This is [James] trying

[a random party - James' POV]

One minute he’s smiling. Lighting up the entire room. The next … well he can’t really explain it to be honest. It’s as if all the bottled up emotion inside of him, that he tried so hard to bury away, are clawing their way out, and it’s tearing him apart.
He can’t breathe.
He can’t breathe.
He can’t breathe.

His breaths get shallow and his heart feels heavy. He’s blinking fast to keep the tears that are threatening to fall at bay. He moves quickly, not entirely stable, trying to find somewhere to be alone. Somewhere to hide. James hears a voice call out. He searches for a quiet place desperately, not wanting to worry anyone. Not wanting to be a burden. Not wanting anyone to know.

He finds the door to the bathroom and gets inside, locking it quickly behind him, and sinks to the floor. When his head is buried between his knees, and he’s certain no one can hear him, it all crashes out. He’s completely silent apart from the occasional muffled sob he isn’t quite fast enough to catch with his hand, but he can hear his heart breaking. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. He shouldn’t. Why is he sad? He's got everything, doesn’t he? So why does he still feel this dull ache in his chest clawing at him, why does he still feel so entirely useless. Why does he still not want to live? He’s weak. Pathetic. Sirius, and Reg, and Moony have been through ten times what he'll ever go through, and they still want to live. They still feel alive. So why can’t he.

And he tries to resist it, he tries so fucking hard with tears steaming down his face. He bites down on his skin, hoping the physical pain will lessen the internal , hoping it will lighten his anger and guilt , but it’s not enough. He's not enough. He’s weak. He’s so weak he thinks as he reaches for Sirius' razor. It's so pathetic, so fucked up he would cause himself pain while his best mates are being killed by pain forced upon them, but he can’t help it. When the cool metal hits the skin on his forearms, and the white line slowly turns red , it’s the only time he feels alive. He’s dependent on it, dependent on the few precious seconds where he truly feels alive, he knows he’s living. Depending on the validation it brings him to know his pain is real and that he can see it. He lets out a quiet sob of relief.

After ten minutes, he slowly builds up the strength to stand up, clean all traces away, and put more plasters on his arms. He rolls his jumper right down over his arms for extra coverage, to not alarm anyone. He turns around and stares at his reflection in the mirror.

It’s foreign.

The boy standing in front of him isn’t him.
It’s not James.
It’s not the James who’s had a perfect life, with wonderful parents. It’s not the James who supports all his friends and is always smiling. No. This James has red rimmed eyes, and dried tears on his face. This James's hair is ruffled due to the constant anxious movement of his hands, and his lips are dry.

This James is sad.
This James is fucking broken. And he’s not. He can’t be.

He’s not broken.
He’s not broken.
He’s normal.

He turns on the tap and washes his hands and face with warm water, praying it will wash away his emptiness. Once he’s done he stares at his reflection, and it takes everything within him to plaster on a smile and pretend everything is alright.

He’s fine. He needs to be fine.

He slowly walks out of the door and quickly grabs a cup to produce a cover story, in case anyone is curious. He walks back into the crowded room and sees everyone busy, engaging in happy conversations.

No one realises when he sits slowly down onto a chair and sips his drink. No one realises when he inserts himself into meaningless conversation and fakes a smile.
No one realised he had gone.

[Idek where, just James at home with his thoughts]

He was sitting in bed staring at his phone.
Fifteen messages.
All sent by him.
All unread.
No one was there .
But he couldn’t stop himself.
Everything he saw reminded him of his friends so he sent it to them.

He knows he’s being a burden. Being too much. Fuck they hate me he thinks. He does too much. He is too much. He should have taken the hint when he was left on delivered. When his paragraphs were responded to with single words
He knows they are getting sick of him.
He’s messing it all up .
But he can’t stop, because if he stops he’s alone, and he can’t be alone in his head.
So he continues, in a cycle of sending, and apologising, and promising to stop.
He checks obsessively, who’s read it. Who’s responded - No one.

Ten minutes pass and he’s still waiting.
Finally it changes - read by Sirius , read by Lilly.
Marlene ignores it. Lilly likes a few of them. No response.
They are sick of him, who wouldn’t be.

He hears a sudden ping - Incoming message from Sirius
He loves Sirius he truly does, but why does he ignore all of his messages and only text James when he needs to. Why is it irrelevant when he texts him, but when Sirius texts he expects a reply from James immediately.
He feels a weight on his chest.
It’s too much.
He builds up the courage to mute his chats, and to distract himself he puts in his headphones and plays his music. To block it all out. To forget - for a while.

