Craving

Regulus is not worried. He isn’t feeling nervous. He is fully anxiety-free, actually. But he does feel fucking weird while he is waiting for James Potter in the cafeteria. James texted him random shit like cute dog videos and supposedly funny internet jokes on Sunday, which Regulus mostly ignored. He also texted this morning to reaffirm their plans to exchange clothes… again. So even though their conversation on the phone wasn't technically their last interaction, he still feels weird about it. Weird. That phone call felt too close—too close to what, Regulus can’t put his finger on it.

There is also the alleged phenomenon of Regulus smiling at his phone, which Barty pointed out last night. Regulus thinks he was lying to catch him off guard, but everything still feels weird. Regulus does not want to unpack all that.

He first sees James Potter's unruly hair as he makes his way across the cafeteria to get to Regulus. He lived with a woman for however many years and didn't learn how to take care of his hair; Regulus decides he must be completely unredeemable.

"Hey, hi, Regulus." He sounds out of breath as he drops his bag to the chair next to him and sits across from Regulus.

“Did you run here, Potter?”

“Um… more like I power-walked—didn’t want to make you wait.”

“And you also didn’t get any food? Aren’t you hungry?”

"Well, I am, but like I said, didn't want to make you wait." This time the last part is said in a murmur. James looks a little flushed, but Regulus can't tell if it's because he "power-walked" or the conversation.

“Go, get something to eat, Potter,” Regulus shoos him away with his hand. James gives him a shy smile before he gets up.

Regulus is playing with his food, lost in thought when James comes back with a sandwich in hand and plops down to his seat without an ounce of grace. Regulus rolls his eyes at his manners. He knows James is from a well-off family, he went to private schools all his life, and he has definitely been taught better manners than this, but Regulus doesn't say anything about that.

“A sandwich? Why didn’t you get a proper meal?” Regulus asks.

"What's wrong with sandwiches? I personally happened to love them; compact, convenient, and nutritious. What's not to love?" James says with an offended attitude, which Regulus assumes is not serious. He rolls his eyes at James's defence.

“Sure, Potter,” Regulus says with indifference. He suspects James’s lunch choice might have to do with not wanting to make Regulus wait by joining the cue for the school lunch, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Soooo, how have you been?" James asks cautiously like he is afraid of spooking Regulus.

“Fine,” Regulus lies.

"Hm, I've also been alright. Thank you for asking Regulus." Regulus normally would expect cold sarcasm in response to his behaviour but instead, what he finds is a delightful gleam in James's eyes. He is not trying to be passive-aggressive; he is being playful like Regulus’s rudeness is fun.

“Of course, you’ve been alright,” Regulus mutters.

"What does that mean?" Once again, he can tell that James is not attacking him; he is sincere in his question. Regulus watches him take an unnecessarily large bite out of his sandwich.

"You're James Potter, of course, you're alright." Regulus also doesn't have the usual hostility in his voice, but he responds with a bitter, mocking tone. It's not menacing—sure, it's rude, but the bitterness comes from the childhood jealousy he seems to not have gotten over. James fucking Potter with the perfect fucking life, loving family, adoring friends, and perfect girlfriend. Everything about James always seemed untouchable to Regulus when he was younger, like it would be tainted if Regulus were to dare. This was probably one of the reasons he fucking hated James Potter.

“Well, that’s hypocritical of you.”

Regulus’s eyes snap to James’s from where he was staring at his food because that was not the reaction he expected, not at all.

“What?” He snaps at James.

James is annoyingly calm as he starts to explain, “You told me to not talk to you or about you like I know you, rightfully so. But that should be a two-way street, should it not?”

“Oh, do tell what trials and tribulations The Golden Boy of Gryffindor has been through?” Regulus can’t help the bitterness that still seeps into his voice. For once, James doesn't seem impressed with Regulus's rudeness.

"Well, I recently broke up with my girlfriend of five years—which was really fucking hard, actually." James's tone turns mocking halfway through his answer.

“Yeah, you said that, yet you seem fine. I would think a five-year relationship would deserve more mourning.” Regulus knows he is pushing this too far; he knows James is right, but he wants to test James’s limits anyways.

