James was never meant for war.
This fact has always been very clear to Regulus, from the moment they talked to each other for the very first time. They hardly knew each other but James still had a smile that put the sun to shame placed on his lips. He talked to him like they had been friends forever, and Regulus had the firm instinct to protect him even then. He was a year younger, but it didn’t matter. Regulus always knew the harsh truth about the war, growing up in the house that he did. James knew none of it, he was an outsider. And Regulus wanted to shield him from it, even if he was trying to convince himself that he hated him.
It only got worse once he fell in love with him. He wanted so badly to tear a hole in his own chest and place James right beside his heart. Saving him from all the casualties of war, the ones that leaked into his mind and skin. Kill everyone who even thought of tainting his light. James said he was crazy. He said he knew what the war did, he told him he understood. Regulus knew he didn’t. He couldn’t. He didn’t even want him to. Regulus joined the order right out of school so he didn’t have to. That same instinct raged at his chest, screaming at him to protect his light. So that’s exactly what he did. They went on battlefields hand in hand so Regulus could cover James’ eyes when there was something too graphic. He could cover his ears so he didn’t hear people screaming out in pain. He held him close hoping to stop the smell of death from reaching him.
It was a lost cause he knew this going into it, but he didn’t stop. James spent his nights pacing because he couldn’t get those scenes stuck out of his head. He wept over all the people they had lost, spending his days with swollen eyelids and red-tinted cheeks. Even people he never spoke to once, the innocent who were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. Regulus comforted him the best he could, but that was never meant for him. He was the one meant for war. He was meant for bloodshed and self-destruction. James was the one that was supposed to build everyone up again. They didn’t know what to do when the roles got switched.
“We have to go!” James calls out to him from the other room.
Regulus takes one last glance in the mirror, he looks sick. They all do. There’s another mission they have to go on. There’s a bunch of them going but James is the only person Regulus really knows. They’ve sworn to go on every mission together, making Dumbledore specifically place them together. They refuse to allow each other to go alone. Sighing Regulus shuts off the light before walking over to the main room. James is bouncing on his feet, twiddling with his wand. He always gets anxious hours, sometimes even days, before a mission like this.
“Ready to go?” Regulus asks.
James hums, “Yeah, I think so.”
Regulus tugs on his arm, feeling his warmth from underneath his palm. A reminder that they’re both alive. He never realized how badly he needed the reminder until they got involved in the war. Now they’re always fighting for that next heartbeat and breath. Never knowing if the end is near, or if their days are counted. “We won’t be out for long,” he reassures him, “Dumbledore said this mission would be easy.”
James nods distantly, “No, I know.”
Regulus stops when they reach the door, “Are you okay?”
He forgets to ask most of the time. No one is okay in war, not really. People may have families, they may find times of joy in between the chaos. But no one is truly okay. There’s too much guilt and suffering weighing them down. Even the people who don’t go off killing people, the people who stay home. They have their own burdens to bear just like them. Holidays can pass, and people don’t put up decorations. They don’t send out cards or invite over all the extended family. They sit in the dark because they think they deserve it. After all the hate they’ve inflicted. They sit in the dark because they have no one to turn on the light for, everyone they love is dead.
Regulus almost joined the other side, he was so close to it. Terrified as he was, he would’ve gotten the mark if James wasn’t there. Even if he didn’t he would’ve never joined the order. Would’ve never gone off fighting the people he used to call blood. He would’ve run at the first sign of trouble. Done something cowardly and bought himself a piece of land to rot away in. James lit his heart aflame, he gave him a purpose. He can’t tell if it was for the better, but he prays that it was.
“Hm,” James says, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“James.”
He sighs, “I’m just tired, I’m fine.”
Regulus narrows his eyes, “If you—“
“Reg,” James faces him, tightening the grip of his hand, “We have to go. I promise I’m okay, I just want to get this mission done with so we can go back home, okay?”
