Craving

Regulus stares at James's back while he tries to unlock the door. He doesn't know what made him follow James to his flat; in retrospect, getting sick doesn't sound so bad now. This was a bad idea; he could feel it in his bones. His skin feels too tight, and the pressure on his chest keeps getting bigger and bigger. He can't even feel the cold, even though he's vaguely aware of his teeth clashing. This might be the worst idea he's had since trying to make that complicated Indian recipe and almost getting food poisoning.

He realizes James is looking at him from inside the flat, holding the door open—probably for him.

“Do you want to get in?” James sounds timid. That’s good, at least.

Regulus nods and gets in. He vaguely recalls James's socked feet, so he takes his boots off as soon as he gets in. He hears the click of the door closing, and after some steps, he didn't realize he had taken, he finds himself in the living room. He stops when he stumbles across the side of a sofa.

"Uh, Regulus, are you ok?" He feels the ghost of James's hands on either side of him, but they never touch him. Regulus puts his hand on the back of the sofa to steady himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He can barely get the words out. Regulus doesn't understand why he is suddenly so disoriented, but it's time to snap out of it. He shakes his head ever so slightly to reset himself.

"Alright, we're both dripping, so I'm going to get you some dry clothes." He hears James's footsteps and another door opening. He doesn't move, just waits exactly like he is. James comes back, stands in front of Regulus, and offers him dry sweatshirt and sweatpants. He points to the hall they've come from with his empty hand.

"You can use the bathroom. It's the second door on your right. There are dry towels in the cabinet; you can also use them to dry off."

Regulus takes the clothes and goes in the direction of James's hand. He barely registers the first open door on his right—probably James's room. After he dries off and changes from his wet clothes to the dry ones James gave him, he returns to the living room. The living room is separated from the kitchen by an island—behind where a lot less wet James is standing by the kettle leaning against the counter. Regulus just stands by the sofa, looking at James.  

"I thought some hot tea would help us get warmer. How do you take yours?"

Regulus doesn't answer; he still feels out of sorts for some reason.

“Also, please sit down wherever you like.”

"I thought you weren't going to speak anymore," Regulus says while examining the room around him. There are two sofas, a TV, and some type of game console in the living room area, the island separating the two spaces has four stools around it—two on the kitchen side and two on the living room side.

"Um… right. I will shut up as soon as you tell me how you take your tea and sit down." James sounds unsure, and Regulus can't even enjoy making him feel uncomfortable in his own house because he is also painfully uncomfortable. Maybe he should just get out and run to his flat like this; it can't possibly be that hard.

"Black, no sugar." Regulus decides to sit down at one of the stools closer to him, opposing the kitchen. He is still holding his wet clothes in his hands; he realizes at the same time as James.

“Uh, let me get those and put them in the dryer with mine.” He reaches for Regulus’s clothes, but Regulus pulls them away from his reach.

"They're not—they are not dryer appropriate. Um… air-drying only." James looks at him, confused at first, but then he reaches a decision; Regulus can see the journey on his face.

"Ok, I'll hang them then, but that'll take like a day to dry, you know that, right?" He asks with caution.

"Um…" Regulus isn't sure what to do; on the one hand, he doesn't want to damage the expensive clothes he'll probably never get to buy again. On the other hand, he needs to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible.

"Uh… dryer then. Except for my coat," He mutters, giving them to James.

James takes them silently and disappears for a while. Regulus watches the two steaming mugs with teabags that James set on the kitchen counter before leaving. While waiting for James's return, he tries to remember that stupid and probably useless technique Pandora mentioned once.

Five things you can… see. Mug number one and mug number two. Fridge magnet in the form of the dragon from the Welsh flag. He also sees a photo with five heads in it, but before he can fully see the faces, he turns his gaze away. That probably doesn't count, right? The kettle, it's glass, looks kind of pretty. He sees a dirty dish in the sink with a dirty mug. That's five—no six; he is good at this game.

