I Don't Want You To Leave
The door twists open in a frantic movement as if it couldn’t swing open fast enough. The second it closes behind them he’s tugging the green tie off of the boy in front of him and throwing it to the floor. The boy in front of him gives a sharp intake of breath and fumbles to do the same to his. This is fine, it really is, until the boy moves closer, too close for the other’s liking, because this isn’t how it goes, he’s the one in charge, he has to be. The other boy must not pick up on this because he moves forward to close the space between them, connecting their lips to his.
A genuine jolt of something a lot like panic runs through him. He hates himself for it, for feeling this way… but mostly for not knowing how to stop. But he knows he wants him to stop, kissing him at least, because he’s starting to feel like he can’t breathe. He wants to just shove him away from him but he knows that it’s not really his fault, he didn’t know that he didn’t want to be kissed, he doesn't know about the genuine panic coursing through his veins at the contact. So he forces himself to reply calmly and simply just, pull away.
“Take your clothes off,” he says through a harsh breath of air, he knows that it’s really because of the panic that still courses through his veins but he hopes that it comes off as needy, desperate for more.
He must think so because he starts taking his clothes off the second the words fall from his mouth. And it’s fine, genuinely. It’s still fine when he makes his way inside of him. And it’s fine as the boy beneath him writhes against him and lets out soft noises of pleasure. That is fine because it’s just that: pleasure. He can fuck him and not feel panic rising in his chest because it’s just that, just pleasure. He thinks it’s funny how fucked that is, in a way. That he can give himself to someone in that way yet immediately recoil in fear the second someone even comes close to kissing him.
But in many other ways, Regulus Black just finds this sad.
⤖
The party is still in full swing when Regulus walks back downstairs. It’s when he’s getting a drink that someone comes up next to him, nudging him in the arm. Regulus doesn’t turn his head, just shifts his gaze to the side, eyes falling on someone who he sadly calls one of his best friends-Evan Rosier.
“Had a good fuck did you?” he says, a playful and in Regulus’ opinion, annoying smile on his face.
Regulus rolls his eyes. “Piss off.”
Evan lets out a short laugh. “You know, I’ve never known anyone to be as tense as you are after getting off.”
“And I’ve never known anyone as annoying as you are,” Regulus retorts dryly.
A wide grin spreads across Evan’s face. “I just love it when you bully me. Please continue.”
“I will kill you in your sleep.”
“Oh yes, tell me more.”
“Why am I still friends with you?”
“Cause I’m one of the only people willing to deal with your grumpy ass. And because you love me,” he says, nudging his shoulder playfully.
“Now I really am going to kill you in your sleep.”
Evan just smiles. “I love you too, mate.”
Regulus lets out a short scoff but the corners of his lips turn up nonetheless.
“I can see you trying not to smile,” Evan states teasingly.
Regulus simply flips him off and walks away.
The room is full with people, making the air feel warm and muggy. Regulus already feels sweaty from the prior activities he just participated in upstairs and the heat of the bodies around him doesn’t exactly help. He finds himself moving through the crowd quickly, feeling slightly suffocated and needing some type of fresh air.
It’s when he’s out the common room door and around the corner that he feels like he can breathe again. He’s about to slump down the brick wall and just stay there until the party dies down when he hears it; the soft crying of someone not too far down the hall. He doesn’t exactly care that the person is crying and he knows that he wouldn’t be able to actually comfort them-not the right way at least- but his feet still move down the hall anyway.
The crying comes from a small open space in the wall-which during the day is usually occupied by students studying or reading and at night by people hooking up-carved a few inches inward so you can’t see who is in it till you stop in front of it. When Regulus does stop in front of it he immediately wishes he hadn’t. Because there’s James Potter, red solo cup in hand, and tears streaming down his face.
Regulus’ heart sinks at the site before he remembers that he’s supposed to hate James Potter. No, he does hate James Potter. He didn’t know what he was going to do before-when he stupidly decided to come over here-and he certainly doesn’t know now. Not when James is there clearly drunk and crying.