Regulus waits for a moment, dancing his eyes around James’ to see if he’s telling the truth. He’s always been a bad liar, cracking with the slightest bit of questioning. Though it’s hard to tell this time if he is or not, Regulus isn’t sure. It’s war. They only get twenty minutes to sleep most nights, they dream of distant lands and epiphanies. But it’s never enough. They grow tired more easily. They were always taught how to survive in a war, but no one ever taught them how to live in one. How to cope with grief tearing at their chests after the death of loved ones. How to speak about the unspeakable and swallow past all the heartache. They’re not even twenty yet, and yet they’re supposed to know how to grapple with all of this. Regulus doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t think he’s ever known.
“Okay,” he says slowly, “Let’s go then.”
James pulls him through the door before apparating for the both of them. The feeling of spring completely covers Regulus’ skin until he’s drowning in it. He allows himself to get lost in the feeling. He always loves when it’s James who apparated for him, when all his warmth spreads over him. Being nothing isn’t quite the same if it’s not by James’ side. He can feel flowers grow over his chest, and the heat of the sun crawl down his throat to feed the greenery resting in his lungs. It only lasts a second, not even that, but Regulus clings to every part of it. Devouring the feeling of him and James being one instead of two.
As soon as they’re out of it there are spells being thrown at their side. Fire catches at their side, and a burning orange color flashes against their skin. While the smell of smoke chokes them with every breath they take. Quickly James shoves him down a nearby wall, Regulus drags him down with him in unison. Someone’s screaming but Regulus isn’t sure who, he’s just trying to get air into his heaving chest. They weren’t supposed to be here, this was supposed to be a safe place to go. The Death Eaters weren’t even going to be on this mission, it was a precautionary one. No one was supposed to know about this place.
James grips his hand tightly as he turns to him, searching for any sign of injury. It’s hurried, as he runs his hands over his body.
“I’m fine, James.” Regulus pushes him away, ducking his head over the side to look at the battle waging on. He only sees two other order members, but the Death Eaters are quick to advance. If they don’t get over there they’ll be able to make it into the building. Regulus isn’t even sure what they’re protecting but he’s certain it can’t get in the wrong hands.
Regulus looks over at James, who’s only now trying to catch his breath. “There’s only four of them.” He tells him, “If we go over and help we should be able to fend them off.”
James nods, “On your count?”
“Okay,” he mumbles, his eyes dancing between the soldiers up ahead. As long as they go when no one is looking toward them they’ll be fine. If they go up together there won’t be any time for them to shoot before they do. The window opens up only moments later, “Go!”
Regulus only hesitates for a moment, one single second. He’s not even sure why he does it. He’s the one who told them to go, he’s the one who called out for them to rise. But he doesn’t, he hesitates. Even if it’s only for half a second, it’s enough in the end.
James doesn’t hesitate.
And Regulus watches as he falls like the setting sun.
“James!”
The background fades away as soon as he sees the blood trickling down his chest. There is no one to fight, no one to lose. It’s just the two of them. Regulus feels the tears on his face before he even realizes he’s crying. There are still spells flying but he doesn’t care enough to block them, he needs to get to James. “Baby,” he mumbles, he can feel his throat closing in, “Baby, baby come on.”
Crawling over to him Regulus places his head on his lap, he groans in pain, “Reg, stop- hurts—“
“I’m sorry,” Regulus chokes, “I have to move you, we have to go we can’t…”
He just has to get him away. He can’t apparate he’s not sure what that would do for him. It might just make it worse, he’s not sure. But he can’t keep him here. If he keeps him here he’s going to die, there’s nowhere to drag him off to. There’s no doctor on standby it’s only the two of them. Regulus wasn’t trained on this. Why didn’t they train him on this? Why didn’t they put all of them through vigorous training on how to save someone’s life? They taught them how to kill so quietly that no one would be able to hear. They taught them to shoot first and ask questions later. They taught them to hold their wands straight and keep their words clear. But no one trained him for this. There’s so much blood. He doesn’t know what to do. He feels like a little kid, too short to reach what he really wants.
