Beauty in sadness
Regulus is sitting at the library in a big chair in a corner. It’s a perfect spot because right next to him is a big stained glass window that throws colourful reflections across the notebook in his lap. He spends hours here studying or just reading. But today he is not doing any of it. He is waiting for James to finish studying for his N.E.W.T.s with his friends. Regulus could be also revising for his exams, but true to be told he is perfectly ready. He always is. So instead of wasting time on reading articles he already read through he is watching the group by the table.
A year before he wouldn’t spare them a glance. Well except James, he always had a soft spot for him. And his brother, but that’s a totally different story. But the rest of them? Nah, he never cared. But now he spends a lot of time with them and they are not as bad as he thought they would be.
James is gesturing towards the book and passionately argues about something with Marlene. Regulus looks down again, where his hand is moving across the page. He is now sketching the stack of James’ books. The notebook is full of little sketches like this. Mostly of James but also of Regulus’ friends, he loves to draw Pandoras’ hair or different parts of the castle. Between the sketches are scattered different quotes or poems he wrote.
He sits there for another hour before the group finally calls it night and agrees to meet for further studying tomorrow. It’s getting pretty late, and James will probably be tired but maybe they can still go for a little walk before the curfew. He starts to pack all of his stuff so they can leave as soon as possible, but when James approaches him he just squeezes next to him and settles in the chair.
“Hi.” He breaths out wrapping himself around Regulus.
“Hello. So, are you smart already?” Regulus chuckles at the incoherent grumble as a response from James. Regulus closes his eyes and leans more into him letting the warmth of this boy wrap itself around him.
“Can I?” James whispers after a while into the silence. Regulus cracks one eye open to see what James is asking. The boy is holding his sketchbook. James knows he draws sometimes though he never showed him his work. But it’s nothing special so why not. He nods carefully watching James go through the notebook.
“These are amazing love. I never knew you draw this much.” James says without looking up.
Regulus hesitates for a moment before he says his admission. “You inspire me.” James gives him a smug grin. There is no point in denying there are significantly more drawings of James than other things.
James keeps flicking through the notebook before he speaks again, but this time it’s more careful. “What are these poems?”
“Some of them are quotes from books, most of them I wrote,” Regulus explains.
James is looking at him now. “Did I also inspire the ones you write?”
“Some of them, yes. Also, my friends or this place.” Regulus gestures around.
“But they are sad.” Regulus shrugs. He wouldn’t call them sad. More melancholic? He never saw it as a problem. It’s just part of who he is. “I guess so.”
“Do I make you sad?” James asks and tightens his arms around Regulus.
“Of course not. Why would you ask that?”
“Well, the poems are sad, and you said I inspire you so…”
“Oh, Jamie…” Regulus breathes out. Pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. James truly looks worried. “it’s not a bad thing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It goes together. Happiness and sadness. Love and fear. They can’t exist without each other. I write because I care. And because I care it’s melancholic or sad.” James still does not look convinced, and Regulus is not sure if he can express it in a way that makes sense. “You can love something so much that it hurts. It can be so beautiful that it’s almost too much to look at it. But you never look away. You bare the pain as it’s evidence of the feeling. There is nothing more devastating than apathy. You never feel sad about insignificant things. No, it’s only the important stuff that awakens these emotions inside us. There is beauty in sadness, because of how deep it runs.”
He gives James a soft kiss on his lips. It’s just a brush of a touch. James doesn’t even have a chance to react. “You are important to me. That’s why the poems are sad.”