The words don’t… make sense.
How could they?
It's just… no.
No.
It’s impossible.
Regulus shakes his head slowly. “He’s on his way back. He’s- he’s coming home.”
“Reg-”
He swallows tightly, unsure why his throat is suddenly so dry. “Tomorrow,” he repeats. “He- James is- he’s coming home. Tomorrow.”
He searches their faces, finding sorrow that pales in comparison to the anguish clawing at his throat.
Suddenly frantic, he spins to face Sirius, faltering when he sees the devastation on his face. “No, he’s- Sirius? He’s fine. He’s- he’s fine.”
“Reg,” Remus says again, and his voice breaks. “He couldn’t have made it out of there. There was- there were too many of them. You have to believe me I did everything I could, everything, but-”
Ice creeps up his spine, and Regulus fumbles behind him for the door, breath coming in harsh pants that sear his throat. “You can’t- stop it, he’s not- he’s-”
“Regulus,” Sirius says, and he’s oh he’s- crying, voice raw. “He’s dead.”
Something shatters, and Regulus thinks it’s his heart.
…
He's passed through the hysteria into complete shutdown.
Regulus feels nothing, wants to feel nothing.
If he lets himself feel it he will drown, and he's so good at that, at not feeling, but he's never been able to stop himself from drowning.
The waters are rising and his breath is going, and he won't be able to climb out of this.
James is gone.
His baby, his love, is gone.
He'll never touch him again, never be touched, hugged, loved by him again and oh god it hurts.
Oh god.
I love you I love you I love you-
And it's too late, it's not enough, he's never been enough to keep him, never been enough to keep the people he loves.
Someone is talking to him, someone is touching him and it's not James oh he can't he can't he can't-
"Regulus you need to breathe-" Remus, it's Remus, pulling him into a hug that's too tight, too confining wrong it's all wrong he doesn't hold me like James does-
His lungs are tight, breath refusing to return and he wishes, selfishly, that it never would.
"Regulus-!"
He lashes out, pushing Remus away and stumbling to his feet.
I can't I can't I can't.
Blindly he leaves the room, shoving his way through the hands that reach for him and cling, cling, too tight and too much, these claws of hands that drag over his skin and under and reach and oh those hands have finally torn his heart away.
His heart pounds fast, beating and beating and oh it's not fair, not fair that he's the one left, not fair that his heart is still beating when his heart is gone.
Regulus Black is drowning, and this crimson river is entirely made of his own heartsblood.
Somehow, miraculously, he makes it to his bed.
It’s so cold, so empty, and it's missing James in a way he can never forgive.
He pulls the thin blanket tight around his shoulders and tries to imagine that it's James' arms.
"Please," he begs breathlessly, words strangled and agonized- "take me too, don't leave me here without him, please-"
He begs, and he cries, and he screams, and the universe doesn't listen.
…
Later, he finds himself climbing the stairs, body heavy and lethargic, and he forgets and remembers and forgets, and with each remembering comes a fresh wave of grief.
The roof is empty, and he stares into empty space and wonders how he’s supposed to feel alive.
How he’s supposed to be alive, when his reasons for living are leaving him one by one.
Regulus is empty now.
His entire life he’s been too much, not enough, not loud enough, not quiet enough, not enough, not enough-
He’s done.
The only reason he’s fought, the only reason he’s tries to stay alive, is hope of a better future.
With James, and Sirius, and-
James is gone.
Sirius will be gone too, he gets reckless when James is absent, and it will be so much worse now-
There will be nothing left, nothing to keep him tethered, nothing to ground him, to keep him from-
His feet are on the edge.
Regulus comes back to himself abruptly, staring down at the long drop in front of him.
And he can’t-
There’s no reason not to.
He shuffles forward, ever so slightly.
Regulus wonders, slightly hysterical, what it feels like to fly.
He tips forward slightly, balances on his toes, and takes a breath.
“Reg!”
…
A fresh wave of panic strangles his throat and he can't breathe-
The voice is familiar, terrified, and he can’t-
What's happening?
Please please please-
And then, oh then, a miracle.
It's- it's James, it's James, he's here somehow, impossibly here and oh he needs him like the very breath that refuses to return.
"It's me, Reg, please- please come down. Please-"
And he can't refuse James, could never, even on his worst days.
Regulus stumbles away from the edge immediately, losing his feet and gasping as his palms hit the rough stone.
And
e
v
e
r
y
t
h
i
n
g
stops.
Because there he is.
Oh there he is.
He looks worse for wear, his glasses are missing, his shirt and pants are torn and filthy, there's a tightness across his face that belies pain but oh he's so beautiful.
He's so beautiful.
"James," he breathes, his vision narrowing until he's the only thing that Regulus can see. "James."
"There you are," James murmurs, soft and low, dropping to his knees in front of him. "I’m here."
Regulus can't stand to not be touching him any longer, and he surges forward.
James catches him, he always catches him, and just holds.
And oh, it feels right, he holds on with everything he has, and oh it's so right.
"I'm here, it's all right now," James whispers, he presses the words into Regulus' very skin. "We're here. We're safe, I'm here."
"You're here," Regulus repeats, and oh, he's crying. "You're here, you're here-"
"I've got you." James cups a hand around the back of his neck, pulls him even closer by an arm around his back. "Oh I love you, I love you so much."
He's shaking.
"I love you," Regulus chokes, pressing into him. "I love you, I love you-"
James holds him, presses kisses to his head, his temple, his forehead, everywhere he can reach, and they’re both crying, both nearly incoherent with the terror still racing through their blood, but-
“I couldn’t-” Regulus starts, ragged with the fear he’s felt for so long- “I couldn’t- you weren’t here, I thought-”
“I am,” James says tightly, shaking his head. “I’m here. Nothing else- it’s- I’m here. We’re okay, that’s enough for me, okay? We can- we can figure everything else out later, I just need to hold you, please-”
“Yes,” he gasps, “yes, please, just-”
It’s not gentle, the way they collide, grasping for any body part they can reach, any hold or grip that can pull them closer together, but it is.
It is, because they don’t know how not to be gentle with each other, not when the world is so hard, so harsh and angry and full of fear and devastation, how can they not hold as if the other is the most precious thing?
How could they not?
This is everything.
They are everything that matters.