Four things you can—he flexes his hands as he tries to recall the next thing—"Touch," he murmurs, feeling victorious as he places his hands on the island. The island, that's one. He moves one of his hands to touch the stool he's sitting on two. James's sweatpants, that's three—they are stupidly soft. What else? What else? He doesn't want to move; he can't move. Fuck, what else? He moves his hand to his neck nervously and feels the chain of his necklace. He takes it out under the sweatshirt and starts playing with the pendant. That's four.

Three things you can hear. He can hear James moving around. He can hear his fingers tapping on the island countertop. "I'm fine." He hears himself mutter. That's three. Regulus isn't so sure if he's doing this right; maybe he isn't that good at this game.

Two things you can smell. The tea and some type of lavender room mist.

One thing you can taste. Well, he can taste the horrible taste in his mouth, does that fucking count? Regulus decides it counts because, honestly, fuck this game. Regulus doesn't feel fucking grounded; he feels like an idiot.

Just as Regulus finishes the stupid exercise, James comes back, and Regulus can hear the hum of the dryer. He doesn't say anything to Regulus and directly goes for the mugs. Takes the teabags out, gets some milk from the fridge, and adds some to one of them. Puts both of them on the island—the black one in front of Regulus, the other across Regulus. He turns back to get something—a teaspoon—and sits across Regulus. He reaches for something on the island—a sugar bowl, fuck, Regulus could've touched that— and adds sugar to his tea. He is stirring now, his eyes on his mug, Regulus's eyes on his hand. Regulus cups his mug with both hands and feels the heat spread to his palms and realizes how fucking cold he is. He must've shivered because James's eyes snap to him.

"Shit, fuck, let me get you a blanket. Jesus, sorry, Reg—I mean Regulus." He gets up hurriedly, leaving his teaspoon in his mug. Regulus keeps watching James's cup until he returns and offers Regulus a very soft blanket. Regulus takes it and covers himself with it. The blanket smells really good, but it's not just detergent, something masculine as well; Regulus wonders if it's James's.

They are silent while drinking. It seems like James is trying to keep his promise. Regulus still doesn't understand why James cares so much. Regulus finally feels warm and somewhat calm, so he thinks he should probably thank James, his parents raised him—well, his nannies raised him with good manners, no, impeccable manners.

“Thank—” he can barely get a sound out, so he clears his throat as silently as possible and tries again, “Thank you.”

He sees James raise his gaze from his mug from the corner of his eyes. Regulus is still not looking at him.

"Yeah, um, fuck—" James stops so suddenly that it startles Regulus into looking at him. At first, Regulus doesn't understand why James stops then he realizes. The fucking idiot is still trying to keep his promise. He feels like laughing but doesn't have the energy for it, fortunately.

“You can speak Potter, Jesus.” He says incredulously.

“Well, can’t blame a guy for being cautious. You’re welcome, Regulus, obviously.” Regulus sends him a cold look but doesn’t hold it for long and just nods.

"Are you hungry?" James asks. James' eyes drop to his chest for a second, and Regulus remembers how his necklace is still out. He immediately tucks it back in.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” James chuckles a little, but it’s a confused chuckle.

"I mean, I don't know." Regulus insists through his teeth, and James deflates in response. Regulus almost feels bad.

"It's just… um, I made some chickpea curry and rice yesterday. I can heat it up quickly if you're hungry." 

Regulus thinks about it for a couple of seconds; he might be hungry—it's been hours since he had breakfast. He doesn't feel hungry, but he probably is. Also, eating in silence is probably better than simply sitting in silence.

“That’s ok, I guess,” he shrugs. “If you try to poison me, I’ll haunt you,” he adds for good measure.

James laughs as he gets up. "I'm actually a decent cook. Lily sometimes texts me out of nowhere just to tell me how much she misses my cooking."

Regulus doesn’t know what to do with that information. ‘What do I care about what Evans misses?’ He wants to snap at James, but he manages to keep his mouth shut. James prepares two bowls, heats them up in the microwave, and sets them on the island with a fork and a spoon for each of them.

“Do you want something to drink? We have coke, I think.”

"Just water," Regulus mutters.

James pours some coke for himself and water for Regulus and sits down. They start to eat in silence.

