Lifeboat
Madame Pomfrey leaned forward on her elbows, rubbing at her temples. “James.”
James slumped forward, burying his head in his crossed arms on the wooden tabletop of his guidance counsellor’s desk. His eyes stung with the childish urge to cry.
“We’re running out of options, James.”
“I don’t know what else to do.” James mumbled.
It’s been a few weeks since James last met with Madame Pomfrey and he has made absolutely zero progress in the future department. He took the quizzes she sent him, scoped out the links she suggested, watched the videos she wanted him to. Nothing he did got him any closer to figuring out what the fuck he wanted to do in his life. Maybe he was destined to work his shitty retail job for the rest of eternity.
“I have one last thing we can try,” Madame Pomfrey said. James lifted his head slightly, peaking over his arms as she set a piece of paper down in front of him. “Next weekend, at the fairgrounds, there will be a career fair. Typically, we only notify the grade nines and tens but…”
James took the paper hesitantly, staring at it as if it might burn him. A bile of self-loathing rose in the back of his throat but he swallowed it down. “But I’m behind.”
“You’re not behind, James. Plenty of people have been in your same position. I’ve given that form out to tens of grade elevens and twelves in my years here. Your friend, Frank Longbottom, was one of them.”
“No offence to Frank but I’m trying to avoid having to take a victory lap.” James grumbled.
Pomfrey sighed. “I know, James, but it’s looking like a major possibility.”
James looked away, focusing on a stupid motivational picture of a waterfall pinned to the cork-board. The thought of all his friends going on to college while he’s stuck behind, still trapped in these stupid fucking halls, makes him sick. At least when Frank took his victory lap, he had the rest of the group to stick with. All James would have would be Regulus and his friends. Regulus, who just so happens to hate him.
James has no fucking idea why. He’s tried to ask him, tried to slap on a smile and charm the younger Black, just as he’s done to nearly everyone in his life. Nothing. No matter what James did, Regulus - beautiful, smart, talented Regulus - was determined to detest him with his entire being. The most he could settle for was tolerating James during rehearsals.
James didn’t want to imagine the look of his face if he had to take a victory lap. Would Regulus laugh? Would he smirk and make a quip about his lack of intelligence? Would he scoff and shake his head? Or would he give him that bland, dead look and demand in a flat tone why should he care?
James didn’t want to know, didn’t want to speculate. His heart couldn’t handle it.
He stood and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Are we done here?”
Pomfrey gave him a sad look. “Yes. Have you talked to anyone else about this, James?”
James’ jaw ticked. “Goodbye, Madame Pomfrey.”
He tried to ignore her disappointed sigh as he slipped out of the room.
Technically, he was supposed to be in his psychology class with Peter. Peter, who he should probably check up on. Peter, who hasn’t talked about his sexuality or being outed since it happened, at least not sober. James learned from Mary that he made a joke about it while drunk off his ass at the Halloween party. He’d have to make sure Peter knew he was there to talk. He was James Potter, after all. The perfect, happy golden boy who always has a shoulder to lean on.
He’d do it later. Right now, if he were forced to face anyone, they’d see just how much he was not the James Potter everyone thought he was. He should be, but he wasn’t. His reputation as the sun personified was all he had, what would his friends think if they found out he wasn’t? There simply wasn’t room in his friend group to have problems. They all had enough things to deal with. He wouldn’t burden them with his pathetic struggles.
James slipped into a stairwell meant for fire escape only and hid at the bottom. He dropped his bag carelessly on the steps and tucked his knees under his chin. This was so fucking stupid. Sirius survived an abusive household and a fucking stab wound. Remus had watched his mother die and then proceeded to be tortured over her corpse. Peter had been outed to the entire student body. Regulus was still enduring the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. Barty drank because it was easier to hide and forget his issues than face them. Though James didn’t know what, he suspected something happened between Mary and Lily at the party, something neither of them talk about. He also had an inkling that Pandora had more going on than she’d like to admit. Marlene’s parents didn’t accept her, Dorcas was always struggling to be good enough, Frank barely ever talked about his friends and Evan was slowly growing more frustrated with every person Barty filtered with.
And James? James didn’t have anyone else to blame for whatever the fuck he had going on. His friends were everything to him, his parents were perfect, his home life was safe. And yet, James was drowning.
James wasn’t allowed to struggle. He had nothing to ‘struggle’ about. So why did he feel empty? Why was it getting harder to drag himself out of bed in the mornings? Why was he exhausted? Why were his grades slipping? Why was he hiding behind a mask more often than he was himself? Why did he cry himself to sleep at night? Why was he crying right now? Why was his throat closing? Why couldn’t he breathe? Why was he scratching at his arms like it would free him of his mental prison, like his very soul would slip from his body if only he dug deep enough? Why did he spend so much time on the bathroom floor, staring at the blade he took from an old pencil sharpener? Why did the overwhelming need to hurt grow greater the longer he stared at it, the longer he tried to resist it? Why did his thighs burn from when it got too much? Why, on his very worst days, did he stare at the ever-growing pile of pain medication he kept subtly stealing from his father?
James tugged at his hair and muffled a sob. What was wrong with him?
The sound of the school bell rattled through the stairway and James frantically wiped his cheeks. He ran a hand through his hair so it looked normal - or, at least as normal as his out-of-control curls got - and locked his cries up tight in a box that he wouldn’t open until he was alone again. He picked up his bag, took the door to outside(so no one would know he was in there) and made his way around to the nearest unlocked door.
When he finally made it to the theatre, his friends were waiting.
“James!” Marlene shouted when she spotted him. She frowned. “Your eyes are red and Peter said you skipped. Were you watching Alexa & Katie in the library again?”
