James watched him the first time he went on that train and he knew he was in love.
He knew that this boy would be the death of him and he didn't care.
James watched his eyes turn cold when he recognized who he was, of all the storys he heard of him from his brother.
He saw the immediate hate in them and made it his personal task, to replace it with love.
James watched him in the front of the hall with the hat on his head, yelling loudly: "Slytherin". He realized that his task would be more difficult than he thought, but he still wouldn't let it go.
He wasn't sure he could.
James watched his expressions change over the years, the hate slowly faded in adoration and James was totally here for it.
He knew, if he kept going, the other boy wouldn't be able to withstand his Charme anymore.
James watched him trying to find his words, stumbling and blushing, finally saying the sentence he wanted to hear since he first saw him:
"I think I love you, James."
James watched him laughing and shaking his head at James, because he did something stupid again.
He watched him sleeping and blushing when waking up and realizing James was looking at him.
He watched him slowly drifting away, unsure what to do about it.
He watched him yelling at him, love slowly turning into hate again.
And finally he watched him leaving. Leaving him, leaving hogwarts, leaving his brother, leaving everyone.
He watched with teary eyes his gravestone, cold and grey, with the words "Regulus Black, beloved brother and son" written on it.
With no body under the dirt, because it was nowhere to be found.
Drowned, they say.
His precious, loveable Reggie. His first and only love.
Gone, forever.
Because James couldn't save him. Didn't even try. Maybe the guilt is his punishment. For not saving him.
He knew the moment he saw him, that this boy would be the death of him.
The thing he didn't know was that he would be the first to go.
To leave him in this cruel world, with nothing but memories. But those will fade eventually.
Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow.
But in a few years, maybe decades, the love for this boy would only be a far memory.
Gone, but not forgotten.