"I hope it's not too spicy; Sirius still can't handle his spice properly." James sounds fond, Sirius's name alone elicits that reaction from him, and Regulus feels a knot forming in his stomach.

“It’s fine, I like spice.” He ignores the comment about Sirius.

"Ooh, you'll like my cooking then," James responds with delight. Why he cares about what Regulus might like, Regulus can't figure it out. He doesn't think he ever will.

“Why does that matter?” Regulus tries his best to sound indifferent, disinterested, bored.

"Well, maybe I can lure you in with the promise of good food?" James waggles his brows playfully, and Regulus wishes he could go back to twenty minutes ago when James looked like a scared little bird.

"You exaggerate your cooking skills tremendously." Regulus flat-out lies. This is some damn good curry and damn good rice. If Regulus didn't feel so disoriented, he probably would enjoy the fuck out of it.

“Ow, you wound me.” James places both his hands on his heart dramatically.

They are silent again.

"Is it not good?" James asks tentatively; he sounds worried. Regulus has been absentmindedly playing with his food for the last couple of minutes.

"What? No, it's fine. I mean, it's good, James, thanks."

"You're not eating. You can tell me if you don't like it. I can make you something else." Why does he care so much? It makes no sense.

"It's fine." He says again, but James seems unconvinced and worried. Jesus. "It's really good. I just think I don't have much of an appetite at the moment." He tries to soothe James's worries for some reason; God knows why.

"I can make you toast; that's what Remus usually eats when he isn't feeling up to anything else."

"Just leave it, Potter. I said it's fine." Regulus snaps. James suddenly looks so sad, which makes no sense; if anything, he should be angry. He should kick Regulus out, tell him he's an ungrateful piece of shit. That's what Regulus would've done. God, he feels bad; fuck James for making Regulus feel bad for upsetting him.

"Sorry, it's really fine, James. Just leave it." He mumbles.

"Ok," James says quietly in response.

Regulus forces himself to finish his bowl, and they don't talk again while eating. James cleans up the island; puts their dishes and the dishes in the sink in the dishwasher. When he's finished, he leans against the counter, looks past Regulus, and mumbles something Regulus can't hear.

“What?”

"It's still raining," James repeats himself. Regulus nods. It’s so fucking awkward, Regulus feels like clawing his skin out.

"I'm sorry," James speaks so silently that Regulus would think he was imagining voices if he didn't see James's lips move ever so slightly.

“What for?” Regulus is confused.

"Upsetting you… at the café. I promise I didn't mean it, but I'm still not sure what I did, so if you can tell me, I won't repeat it. I promise." God, he sounds so small. Why? Why? Why does he care?

"Why do you care?" Regulus can't stop himself from asking. James's eyes finally find him; he looks startled—or confused.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me.”

“Yes, right. Um, I don’t want to make you angry… at me.”

"Why does that matter? I mean, are you that much of a people-pleaser, Potter?" Regulus is still trying to hit where it hurts; he can't fucking help himself. If James is taken aback by that question, he doesn't show it.

"No—I mean, yes, I guess, but that's not why. I… I just care, Regulus. I don't know how to explain that." He shrugs.

"Because of Sirius." Regulus guesses out loud for some reason.

"I don't think so. I mean, naturally, I tend to care about the people Pads cares about, but I don't think that's the only reason here. I can't really give you an introspective answer; I just do."

Regulus doesn't know what to do with that. James fucking Potter, ladies and gentlemen.

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s ok, Regulus, you don’t really have a reason to believe me. But I also don’t have a reason to lie to you.” Regulus laughs humourlessly at that.

“Don’t you? I have this estranged brother, you probably heard of him; is that not reason enough?”

“You’re not just Sirius’s brother.”

"Yeah, thank you, Saint Potter. I fucking know that, but that's all I am to you. Sirius's little brother. I mean, why the sudden interest if not for Sirius?"

"I'm not saying it's completely unrelated to Sirius, but he is not the reason I wanted to meet up or even give you my number."

Regulus laughs not because anything funny is happening but because he doesn't know what else to do.

