Ravine

JAMES 

James watches the man from afar. He’s still laying back on his elbows on the floor, with confusion etched into his features. Is it strange that he wants to be seen? He shouldn’t. But James thinks this man would understand. 

He could imagine learning this man.

The thought is intoxicating. Someone new, someone that looks like a puzzle. James has always loved a puzzle, a chance to think. To scrape the pieces from beneath and connect the dots.

He is trying to do so now. He wonders if the man’s alone, does he have any friends? Who has he lost?

James notices scars. One slicing through his eyebrow, another beginning above his collar bone and disappearing beneath his shirt. He wonders how old they are, could they have been made before this shit, or are they the work of the unspeakables?

They’re different from each other. The one through the eyebrow smooth and clean, juxtaposing the jagged edges ripped into his chest.

The difference between a knife and claws probably.  Some kind of animal attack.

James knows it couldn’t have been an unspeakable; a cut that deep would have been the end of this man. 

This man has a story, and an interesting one at that.

It’s eating at James to find out it’s beginning.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone this beautiful.

The man sighs, deep and heavy. Clearly exhausted. James sees him try to stand but stumble back onto the floor. He’s not moving.

Has he passed out? James wouldn’t blame him, it seems like he’s had a hell of a day. 

But fuck if it isn’t inconvenient. 

What is he supposed to do now? He was only gonna watch him back to wherever he needed to be and now there’s the insides of an unspeakable on the ground by the feet of an unconscious - frankly - beautiful man. 

“For fucks sake,” James groans as he walks over to the man. He looks over his shoulder before picking himself up cautiously and walking slowly over to the man. He only hesitated a second before he lifted the man up and - with this stranger sleeping in his arms - he began searching for a place to sleep.

—————————————————————————————————————

REGULUS 

It’s cold when Regulus wakes up. That’s the first thing he thinks. He can feel his bones aching in their joints, as though he were a tin man in need of oiling. The ground feels unusually smooth, he is used to a gravelled floor and warm sleeping bag. Barty and Regulus don’t normally wake up shivering.

He’s racking his brain, something must have happened. Were he and Barty forced out? That would make sense. But why can’t Regulus remember it? 

It is then that Regulus realises he isn’t in a sleeping bag at all. He’s lying on smooth stone under - someone’s jacket? What on earth is happening?

He takes a deep breath. In. And out.

He is obviously somewhere different. Anxiety ripples through Regulus’ breathing, pushing into his chest. He needs pressure there - between his ribs - a push to remind him to breathe. He’d usually push a hand to his sternum, pressing hard against his chest to ground himself. 

But Regulus doesn’t know where he is. Or who he’s with. 

He forces his breathing to even.

Cautiously, he opens his eyes, hoping to wipe away his fears with the view of a tent wall.

But his open eyes don’t do much to familiarise Regulus to his surroundings: he is met with grey stone. He curses his past self for having no forethought. Really? Against a wall? What kind of information was he supposed to get from that?

He could be anywhere! An abandoned flat, an underground mine, an open cave - in the middle of an unexplored area of the ocean for all he knew.

As his sight failed to be of any use, Regulus strains his hearing instead.

It is dead quiet. 

Until…that was a breath. And not Barty’s.

It was far too deep for that; Regulus had learned the sound of Barty’s sleep by now, and this wasn’t it.

Barty slept lightly, short shallow breaths that remained scarily fast throughout the night. As though he were never able to fully relax.

This person, whoever it is, is the complete opposite. This person breathes as though they know it is the only relaxation they’ll have before they sleep again the next night. This person inhales from the bottom of their lungs. Their even and confident breaths bounce off of the walls of the shelter.

Regulus forgets for a moment what he was supposed to be listening for – too absorbed in the meditative experience of this person’s breaths.

He blinks harshly as he realises the gravity of his situation.

Regulus is laying in an unknown place, under a jacket from an unidentified person apparently sleeping in the near vicinity of himself.

It’s only as the person starts awake that Regulus remembers his previous day.

“Fuck me” he thinks as he pretends to be asleep.

