9
The sun is blinding.
All Regulus can see when he gains consciousness is red behind his eyelids. He squints, trying to move his head away from the blinding light. Though, everywhere he seems to turn produces much more discomfort. Without warning, he flutters his eyes open and tears form, the light shining right into his delicate eyes. His vision is blurry and when he finally blocks the sunlight, little colorful dots appear in his vision.
He can tell he’s still drugged up on heavy medication. Regulus feels light. His limbs are loose and almost like jelly. His head, clearer than it ever has been. It's like the fog has finally passed and now it’s an empty open area, clear of clutter and clogging. His mouth is also very dry.
Turning his head once more in an attempt to escape the very bright sun, he catches sight of his stuffed animal, sitting on the side of the bed. Instantly, a smile forms on his face, forgetting all about the suffering sunlight ruining his peaceful drug induced dreams and beauty sleep and grabs ahold of the cat plush. He runs his hands over the matted fur, feeling the bumps and knots.
His focus turns straight to the plushie in his hand, a childish grin plastered on his face, wide and full of pure joy. He fumbles around with it, checking out every small detail and ensuring this is the same one from his childhood. His fingertips trace over the little stitches shown on its body, touching every grove and every crease.
Then, his mind turns to James. For once, thinking about James is a choice and not an irritating itch that he can’t scratch. Something that has his stomach dropping as if he were on a rollercoaster or feeling extremely uncomfortable but unable to pinpoint why. Thinking about James is a choice he decided to make and it has Regulus delighted, wild butterflies forming in his belly.
James Potter, an obnoxious boy with a loud personality. A teenage boy, spreading nothing more than pure love to anybody he comes in contact with, directly or metaphorically. A young boy with dirty nails, bummish shoes, stained fingertips, and a smile that comes to challenge the sun. He radiates such positive energy wherever he is, with whoever he is with. Even with somebody like Regulus Black.
He went out of his way to bring something for Regulus. Even if it meant endangering him and breaking a few rules. He wore protective gear, in hopes of some barrier to ensure Regulus that he wants him to be healthy and want the surgery to go smoothly. He pushed aside the hurtful things Regulus did and said to him, and came to comfort him, letting Regulus know that James sees him.
James even went out of his way to let Regulus drift off into a calming sleep with the stars. Something that Regulus enjoys with pure happiness, knowing the stars are always there for him even when real life human beings couldn’t be. But, James showed him that he is there with him and he even brought his brother into the equation.
Regulus doesn’t even know where to begin with Sirius. He had known that Sirius took his beloved cat plush when he ran from home. Young Regulus had watched him pack, trying to convince Sirius to stay or form a better plan where they could both run off together, without looking back. He saw when Sirius had tried to sneakily shove the stuffed animal into his backpack but Regulus saw it, clear as day.
And then, Sirius sent James in, with the stuffed animal. Not only that, the two of them had ensured it would be kept clean from bacteria.
Regulus feels an odd warmth in his chest thinking about it. Without the drugs, he might have pushed it away and been repulsed by the way he’s thinking. But with the drugs influencing his brain, he embraces it, welcoming it.
He brings the toy close, hugging it to his chest. Regulus feels like a kid again, young and clueless. The only worry being that his other stuffed animals would feel left out.
On the side table, Regulus sees his phone light up. Picking his head up, he glances at it, noticing immediately how many messages are flooding onto his screen. Furrowing his brows, he reaches for his phone and swipes it open.
He clicks onto the group chat with him and his other friends at school, reading their messages with unfocused eyes. Regulus has to blink several times to read a single message from the way the drugs are trying to force him under once more, taking him off to dream about stars and whatnot.
All the messages from his friends are about him being in surgery. Barty jokes about the situation whilst Evan scolds him. Pandora’s worried, asking if Regulus had told anyone about it. Dorcas tries to calm down everyone (mostly Pandora).
Very quickly, Regulus writes a quick text, telling everyone that he is very much alive and well. He views it for a second, trying to see if there are any typos (which there most definitely is, Regulus isn’t fucking thinking straight at the moment), and when he’s satisfied, he clicks off the group chat.