Over the next few days he sees the incoming messages and it takes everything within him not to respond at first. And then he gets used To it. He likes the silence. They don’t want to hear from you, a voice tells him. So he doesn’t

The weekend passes and he dreads Monday when he can no longer avoid his friends. He’s received messages from them all.
They only notice him when there’s something to worry about. What they don’t realise is there’s always something to worry about. But he doesn’t want them to worry does he? Is he being selfish?

He’s just been hurting for so long, so quietly, he just wants some help
But when he realises he’s attracting attention to himself he feels sick.

No one should worry about him.

He quickly goes and replies to all his messages, even though everything within him is screaming not to.
Screaming at him to take a break
No part of him wants to talk to anyone, and he hates it, he really does love his friends more than anything.
But he can’t leave them, not like how they left him, even though he knows they didn’t mean to, he's just over sensitive, he just overthinks. Overthinks every interaction, every text. It's exhausting. But he knows how much it hurts to be ignored, to feel unwanted, and it’s his responsibility to take care of his friends.
He’s fine.
Always fine.

[Don't hate Sirius - he didn't mean to, he just lashes out, and James is left to deal with how that makes him feel]

The entire room went silent. Everyone glances between Sirius and James, pretending to be caught up in menial activities. James just made a joke. He didn’t mean for Sirius to lash out.

"Well maybe if you would spend more time with your friends, and less time hiding in your room, you would actually care about us." - that's what Sirius had said to him.

Shouted at him.

James felt like he'd been hit with a ton of bricks. They can’t possibly think that. He looks up, gritting his jaw so tight to stop the tears threatening to fall. No one looks at him. No one says anything. Please, say anything he thinks. Say it's not true.

He gets up and walks out of the room, almost running To his bedroom. The second the door shuts, tears stream down his face, and he stabilises himself with the nearest wall lowering himself to the floor.

All he wants to do is look after them. Look after them the way he was looked after growing up. But how can he solve their problems when he’s drowning on his own. But the fact is, he would. He’d drown for them. Allow his own problems to suffocate him as long as they were looked after. So how can they think he doesn't care?
They can't really think that.
All he ever does is care.
Cares to the point he loses himself.

He wants to explain. But everyone tells him they get it. But they don't. Not really. When he says anything they reply with, "same". Same. Like it's relatable. Same. Like what he's feeling is normal. Like he should accept it. He just wants to scream at them, at everyone. Then at himself. Why does he feel like this? Feel like he's broken, feel like he's shattered to the point nobody could hold him together, nobody could put him back together. How does he explain the pit he feels in his stomach, the lonely ache in his gut, the overwhelming thoughts scrambling his brain. He can’t breathe, he can't think, he just can't fucking do this anymore.

[ Reg to the rescue - yay?]

Regulus can’t pinpoint the exact moment he realised Something was wrong with James, but as soon as he did he started noticing everything about him. And he doesn’t know how it took him so long to realise he wasn’t okay. He doesn’t know how no one realised. See he’s always loved James. So maybe he’s always paid more attention to him than anyone else. How could he not. James was like the sun. So perfect, so bright, making everyone around him happy just by being in the room. He may be cocky, and arrogant, and appear confident, but behind it all was a boy who was in love with love.
A boy who loved everyone else more than he loved himself.
He would die for anyone, and everyone he cares for. A boy with a heart to make up for anyone lacking one.

But recently he’s started realising that maybe, that doesn’t make him happy. Maybe. James could make everyone happy, but himself.

Regulus notices his self-deprecating jokes everyone plays off and laughs at , he’s noticed his perfectly executed fake smile , he’s noticed his almost unnoticeable shift in mood when his friends comment on his happiness, or mention how perfect his life is. He’s seen how tired James looks, the bags under his eyes, the constant mug of coffee in his hands, the occasional painkiller he slips when no one is noticing. No one but Regulus.

But he doesn’t know what to do. Last week at the party he saw James slip away, he saw the anguished expression on his face. He saw his panicked breaths. He saw how he returned with a drink after ten minutes. He saw the locked bathroom door. He saw the newly placed plasters on his hand, and his rolled down sleeves after returning. He remembers the feeling of his heart shattering. He wants to tell James how loved he is. How he doesn't realise the world would be empty without him.

He pulls out his phone and still sees no new messages from James. It’s been almost 24 hours and he’s starting to worry. Everyone is. One thing about James is he’s always online. Always around if you want to talk, or if you're bored. Always sending things, because he’s always thinking of his friends. Everyone loves him for it.

After 48 hours Regulus decides something is wrong, and if no one else will, he’s going to check up on James. But just as he’s building up the courage to talk to the boy he’s loved for years, he gets a text from James. Everyone is texting, relieved, and yelling at him for worrying them as they read the terrible excuse James has given. Everyone laughs. So does James. But something feels wrong. So Regulus decided to go check on him anyway. Maybe he’ll bake something as an excuse.

