Nova

There were muggles everywhere. Even in the dark he could make them out, singing and dancing. Some alone, some together.

Regulus didn't really understand why the marauders had insisted on coming here. Here, at the edge of the woods, in the pitch black night. But right now he didn't even care all that much anymore. There was a warm feeling in his stomach and he should probably be angry at his brother for giving him something with alcohol, but it didn't matter. Not right now.

For some reason someone had lit a bonfire in the middle of the grounds. Its amber glow letting flickering shadows dance. Some of the muggles jumped over it, howling and screaming. Regulus just sat there and watched, a bottle of beer clutched in his hand.

He was content like that, happy even. Until he saw him. There he was, bright yet cool. A patient hum in the sea of sirens. In the middle of the throng of dancing muggles, James Potter stood like an oak tree. Rooted and strong.

He'd switched out his glasses for contacts today. The fire's light made his dark skin glow, the short sleeved shirt showing off the ripples of his biceps, the curve of his spine, as he spoke to a red haired girl.

Regulus got up. This was too much. And not enough. He hated all the people, it was too loud. He feared being alone, always too quiet.

With muttered apologies and the use of his elbows he made it out of the mass of people. The further he got from the fire, the darker the night, the cooler the air got, the more he could breathe again.

There was a bus station just at the road. He had no idea when the next bus would leave. But he didn't particularly care. Maybe the night bus would come, finally take him away from all of this.

Pulling his hood over his head, his headphones over his ears he walked to the small, see-through bus stop. There was a flickering light beside it, and as he sat on the wooden bench it already gave him a headache.

With a sigh he let his head drop onto the glas. He really shouldn't have had any alcohol. There was a sound to his right and without looking he knew who it would be.

"Hey Reggie," James said, his voice happy and chipper, "you leaving already?"

Regulus gave a noncommittal hum, watching the other man through half lidded eyes. He'd put on a jacket now. Just to follow him? It didn't matter.

James was standing at the edge of the little house, his face scrunched up as if he was contemplating something. It really wasn't fair, he thought bitterly, how he had spent weeks and months training only to still look small and spindly if the angle was bad and James just stood there chest so broad you could probably play a board game on it.

Sighing again Regulus pulled his headphones down. "What do you want Potter?"

James was watching him. Carefully.

Then he seemed to come to a decision, because he walked over and sat right next to Regulus.

Their knees were touching and no matter how much he told himself he should, he couldn't bring himself to move away.

"So, you're not a fan of bonfire's then?" James asked, his voice low and soft. Why did he have to be so bloody nice all the time.

They hadn't really talked in weeks, but James had stayed nice and kind. No hard feelings, not blaming him for anything. For all Regulus could tell, he hadn't even told the others about that night at the club.

Reg leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He could see James' hands this way, those large, soft hands. Not that it mattered.

"Or where you just jealous because I was talking to Evans?"

Regulus head whipped around fast. A familiar anger coiling in his gut. He was about to lash out but stopped in his tracks when he came face to face with James Potter. Man of his dreams, stuff of his nightmares.

James was close, so close and then there was a hand on his cheek. He moved back, just a little. Just to see if James would follow. He did.

There was no space left between them, their bodies pressed together, their faces inches apart. His eyes traced the slightly crooked shape of James' nose, down to his lips. Merlin he was beautiful.

Those lips would be the death of him.

"What?" Fuck. Those lips had just said something.

James smiled, his thumb brushed over Regulus' cheek once more.

"I said I'm not gonna kiss you Reg."

"Oh," disappointed rushed through him like a wave and suddenly the hand on his cheek felt wrong. He shook it off.

"I want to, but I'm not gonna."

"Why?" Regulus knew he wasn't meant to care. He didn't care.

"You know why."

He stared. Regulus wasn't exactly good at knowing things, especially not things like this.

James laughed and rubbed a hand over his mouth, ducking his head.

"You're really something you know," James was shaking his head. It made Regulus agitated, eery. Like he was missing out on a joke, like he was being laughed at.

"Tell me why," he snapped. People usually flinched when he did that. Used his sharp features in combination with sharper words to get the world to at least make a resemblance of sense.

"I want you Regulus," he said as if it were simple.

"You really expect me to believe that you'd want me if you could have Sirius?"

James didn't flinch. He frowned lightly, "what'd you mean?"

Clicking his tongue in agitation Regulus turned away, "you know what I fucking mean, James. Is Sirius still running after the werewolf? Is that it? You want to fuck a Black and the good one's not interested so you're opting for the spare?"

For a moment James seemed shocked, not really moving anymore. It gave Regulus a bit of satisfaction. Having him called out on his bullshit. He turned away a bit smugly and listened to the heavy sigh from beside him.

"You're not a spare Regulus. You never have been," he pushed a little bit closer, just enough for their shoulders to touch, "your mother was wrong about a lot of things but that, that's her greatest mistake. Her greatest fault. Making you believe something like that-" he shook his head again.

"Well," Regulus said bitterly, "it's done now. This is me. First the spare without a purpose. Then the heir who wasn't enough. Not beside Sirius, the brightest star in the fucking sky, and not even on my own," he swallowed, letting the truth sink deep into his skin, his bones, his soul.

When James turned towards him there was despair on his face, something so close to pity it almost made Regulus recoil.

"Reg that isn't true, you-"

"Don't tell me it isn't true when I've lived my entire life experiencing it. And stop trying to change this, to change me. I'm basically dead James, a dying flame of 'what could have beens'. There's no reason for you to be interested in me because there's no me to be interested in."

James stood up with startling speed and for a moment Regulus was disappointed. He didn't really know why, this was what he'd wanted. For James to get it, and to leave.

Stupidly he'd thought there might be something else James would say, had hoped. Yet, if he just left, everything could just go back to normal.

But James didn't leave. He stood there for a few seconds, breathing heavily. Then he turned towards Regulus taking a step and kneeling down right between Reg's legs and taking his hands into his own. The look in his eyes was pleading and Regulus froze.

"Do you know how really massive stars die Reg?" he asked, but didn't pause for an answer, "They burn up all of their atoms, their cores becoming so dense that they basically start swallowing themselves and then they combust into energy, reaching out into the universe one last time. All of their particles being thrust into time and space. They erupt in light Regulus, so great, so far that they can be witnessed here on earth, because they burn brighter than the brightest star. Brighter than galaxies.

"If you're a dying Regulus then you're nothing else than a super nova. And believe me when I say that your brightest days are still ahead of you. And if you want me to, I'd like to be there for every single one of them."