James schooled the flair of panic off his face. He had forgotten about his eyes. He put on a sheepish smile. “As me no questions and I shall tell you no lies.”
The group laughed and James would’ve relaxed - he had gotten away with it. Again. - but the way Regulus looked at him, gaze disbelieving and an eyebrow raised, had him laughing awkwardly with the group and tapping his foot on the floor. Thankfully, Regulus didn't say anything.
McGonagall came in not too long afterwards. “Alright, everyone! Today, we’re focusing on the blocking for Dead Guy Walking.”
Sirius scrunched up his nose, gaze flicking between Regulus - who was white as a sheet - and James - who was trying his very best not to look excited - and shuddered. “Do we have to?”
McGonagall rolled her eyes. “Yes, Sirius. We can’t skip a number because of your immaturity.”
Sirius gaped at her. “Immaturity? That is my brother and my best friend, who is also my brother,” James didn’t fail to notice the way Regulus scowled at that. “This is practically incest!”
“You’d know all about incest, Mr. I’m-my-own-cousin.” Barty muttered.
Regulus jabbed Sirius sharply in the side with his elbow and James made a disgusted face. “We’re not related, Sirius.”
Sirius crossed their arms. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It makes it not incest.” James mumbled.
McGonagall pinched her nose. “Enough of this. James, Regulus, get on stage.”
It’s doesn’t take very long to get a bit of an understanding for the steps(it isn’t a very complicated song) but it’s very, very awkward. Regulus doesn’t touch him more than he has to - much to James’ dismay - but he does have to sit on James’ lap at one point and it takes nearly all his brainpower to not be affected.
James’ heart pounded when McGonagall called to say they were going through it with music(the off-broadway version so they could get a feel of the steps with music before trying to sing with it). James knew what type of actor Regulus was: all or nothing. Every show he did was either his best work or he didn’t do it at all. Which meant Regulus wasn’t going to allow them to do a stage kiss(unless James begged him to but let’s be honest, he would die a happy man if the only time he ever got to kiss Regulus was as J.D.).
James watched with bated breath as Regulus drifted across the stage, subconsciously mouthing the words of the recording. He’s graceful with it, despite the slight stumbles that come with first run throughs, but that’s just how Regulus is, effortlessly angelic and ethereal no matter what he’s doing. James is 99.9% sure Regulus would still be otherworldly if he was drenched in mud.
“And you know, you know, you know,” Barrett Wilbert Weed’s voice carried over the speakers as Regulus stepped close, hand falling from James’ collar and down his chest. “It’s ‘cause you’re beautiful. You say you’re numb inside, but I can’t agree. So the world’s unfair, keep it locked out there.”
Regulus’s eyes - not quite grey, not quite green - blazed with an intensity James couldn't understand. One of his hands locked tight in the curls at the back of James’ neck while the other gestured, dramatic and fierce, along with the lyrics.
“In here it’s beautiful. Let’s make this beautiful.”
The rapid thumping of James’ heart roared in his ears.
“That works for me- ooh.”
Regulus tugged his head forward and James can’t breathe.
Regulus’ lips are surprisingly soft but James doesn’t know why he expected anything else. Maybe it’s his ferocious hatred, his sharpened glare, his unbelievable talent to hold a grudge that gave James the wrong impression. But no, Regulus’ lips are as divine as the rest of him, the same type of heavenly worthy of sonnets from all the best poets.
The world fell away. Time liquified. The music disappeared and there was nothing besides James and Regulus.
The kiss started off intense(as was expected. Vincent and J.D. were about to fuck for god's sake) but almost as abrupt as it started, it fell into something softer but all-consuming nonetheless. Regulus let out the smallest of gasps, lost in the nonexistent space between them. Soft hands came up to cup his jaw and James tightened his grasp on his waist.
Someone cleared their throat, loud enough to pop the bubble James and Regulus found themselves encased in. Regulus ripped himself out of James’ grip, cheeks red and turned to face the audience James completely forgot was there.
Most were staring at them in complete disbelief but James’ saw Remus’ smug smirk. Next to him, Sirius had her arms crossed, face carefully blank in a way that made James slightly nervous. Barty could be seen grumpily counting out bills and shoving them into Evan’s hand.
McGonagall tried to keep her usual unfazed attitude as she assessed the situation but James saw the way she looked at Regulus with a glimmer of curiosity. “James, Regulus, if you would please keep this professional, you can do whatever you like after rehearsals.”
Regulus’ fists shook with embarrassment and anger as the rest of the crew snickered. James was reminded that just because Regulus was not a sports person, didn’t mean he wasn’t fucking fast. Before anyone could stop him, Regulus jumped off the stage, grabbed his bag from the pile in the corner of the room and was out the door.
McGonagall didn’t try to stop him, despite her insistence that all cast members try their absolute hardest to be at any and all rehearsals. Pandora called out his name but the door was already falling shut.
James couldn't help but blame himself. Regulus was just trying to be a good actor and, though he'd never say it out loud, wanted to prove that McGonagall hadn't made a mistake in giving him the chance that she did. Regulus was just trying to on with the show and James had made it so much more. Regulus hated him. There's no way that Regulus Black would ever think of James as something more than dirt on the bottom of his shoe, another person he had to endure until he graduated, another person who had done something to hurt him. He would never willingly kiss him. No one would, if they knew that James Potter wasn't really the person everyone believed him to be.
Slowly, the rest of the cast turned to face him. James looked down at his shoes, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry."
McGonagall sighed. "Get off the stage, Potter. We'll return to this number another day."