Regulus would prefer not to talk to anyone right now with his mind being all loopy and his eyes not being able to focus for more than three seconds. But, he’s not ready to sleep yet and he still has multiple messages waiting for a response from him. He scrolls down his other contacts and sees Pandora has privately texted him a few times as well as Dorcas and Remus.
Regulus, with little hope, slides down to his parent’s numbers and checks to see if they had checked in on him.
Not a single text.
Scrolling back up, Regulus’ thumb lands on James’ number, still untouched and notifyless. He begins to frown, wondering why James, at the very least, hadn't checked in on him. But then he reminds himself that he blocked him.
Without his brain telling his fingers what to do, he clicks on James’ profile and hits the ‘Unblock’ button. No new messages or missed calls show up.
He clicks on the typing field, fingers hovering over the keys. He racks his brain, trying to figure out what he should say. Should Regulus even say anything at all? Why does he want to text James all of a sudden, anyways? He bites down on his lip, his brows knitting together. What does one say to an individual who brings them their childhood toy and sticks stars onto the ceiling for them? Regulus hasn’t a clue.
But, Regulus figures something out, a smile forming on his face, feeling unusual. As he types, butterflies explode in his stomach, making him feel anxious in a good way. Not like the sort of way it feels when the itch pops back up. This sort of anxiousness makes him want to go knock on James’ door just to see if he would answer. It makes him want to overthink anything and everything he’s ever said to James.
His face grows warm, his cheeks experiencing a sunburn without the sun. When he finishes his message for James, he rereads it several times, knowing that he’s still fucking drugged and practically delusional at this point in time. All he knows is that he could be sending James random letters and numbers, or even morse code.
When he’s satisfied, Regulus’ thumb dances over the send button, his stomach erupting in a buddle of nerves and excitement, for no fucking reason at all. He isn’t sure why he’s experiencing this sort of reaction to sending James a small text. It’s not even a big deal. James might not even see it.
He sends it.
A minute goes by. Regulus watches the message, restless for a response.
He types again. And then once more.
Biting his lip, he views his messages to James, feeling the urge to close his eyes and throw his phone. But, he fights against it, shutting his phone off and gently placing it back onto the side table. He takes a few breaths, trying to calm the nerves bouncing off in every cell of his body, letting Regulus know of their presence.
Fatigue starts to catch up to him, letting his eyelids grow heavier by the second. It seems like thousands of bricks are perching on his eyelashes, wanting Regulus to fall into a silent slumber and arrive back to his nonsense dreams that make no sense but also sense at the same time. The drugs seem to be working at a faster rate, pumping into his veins and finally, Regulus loses the fight against sleep, his eyelids closing.
He holds onto his plushie, feeling the fur brushing against his chin and he snuggles close to it, bringing it to his chest and receiving a hug he believes in this moment of time, he deserves. Warmth from the blanket and the stuffed animal provide him a calming comfort and before he can even start counting sheep in his mind, Regulus has fallen into his dreams.
-
James doesn’t leave his room once since seeing Regulus.
After Poppy had left, the door shutting close behind her, James was stunned, lost for words. He felt her words sink in, processing through his head and around his mind. For some reason, all of a sudden, those words- that story she told was important. It finally caused something to shift and click.
James knows what Burkholderia Cepacia is. Of course, he does, how could he not? Those two words have been shouted at him and lectured to him by many people, his parents included. He’s had to live with it for what seems like years but in reality, it’s only been a little more than a month.
But, Poppy’s story about the two young teenagers, resembling Regulus and him, hit him hard. It knocked something into him, made him sit down and fully take in what he’s going through and how much danger he can put everyone he loves and cares for in. James hasn’t cared about his B. Cepacia for a while, and he’s been so incredibly reckless.
When James had finally blinked and it had been a good few minutes since Poppy left, he pulled out his laptop, going straight to a search engine. His fingers glided over the keys and slid down the mouse pad, scrolling through the articles and information presented at his eyes, allowing him to learn and see the true reality of it. See what he’s been so carelessly ignoring and shoving away.
.
Everything he sees causes him to stop and really soak it in, really understand it. He looks at every site, his eyes feeling dry and tired from the endless scrolling and reading for what seems like days. His vision spots in some areas, James having to blink before resuming with his mind alert and consuming every sentence, every paragraph these sites and articles have to offer him.