“Why then?”

“Why what?”

Regulus scoffs as he rolls his eyes. “Why did you give me your number? Why did you ask to meet up?”

"I don't know." James shrugs, and Regulus wants to break something.

"Oh wow, compelling argument, Potter." Regulus runs a hand through his now mostly dry hair. God, it's probably so frizzy. Honestly, fuck this day.

“You’re interesting.”

“What?” Regulus thinks he heard him wrong because this is just getting more and more ridiculous.

“I said, you’re interesting. I just want to talk to you.”

“Sure, Potter.”

"Jesus, Reg, what else can I gain from talking to you?" He still sounds calmer and more together than Regulus, which is annoying, he is annoying.

"That's exactly what I'm wondering. And. Don't. Call. Me. That." Regulus grits out. He needs to get his shit together; he doesn't know why this is getting to him this much.

“Sorry, fuck, sorry. Regulus. Sorry, it just slips out.” James seems genuinely apologetic. Regulus might be losing his mind.

“I don’t know how to convince you. I have nothing to gain from this, I just think I might enjoy your company if you let me, but I’ll leave you alone if it’s bothering you this much.”

"No," Regulus says without thinking and immediately wants to slam his head on the island. James looks like he is struggling to keep a smile from forming.

"No?" James asks, raising his brows at Regulus; he seems delighted. None of this makes sense.

"I… It's not… I—fuck. I don't mind your company… I think." What the fuck is Regulus saying? Someone should knock him out before he says anything else.

"Could've fooled me, to be honest." James teases.

"Don't fucking push it, Potter." James immediately raises his hands in surrender. He keeps doing that like he is completely ok with surrendering himself to Regulus.

"I'm not out to get you, Regulus; I just think we can be good friends."

Friends. Friends. Friends.

This has been such a weird day.

“Friends?” Regulus asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Are you insane? You’re insane.”

“You know, that’s not the first time I’m hearing that from someone.” He seems… happy. Why is he happy?

"Colour me shocked," Regulus mumbles, and James laughs. Does he enjoy being insulted; Regulus can't figure it out. They're both silent for a bit.

"Don't talk about me or to me like you know me," Regulus says into the empty space between them.

“Um, what?”

“You asked what you did wrong.”

“Oh, ok, that’s a bit—um, ok.”

“You said to tell you so you wouldn’t do it again. Is there a problem already?” Regulus asks, annoyed.

“No, no problem. It’s just… it’s just a bit vague, isn’t it?”

“Figure it out, then.” James nods with determination. He looks cute. And as soon as Regulus has the thought, he wants to bang his head against something, anything. What is wrong with him? What’s wrong with this day?

“When will the dryer finish?”

“Um, I’m not sure, probably not long now.”

That's good. Regulus doesn't really use uber nowadays to save money, but he decides he deserves a dry ride to his flat. One time won't make him go broke.

"Sofas are much more comfortable," James says as he walks past Regulus to the living room area. Regulus turns around in his stool, still holding on to his blanket, to watch him sit at one of the sofas and turn the TV on. Regulus gets up, follows him to the other sofa, and sits as far away as possible from James. He sees James quirk an eyebrow while watching the TV—he is switching channels, but nothing seems all that interesting on the screen, so Regulus thinks the eyebrow raise might be at his choice of sitting.

"We're not friends," Regulus speaks suddenly.

“Um, what?” James turns to him with a small smile on his face.

“You said something about friends. We’re not friends.” Regulus corrects him. They are not friends.

"Ok, Regulus, but I told you I wanted to be friends. I didn't say we were." He looks amused.

“Well, I don’t think we’ll be friends either.”

"Well, we'll see, won't we? I mean, you said you didn't mind my company; we're already making so much progress." James sounds amused as he turns back to the TV and keeps cruising the channels. Regulus suspects he is only doing that just so he can keep busy.

“Aren’t you self-assured?” Regulus mumbles.

"About you? Not really, mate." James finally stops on a channel; some game is playing, and Regulus couldn't care less.