And James must have heard Regulus coming because he looks up from the floor when Regulus stops in front of him. His eyes widen when he sees it’s Regulus standing there and not just some random person trying to use the cave to hook up in.
“R-Regulus,” James slurs.
“Potter,” Regulus says dryly.
James grimaces at the use of his last name. He didn’t expect anything else but he-well he hoped he’d be wrong. He always hoped for the wrong things.
James can’t help but take Regulus in. He rarely gets the chance to nowadays. So he lets himself look at Regulus, really look at him, because he knows he probably won’t be able to for a while. He takes notice of the way his curls fall and settle around his face messily. He wants to reach out and settle them back to their usual place. He almost does because he’s sure he could get away with it, just blame it on the fact that he’s drunk out of his mind. He knows Regulus would just act like it never even happened. He’s good at that. James would know.
Next, his eyes skate down his chest and arms, where the sleeves of his white button-up are rolled halfway up his arms, leaving the pale skin of his arms bare. And his hands, oh his hands. James just wants to… he forces the thought out of his head and instead, continues skating his eyes down. And oh…oh.
A laugh escapes his mouth at the site.
Regulus arches a brow. “What?”
James is still laughing as he says, “Your fly is down.”
Regulus looks down and well, fuck it really is. He tugs the zipper up quickly. He just knows his cheeks are crimson right now and if he didn’t, James’ face says it all. If he didn’t regret coming over here before he certainly does now.
It takes James several more seconds to compose himself, heaving out a sigh when he does. He seems to remember the situation he’s in and also the fact that, moments ago, he was crying. He’s never cried in front of Regulus Black before, not until now, and the thought seems to make him angry in a way that makes his throat feel tight.
He tips the red solo cup to his lips and drinks. He suddenly wishes that Regulus Black didn’t find him in this little caved-in structure. He felt lonely before-when he was crying to himself-but he feels more lonely now, with him here but not really. He’s here but he’s not really here and James wants to cry, the violent type where you feel like you can’t breathe.
The tears fill James’ eyes again, making everything unclear and muddled. And maybe it’s because the tears distort Regulus’ face and make him look a lot like his older brother-which brings James a false sense of security-because he finds himself just…saying what he feels.
“Have you ever wanted someone so badly that it hurts to look at them, to be near them?” And he doesn’t really know why he says it as he does. Maybe it’s because he’s drunk and on the verge of crying or because Regulus looks a lot like his brother right now-James’ best friend-but also entirely like himself.
Yes, Regulus thinks in spite of himself. He hates when his own mind tortures him with the memories, with the feelings. Because yes, he’s looked at someone and wanted them so badly it hurts, he still does despite himself, despite how much he doesn’t want to, despite how every nerve in his body tells him not to.
He looks at James, really looks at James for the first time that night. His cheeks are tear-stained and his glasses are askew and yet, somehow, James still manages to look beautiful. And although Regulus doesn’t, won’t let himself think it, it’s still true. James has this way of shining despite everything.
“Can’t say I have,” is Regulus’ answer, despite the persistent thoughts telling him it’s not true.
“You’re lucky, It fucking sucks,” and even in that moment he still tries to laugh. Drunk and longing for someone he can’t have, yet still trying to make a joke of it. The laugh dies in the back of his throat before it can even attempt to make its way to the surface.
I know, Regulus thinks. I know, he doesn’t say. “Poor Potter,” is what Regulus finds himself saying. His words are cold and mean, almost tauntingly so.
“Poor Potter,” James repeats, huffing out a weak laugh that he doesn’t really mean. And then he just… downs the rest of the liquid in his cup. His tears are gone but his self-loathing isn’t.
Neither of them says anything for what feels like a long time and Regulus just…keeps standing there so James says, “You know there’s plenty of other places you could fuck someone. It doesn’t have to be here.”
Regulus scoffs. “I’m not trying to fuck anyone.”
