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James ends the video call with his team where they discussed the latest updates on the videogame they launched before Christmas, which did very well and is still going strong, even now that the holidays are almost over, and sends a Powerpoint presentation that his boss asked him, closing the computer with a satisfied hum.
It’s been a good day overall, but he is glad it’s over, so he can proceed to relax on the couch watching some trashy programme on Netflix.
But first, he has to put something in his stomach; he’s been hungry for quite a while, refusing to eat and get distracted before the meeting was done. He’s always been fond of the saying “work before pleasure”, even though it’s not always the healthiest approach, but sometimes it helps him to feel responsible and put things in order. It helps his mind to ease some tension, too.
James wheels back from the kitchen table and pushes himself to the fridge, grabbing some leftovers his mother left him from Sunday’s lunch and putting them in the microwave.
While he waits for the food to heat, he takes the phone and looks at the messages. His friends have been going wild in the group chat apparently. He catches up quickly— Mary updated them on her latest date, a guy who, she swears, looked so much like the younger version of her father that she resisted only halfway through it before making an excuse, and the others teased her not so subtly. James chuckles lightly and then reads a private message Sirius sent him with a funny meme, to which he responds with a laughing emoji.
Then there is Lily who asked him for a cake recipe his mother makes and promises her that he will ask next time he talks to her. Finally, he replies to his father asking him what buttons to press to connect his phone to the television to watch Prime video.
He is about to put the phone down when another text message attracts his attention. It was sent an hour ago from an unknown number.
Unknown number: okay, fine. Have a good night.
James furrows his brow in confusion; he has no idea who this person might be, maybe someone he knows but didn’t save the number, and he doesn’t want to pass as rude blocking it or blatantly ignoring it.
So, he decides to reply.
James: Good night to you too, stranger. Sorry, but I didn’t save your number. Remind me of your name?
James puts the phone down at the same time the microwave pings and rushes to take the food out, relishing in the smell of his mother’s cooking. Even the heated leftovers are amazing.
Placing the plate in his lap and grabbing the phone again, James wheels to the living room where he sets the food and the phone on the coffee table and positions himself next to the couch, in such a way to be able to comfortably transfer from the wheelchair, holding all his weight with his arms. Then, with his hands, he crosses his legs and leans forward to take the plate.
When he turns the television on, he finally feels at peace. It’s one of his favourite moments, really: relaxing after a working day in front of the television and eating his mother’s delicious food while watching something dumb.
He would never give it up. Nope. No way.
He is halfway through an episode of Dream Home Makeover and has already emptied the plate when his phone buzzes again signalling a new notification.
James takes it absentmindedly, eyes locked on the television, and glances at the message with one eye. It’s the unknown number again.
Unknown number: don’t be a prick. You wanted to do this bonding stuff, don’t pull back now.
Oh, this is getting interesting, James thinks. Or maybe he should leave it. But also… okay, maybe he likes a challenge. Besides, it’s not like he has anything important to do.
James: rude of you to call a stranger a prick. I am not pulling back but I think you got the wrong number, mate.
Yeah, he is quite sure this person just got a wrong number and ended up messaging him. He would feel bad for not warning him of the mistake.
Unknown number: are you for real?
James chuckles.
James: well, unless I am your imaginary friend then I am real. And yes, I can assure you I am probably not the person you are looking for. Sorry.
Unknown number: oh, fuck!
James looks up at the television, catching a glimpse of the images going on the television. He is too distracted to pay much attention to it.
Unknown number: sorry for disrupting your night.
James: no problem. It can happen.
Unknown number: even in 2022?
James: why not?
Unknown number: still, sorry. Have a good night. And thank you for replying.
Whoever this is, they seem polite. James only hopes he is not texting a minor or a child. You could never know these days.
James: good night to you too. And good luck in finding the person you are looking for.
James doesn’t know why but he kind of hopes to find an excuse to keep the conversation alive. Nothing good usually comes from texting with someone you don’t know, but this is something different. It gives him a sort of chill at the possibility of discovering an unknown ground. Not that he is in lack of friends or people to talk to. He has plenty of them actually.
It’s just… he doesn’t know what it is.
The phone buzzes again and James quickly unlocks it. Too quickly.
Unknown number: at this point, I hope I don’t. But thank you anyways.
James: you are welcome :)
James watches other two episodes of the series but his mind has been coming and going, making it difficult to really grasp what the home designers were talking about and showing. His phone stays still the rest of the night.
It’s ridiculous, really, how his mood suddenly changed. He feels ridiculous.