—————————————————————————————————————

JAMES

James doesn’t sleep much in the cave. It’s cold and hollow, the opening too wide to be sure no unspeakables would wander in. 

Despite these really valid reasons for not sleeping, it was the man sleeping next to James that kept him up. He’d spent a long time last night sitting with his back to the wall and observing the man laying on the ground. James had so many questions that he'd felt stupid calling him ‘the man’ and so he’d settled on ‘Jet’ as a placeholder. 

James thought it fit nicely. The man’s hair was darker than he’d realised in the light; it blended beautifully into the night, shielding his pale face from the moonlight as it lit a corridor of the cave. When James eventually drifted off, he did so with the thought of Jet in his mind. 

And when James wakes up, he finds his brain in the same state.

There’s no guarantee that Jet isn’t about to kill him and run the minute he can, but James will risk it. He can think of worse ways to die. 

James lifts his head from the wall, lifting an arm to rub the back of his neck - soothing the ache there. He blinks his eyes open and stretches his arms forward until they crack. Satisfied by the sound, James moves his gaze along the cave.

He starts at the entrance, covered in greenery - thick enough to conceal the outside from view yet thin enough to let light (and people) through. The mouth of the cave is round, with a low ceiling that opens out the further inside you are. James whacked his head on the entrance on his way in last night - he’d almost dropped Jet. James reaches up to feel for a bruise and winces as he finds it. 

The cave is quite small, but with enough space for Jet and James to lay on opposing walls with a good distance between them. The floors are a smooth grey rock, cold to the touch, and James shivers as he breaks into goosebumps on his bare arms - his jacket where James put it the night before. 

He looks small under James’ hoodie. Jet is still asleep. He’s thin, but not weak. James could only guess at the strength in Jet’s body but he knew far weaker men would have passed out long before Jet did yesterday. 

Peter would have passed out the minute he knew he wouldn’t make it back before dark. He thinks.

Oh shit.

Peter. 

This is the first time since seeing Jet that James has thought about Peter. Alone in that warehouse. James feels a wave of guilt wash over him. What kind of person is he? What kind of friend is he? 

He begins to scratch at the skin by his nails absentmindedly as he follows his mind 

down

          down

                     down 

its spiral. 

James has always thought of others before himself.  Jet had been no different. But James had promised himself he would never let another family member die like his mother. His mother had changed things; family first - always. It was his fault. He hadn’t stuck to his rule and now Peter might be dead. If he’d gone out looking for James and been cornered by unspeakables. It would be all James’ fault. 

All James’ fault.

All James’ fault.

All James’ fault. 

James feels his breath quickening as his vision becomes unfocused. Because none of it matters.

Why can’t he keep anyone safe?  

Why can’t he love anyone correctly? 

He barely notices when the light in front of him shifts. 

He barely notices when Jet picks himself up from the floor and steps cautiously towards James.

James doesn’t notice when Jet lowers himself to meet him face to face. 

James doesn’t notice when stormy grey eyes laced with sympathy fix on his own. 

But he can’t ignore it when Jet’s voice fills his ears.

James can’t focus on the words, but he can’t ignore the man in front of him. 

He can’t ignore the way his mind clears for him. 

—————————————————————————————————————

REGULUS 

If you’d had told Regulus two days ago that he would be in this position he would have laughed in your face. 

And yet here he is. Possibly ten inches away from a complete stranger, and pulling him back from what appears to be a panic attack. Regulus didn’t think before his feet carried him to the man.

Now he is crouched at the man’s eye level, he can see the shattered glass of his brown eyes. The broken shards that spill down his deep skin, Regulus thinks they must cut into the flesh. Tears this sharp scar. 

“Hello?” God he hates his own voice. But the man’s eyes track the sound of it, the glass in his eyes healing slightly. So Regulus clears his throat. 

“It’s okay,” he says even though he has no idea what will be okay, or if anything will; but this man needs to hear it. And even though Regulus has never cared for the needs of others, he feels compelled to help him. 

