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Sirius leaves a little before dinner because he promised his boyfriend a night for themselves, with a good meal and snuggles on the couch in front of a movie that will be completely ignored in favour of kisses and other stuff, James knows it. He sent Sirius away with recommendations to keep him updated about his brother and, whenever he felt like talking about it, he would be there.
He forgot to ask for his help with the Christmas tree.
James is not sure why but he feels a sort of… heaviness in his heart now that Sirius has gone and he’s left all alone in the house. He is happy for his friends’ love life, they deserve it, and he sees Sirius often enough to not miss him just because he has to leave.
So, James doesn’t really know why his mood has gone so sour as soon as he closed the door and found himself alone in his big house; the quietness of it is making him antsy, and the colourful lights on the Christmas tree are almost painful to watch.
He reads the few messages in the group chat, then skims through some other Amazon products to distract himself. When his stomach starts grumbling, he decides to make dinner - a cheese-and-ham sandwich will do for tonight - and then he’s still left with several hours to spare.
The evening is slow-paced, really really slow-paced, and James doesn’t know how to occupy the rest of it.
He could watch something on Netflix but he doesn’t feel like it, there isn’t any show that calls for his interest and he is also fed up with his trashy shows; he could watch a movie, maybe one that lasts two hours at least so that he’s done for half of the evening, but he knows he won’t be able to focus for two hours straight, not alone.
He has a half-idea to call some of his friends, but Sirius and Remus are out of the question because he doesn’t want to bother them on their special night and the same goes for Marlene and Dorcas - remembering something about them planning to go try a new sushi restaurant (Marlene loves sushi in an almost obsessive way). He could call Peter, but Peter hates talking on the phone and his line always gets interrupted for some reason; then Mary might be on another date and, even though he loves Mary very much and considers her on the same level of friendship as the others, he is not all that comfortable talking to her, not when serious matters come into play. Mary is good company in front of a few drinks to gossip and crack jokes.
This leaves only Lily. And Lily might even be a good idea, except that Lily would notice immediately that something is off with him and she would worry and then maybe come to his house and crack his skull open to spill out whatever is keeping his mind in a tangle. And he doesn’t want to do that, not tonight.
So, Lily is a no, too. And James doesn’t even consider his parents because he is not the single guy who calls his mom to complain to her.
He hates it when he gets like this, when his mood changes in a swing for no reason.
Or… Maybe there is a reason but James is in no way dwelling on that.
He sits on the couch and turns the tv on, putting on a cooking programme he isn’t interested in at all.
All of a sudden the phone pings, making him jolt on the spot. He’s almost dozed off there.
The phone rests on the wheelchair so James has to lean forward and stretch his arm to grab it. Then, he stares at the new message:
Unknown number: you can keep it until the end of January. That’s the maximum time allowed, I was told.
James: ???
Unknown number: the Christmas tree. You asked me this morning if you should take it off or not.
Oh, right!
James: right! Sorry. Why the end of January?
Unknown number: well, I asked around and there was a bit of disagreement among my friends. One says that you could just keep it for Christmas next year. Another says that it would be nice to set it on fire but I wouldn’t suggest that. You wouldn’t want to burn your house down.
James chuckles, the tv completely forgotten.
James: I might agree with the first one. They have a point. At least I would be spared the hassle to put it on and off every year.
Unknown number: or you could just not, like, do the Christmas tree at all. Save time and energy for something more useful.
James: D: D: D:
James: no way I’m doing that. I am already struggling with the fact that we can have Christmas spirit only once a year.
Unknown number: and that’s too much, if you ask me.
James: oh God! Please, don’t tell me you are a Grinch. I don’t know if I could survive that.
James puts the phone in his lap with a pensive expression, then starts typing again, very quickly.
James: unless you don’t celebrate Christmas. Which would be totally fine.
The reply takes some time to arrive, during which James taps nervously on the screen, gaze fixed on the coffee table. He turned the volume of the tv down at some point.
Unknown number: I don’t celebrate any festivity that exploits the toxic behaviours of our capitalistic society making us believe that it’s only for a greater purpose.
Oh, okay. This is getting interesting.
Unknown number: and no, I am not a green, onion-eater monster.
James: I wouldn’t be fazed if you were a green, onion-eater monster, just so you know.
Unknown number: why do I have the feeling that you are someone who doesn’t find anything bothering?
James: well, if it’s about people I try not to judge on first impressions.
Unknown number: hmm interesting.
James: is it?
Unknown number: let’s say that it tells something about you.
James: I hope it’s something good.
Unknown number: only time will tell.
James fights off a smile. His mood is suddenly going up and James is not sure if he should be worried that talking to a stranger on his phone can have this effect on him, but he won’t complain. Not tonight. Besides, he’s having some fun and what’s wrong with that?
James: then let’s hope that it is kind with me.
Unknown number: be kind and you’ll receive kindness.
James: oh, are you a philosopher now?
Unknown number: I’m baffled that you know what a philosopher is.