Burkholderia Cepacia. Groups of hardy bacteria, wanting to invade and cause issues, aiming for weak immune systems or illnesses like Cystic Fibrosis. And these bacteria's take away the one thing James needs to be able to live a little longer- five years at most. His lungs.
With B. Cepacia, it’s too risky to do a lung transplant. Someone like James would just have to wait for a cure, if there ever will be one. Or, just live with it and hope that death lets him live the best he can until his lungs completely fail, allowing him to drift into a deep sleep with nothing to comfort him but the remaining memories he has before falling.
It’s been hours, the sun now fully in the sky. It’s been blocked by clouds however, his room dark and gloomy, almost chilling. James continues to sit, his back aching for him to sit up straight and his eyes strained from the laptop screen.
James has probably visited every site at least twice. He’s even brought out a spare notebook he’s never used and began taking notes. His stomach is in knots, knowing he should have known more about B. Cepacia and should have fucking cared more. The guilt creeps up on him, chilling him and running up and down his spine, plaguing his thoughts with haunting images and what ifs.
His stomach grumbles but he ignores it, allowing the spinning thoughts to push away his hunger and leave him stunned, wanting to absorb more and more; every piece of information these articles and health sites can give to him, anything to help him see more clearly and understand and feel incredibly guilty and hateful.
Everything he reads leaves him more and more worried. Worried for him, worried for Sirius, worried for Regulus. The thousands of paragraphs he’s burned into his mind has left him with a dry mouth and a fearful pit in his stomach, thinking of the hundreds of times he’s ignored the six-foot rule since he’s been suffering with B. Cepacia.
He thinks about the amount of medicine he’s missed, so caught up in hopelessness and living the present to its fullest. James has ignored anything about the future since his diagnosis and if James could take that back, he would. In a heartbeat.
And then Regulus, the brother of his best friend who's too focused on living and the future with lungs that he knows he’ll get. Regulus with the bitter past with Sirius, wanting nothing to do with James or Sirius, but having to step in to help himself and James. He pushed James to follow his regimen and do his treatments. Regulus gave James that push he needed to really want to get better and hope the trials work. Hope for his B. Cepacia to clear up and allow himself to be put back on the list.
Now with what James has discovered and information that finally got through his thick skull, he’s shaken up. The thought of his presence, his mere rule breaking self, endangering Regulus, endangering Sirius, causes him to shiver with anxiety. The fear of Sirius and Regulus losing the chance for lungs crawls around him, finding a place to settle in the back of James’ mind.
Tears prick at his eyes, clouding his vision with the laptop screen still shining blinding light at him. He locks his jaw and his bottom lip quivers slightly as he blinks, and the tears fall off his lashes and onto his cheeks. He feels the coldness of them slide down until they hang off his chin and fall to his lap, soaking into his blanket.
He gazes upwards, his vision aiming at his corkboard, and he views the sketches of his friends. James’ eyes land on the many pictures of Sirius that he’s drawn in the many years he’s known him. Each one a little different as the years go by. The proportions get better and the actual sketch itself looks precise and clean.
James shakes his head, observing them with glossy eyes and a deep pit in his stomach. His eyes continue jumping around the corkboard until he hears a buzz come from his phone besides him, the light of his screen flashing. Flickering his vision downwards, he sees who has texted him and immediately, without his permission, butterflies explode in his stomach. His heart leaps with excitement and his hands scoop up his phone with haste.
12:07
Thak you for being there with me. And for bringing in somthing to ease the nrves.
James pushes his glasses up his nose, skin hot as he rereads the message over and over again. He notices the spelling errors, almost wanting to be a cunt and let Regulus know about the typos.
12:08
The stars lookd real.
James swallows, his throat trying to close up on him. The message moves upwards, Regulus once again typing. His eyes flicker downwards.
12:08
Call later?
Regulus unblocked him.
James can feel every emotion go through him. The tears dry up and flush away, clearing his eyesight. The guilt and the unsettling pit in his stomach loosen up, almost departing but they somehow manage to hang in tight. His heart jumps, slamming into his ribcage and his cheeks flare red, burning underneath his skin. The intense warmth spreads around his face.