"Oh, should I act like a fucking child so everyone knows I'm miserable?" And as soon as the words leave his mouth, James looks like he regrets it. Regulus is gripping his fork so tightly that he thinks he might actually bend metal.

“Shit, sorry, sorry—fuck, don’t leave,” James pleads even though Regulus didn’t make any moves to leave. He should leave. He can’t.

"God, you have the spine of a fucking snail," Regulus taunts, but it's not meant to cut. It's an opening, and James takes it laughing.

“I fucking love snails. They're so weird." He waits for something to happen, but when nothing happens, he continues, "I just don't like acting with anger."

“It’s just an emotion.” Regulus doesn’t know why he is trying to be—what? Reassuring?

"Yeah, it's a destructive one." James almost sounds cynical, which comes as a shock to Regulus. James Potter earnest of them all being cynical, it seems Regulus is learning new things today.

“It doesn’t have to be.” James looks at him as if to say do explain so Regulus does, "Anger can be healing too. Anger can be righteous; it can be deserved and needed. It has been for me."

James seems surprised at Regulus's openness, and Regulus understands it fully because he is also surprised at his openness. Something about James brings down his walls, but he can't think too hard about it.

"How come?" James asks expectantly like he is hopeful Regulus will tell him more. Bare his soul or some shit.

“Hm, that’s above your paygrade,” Regulus easily dodges his question, and they fall into a slightly uncomfortable silence. James eats his sandwich while occasionally catching Regulus’s eyes. Regulus takes a couple of bites from his food too, but he is not as enthusiastic about it as James is, so he puts down his fork and decides that's it for lunch.

“Is it bad?” James points to Regulus’s tray with his head.

"Um, what—no, no, I mean, it's fine. I just don't have much of an appetite, it seems."

"Is it because of me?" James asks nervously, which makes Regulus laugh.

"What? Jesus, James, contrary to what you seem to believe, the world does not actually revolve around you."

"Hey! I don't think the world revolves around me. I just meant—" he stops abruptly.

“You just meant what?”

James takes a deep breath, "I just meant, like, is it because I pissed you off? I know Sirius's appetite vanishes when he's fucked off, so…” he raises his brows at Regulus in question.

Regulus doesn't know what to do with the casual mention of his brother, especially in relation to himself—about how they might be similar in some odd ways. He is not sure whether to cry or laugh. Cry because even after five years, James thinks they might share similarities simply because they're brothers. Laugh because Regulus is a lot of things, but, He. Is. Not. Sirius.

“I’m not Sirius.”

"Yeah, yeah, shit, of course, Reg—I mean Regulus. I know that. It just made me think of Sirius."

"Is that why you're so desperate to hang out with me? Because you miss your best friend?" Regulus knows the expression in his cold grey eyes; haughty, arrogant, superior. But it doesn't seem to disturb James; almost nothing seems to disturb James, much to Regulus's annoyance.

"Desperate is a bit harsh, but no. I know you're going to hate hearing this, but you do remind me of Sirius in the most unexpected ways. But you're also drastically different, like how I'm both similar and different to Sirius also because he is a part of me like…” James doesn’t finish his sentence, but it hangs in the air anyways—like he is a part of you.

“My my, Potter, what happened to the timid little thing I saw Saturday? You've gotten mighty courageous, haven't you? From begging me to stay to…pushing your luck to make me go away."

“And still, you’re not going away,” he says, but not confidently like it's a question—are you going to run away?

Regulus raises his brows at him as if to say, are you sure you want to do this?

"For what it's worth, I'm not trying to drive you away. I want you to stay." Regulus doesn't know why; of all of the things said today, this is the one that guts him, the one that makes him want to run away from everything.

“I don’t understand you,” he thinks out loud.

"That, I don't get much. I'm not that complex, really," he shrugs.

"I don't understand you," Regulus repeats, but this time he continues, "I pissed you off deliberately, which worked so much so that you said something kind of cruel—by your standards at least, and then you apologized," Regulus points to James with his open palm facing the ceiling with an incredulous expression on his face. "And then you go on to tell me how I'm similar to my brother, who I haven't seen in years but also really different—because you want me to know this is not fully about Sirius, that's important to you somehow. And—and then you say shit like that. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Regulus finishes his tangent with a slightly embarrassed expression because he didn't mean to say all that. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Many things, probably.” He shrugs. HE SHRUGS. Oh, Regulus wants to punch him or shake him or ki—nope, no, no. Not happening.