James: hey! I’ll let you know that I am quite smart.
Unknown number: are you? You were giving me some jock vibes.
James: that’s so short-minded of you.
Unknown number: no, it’s not.
James has collapsed onto the couch ten minutes ago, his head resting on the armrest and his phone in his hands above his stomach.
He doesn’t even make the effort to hide his smile. There is no one to see him, after all.
James: by the way, forgot to ask… Did you find the person you were looking for?
Unknown number: I did.
James: I’m glad.
Unknown number: at least one of us is.
James: I sense there is some… animosity here.
Unknown number: oh, so you are smart after all.
James: told you so. Even jocks can be smart.
James: not that I am saying I’m a jock.
Unknown number: we’ll see about that.
James: sure sure.
Unknown number: I got back home. Think I’ll go to bed, I’m exhausted.
James: okay. Have a good night.
Unknown number: don’t set your tree on fire.
Unknown number: good night.
James looks at the time on his lock screen and realizes with a bit of surprise that it’s already half past eleven. He’s been messaging this stranger for a while and time has slipped away without him noticing. He also notices that the sour mood he’s been in all evening has disappeared. The stranger gave him a good distraction and James doesn’t know what to think of it. Shaking his head, he decides it’s not worth his worry.
The next day he will probably forget about him.
With practised movements, James transfers from the couch to his wheelchair and heads for the bathroom and then to bed.
~•~
The next morning James wakes up early and decides to go to the gym. He prepares a coffee mug to bring along and his lunch box and gets in the car, disassembling the wheelchair to set it aside.
It’s freezing cold, January hitting hard with its harsh weather. James’s always been a spring-summer child so he is looking forward to warmer days.
There are already some cars roaming the streets of London but luckily it’s still too early to be stuck in traffic.
James turns the radio on and lets Krewella’s songs fill in the cabin. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel in tune with the music while waiting at a traffic light behind a black Jaguar when the conversation of last night with that stranger comes to his mind. He feels immediately warmed up at the thought, returning to some of the words they exchanged. It hits him something odd, but not in a bad way.
People usually don’t do this, they don’t keep texting a random stranger who ended up with a wrong number. But James has never been the usual type of person. He always did weird things, acting on whim and instinct, rather than logic and rationality. His friends would say that his instinct for preservation is worryingly low, but he likes to trust his gut and it’s rarely let him down. Sure, he’s made his fair share of mistakes, but nothing he couldn’t fix. And he’s also become more careful in the latest years, since… Well, since that day.
James can already hear what his friends might say; it’s dangerous, it might be an imposter or a scammer. But as for now, this person didn’t give any sign of wanting to scam him. He doubts a true scammer would lose an entire night talking about capitalism and Christmas trees while teasing him.
And he enjoys the company; yeah, it might be pathetic of him or naive, but this stranger lifted his spirits when nobody else was available.
Okay, but he needs to find him a name. It’s not nice referring to him as the stranger .
That would be his excuse to write to them again. Not because he’s developed a weird attachment to this person, not at all. It’s only fair to ask for a name.
So, as soon as he parks his car in the disabled spot in front of the gym, he takes his phone and types quickly.
James: hey, I just realized that I don’t know how to call you. Seems impolite. Do you have a name or something you would like me to address you?
Maybe too formal? Too many words? Too much? What if the stranger doesn’t appreciate it? What if they decided they didn’t want to text him anymore?
Okay, James, calm down.
He opens the car’s door and puts the wheelchair down, attaching the two wheels that he took off to fit it in. It always takes some time for him to get on and off his car - or any vehicle - forcing him to consider the time he needs to put on and off the wheelchair when having to be somewhere at a certain time. It’s not a problem per se, it’s just… A sort of chore he would like to avoid if he could. He got quicker with time and practice, and Pads even timed him a couple of times to see his improvements, transforming it into a sort of challenge. Trust Pads for always finding the fun part in everything.
This morning it takes him forty-nine seconds to set the wheelchair and get in it.
James locks the car and heads for the gym.
The place is practically empty at that hour; James is the only one who comes very very early, and he suspects that they are keeping that opening time just for him.
His personal trainer beams at him as soon as he sees him crossing the entrance.
“James! What a joy to see you”, the guy greets him, his voice boisterous in the empty gym. The receptionist behind the desk, Emmeline, throws a small “hello” at him with a polite smile. She’s never much talkative around him and James wonders if he makes her nervous for some reason.
“Wow! At least I can count on you, Benji”.
Benji Fenwick is a certified physiotherapist, but he also specialized in personal training, deciding to move to work in a gym after some time as a physiotherapist for patients who got injured. He’s a perfect match for James and it’s already been three years since they started working together. Benji is also a very fit lad: around thirty years old, tall with broad shoulders, dark skin, dark brown eyes that appear almost black, a buzz haircut and a fun and easy personality. He has abs that James doesn’t mind looking at from time to time. He is also very much in love with his wife. Not that James would ever hit on him. The thought crossed his mind the first time maybe because he has hormones and is made of flesh and blood, and Benji is very cool.