Call later?
He blinks, rereading it again and again, wanting to experience the heat increase on his face, growing at a rapid pace. He wants to experience the violent nature of his heart, how it’s beating with immense force against his chest, pounding so loudly he can hear it in his ears. The walls of his throat are tight, wanting something to loosen it up and allow James to swallow and breathe properly.
His fingers hover over the keys, trembling slightly from the adrenaline and pounding of his heart. He can almost feel the blood rush through his veins. He doesn’t know how long it’s been; he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at Regulus’ messages trying to rack his brain for something, anything to write back.
And just as he thinks he has it, his fingertips lowering down onto the screen, the guilt and concern creep back up. The feeling rolls up his spine, flooding his mind and producing horrid thoughts and images, wanting nothing more but to squeeze his eyes tight and curl into a little ball.
With a quick movement, James shuts his phone off, watching the screen turn black before his eyes. He blinks repeatedly, the tears threatening to escape and fall and James tosses his phone away from him.
The warmth glowing on his face fades, as if it was never there. The tightness in his chest becomes tighter, with fear and misery. His hands tremble from guilt and severe anxiety instead of the feeling of an exciting surprise. Everything James had just pushed away, had arrived once more, creating a home in his consciousness, allowing him to feel such rough emotions. Emotions James can’t even describe.
The light from his laptop blinds him again, the texts from Regulus popping up and causing his laptop to come back alive. The hundreds of tabs stare back at him and James’ eyes gaze from the notebook to the article opened on the screen and then to Regulus’ texts.
The final message pops up.
Call later?
James grinds his teeth, tears wanting to escape. He watches as the final message disappears and the article becomes his main focus again, triggering everything he’s learned in the past few hours to make an appearance, letting the daunting information circle around his head and clog his thought process.
Without hesitation, James leans forward and opens another article.
-
The moon is out again.
Remus had stayed once again at the hospital with Sirius. With the state Sirius was in whilst Regulus was getting surgery, Remus couldn’t leave him. He was miserable and downright guilty for something he can’t control. He’d ask questions about Regulus to Remus constantly, wanting to learn more about his own brother.
When Regulus had been finished with surgery, Sirius begged every person he could find to see him. He practically went down on his knees, pleading for a visit, just to see in his own eyes that Regulus was alive and well. Nobody gave in. They just sent him back to his room.
It was much too late for Remus to catch another train to Hogwarts. The moon was out, and the stars glistened in the sky, not a cloud or anything in sight to block them out the vast open sky. Sirius and Remus had once again viewed it, Remus smoking with Sirius next to him. Then, they got bored and Sirius wanted to leave his cramped room and walk around the building.
They wander around in the halls, Remus following Sirius wherever he heads. They have to be careful though, since Doctor McGonagall is around, doing her patrols and checking patients. Before turning down every corridor, Sirius makes Remus stand behind him as he checks around the corner, signaling him to walk only when it’s safe.
Remus trails behind Sirius, allowing him to stretch his legs and just bounce off the walls. With barely any food in his system, Sirius seems to have a shit ton of energy, just jumping around and pointing out random shit. He talks nonsense, seeming to just speak whatever pops into his mind.
“Dogs or cats?” Sirius asks, spinning with his arms out. Remus feels dizzy watching him.
“Cats.”
That stops Sirius from his spinning.
“Fucking traitor.”
Remus snorts. “You certainly have never had the experience of a cat sleeping in your lap.”
“I wouldn’t want to,” Sirius scoffs. “Their hair gets everywhere, and they poke you with their nails and shit.”
“Dogs do the same thing.”
“Not all dogs shed!” He argues, moving his hands dramatically. “And they don’t have claws.”
Remus tucks his hands into his pocket, astonished he’s having an argument about cats and dogs. “Dogs can have sharp nails. And not all cats shed.”
Sirius groans, pushing the hair away from his face with a foul expression. “I don’t wanna talk about that anymore.”
Remus won that argument.
“Then what would you like to talk about?” He humors, nudging into Sirius’ shoulder. They cross down a hallway, empty from any patients or staff.
