all pressing down on him. But this time, the feeling wasn’t suffocating. It was overwhelming, yes, but in the best way possible. There was a strength in James’ words that made Regulus feel like maybe, just maybe, they could find their way through this together.
“I’m sorry,” Regulus whispered, his voice barely audible now. “I’ve been so scared. I didn’t think you’d want someone like me. But you—“
“I want you,” James interrupted, his eyes never leaving Regulus’ face, a soft smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Just you.”
But that’s when he relized how fucked up this whole thing was. How he couldn’t let James ruin himself for him. Regulus wanted him more than anything, he had dreamed of James liking him back since before he had even met him. But not like this. Not in this way. James didn’t deserve that, he deserved everything good in the world. Someone who would live past twenty and who he would be bale to build a future with.
That person would never be Regulus. It was time he stopped pretending it could be.
“James, we can’t work. You shouldn’t have to change yourself to fit into a relationship or make anyone happy, let alone me. You should be able to act however you want, and be whoever you want without having to worry if the other person will approve or love you just as much. You should just know. You don’t feel that towards me, you think you love me, I can believe that. But you deserve so much more. You can fall in love again, I promise you will. I love you so much, I have since the first time I saw you on the train, Merlin, maybe since the first time Sirius mentioned you in his letters from Hogwarts.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” James whispered, his voice breaking in the quiet of the courtyard.
Regulus stood up, sadly smiling at James. He leaned over, pressing one last kiss to his lips, savoring the last minute of closeness. Taking in every point their bodies were touching, every second they had left together before it all fell apart this time for good.
Pulling away was one of the hardest thing he had ever done. Maybe this is how Sirius felt when he left. In a way Regulus hoped it was, he hoped that Sirius felt every second of hurt and pain Regulus was feeling now.
“I know love, I promise you’ll understand in time.”