Since Regulus is still staring at him with an inquisitive look, James continues, "I know you were trying to piss me off, but I also know you believe what you said about me—which I still think is hypocritical but not the point. You think I'm this happy guy with a seemingly perfect life who has never known hurt. And you're not completely wrong. I've been lucky in so many ways; I'll never claim to have it harder than most. I don't. But that doesn't make my pain less important. Of course, you don't know what hurt me, what's still painful because we don't know each other like that. That's fine. But I think you have this idea of me, from what you've seen or heard in school probably, that's not real; that's not actually me. The Golden Boy of Gryffindor, right? That's not real, and that's not me. You won't believe me, but I care about you. I care that I don't hurt you, I care that you know you're not just Sirius's brother to me, I care that you know I care about you because you're you, not because of anything else."

Regulus can't understand how and why James is so open with him. He sits in front of Regulus and bares his soul like it's that easy. He leaves himself defenceless, knowing Regulus's cruelty. Regulus finds himself stuck to his seat, staring at James like he is still trying to figure out if he's real. Apparently, James takes Regulus's stunned silence as a cue to talk more.

“I know you’re worried about seeing Sirius—”

"Oh, fuck right off, Potter." So that's what drags Regulus out of his stunned silence.

James raises his hands to indicate surrender, “It’s ok, Regulus,” he says softly—so, not in surrender then. “He is going to be here Friday night.”

Regulus’s breath catches. Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

James seems to have noticed his panic, so he puts his hand on top of Regulus's tentatively, "I promise, it's going to be fine, Regulus."

Regulus snatches his hand back and almost sneers at him, “What the fuck would you know about that?”

“I know Sirius.”

Regulus laughs without a trace of humour.

"Sure, fucking rub it in. Why don't you?" Regulus turns to his bag, which hangs off the back of his chair, retrieves a bag, and puts it on the table.

“I’m not trying to rub anything in, I mean—”

"Give me my clothes, Potter. This has gotten awfully boring," he says in an indifferent, cold voice—like he genuinely is bored.

“Regulus, I wasn’t trying to hurt you—

"Oh, Potter, it's cute how you think you can hurt me. Truly, so cute.” Regulus hears himself as he speaks—he sounds so insincere and so fucking arrogant that he feels like he’s been possessed by his mother. That thought alone is enough to make him shiver in horror—not that it’s observable from the outside.

"Regulus, you don't have to do this, I'm on your side," James pleads, and Regulus wants to laugh because what a load of bullshit.

“Jesus fuck, Potter, do you hear yourself? You're not on my side. We both know whose side you're on."

“No—no, wait, because he is also on your side. It’s not you versus Sirius, and it's going to be alright. You guys are going to make up. It'll be fine. I mean, I know Pads has forgiven you, so you have nothing to worry about.” And that is exactly the wrong thing to say because Regulus’s stare turns deadly. If looks could kill, James Potter’s obituary would be on the papers tomorrow.

No matter how angry he is, Regulus will never make a public spectacle of himself, so he doesn't raise his voice, but it's still cutting when he speaks, "He has forgiven me? For what? For being shipped off to France away from everyone I know because he fucked up? For being on my own since I was fifteen because he decided to leave? For fucking leaving me with them? For never reaching out to me, never calling me, never writing a fucking letter? What has he forgiven me for? For fucking what?”

When he is finished, Regulus finds himself leaning towards James—so much closer to him that he can see the tiny scar under his eye. As soon as he realizes this, he wrenches himself back.

“My clothes, Potter,” he is calm when he speaks, but this isn't the type of calmness that makes you feel safe.

His words seem to snap James out of his stunned daze. He finally retrieves a very nice-looking bag and gives it to Regulus. Regulus leaves without saying anything else, and James doesn't try to stop him.

It's Wednesday, which normally wouldn't mean anything to Regulus, but he is on a countdown, so it means something. In two days, Sirius and Regulus will be in the same city after five years apart. Regulus doesn't know what to feel; some childish part of him is excited to see his brother, but most of him is a nervous fucking wreck. He hears a timid knock on his door while he is trying to drown himself in his bed.