Sirius shrugs, mumbling under his breath. “Something that-”
He cuts himself off. Remus frowns, about to open his mouth to say something when he hears Sirius mutter a curse loudly.
“Shit!” He repeats, his eyes looking around the hallway. Remus furrows his eyebrows, looking away from Sirius’ face and down the hallway. To his surprise, Doctor McGonagall steps out of a room, still seeming to talk to the patient, facing away from them.
A hand curls around his wrist and before Remus can prepare himself, he’s being tugged across the corridor. His cheeks flush red and the touch tingles, goosebumps forming at a fast rate.
Sirius directs them to a door and swings it open. They both hurry in, the door shutting close behind them. The smell of bleach and cleaning supplies fills Remus’ nostrils, causing him to wrinkle his nose. He feels the need to sneeze.
Squinting, Remus’ eyes adjust to the dark room, taking in his surroundings. It’s a janitor's closet. A tight janitor’s closet.
“This is cozy.” Remus says, making sure he sounds casual and calm. In reality, everything is background noise. The only thing he can focus on is the tight space between Sirius and him. The way he’s practically holding Sirius close, their skin touching and forming sparks underneath Remus’ own skin.
“Shut up Remus.” Sirius quirks, face turning to look at him. “Best I could do with the situation.”
He swallows roughly, the saliva scrapping at his dry throat, causing discomfort and a small itch in the back of his throat. His heart feels as though it’s crawling up his chest and settling into his ears, the pounding so loud, he could go deaf.
Silence sets around them; the only thing Remus can hear is their breathing and the soft wheezing of Sirius’ oxygen tank. They wait, both frozen as statues, skin continuously coming in contact and sending chills and excitement down Remus’ spine and he’s almost positive his eyes are dilated. His body sends signals, wanting more, needing more.
The sound of heels passes them, both of their eyes widening. Remus holds his breath, listening to the clicking of the heels grow fainter by the second. Sirius keeps his eyes on him, his hand gripping onto his wrist. His finger goes over Remus’ veins, feeling the texture and bumps there. Remus bites his tongue, warmth flooding his face.
“You think she saw us?” Sirius whispers, loud enough just for the two of them to hear.
“I’d be thrown out if she did.”
They’re frozen, no longer needing to stand in the closet. The sound of McGonagall’s heels fainted minutes ago, letting them sit in silence with the faint light coming through the door. Sirius continues to run his finger over Remus’ veins. He focuses on the cold caress of the boy’s fingerpads, grazing over the thin skin. Remus almost shudders.
Remus’ eyes lock onto Sirius’ and it seems like neither blink, soaking in the view. His eyes trail around Sirius’ face, inspecting every small detail with the small light. Remus tries to create a mental map of his sharp features, wanting to memorize every little dot, every little crease and wrinkle.
“Do I have something on my face?” Sirius asks, voice soft and breathy.
He shakes his head. “No- I’ve just got- y’know… nowhere else to really look.”
“Oh.”
Sirius’ lip's part open, just slightly. Remus’ vision zones in on it, taking it in. His pink lips flood his mind, Remus’ body wanting nothing more but to know how they feel. He wants to feel Sirius’ lips against his own. His own lips begin to tingle, feeling almost numb.
Minutes go by and they both haven’t moved. They haven’t spoken not a word, just shared breaths between them. They examine each other, dedicating the minutes to memorize and let their eyes linger over their face. Their skin still touches, Remus aching for more. He grows restless by the second, wanting to just touch and feel and know every inch of Sirius.
He tries to figure out what's happening inside of Sirius’ head, wanting to know if Remus should do something. Is Sirius uncomfortable? Is he waiting for Remus to pull away, not wanting to make this situation more awkward? Is he like Remus, yearning for something more than this touch, something more intense?
Remus’ body grows hot, his face completely heated up, and he knows he’s red. Sirius’ finger still goes over his veins, causing the warmth to spread around his body. It feels as though Sirius’ fever has been transported over to him.
With the small bit of light they have, Remus watches as indescribable emotions and feelings flicker past Sirius’ eyes. He catches them, wanting to know more and wanting to know what it means. They pass in series, clouding his eye up, almost exposing Sirius but then drifting away before Remus can make them out.