James gets out of his coat and scarf, leaving them in the changing rooms with his rucksack, and immediately starts working out.
The gym is not one made to be accessible for disabled people, there are only a few in London and none of them near James’s house, but he makes it work, with help from Benji if he needs it, but it’s not that difficult. He’s found a system to transfer from his wheelchair to the equipment pretty fast.
He likes taking care of his body, putting on some muscles, especially in his upper body because that’s the part he uses the most, with transfers and basically for everything. His arms do everything since his legs are basically useless. He has a tool to help them not go to waste, but it has its limits.
Also, exercising does wanders to his focus, his mood and his self-esteem, which is something he’s learnt not to take for granted.
He’s always been an active guy, very much into sports and physical activities and he’s glad he managed to keep those.
Benjis is recounting what he and his wife did for the Christmas holidays, about his family’s shenanigans - his family members always find themselves in weird situations, sometimes deranging to almost criminal stuff - and his wife’s home-made cookies while James is working on his biceps. Then it’s abs and pecs, torso and finally, he moves to the weight lifting. Benji helps him to set on the little table and goes to stand behind his head to help him with the lifting. The day he managed to lift one hundred kilos he bragged about it with his friends for several days.
“How were your holidays, James?”
“Good. Christmas with family and New Year with friends at mine”.
“That’s nice. Any new resolution?”
“I don’t think so. Just the usual. Maybe some travelling, but I don’t know”.
New Year’s resolutions are another thing James doesn’t do anymore. He used to, but he finds that it’s much more easier when he is not putting many expectations or hopes on himself. It’s not like he’s disappointed with everything and everyone, he still knows how to search for the positives, but life sometimes does like to take painful and unexpected turns so he’ll take what he can and plan in the short term. After all, he has pretty much everything he needs, a nice home, loving parents, good friends, a steady and good-payed job with nice colleagues, and he managed all of that at only 27. So, what’s more to ask?
But James knows, deep down, that he is just lying to himself.
No, no, not going down that road.
When he’s done for the morning, he goes to the changing rooms to clean up a bit and change clothes to put on something suitable for work. He checks his phone and there’s a message waiting for him.
Unknown number: what were you doing up at that ungodly hour?
James chuckles within himself.
James: went to the gym.
Unknown number: see? I knew you were a jock.
James: meh.
Unknown number: don’t deny that.
James: I am not denying nor confirming.
James: what about your name? Or whatever you would like me to call you.
The reply doesn’t come immediately so James has time to dress and put on his coat and scarf.
Unknown number: you can call me Regs.
James: short for Reginald?
Unknown number: oh God, no!
Unknown number: should I call you Paedo?”
James blinks a couple of times at the screen, his face grimacing.
James: please no. Prongs will be fine.
He’s understood that the stranger didn’t give him his real name— or not a complete one, so he does the same. Well, he wouldn’t mind giving his real name but maybe that’s not what Regs wants.
Regs: what kind of a stupid name is that?
James: it’s a nickname.
Regs: it’s a stupid nickname then.
James: what about Regs? That’s stupid too.
Regs: pff! Piss off.
James: someone woke up in a mood.
Regs: I hate waking up early.
James: so, you are not an early riser.
Regs: I am not very much of anything.
James: hahaha fair enough.
James looks at his reflection in the full-size mirror and puts on his grey beanie on his messy hair, leaving out just one dark strand falling on his forehead. He thinks he looks good. Well, as good as he can. This has been a new discovery too, something he would never put much thought into before. He struggled with his reflection, looking in the mirror had been hard for a lot of time and even now there are moments when he prefers not to. It’s stupid probably, and also unimportant compared to other stuff, but his therapist said that he shouldn’t ignore it because it must be important if it makes him nervous and angry.
The fact is that… It changed a lot, he has changed a lot, the way he sees himself, the way other people see him and the image the mirror gives him back. It’s a lot, and he did a pretty good damn job accepting and coming to terms with all of it but sometimes these struggles resurface again and he has to remind himself that it doesn’t matter anymore, that it’s okay and he’s okay. He looks good, his body is fine the way it is, there’s nothing wrong.
With a swift movement, James pushes his wheelchair outside the changing rooms and goes for the front door. He says goodbye to Benji and Emmeline and returns to the parking lot.
When his all set and ready in the car, he looks at the phone again.
Regs: you must be crazy if you wake up so early to go to the gym. Oh my God! I knew I was talking to someone mental.
James: hahaha you are so mean.
Regs: and here you are laughing. I repeat it: mental.
James: what can I say? I like mean people.
Regs: should I be worried?
James: about me or yourself?
Regs: both.
James: oooh, not so mean then. You worry about me.
Regs: -.-
James: c’mon. You said it.
After that, Regs doesn’t text back, so James turns on the engine and drives away. He has a job to go to and he’s almost running late.
***