James doesn’t really want to go away when he does. That’s not why he does it. It started before he can remember. A punishment of sorts. He said the wrong thing for the millionth time, or went on too long about something no one really cared about. Sure, they acted like they did, they listened but they were never really there. It started with him going quiet, slowly stopping replying until he hadn’t said anything in hours and no one ever noticed. No one said anything. Why would they? It’s not like it mattered. It’s not like they cared.
He took it a step forward and disappeared altogether, tossing his phone to the other side of the room, or driving to random places without it. No one noticed then too, or well they did, at least for a little while. The first few times he did it they’d ask about it, questioning where he’d gone. He’d say he went on a run and didn’t want to carry his phone. They stopped asking. He went away for longer. They stopped being excited when he got back, it just became how it always is. That’s James. He goes away. He disappears for hours at a time. They stopped texting him too, after all he was hardly on his phone. If they really needed him they’d just show up at his house. He’d spend hours lying on his bedroom floor with his phone resting against his chest, waiting for a vibration to shake him awake. He knew that then too. He’s not sure why he did it, why he still does it. It’s always the same.
Regulus was the first person to notice him disappearing in a long time. He wasn’t used to it. If he didn’t get a text back he’d call him, even if he hated being on the phone. James replies right away when he gets texts. Regulus noticed. No one else did. Which is fine. He didn’t want anyone to notice, at least not at first. It makes his chest hurt and he should hate that. He doesn’t want anyone to question him, and yet he lives for the pain. At least it tells him he’s still alive. Sure he feels his heart beating through his neck, but it doesn’t really tell him anything. It’s funny how he feels like he’s already a rotted corpse. Not even a fresh one. He’s been like this for a while. His heart is eaten. He’s got blood in his mouth.
His phone rings in his hand and he doesn’t even bother to glance over. He knows it’s Regulus. He’s the only one who would be calling now. He knows he should answer, but his eyes are stuck on the rough ocean blow. The waves whip with the wind, climbing the cliff to reach him and pull him down. He would scream for a reason if he thought there was a possibility of one. It’s okay that there isn’t one, he’s learned that by now. He used to be devastated by this urge of his. He used to scour the lands for an explanation, or a reason for him not to take the final step. He’s too tired now for any of it. It’s not like it matters anyway. He knows whatever happens to him will be for the better.
He’s played it out in his head. Mainly in the shower when there are no other sounds besides the steaming water, or in the car going faster than he probably should as if he’s asking for another car to come and hit him. Sirius is always the first person he thinks of. He’s off at Uni now. James decided not to go, claiming he had dreams elsewhere, though he’s not sure where they are. He’s lost sight of them, or maybe they were never there at all. Whenever someone asked about his future he’d tell them he had no clue. They joked about it for a while. Asked more questions later. Gave up eventually. Sirius had ambition. He wanted to be more than one of his parents’ pawns. He wanted to do great. They haven’t really been talking lately. Sirius calls but James hardly answers, and when he does he asks all about Sirius's life but gives no insight to his own. It’s better that he doesn’t know anything. It would just make it worse if he knew.
Sirius would go to his funeral. He’d fly back to it, unless Remus was sick or he had a final project he needed time to work on. He would probably skip a party though. James isn’t sure, he knows he likes them quite a bit so maybe he wouldn’t. He’d show up, say hello to everyone who came, and wouldn’t do a speech. He’d grieve at the gravesite like the rest and go back to school. For the rest of his life, he’d think of James, when he had the time anyway, or saw an old photo somewhere. He’d get lost in time eventually, though, as all things are. Sirius would move on. He has so much to accomplish all James would be doing is tying him down if he stayed.
Regulus is next. He’d probably help arrange the funeral, but James isn’t sure. He’s around more often than anyone else, besides James’ parents. He'd show up and sit in the front. Weeping with all the other grievers. He wouldn’t say anything in front of everyone, he’d probably just say it at the gravesite once he was alone. James doesn’t know if he’d get over it right away. He might go a month visiting him, not every day of course, just every once and a while. He probably wouldn’t date for a while after that but life goes on. He’ll be okay. He’ll find another to protect his heart the way James never could. He’ll get married someday to someone who loves him. To someone whose heart isn’t rotted and blue. He’ll be happy. Happier.