And then, Sirius blinks and everything disappears. The sound of heels, click by, down the hallway once more. Sirius lets go of Remus’ wrist, the touch of fingertips fading away, and a finger rests on his lip. He holds Remus’ gaze.
Unsure of where to put his hands, they land at Sirius’ waist. Sirius’ eyes widen for a split second but then relax, the finger at his lip going limp. Remus catches a slight pink hue bloom on Sirius’ cheeks at a rapid pace.
“Is this oka-” He starts.
“Yes.”
Sirius rests his hands on Remus’ arms, still holding eye contact. The touch lights something up in Remus and fireworks explode in his belly, his heartbeat present in his ear and down in his throat. The sensation of Sirius’ cold hands plants down on his skin, sticking the hair on his arms upwards. Remus bites down hard on his lip, the pain grounding him.
Everything seems hazy. The edges of Remus’ vision have gone blurry, the only clear part focused right on Sirius. His hands twitch at his waist, wanting so badly for more, wanting something he know won’t happen. His brain is foggy, absolutely useless in this situation. The fucking touch Sirius is providing, burns on his skin, as if heat melts ice. The taste of saliva sits on his dry tongue, settling into the cracks of it and giving no such help to ease the yearning for want.
It’s quiet, the sound of heels gone and mute. The only thing there is, is them, sharing a moment in horrible lighting and a small space, not big enough for the both of them. The smell of bleach and old mops fill the air, settling around them as their pupils are big, large as spoons and looking for desire. Remus’ hands tremble just slightly on Sirius’ waist, itching for something other to touch than the thin fabric of Sirius’ shirt and pants.
“It’s dark in here.” Remus notes, noticing the way Sirius’ bottom lip lowers just a tad.
“Yeah.”
Silence. Again.
Different alarms go through Remus’ head, spinning him in circles and indecisiveness. Should he let go? Move his hands someplace else? Leave the room? Be the first to make a move, showing Sirius what he desires and allowing them to finally not just stare at each other with anticipation and slight doubt?
Remus observes closely, trying to pick out any sort of discomfort from Sirius. He finds none. Sirius looks steady. His back is straight, eyes fixed right on Remus’, hands gripping gently onto his arms, looking as though he can’t decide what to do either.
Sirius licks his lips. “Do you…”
Remus waits, wanting him to finish his sentence but nothing comes.
“What?”
“I’m not sure.”
Sirius opens his mouth, a noise coming out of it. A croak almost. Remus furrows his brows and watches as Sirius shuts his mouth, blinking at him. His eyes are wide, his pupils huge. Remus has no doubt that his don’t look the same.
Something overcomes Remus and focuses his attention on his hands at Sirius’ waist, still trembling and holding him still. His thumb, very softly begins creating circles into his side, digging gently into the skin. Sirius stares at him, his hands now lightly running up Remus’ arms. His head tilts just slightly, his eyes very obviously flickering down to Remus’ lips.
Please.
A beat.
Sirius shudders, and just before his eyes flutter gently shut, something that Remus can’t pinpoint, flickers past. His jaw locks, almost about to say something, ask something when Sirius jerks. Remus stops massaging his waist and loosens his grip.
A shy smile appears on Sirius’ face and his gaze tilts downwards, hiding away from Remus’ eyeline.
He takes a step back, not far but enough to let Remus get the message. A pit forms in Remus’ stomach.
“Sorry,” Sirius begins, and Remus almost cuts in, wanting to let Sirius know there was nothing for him to be sorry about. “Uh, I just need to use the bathroom.”
The pit grows larger, filling Remus with a sort of melancholy feeling. He pushes past it, swallowing hard, the heat on his face fading slowly. “Don’t be sorry.”
Sirius doesn’t say anything. Remus can’t even see his face.
“Meet in the atrium?”
“Sure.”
Sirius is the first to grab onto the door and he pushes it open, light finally flooding into their hiding spot. Without turning back to look at Remus, Sirius rushes out, looking as though he’s finally got a fresh breath of air. And finally, he walks away, towards a bathroom.
Remus stands in the janitor’s closet, watching.