....

When he rings the bell the door opens to reveal a very surprised James. It’s 3pm and he’s in pyjamas, his hair ruffled as if he’s just woken up, and his eyes are tired, with deep bags underneath them.

“Hi,” James says.

“Hi.”

“um, it’s very nice to see you, but is everything okay Reg?”

“I’m fine, I just uh- i baked too much and just wanted to drop some over,” he says, quietly handing James a small tray of his favourite dessert - brownies. “Were you sleeping?”

“Um,” he replies hesitantly, “no, well kind of, I wasn’t feeling too well.”

“What's wrong?” Regulus asks, growing more and more concerned.

“Nothing, just tired I guess,” he laughs half heartedly,”maybe I partied too hard, you know me,” he says, offering him a small smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“James,” he whispers, his expression softening. “You can talk to me, you know that right? Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” he whispers, eyes glistening slightly, not sounding too convinced of himself.
“Sorry, I’m being rude, would you like to come in? I’m sorry it’s a mess, I was just being lazy.”

“Don’t apologise love, it's okay. And you’re not lazy, you are allowed to take a break. You should see Pandora’s apartment, she likes to call it organised chaos,” he chuckles, trying to comfort him. James offers a small smile, but he looks like he'd rather be alone.
“James, you know you can ask me to leave right? I can come later if you’re tired, just rest.”

“Why would I want you to leave? Don’t worry Reg, I'm fine, really.” And Regulus is convinced that ,somehow, by constantly telling everyone he's fine, he's actually manages to convince himself he is. He steps backwards, allowing Regulus to step inside, and shuts the door behind him. “I don’t really have much to offer you right now, I’m so sorry, shit, I'm being a terrible host. Um, would you like some water?” He offers sheepishly, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks as he rushes into the kitchen.

Regulus waits for a few minutes, and then decides to follow him, to make sure he’s alright. As he steps into the kitchen he swears he can feel his heart break at the sight of James leaning against the counter, a broken glass on the floor and tears gently rolling down his cheeks. He walks up behind him and carefully places a hand on his shoulder. James immediately jumps at the contact, furiously brushing away his tears and plastering on a fake smile. Looking at his slightly pained expression Regulus realises It must have hurt to put it there.

“Hi. I- sorry i just-,” he stutters, trying desperately to say something, anything, to indicate he's alright. “I'm sorry,” he continues, a broken expression forming on his face. “I just- It just slipped, and i was just trying to help, and just, everything just went wrong, i'm so sorry,” he chokes out, looking down to try and avoid eye contact. Regulus never really understood before what it meant to feel someone else’s pain. Not truly. But seeing James like this, seeing his broken expression, seeing his beautiful eyes, that are usually full of warmth and joy, now red rimmed - he feels shattered. He feels his eyes water, full of tears threatening to shed. He feels like all he wants to do, all he needs to do, is help put his sun back together.

He slowly reaches out and gently brings his fingers to James’ chin, lifting his jaw to connect their eyes. James’ eyes widen slightly at the sight of Regulus. “I’m so sorry, please don’t cry, I'm fine, i-,” he’s cut off by Regulus’ soft whispers.

“Meri Jaan,” he says softly, and James releases a broken sob. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for not realising before, but now that I have, please let me help you.” He leans in slightly and presses a tender kiss to James’ forehead and tucks a small curl behind his ear, before resting their foreheads together.

“I’m fine Reg,” James breathes out unconvincingly. Regulus can feel his warm breath touching his lips and he carefully brushes away a small tear from James’ cheek.

“Can I hug you?” Regulus asks softly. And that’s all it takes. All of James' resistance shatters the second he leans into Regulus’ touch. Regulus gently lowers them to the floor, careful to avoid any broken glass, and James collapses into his lap.

And they stay like that for, what must be, hours. And Regulus holds James through it all. He holds him as he silently cries into his neck, hiding his face. He holds him as he can no longer hold back the sobs that shake his entire body. He holds him as he calms down, till there are no tears left to cry. Holds him as he talks, as James explains. He holds him, and pretends his heart isn't completely torn apart, after hearing what James has been through. Hearing what James has been through alone. And right there, he knows, he'll never let him go through it alone again. He runs his fingers gently through James’ soft curls, whispering promises in his ear, carefully running his hand up and down his back. He promises he’s enough. Promises he's loved, so loved. Promises he'll always be there for him, and he will, he really will. Promises he deserves, and will get, the help he needs. Promises he never needs an excuse for feeling like this.

And as they sit there, on the floor, whispering to each other, slowly, so slowly, James feels himself being put together. Piece by piece, promise by promise, he finds himself lighter, able to smile again. He finds himself able to feel hope..