"Reg?" Barty sounds worried. It's funny how out of all of them, it's fucking Barty who is the mother hen—but then again, none of them really possess motherly qualities.

“What?” He says under his blanket, so it comes out muffled.

“Can I come in?”

Regulus waits for a beat… to test Barty, maybe.

“Yeah.”

He pokes his head out under his blanket and looks at Barty expectantly, who is hovering at the end of Regulus's bed.

“Um, do you happen to know why James fucking Potter is messaging me on Facebook, asking me if you’re ok?”

“You have a Facebook?” Out of all the things he could've gone with, his priorities seem to have shocked Barty, who just laughs in response.

"It's an old account, like from year eight, you cunt." His response makes Regulus smile sincerely. He feels like he hasn't smiled in years. "Answer the question, Reggie," Barty insists.

"How should I fucking know what goes on in that thick head of his?" Regulus scoffs, like anything regarding James is below him.

“Reg,” Barty sends him a look that says really, motherfucker?

Regulus hasn’t told anyone about the little talk that conspired between himself and James because he simply wants to forget that it happened. He wants to forget how he was stupid enough to lower his guard with James. He wants to forget how he had something akin to hope trying to catch flame inside of him that James Potter put out.

“Reg,” Barty repeats, seemingly not impressed with Regulus.

“We had a talk… Monday, at school.”

“And?”

“And it was weird.”

“Is that why you’ve been moping?” Barty asks in a way that lets Regulus know he actually doesn’t believe the answer he’s gotten.

“I haven’t been moping,” Regulus says as he sits up in his bed, leaning back against the headrest, and he crosses his arms like a spoiled kid who didn't get the Christmas present he wanted.

“Sure,” Barty raises his brows at him to probably say just look at yourself fuckface.

“It was intense. Some shit was said. Then it wasn't so bad, but he went and said something he really shouldn't have, and now, I want to kill him."

"Naturally," Barty says, amused.

“Block him.”

“What did he say?”

“Something he shouldn’t—”

“Holy cunt, Regulus, just talk to me!" Barty is exasperated with him; Regulus can tell, but he is still amused by all this.

"Holy cunt? That's a good one. I like that," Regulus tries to change the topic. He is unsuccessful.

"Yeah, I'm creative like that, but flattery will not get you out of this. You've been holed up here since Monday. So, talk to me." Barty finally sits down on the edge of Regulus's bed as he speaks.

"It was a mess, Barty. I don't know what to say, really."

“What did he say at the end that has you this fucked off?”

Regulus takes a deep breath, “He told me Sirius and I meeting would be fine because Sirius has forgiven me.”

Barty's eyes snap to his with a bewildered look, "What the fuck has he forgiven you for? Causing you to get shipped off to France at fucking fifteen?" And it's stupid, really, how Regulus's heart roars at Barty's defensiveness. Even when he didn't have anyone, he always had Barty. 

“Yep. That’s what I said too.”

“So, that’s what he wants to apologize for,” Barty says to himself more than Regulus.

“What?”

"Oh, he told me he needed to apologize to you, and I asked him for what, and he was surprised I didn't know, but he said he shouldn't tell if you haven't because he doesn't want to invade your privacy or whatever noble fucking shit he said.”

“Just exactly how much did you speak to him before coming to me?" Regulus asks in a dangerous tone, and Barty can sense it.

“Oh, you know a bit—oh, fuck, shit! Reg, just remember that you love me, and you would be really sad if you killed me, alright?” Barty says as he jumps off Regulus’s bed and raises his hands in surrender like he’s worried Regulus is going to attack him like a rabid dog. Regulus thinks he fucking might.

“What the fuck did you do?” he grits out as he gets out of bed.

"Well, you see, I didn't really think it was going to be this serious—ha, Sirius, shit, not the point— he was like a fucking puppy saying he just needs to apologize to you, said he called and texted, but you weren't you know responding—"

"I wonder what that fucking means," Regulus says as he is stepping towards Barty, and as Barty is stepping away from him, hands still up.

“Reg, you can’t kill me.”

“What did you do?”

“Promise you won’t kill me.”

"No can-do, Crouch, tell me."

"Fuck, fuck—alright… I gave him our address." He rushes out in one breath, and as soon as he's done, he bolts out of the room, running to his.