With a loud huff, James turns off the tv and gets back on the wheelchair again, bringing the empty plate to the sink and heading for the bed. He hopes that sleeping can help him to reset his brain.
~•~
The next morning, James wakes up rested and much more focused. Luckily, he decided to skip the gym and have a lie-in. He doesn’t have to go to the office either so, after coffee and a toast, he sets on cleaning his house a bit.
The place is big. Not huge or anything like that, but it is bigger than most of his friends’ flats. His parents helped him buy it, paying more than half of it and the furniture, and it is accessible in every corner and space. Every room is spacious enough to allow him to move around with his wheelchair, no carpets and stairs, there are two bathrooms, the one adjacent to his bedroom is accessible and the other, smaller, is not, but it’s for the guests, and there are also two spare rooms if his friends or parents want to spend the night.
He loves his house; he’s been living there for two years now and made it his own, with a big tv screen and a stereo with expensive, professional speakers (that he bought on a whim and for when his friends want to put some music on), pictures of his family and friends all around and his university degree printed and framed on a wall in the living room. Not because he is vain and wants to put his achievements on display; he just felt like it. His house speaks of him. There is also a back garden which for now is left to mend for itself because it’s too cold to do anything with it.
He knows he is luckier than most disabled people, and he has to thank his parents for that. They are the ones who made every positive thing that he has possible, financially too.
That’s why he doesn’t allow himself to complain. Not more than the normal amount. Which, in his opinion, is close to none.
The only perk he didn’t take into consideration with such a big house is the cleaning part. But he doesn’t mind. He likes cleaning.
And oh God, he feels like his mum.
At least it gives him something to occupy his time.
It is more complicated to tidy and clean when one doesn’t have two functioning legs, but James has found his systems and ways to work around it, so it’s not all that hard. Besides, the furniture is designed in order to be perfectly reachable for him and he and his parents made sure to buy the best accessible tools and devices created.
While swiping the floor in the living room with the vacuum, James wonders if it's already time to take off the fake Christmas tree that he decorated in a corner near the window. Holidays are over, with New Year’s Eve being two days ago, and soon enough everybody will start to put the Christmas decorations down. It makes him sad a bit because he likes the Christmas atmosphere.
Well, the Christmas tree has to wait because he needs help taking that off, seeing that he can’t reach the tallest part from his wheelchair.
James puts the vacuum down and pulls out the phone with the intention of messaging Sirius to ask him when he’ll be able to come by to help him with that.
But when he opens the message chat he notices the unknown number from yesterday. He hasn’t cancelled the chat yet. James goes to do it but something stops him. A sort of itch of curiosity maybe.
He stares at the chat for a few moments, thinking and thinking and trying to convince himself that it’s a bad idea, that he should forget and move on. It’s just a stranger, maybe a child or an elderly—even though from the way they texted, they didn’t seem so old.
Nevertheless, James finds himself typing on the phone quickly, before having time to convince himself otherwise. He’s always been a man of action rather than reason.
James: I was thinking, is it too soon to take off the Christmas tree?
Then he puts the phone away feeling slightly pathetic. Probably the stranger has already blocked him so no harm done.
After an entire morning spent cleaning and tidying - James wants to give himself a treat for that - he finally sets at the kitchen table thinking about what to make for lunch. The day seems to go by too slowly.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and… oh. He almost forgot about it.
The stranger replied.
James opens the chat, ignoring the strange nervousness in his hands.
Unknown number: you are asking this to a stranger because…?
James: you might be less biased.
Well, it went differently than he expected. But then, was he expecting anything?
Unknown number: fair
Unknown number: but do I get anything for helping you?
This is getting intriguing.
James: uhm… my eternal gratitude.
Unknown number: not enough. I have standards.
James: uh, well, I’m sure we can arrange something.
James really really hopes this person is not a minor.
Unknown number: I still can’t decide if you are a bit dumb or just careless.
James: maybe a bit of both.
His lips are pulling at the corners before he can do anything about it.
James: but please, tell me you are not a minor.
Unknown number: is this your only concern?
James: well, I want to avoid being sued for paedophilia.
Unknown number: unless talking about a Christmas tree is in any kind a sign of paedophilia I don’t see how you could be.
Unknown number: but no, I am not a minor.
James: so how old are you? Unless you don’t want to tell me which is totally fine.
Unknown number: you are one of a kind, aren’t you?
That’s an understatement, James thinks amused.
Unknown number: I’m 26. You?