Remus and Peter would come too. They’d stop by if they were fine in all their classes. Shedding a tear or two before moving on. It’s not that James isn’t close with them, he is. He talks to them every day, but he knows they won’t stand on his grave crying. They have other more important things to care about anyway. Peter was just telling James about all the exams he has coming up, and Remus has been having headaches almost every day. He’s sick more often than he’s not. They’d both want to be back home at the dorms. It’ll be alright, really.
His parents would probably take it the hardest. His Mum would blame herself. His Dad would console her the best he could even if he was shaky on his feet. He’s their only child, losing him would be a burden they shouldn’t have to face. Knowing they’d be in bed for days almost stops him. It’s stopped him all these times before when he’s ended up in places like this. Behind the wheel of his car threatening to pull to reach the nearest tree at high speeds. Standing in his bathroom with a bottle of pills in his hand because of the headache he’s had that won’t ever go away asking himself how many he’d have to take for him never to wake up in the morning. He stops because of them, but really he was a fool for thinking him being dead is a bigger burden than him being alive.
That’s the thing. Him being here. Wanting to die at every second of every day. Hell even on good days it’s still there lingering when everything grows cold and the lights go out. Just do it. Get it over with. There’s no way off this train. He’ll be here forever. There’s no getting off it. It doesn’t fucking matter. Just do it. He doesn’t. He never does, but he wants to. He used to tell Regulus about it, back when he thought there was no possible way he’d follow that impulse. Back when he was terrified of it, before he learned the true comfort that came with it. Regulus would console him. He’d tell him he’d make everything better. James repeated it the next night, and the following after that. He’d complain about his chest hurting and the weight his life bears. He’d talk about it a bit too much. Regulus said he never minded but James knows he did. He knows he was rolling his eyes as soon as he went to sleep, fucking begging him to get over himself or just jump from the cliff and get it over with. It’s not like it fucking matters anyway. It would be better if he did.
He takes a step forward until he’s teetering on the edge. He thinks of the joys of falling. It’ll kinda feel like flying, won’t it? At least for the first bit anyway, and then well… he’ll get what he wants.
His phone buzzes again. He feels the wind in his hair. Down.
Down Down
Down
Down
Down
Down
Down
Down
Down
Down
Down
Down
Down
Down.
He lifts the phone to his ear. There’s only one way this night will go. He knows that now.
“Jamie?” Regulus' voice comes out tightly, he’s scared. James never wanted that. He doesn’t want him to be scared. There’s nothing to be scared of, this is the way it was always supposed to go. The drip had to finally stop eventually. It had to be tonight.
“Reg,” James replies, his voice steadier than it’s been in months. His hands finally stopped shaking. “I love you.”
“No.” He already knows. James doesn’t want to scare him.
“It’s okay,” James whispers. “It’ll be okay.”
“Where are you?” Regulus asks, out of breath, he’s running. James doesn’t want to be the one to tell him he’s too late. It’s not like he had a chance to begin with. James has been running for far too long for that. “I’ll pick you up.”
“It’s okay,” He repeats, watching the water drag itself under. James will be there soon. A broken body to be washed ashore in the next coming days, or maybe he’ll sink somewhere no one will find him. Lost to the beauty of the sea. Oh, what a simple thought. The sea used to be a place of healing. Doctors would send their patients to sit on the sand and breathe in the salt air, hoping it would cure their ails. James feels nothing. He’s long since gone numb. Once he’s in the ocean, though, once he’s fully submerged it’ll be better. It’ll wash all the signs of blood from his mouth. It’ll envelop the empty cavity that used to hold his heart. It’ll clean the rot from his chest. It’ll cure him even if he can’t live to see it.
“James,” Regulus urges, “Please, don’t. Let me pick you up. Please.”
James shuffles forward, he’s practically on the edge now. If the wind pushes on him in the right direction he’ll be on the other side. Well, there is no other side. It’s better that way. He’s not sure if he’s ever existed. He’s thought about it a lot. Some days the entire world feels blurry, and it all falls away. None of it is real. He’s not either, but he thinks he existed at some point or other. Maybe not now. Maybe not for a long time but when he was a child he did. Running around his backyard with a smile to match. Jumping through sprinklers with the neighbors' kids even if he was way younger than them. Dipping into the creek in his back garden to pick up frogs and collect rocks. He’d used to keep them in an old fishbowl, and if anyone hadn’t learned not to ask yet he’d go on for Horus explaining each one. The color, the type, the exact moment he found it and decided to take it home, and how it ranked next to all the other ones. He used to have passion. He used to be unafraid to live a life, not caring what anyone else would say. He almost never shut up back then. He’s not sure what changed. What tick changed in his brain that made him eat his heart? He knows it’s his fault. He promise he didn't mean to.