"Oh, you're so fucking dead, Crouch," Regulus yells after him as he chases him out, and Barty manages to close the door in Regulus's face, just in time. Regulus also hears the lock.

“You fucking coward, get out!”

“Nope!”

“I will kick your door in.”

“We don’t have money for that,” Barty shrieks behind the door.

"I don't care, come out!"

“No!”

“Crouch!”

“I fucking hate it when you call me that." He hears Barty say more silently than in the previous shouting match. Regulus knows this. That's why he's using it. He is a terrible friend, but right now, Barty is worse.

“Oh, when I’m done with you, that will be the last of your worries,” Regulus taunts, and there is no answer.

“He is coming here,” Barty says after a while.

"I gathered that, you unhelpful traitorous fuck."

“Reg, I’m sorry.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

"I didn't think he could've fucked up this badly. I thought you were being dramatic, you know."

"I'm going to kill you, bring you back, and then kill you again."

“I can beat him up for you if you like,” Barty offers, and Regulus fears it’s genuine.

“Barty, he’d have you flat on the ground in a second, you twig,” Regulus is laughing a little, but he doesn’t want Barty to know that, so he clears his throat to disguise it.

"That sounds like a good fucking time to me. In this scenario, is he like on top of me?" Regulus knows what Barty is trying to do, and he hates him for it.

“Slut.”

“Bitch.”

“Whore.”

“Cunt.”

“Cunt.” Regulus finishes.

"I'm really sorry, Reg. You know I would never do this to like hurt you, and even though I am a twig, I will fight for you." Barty can be so earnest in moments like this, which disarms Regulus wholly. Fuck.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” Barty repeats.

“Shut up,” Regulus says but this time without the venom, almost affectionately.

“I love you.”

"Oh my god, shut the fuck up, you inbreed." Barty laughs at his genuine horror at open affection.

"Nope, honey bunch, that's you."

“I’m going to kill you so hard.”

“Sure, babe.”

Regulus is about to say something back—probably a threat—when they hear the doorbell ring.

“Fuck,” he hears Barty say.

“Fuck indeed.”

Regulus gets up from where he is sitting in front of Barty’s door to get to the front door. He hates their shitty building where the building door is always open. That’s why when he looks through the peephole, he sees James Potter chewing on his lip nervously. His hands immediately fly to check his hair, and his gaze turns down to look at what he's wearing, pyjamas. Fucking hell, it's almost evening, and he's still in his pyjamas.

"Fuck it," he mutters to himself in encouragement and wrenches the door open. He finds James with his hand in the air like he was going to ring the doorbell again, which Regulus thinks is annoying.

"I don't want to talk to you. Go away," he slams the door on James Potter’s dumb face, but he stays there waiting for a knock, the doorbell, something.

“Regulus, just let me apologize.”

Regulus doesn't respond, which probably makes James think he went away because he rings the doorbell again. Regulus doesn’t move. James rings it again, again, again… Regulus wonders how long he’ll go on.

After probably the fifteenth ring, Barty comes out of his room, furious. He pushes Regulus out of the way and wrenches the door open with anger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he almost yells. James doesn’t answer for a while.

“I don’t know,” is the answer he lands on. Barty laughs at him cruelly. Oh god, Barty isn't cruel to Regulus, never has been, actually, but when he wants to be, he can be ruthless.

"God, Potter, you're pathetic. He said he doesn't want to talk to you; that's it."

"You…um, you gave me your address. I thought you wanted me to talk to Regulus." Regulus doesn't know how James stays calm after Barty's insult.

“That was before I learned what you fucking said.”

"Look, I know it was a major fuck-up, honestly, I shouldn't have tried to—I don't know, mend their broken bridges, but I didn't say it to be cruel, unlike you and unlike him." James still sounds calm and collected, but Regulus can sense his patience running out.

“Oh, you must have iron balls to come to our door and try to blame us.”

“No, no—God, no, I'm not trying to blame him. I fucked up. I want to make it right."

“He doesn’t owe you a clear conscience.”

“I know. I’m not—I’m not trying to… I’m not doing this so I can feel good about myself.”

“Sure,” Barty says mockingly, “Why are you embarrassing yourself like this then?”