“Reg,” James says weakly, grabbing onto his hand. Regulus feels his blood, it coats his skin. He wants it gone. He wants to devour it. He wants to clean it and pretend it never existed in the first place. The iron smell coats his mouth until he can’t breathe, he feels himself choking on it. “We can’t go anywhere.”
Regulus shakes his head, his tears falling into James’ open wound, “No, we have to get you up. I know it’s gonna hurt but…”
“Reg,” James tries again, “You can’t move me.”
Regulus blinks, “Yes, I can.” He whimpers, “It doesn’t matter who I have to kill to get you out of this place. But I’ll do it. You and I will be fine, we’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it. You just have to trust me okay you have to…” his thoughts dissolve underneath his tongue. He’s supposed to apply pressure to the wound. He knows that much. He places his hand over James' chest, he hisses in pain but he doesn’t stop. He needs to stop it from bleeding. Would spells work on a wound like this? He’s not sure, he’s not even sure what spells to use.
“Reg, Reg,” James cries, “Stop it.”
“I can’t,” Regulus says, “We have to put pressure on the wound, just until we can get someone out here and…”
“No one’s coming,” James tells him, heaving as more of his blood spills. “There’s no one to call.”
“Don’t say that,” he begs, “I’m not letting you die.”
James' eyes grow hazy as he takes Regulus’ cheek in his hand, wiping away his tears, “You’ll be okay.”
“James,” Regulus whispers, “Don’t do this. Don’t leave me alone… don’t leave me.”
“I’m never leaving you,” He smiles softly, “You’ll be alright. No one can hurt you, okay? You’ll run far from the war. You’ll live a good life. And I’ll be there with you even if I’m not.” He speaks quickly, like he knows he doesn’t have much time. Regulus feels sick.
“No.”
“You’ll find peace, okay? Even if I’m not there to witness it in person. I’ll be watching you.”
“James, stop it.”
“Promise me,” James says, “Promise me you won’t be plagued by ideas of revenge, and go off fighting people you shouldn’t be. Promise me you’ll run.”
Regulus shakes his head, “Not without you.”
James tries to laugh, but he chokes instead, “I don’t think I’m gonna do much running here.”
Regulus looks at the wound, he could heal it. He’s sure he could. If he remembered the spells. Why can’t he remember the spells? Did he ever really know them in the first place? Should he have asked about them? That’s the thing with moments like this. You never really think it’s going to happen to you until it does. You view yourself and everyone around you as invincible. Regulus never thought he was going to die, even when he did, he could never imagine a world without himself in it. It’s the same with James. He’s never had to live without him before. He doesn’t intend to do so now either. “You could try.”
James takes a breath, “I can’t feel my legs.”
Regulus drags his eyes back over to his eyes, there’s a sudden fear encroaching upon them. It fills his eyes as tears leak from them, spreading into the earth beneath them. Regulus holds him tighter, he’s not sure what else to do. James breathes rapidly, hiccuping with each inhale. James doesn’t like crying, he hates when he does. He shoves it away and hides his face in his hands so no one can see him break. Now, he cries openly, he doesn’t shove it away. It’s like he doesn’t even realize it’s happening.
“I can’t feel my legs,” he repeats, his hands shaking, “Reg, I can’t feel my legs.”
“James,” Regulus whimpers, he keeps trying to move it’s only making the bleeding worse.
“I can’t… I can’t feel my legs,” James’ breath rattles, “Reg, tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do. I can’t…”
“It’s okay,” Regulus says quickly, he’s not sure what takes over him, “It’s okay,” he brushes back his hair, kissing his forehead gently. Careful not to harm him anymore, “Just close your eyes, baby, I’ve got you.”
James looks at him sobs fall from his lips. Regulus wants to silence the sound, he wants to shove them back into his throat, but he can’t do anything, “Reg, I’m scared.”