James: 27. At least now I know I am talking to someone my age. Not that I would mind talking to a grandpa or a grandma. That’s totally fine. I love my grandparents. As long as you are not a minor everything is totally okay.
Unknown number: you know, I could be a literal serial killer and find where you live to kill you in cold blood.
James: better dead than in prison for paedophilia. I wouldn’t survive in prison.
Unknown number: I get the feeling that you wouldn’t, yeah.
James: •_•
Unknown number: what? Did I offend you?
James: I was hoping you would give me more credit.
Unknown number: you said it first.
James: I did, yeah. Can’t deny that.
Unknown number: listen, I’ve got to go. My lunch break ended so…
James ignores the pang of sadness that sits in the pit of his stomach.
It’s okay. It’s totally okay. This stranger doesn’t owe him anything.
James: uh okay. Have a good day.
Putting down his phone James starts preparing his lunch.
~•~
Sometime after lunch, James is on the couch looking at some things on Amazon to buy when he hears the key turning in the lock of the front door.
He doesn’t worry because there is only one person apart from his parents who has the keys to his house and that’s his best friend and brother in everything but blood, Sirius. This house is practically his too. What belongs to James, belongs also to Sirius. It’s always been like that, since they’ve known each other.
“Prongs!” Sirius’s voice echoes through the walls.
“In the living room”, James shouts back.
Sirius enters the living room, walks to the couch and plops down clumsily at the opposite end from James, throwing his head backwards on the seatback with a loud, wearied huff.
James closes his laptop with care and sits it beside him, looking up at his best friend.
“You good?”
It takes Sirius a couple of seconds to reply. “I don’t know”.
James tilts his head to one side. “Did something happen? Is Moony okay?”
“Oh yeah, he’s okay”. Sirius tries to sit more upright, then searches for the other boy’s eyes. “I met my brother”.
James blinks a couple of times, clearly surprised. This wasn’t something he would see coming.
“How? Where? What?”
Sirius looks at James sideways with a little smirk.
“A couple of days ago. He’s back in London apparently. Don’t know if he’s planning to stay, didn’t ask”.
“So you two talked”.
“Well, kind of. I think we would have ended up fighting if we weren’t in the middle of a store. But I asked him for his number”.
“And he gave it to you?”
Sirius shrugs. “He put on a bit of a fuss but he did eventually. I think it was because I wasn’t going to relent”.
“And did you talk after that?”
“Not really. Just exchanged a few messages”.
James rests his head against the couch and stares at the ceiling. He knows something about Sirius’s brother. Well, not about the brother but more about the complicated relationship they have—had, how they were attached and how Sirius cared for his little brother, to the point of taking the hits and the punishments in his place. Until everything fell apart. James is not sure how it happened or why, he just remembers that Sirius got angrier and angrier at his brother and even a bit resentful, sad too, and after he ran away he never saw again and never spoke of him again. Almost never.
Instead, James knows a lot about Orion and Walburga. Or, he knows enough. He knows that they were abusive, that his father was absent and completely unaware of his children’s presence and that his mother was mean and violent and liked to use brute force. Her slaps could definitely cut people’s lips. Sirius has been subject to that too many times.
James was glad when Sirius came to live with him and his parents. Not only because he had his adopted brother with him all the time but also because he didn’t have to live in that Hell of a house anymore.
As for the aforementioned brother: he doesn’t know anything about him, not his looks, not his name. What he knows is to read that pained expression on Sirius’s face and drag his own conclusions.
“Do you want to talk about it?” James asks, tenderness in his voice that makes him so much like his mother when Sirius doesn’t speak again.
“I don’t know. Not now”.
James nods. He respects that. The smartest thing is to give Sirius some time. Usually, he is the one to come when he needs to get something off his chest. He doesn’t do it immediately, only when he’s had time to let everything sink and make up his mind.
“Do you have a beer?”
“Sure. I’ll get it”.
“Oh no! Don’t worry, I can get it”. And Sirius jolts from the couch, heading for the kitchen. James lets him because Sirius will be faster. He’s accepted that his friends - Sirius more than the others - will always try to step in for him, also for the little tasks like getting a beer from the fridge and whatever else James needs, really. He is not repulsed by it anymore. They mean good and having a little help from time to time is not going to hurt him. It took him a while to understand it, but he got there eventually.
Sirius comes back with two beer bottles already open and gives one to James who takes it with a little thanks .
They don’t talk about the brother anymore. They put on a game of Mario Kart and raced through all afternoon.
Yes, James will wait for Sirius to be ready to talk.
___
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