“It will be okay, it has to be,” he continues. The man seems to be listening and Regulus can feel his head spinning. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“James,” the man (James) rasps through uneven breaths that juxtapose the calming ones echoing  from the same lungs not long beforehand. He has dark, curly hair. It’s unruly, and looks as though he’s cut it himself. They brush against the brown skin of his forehead, resting around the frame of round glasses. James’ eyes are hidden behind the glass, they’re visible but protected. He has broad shoulders, covered with a white short-sleeved top. Regulus can see the beginning of a tattoo curling at the cuff of it.

“James, can you breathe with me, slowly, in and out,” James follows Regulus’ breaths, filling his lungs with air as the cracks begin to heal behind his eyes. 

It could be years that pass as they sit there, eyes becoming more and more present as the seconds tick by. 

“Sorry,” mutters James shakily, still following Regulus’ breathing. He looks more composed now. “Sorry- I don’t- I’m not,” James runs his hands harshly over his face, “my God, this is not what was supposed to happen when you woke up,”

Regulus quirks an eyebrow, subtly shifting away from the man - James. “What do you mean, what was meant to happen?”

“I dunno,” James sounds helpless. “Not this.” He sighs. He’s stopped crying now. Had Regulus not seen it, he wouldn’t have believed those two emotions are just minutes apart.

“What’s your name?”

“Why should I tell you?” It comes out harsher than he meant it to. “Sorry- that was,” he clears his throat, “Regulus, my name’s Regulus”.

James hums, “That’s a star, isn’t it?” 

Regulus only nods. James’ face is blank. Unreadable. 

He isn’t going to focus on what just happened, there’s too much else to say. Regulus wants answers. He feels his face harden as the sullen air files out of the cave. 

“Who are you?”

James blinks. “ James. I swear I said that,”

“ I didn’t mean that, I meant why am I here, with you? What the fuck happened? The last thing I remember, I was about to be lunch for an unspeakable and then-. Then you.” 

Regulus balls his hands and feels them stinging from his falls yesterday; he’s honestly surprised he managed to make it to his feet to help James. He is exhausted. It hits him now he’s sat down again.

“ I don’t know,”

“ What do you mean you don’t know?”

“ I guess I just saw you and- I don’t know, okay? I just couldn’t leave you there.”

“Why not? That makes no sense. I would’ve left you there, had it been the other way round.”

“Charming.” Says James. 

Regulus scoffs, kind of regretting having talked James down earlier. He’s irritating now that he can speak.

“It’s true, you had no reason to help me. No one helps anyone anymore. It’s how you survive.”

“I really don’t know. One minute I was watching and the next-,” he cuts himself off with a sigh, he’s rolling a ring between his fingers as he speaks. 

“You killed that unspeakable.”

“I couldn’t just let you-,” James stops himself from continuing. “It’s worse than death,”

Regulus can see something soften in James’ eyes. They aren’t broken anymore. He feels as though he's being analysed, as though James is studying pages from his journal making notes in its margins. 

He hates it.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” James is confused.

“I don’t need your pity. Or your help.” 

“I-,”

“I’m staying here for now, because I don’t have the energy to move away from you. But don’t think just because I talked you through whatever earlier was, means I won’t leave you for dead if I need to” He pulls a knife from his thigh holster and swivels it in his hand. 

“I don’t need your help” Regulus turns over and lays down under James’ jacket. “You can stay guard.”

It was a hell of a day yesterday. Sue Regulus for getting some sleep.

“I’m so fucking confused” He hears James mutter as he’s drifting off.

—————————————————————————————————————

Glass.

magnifying,

The grass; and bugs so much bigger thanks to glass.

Step on a shard and you’ll drip red 

Shard in your heart and you’ll drop dead

Careful though, of the danger it may lace

As glass glides through your face and…scars it shall trace 

Yet we - the human race,

Depend on the shards not to vanish,

Myself, I could no longer see;

I’d  be banished 

Oh!

A life of without sight 

So to be rid of it - no!

It just isn’t right.

We must be careful;

yet I know and am sure 

That the life with no shards 

Would hurt many more

Than the very few now

That have shards in their core

Life really aches as I’m sure you’ll know

But the blood glass drips only helps us to grow.