Regulus cries with him, “I know.”
“I don’t want to die,” James confesses, “I don’t wanna die, I’m not ready.”
“You’re gonna be okay,” Regulus lies, “I’ve got you, okay? Nothing's going to happen to you.”
James looks at him like he believes him, it tears Regulus’ heart in two. He hears it shattering inside his chest, he hears every individual crack. But he doesn’t look away, he can’t. James blinks slowly, and his breathing evens out. Regulus can’t look away, he needs to see the last moment.
“Close your eyes,” Regulus whispers, “You’ll be alright. I’ve got you, baby.”
And so James does. He closes his eyes, and he doesn’t open them again. The battle wages onward, but the sun has already gone down. Regulus saw as the light dipped below the horizon, and blood spilled over the sky like a perfect last sunset. He still has spatters of it over his hands, he can’t let go of it. After James stops breathing he waits a moment, then another. Waiting patiently for his heartbeat to pick back up, for him to jump up from the ground and laugh tearfully that it was all a trick of the light. But he doesn’t. His heart doesn’t tick The world stops in its tracks, and the sun burns out.
Regulus screams so loud but he doesn’t hear a thing.
His voice breaks and he doesn’t feel it.
He clings onto James’ body, spilling his tears down to his chest praying to some god that it’ll heal him, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t breathe again, and his heart doesn’t beat. Regulus feels spells fly around him and he doesn’t even care to get himself out of there. He doesn’t care if he dies right next to James. But he can’t leave James’ body there, he needs to save him even now. So he apparates, thinking it’ll be nice to be nothing even for a short while. But he doesn’t feel spring. It doesn’t surround his tired bones and give them a place to rest. Flowers don’t bloom in his lungs, and moss doesn’t twirl around his hair. He’s never going to feel spring again, he’s never going to feel the sun. When he crash-lands outside his front door he only manages to crawl a few steps away before he’s throwing up on the concrete, until he’s heaving.
It takes him a long time to look back at James, when he does he wishes he didn’t. He doesn’t look like he should, he looks like a stranger. Regulus hates it. He hates all of it. But he runs to him anyway, pulling him back to his lap, and combing through his hair.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he chokes, dropping his head to James’ chest, no matter if the blood stains his cheeks, “I’m so sorry, baby, I never meant I-“ he waits for James to reply, he waits for him to tell him that everything is fine. That they’re both safe now, that he saved him. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t get up. He doesn’t move. Regulus keeps apologizing like it’s an oath, begging for him to rise once more. But he doesn’t. And Regulus feels his soul break, he feels it detach from his chest and empty itself onto the cold floor beneath his feet. He doesn’t lift his head to follow it, he doesn’t even care where it goes. He hopes James has it now, wherever he is. He’ll keep it safe. Regulus doesn’t need it anyway. Not anymore.
He doesn’t remember carrying James inside, but they’re sitting in the foyer when Sirius finds them. Regulus is drenched with James’ blood but he doesn’t want to wash it off. He wants it to sit there, it’s the only remnant he has of him. It’s the only thing he has left. Regulus doesn’t say a word to his brother, he barely even sees him. He doesn’t feel anything.
Everything is on fire, and Regulus wishes to burn with it. He needs to feel the power of the sun grace his skin, but he knows it never will again. Cursed to live the rest of his life in a constant night. If he didn’t hesitate, if he was the first one to rise it would’ve been him. It should’ve been him.
They bury him next to his parents.
Regulus never leaves the grave. Even through rain and snow, he stays. That urge still claws at his chest to keep James safe, it’s all he has left now. A rock half buried in the solid ground. So he sits and stares at the landscape around him, refusing to sleep as if someone will come and steal James away from his final resting place. He promised to protect him. He promised that he had him, that he’d hold him. And that’s exactly what he’ll do. No matter the cost. It's not like anything he loses matters at this point.
He's already lost the sun, he has nothing more to give.