"Good." Regulus mumbles. James probably catches it even with Regulus's low volume and laughs.

They watch the game in silence, meaning James watches it while Regulus pretends to. Around ten minutes later, while lost in thought, Regulus hears the sound of the door, and before he can react, he hears someone call out.

“James, you home?” the voice doesn’t sound all that familiar to Regulus.

"Of course, my Moons; who else?" James leans back on the sofa with a grin to look at the hall. It's Remus, and of course, it's Remus because this day wasn't bad enough already.

"There is a pair of boots I don't recognize. I thought you might be a really courteous thief."

"Fuck," Regulus mutters as James starts speaking again.

"Oh, that's—" Regulus throws a pillow at James before he can complete his sentence, which is so idiotic, he wants to throw one at himself as well. James turns to him and probably sees the panic on his face.

“Are you—” James starts speaking just as Remus appears in the living room.

“That’s what?” He asks before his eyes land on Regulus. When they do land on him, Regulus gets to watch the journey of emotions on Remus’s face.

"Oh, Regulus," Remus says quietly, probably in shock.

"Yeah, the boots are Regulus's," James says like it wasn't obvious now.

“Yeah, I gathered.” Remus sends James a look Regulus can’t decipher.

Regulus gets up suddenly, discarding the blanket, and feels dizzy, so he grabs the armrest to steady himself. As soon as he gets his bearings, he starts moving toward the door.

"Um, I was just leaving," He mumbles as he walks past Remus and sees James get up from the corner of his eyes.

“Regulus, wait!”

“I think my uber is here.” He says like an idiot.

"What?" James is confused, which is understandable, but Regulus doesn't stop to explain. He reaches the front door, grabs his boots from the floor and his coat from the coat rack, and gets the fuck out. He hears James call for him, but he needs to get away, so he runs.

It's hours later when Regulus finally decides to check his phone. He is lying on his bed in his own and, thankfully, dry clothes. James's clothes—which he basically stole—are on the floor. He is thankful to whatever higher power may or may not exist because his phone was in his coat pocket. Otherwise, this day would be much worse—he also thinks that shouldn't be possible. This day, known as the day from hell™ from now on, shouldn't be able to get worse.

There are regular messages from the group chat, also some from just Pandora, which are all expected. What he was not expecting, even though he probably should've, is to have messages and missed calls from James. Missed calls meaning multiple. Regulus finds that very gutsy and incredibly annoying. He clicks on James's name to open their text thread.

"r u ok?" The first message is around the time he left James's flat like a madman.

"reguls, im worred whst happned?" The second message is four minutes after the first one; it has typos—probably written in a hurry.

“I don’t want to bother you, but I need you to tell me you’re ok.” An hour later, no typos. He wonders if James called him during that hour.

"Your clothes are still here." Around forty minutes after the last one.

"I know your gonna be pissed that I txted ths much asd calld you but pleasee just sent me a thumbs up emoji or smth to let me now your not hurt." Again, filled with typos. What's the pattern here? Regulus can't figure it out. The last one was sent almost an hour ago.

“I’m fine, Potter.” He looks at the message he wrote for a solid minute before sending it. The answer is immediate.

“Thnk fuck” Well, that is certainly a text message.

“can I call you?” And that is weird.

“Why would you do something like that?” Regulus types back.

“bc ive been worried sick and I wanna hear your alright.”

"it'll help ease my anxety." Regulus thinks James is too fucking honest for his own good. Regulus also thinks about how he treated James today, how James treated him back, and the stark difference between those two things. It seems he caused James to worry quite a bit which he finds ridiculous; James should just mind his own business. Still, he can do this one small thing in return to pay back his unnecessary kindness. There might be another reason buried so deep in the back of his mind that he easily ignores.

“Ok.” Regulus gets a call immediately after he sends the text.

“Hi,” James sounds stressed.

“Hello, Potter.”

“Are you ok?”

"You've already asked me that."

"Well, I'm asking again," He sounds like a petulant child, but for some reason, Regulus indulges.

“I’m alright.”

"Good, good, that's good. I'm glad, Regulus."