“I don’t find apologizing when you’re in the wrong to be embarrassing.”

“Oh mighty, most noble, saint Potter,” even though he can't see it from where he is standing, Regulus can feel Barty rolling his eyes, "I meant begging at his door just so you can say you’ve apologized.”

“I—I…”

"I, I," Barty mocks; it's childish, but Regulus enjoys it nonetheless. He hears James sigh, and just when Regulus thinks he is about to leave, James surprises him by addressing Regulus.

"Regulus, I am truly sorry for saying something I had no right to say. I don't know what you've been through to throw out such careless consolations. I really shouldn't have said it, and I know I can't hurt you, but somehow if what I said poked an open wound, I am so sorry. I had no right.”

Silence. No one speaks for how long Regulus can't tell—seconds, minutes, hours, days. Regulus feels his eyes water, but he closes his eyes and wills it all back in. James Potter is not going to make him cry. At first, he doesn't understand why James’s apology of all things made him this emotional, but then he realizes this is the first time someone apologized to him and meant it. When he opens his eyes, he is staring into the worried brown eyes of Barty. He is asking him if he's ok with no words spoken between them. Regulus nods. I am alright, he says with his eyes.

Then for whatever reason, he moves past Barty to stand in the doorway facing James Potter, who is apparently shocked to see him. He came to Regulus's house, and he's shocked to see him; Regulus wants to laugh, he doesn't think he can.

"You're right. You had no right." James only nods in response, still surprised. They stare at each other for a silent moment.

"How are you?" James breaks the silence, and of course, that's what he asks. Not "are you alright?", not "are you ok?" but "how are you?".

“Fucked off mostly.” James chuckles softly at his response but then immediately covers it up with a fake cough like he’s not allowed to laugh.

“Sorry about that,” James says with a grimace.

“So, you’ve said,” he hears Barty mumble something about tension but ignores that and continues, “But it’s not just you. It’s the whole thing… I’m not ready.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Regulus raises an eyebrow which has James raising his hands in defence. God, Regulus hates that.

“No, no, I won’t say anything like that. I have learned my lesson, I promise. But I can listen.”

“I also can listen,” Barty adds. Regulus ignores him.

“You keep promising shit, aren’t you scared you’re going to break them?”

“No, not really,” James shrugs.

“Why?”

“Because I mean them.” Honestly, fuck James Potter and his earnestness.

Regulus shouldn’t do this, but he is going to have to see Sirius in two-three days, and he's not ready, not one bit, so he steps back and gestures for James to come in. James is surprised, so he doesn't move immediately, but when he sees the impatient look on Regulus's face, he moves hurriedly into the flat.

"Really?" Barty asks, sounding annoyed.

“This is your fault,” Regulus spits back. Barty gives him a look that says nope, this is your mess now.

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes at Regulus.

“Fuck off, would you?”

“Really?” Barty asks, this time genuinely surprised.

"Yep." They have a stare-down that lasts twenty seconds before Barty gives in and walks back to his room, huffing.

When he turns around, he finds James in the middle of their living room, looking around as if he's trying to catalogue everything under a folder that has Regulus's name on it.

"Do you want tea?" His question makes James's eyes snap to him, and he still looks like a deer in headlights.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“With milk and sugar, right?” and once again, James seems surprised.

“How do you know that?” he sounds confused.

"We drank tea before" is the only explanation he grants James. "So?"

At first, it seems like James doesn't understand what he's asking, but then it must click because he nods as he says, "Yep, two sugars and milk." Regulus makes a disgusted face at that, and James chuckles.

“You can sit down," Regulus says as he gestures to the sofa, then he leaves James alone to go to the kitchen to make their tea.

When Regulus returns with their teas, he finds James sitting on the edge of the sofa with his coat on like he's expecting to be thrown out any second, and Regulus doesn’t think he’s entirely off base.

“I can take your coat,” Regulus says casually as he puts down their teas at the coffee—well, tea—table.

"Uh, yeah, that's um, sure," then he does nothing, so Regulus points to his coat with his hand and raises his brows which causes James to stand up, almost knocking the coffee table down. He takes his coat off and hands it to Regulus.