He existed then. He was alive then.
That was a long time ago, and he’s accepted the fact he’ll never be alive again. Never feel the true connection to the earth beneath his feet. He’ll never smile without wondering what would happen if he got in his car and drove as far as he could and even farther. If he never spoke to anyone in his life again. If he stopped the pain that’s been constantly whirring around his head for his entire life. It’s never going to go away. The cycle never ends, it just grows shorter. He used to be able to go months feeling fine. He wouldn’t exist for the summer and go back to feeling fine the rest of the time. Then the winter got bad too. Spring and Fall never really seemed long enough, plus schoolwork began piling up and he didn’t have time for anything. The cycle grew tighter. He’d feel fine for a couple of days and he off for a week. He’d feel fine for one morning and spend the next week rotting away in his bedroom praying to gods he didn’t believe in just to kill him off in his sleep. Make it easy. Make it simple. Give him a heart attack so no one would know it was all he was begging for. No one would know it was his fault, that he fucked up again. He never does anything right, but they’ll see. They’ll know it’s for the better they’ll see. He knows it’s for the better. He’s known for a long time.
“James?” Regulus calls out.
When he was a kid, back when he still had his heart, he didn’t want to die. Far from it. He wanted to get in an accident. A small one, nothing bad. He wanted people to care about him. To show up at his hospital bed with plushies and get-well-soon cards. He wanted people to care. He didn’t want to die. He was afraid of it even. He didn’t like the thought of there being nothing after he closed his eyes for the last time. He wanted to be hurt, not dead. He’s been hurting for so long now, he’s got his wish, but no one cares about him now. No one will sit at the end of his bed and make sure he eats cause he can’t remember if he has or not. Even if he does he doesn’t want to get up, and the thought of eating makes him sick anyway, so it doesn’t even matter. No one will force him up into the shower and wash his sheets for him so he comes back to them all warm. No one will do anything for him, and that’s not their fault. They’re doing nothing wrong. He hasn’t even told them. Not that he’d ever. He doesn’t want to burden them. He doesn’t want them to think he’s something else they need to take care of, a bullet point on their to-do list.
“James, please,” Regulus begs.
“I’m sorry,” he says, but he’s not sure if he means it. He’s sorry he dragged Regulus into all this. He’s sorry he spent all those nights complaining about his life. He’s sorry he made him take care of him just for it to end up like this, but he’s not sorry he’s doing it. It’s better for everyone that he does it, that’s why he keeps going away, and that’s why he can’t stop. It’s for the better, he knows he’s the only one who sees it that way but it doesn’t matter. He knows he’s right. They’re all just too scared to admit it to him, but they know it too. They’ll know for certain soon. They’ll see. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Regulus says, “Stay.”
James’ eyes are glued to the sea, there’s no one to go but down, “It’s for the better.”
“No, I want you,” Regulus whimpers. “I know it’s hard, but I promise I’ll make it better. This isn’t how you do it. I love you.”
James knows he’s loved, he doesn’t know why but he knows Regulus loves him. He knows his parents love him. Sirius probably does too, though he’s not sure. That’s not why he’s doing this. He’s doing it to end the pain. Them loving him doesn’t take it away, he wishes it did. It would make it so much easier if it did. He’s doing it for them, more than anything. They can’t spend their lives trying to take care of him. That’s not fair. He doesn’t want that. He’s sorry. He’s sorry for everything he put them through but he’s not sorry for this. He’s fixing everything. This will fix it he’s so sure of it.
“I love you,” James says one last time, it’s what he wants to end on, and he needs Regulus to know. He needs him to know he’s not doing this because of him. He needs him to know he’s not doing anything wrong. “Even after this, I’ll still do.” If anything that’s the only thing he wants to keep. He doesn’t want to exist, he wants nothing after, but he knows even as nothing he’ll still love Regulus Black more than anything. Even without his heart.
“Ja—“
He tosses his phone aside. He doesn’t want to take him with him. He doesn’t need him to listen. He doesn’t want him to follow.
Stepping down off the cliff might be one of the easiest things James has to do. One second he’s standing at the top, peering out to the sea and the next he’s flying. Down. Down. Down. Down.
As he reaches the bottom he knows it’s for the better.
This is all for the better.