James laughs bitterly. “Right. You already did. Why are you still here then?”
Regulus ignores James’ question because honestly, he doesn’t know why either. “Go back to your common room. You shouldn’t be out here drunk this late.”
James rolls his eyes. “I’ll do what I want, Regulus.” And then he’s leaning his head back against the wall and splaying his fingers across the brick. “You know, this wall is surprisingly comfy. Probably why so many people have sex on it.”
Regulus huffs out an annoyed breath. “Just get up.”
James looks up at him through half-lidded eyes. “No. I like it here. And my legs are tired. And I’m tired. And everything’s just so-”
“Stop being a big baby. You’re not going to sleep in the fucking hallway.”
And then Regulus is hauling James-who seems very much against this- to his feet. James immediately leans himself against Regulus, putting a majority of his body weight on him. This makes everything increasingly difficult because James is longer and heavier than Regulus. But he meant it when he said that James wasn’t going to sleep in the hallway so he makes do.
It's when they get to the door of the Gryffindor common room that Regulus gets annoyed.
“Well, go on,” Regulus says when they stop in front of the door. “Say the password.”
James looks at the portrait of the Fat Lady and, in his defense, tries very hard to remember the password. But he’s drunk and well, emotionally unstable, so his attempt leads to no avail.
James seems to find this incredibly funny because he starts laughing for the second time that night. “I can’t remember,” he says through a fit of laughter.
Regulus regrets not leaving him in the hallway. “For fucks sake,” he hisses out. And then because he doesn’t really have any other choice, he knocks on the door.
It opens a few seconds later and Regulus feels like his heart drops out of his chest and onto the floor. His brother stands on the other side, the grin that used to be on his face slowly dropping when he sees his little brother standing there.
Sirius’ brows furrow when he sees James slumped against his brother’s side. “What the fuck happened?”
“Shouldn’t you know? You’re his best friend. You live with him. You two practically breathe each other’s fucking air.”
And Sirius doesn’t miss the bitter tone in his brother’s voice. “Well, it’s not my fault some people are so fucking stubborn. Maybe if they weren’t then we would know what happened.”
And yeah, this definitely has nothing to do with James right now.
And even though James is incredibly drunk, he doesn’t like to see the two fighting with each other, especially when they are making no fucking sense to anyone but themselves. He wants to help-he always wants to help-even though he finds it particularly hard to form any coherent thoughts. It makes him sad to see the two fighting and even sadder to see the way they look at each other, so much unresolved feelings between them.
He wants to say something encouraging, he really does, but he finds himself easily distracted by the boy against him. Somehow the angry expression on his face makes him more attractive.
“Don't be mean to Reggie, Sirius. He’s your little brother and he has really nice hair,” are the muddled words that fall out of James’ mouth, his hand twisting one of the curls. He doesn’t remember bringing his hand up.
Regulus moves away from the touch, making his curl plop back into place. James frowns at this. He didn’t want to make the other boy uncomfortable, he just wanted to touch him. He’s missed being able to touch him.
“Fucks sake, James. You say you’re going to the astronomy tower and then come back plastered and clinging onto my brother. I really don’t understand you sometimes,” Sirius huffs out.
“I’m only young once Sirius,” James slurs out, suddenly shifting forward like he’s about to fall.
Sirius reaches out and grabs onto his arm. “You won’t be saying that when you throw this all up later.”
“Well, of course not. I think I’ll be too busy throwing up to say much of anything.”
Regulus mumbles something under his breath.
James’ brows furrow. “What did you say?”
“I said you can let go of me now. I’m sure your best friend here can get you through the door himself,” Regulus says, detaching his arm from around James’ waist.
James pouts. “Don’t leave. I don’t want you to leave.”
And it’s true, James doesn’t want him to leave. He wants him to come inside and sit with him on the couch and talk like they used to. He finds himself wishing this a lot.
“You’ll get over it. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning.”
James does remember the next morning. He wishes he hadn’t.