There is a silence after that, but it's not as uncomfortable as Regulus expected.

"Well, that's settled then. Bye, Potter."

"NO! I mean, don't go—shit, I mean, uh… I have your clothes."

"Ok?" Regulus asks like what he's actually asking is, "Ok, what do you want me to do with that?"

"Um… how should I… how do you—fuck, why is this so hard?" James asks, but Regulus thinks the question wasn't actually for him.

“What’s hard?”

“Talking to you.”

"Sheesh, Potter, you know how to cheer a lad up, don't you?" Regulus asks in an obviously mocking tone.

"Did you just call yourself a lad?" James sounds delighted and surprised.

“Shut up.”

“I just meant I usually don’t have this much of a hard time talking to people.”

“Potter, that’s so much worse. You get how that’s worse, right? Just call me a menace to society and be done with it already.” Somehow Regulus is enjoying this conversation. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have to look at James’s stupid face.

"You are a menace to society, but I like that about you," James says like it's a completely normal thing to say; he sounds relaxed and happy. Regulus doesn't know how to respond to that. He hears James cough a little like he's just realized what he said.

"Um… your clothes?" Regulus can imagine James scratching his head while he speaks.

“What about them?” Is Regulus being wilfully obtuse? Maybe, who’s to say?

There is a beat of silence before James speaks, “How can I get them back to you?”

“Hm, at school?”

“Sure, when?”

“Monday, during lunch at the cafeteria. I’ll get there around one pm.”

“Ok, I’ll be there.”

“What about yours?”

“What about mine?”

“What about your clothes, Potter?”

“Oh,” he laughs, “Would you believe if I said I completely forgot about them?”

"Sure, why wouldn't I? It would be a stupid thing to lie about." Regulus answers in all honesty, and James laughs. His laugh makes Regulus feel weird; Regulus never wants to unpack that, so he buries it deep down.

"Yeah, yeah, it would be. Well, you can also bring them on Monday. We'll do a clothes swap." James says excitedly, like that's something people do.

“I think we’ve already done that.”

“Ah, you might be right.”

Silence. Regulus wants to hang up, but he also wants to stay here.

“So… about Remus—”

“No.”

“Ok.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“I guess I wasn’t expecting you to drop it so quickly.”

“You said no. Did you want me to not drop it?”

“No! I was just surprised.”

“I feel like I should be offended.”

"Well, you're not really known for dropping or letting go of things easily. From what I remember, quite the opposite, actually." He hears James make a disgruntled noise.

“Yeah, not my best years. But I’d like to think I’ve grown.” Regulus just hums in response.

They're silent for a while, but it's not uncomfortable, which Regulus finds strange.

"If your worries are eased, can we finally hang up?" Regulus feels like he's lying; how or why he doesn't know.

"Jeez, Regulus, you really know how to make a guy feel special."

"I'm sure you have plenty of people who tell you you're the most special boy ever; you don't also need me."

"It's not about need Regulus; it's about want." He can hear James's grin.

“You’re just saying stuff now,” Regulus huffs.

“Yes, that’s what people typically do in a conversation.” That grin is fucking loud.

"You're fucking hilarious, Potter," Regulus says in the most deadpan voice he can muster up.

"Why thank you, Regulus, that's so kind," James responds with faux sincerity.

“You’re unbearable.”

“You’re interesting.” Regulus feels himself flush.

"You're fucking annoying." Regulus tries and fails to ignore what James just said.

“We’re going to be great friends.”

“Ha! You’re also delusional.”

James laughs, “Maybe, maybe not.”

"I'm going to hang up now before you can annoy me to death."

“See you Monday, Regulus. Take care.” James sounds so sincere it makes Regulus want to puke.

“Sure.” He hangs up.

After a minute or so, he feels a buzz.

"It seems we could've air-dried your fancy clothes after all."  Regulus doesn't answer. There is another buzz after a couple of minutes while Regulus is just lying in his bed watching the ceiling.

"If you want to talk about today or anything at all, I'm here." Regulus ignores that message as well, and James doesn't text again that day.