Regulus hangs it and comes back to the sofa, where James is still sitting like he is going to combust. He is nervous, Regulus gathers.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Regulus asks, which is a dumb fucking question because James said he wanted to listen to Regulus.

“Um, whatever you want?”

“Want is not the word I would use for this conversation,” he says as a funny little quip, but James winces slightly.

“I can leave,” James mutters.

"You haven't drunk your tea yet,” Regulus says instead of stay.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” He grabs his mug and brings it to his mouth to take a sip and then immediately puts it back down as he makes a noise of annoyance. Regulus wonders if he fucked up his tea for a second before James says, "I burned my tongue, like always,” he sounds annoyed at himself, and Regulus chuckles.

“Oh, so that’s what makes you happy, my pain?” James asks playfully.

Even though more often than not, their conversations end horrifically, Regulus still wants to talk to him. He doesn't want to want to talk to him, but he does.

"Yep," Regulus says, amused.

“What else can I do? Headbutt a door, maybe? Would that get me a full-on laugh?”

“I don’t know, maybe you should try,” Regulus goads him, feeling giddy at their playful banter.

"Regulus, you don't know me that well, so you may think I won't actually do it, but I've done stupider things for less," James says, and Regulus wonders why his laughter would be important to James. He wants it for himself, so he's said—would that get me a full-on laugh?

"Don't. I want to get my deposit back on this flat, I can't have you harming the door with your thick skull."

"Ouch, Regulus, you wound me," James gasps dramatically as he brings both his hands to his heart, and Regulus feels his heart do something in response—no, no, nope, not happening.

They’re silent while waiting for their teas to cool down enough to drink. They both take tentative sips after some time and decide they’re at a drinkable heat.

“So…” James says.

“So?” Regulus asks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It being?”

“Seeing Sirius.”

“I can’t believe you’re still willing to talk about that after what happened last time.”

“Well, I’ve grown and learned from my mistakes. I stand before you a wiser man who knows how to shut the fuck up.”

"Doesn't sound like it," Regulus mumbles to his mug, but James hears it because, of course, he hears it, and he laughs. Regulus can't help but admit he actually likes this, and that's a terrible thought for various reasons.

“I promise to not make stupid comments,” James says with one hand on his heart and the other hand in the air holding up three fingers.

"Impossible," Regulus says. James chuckles. That seems to be a pattern with them, he insults James, and James laughs.

Regulus starts speaking, “I don’t know what to say about it,” he sighs before he continues. "I'm not ready to see him, but I know I have no choice because he is a stubborn fuckface who won't stop until I see him. I mean, you know my address, he can literally come here if he wants to talk to me."

“I won’t tell him your address; he won’t know I know anyways, but he can still find out.”

"Yeah, I know." For once, he doesn't question James's promise, he believes him. "I don't want to meet in public, and I don't want to meet here."

“Our place?” James asks.

"Yeah, that's for the best, I think."

"Regulus, if this is upsetting you this much, I can try and convince Sirius to back off.”

Regulus gives an amused chuckle at that, “You think you can hold him back?”

"Well, I can try, and with Remus's help, I might succeed."

“Why would Lupin help me?”

“Because I’ll ask really nicely.”

“Is that code for something sexual?” Regulus makes a face at James as he speaks.

“What?” James sputters, “Why would you say that? Ew!”

"Oh, James, your best mates are gay. Don't tell me you're a secret homophobe."

"What the fuck, Reg? Of course, I'm not homophobic, but Remus is like my brother, so ew.”

“Shame, he is hot,” Regulus shrugs and takes another sip of his tea.

James stares at him in shock.

“Um, are you…”

"Um, am I what?" Regulus repeats mockingly, even though he knows what James's asking.

“Queer?”

“I don’t like that word.”

“What do you prefer then?”

“Men.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

“Oh my god, Pads is going to have a field day about this when he finds out,” James says excitedly.

“I thought you wouldn’t invade my privacy by telling Sirius about what I’ve said to you.”

James looks confused at first, then his eyebrows rise in realization, "Of course, I won't, but like you're probably going to tell him at some point, and I can't fucking wait."

“Why is this so entertaining to you?” Regulus asks with a quirk on his lips.

"Oh, um, you see, Sirius thought—well, thinks you're homophobic."

“James fucking Potter! Here I thought you were sweet and innocent; that's some dark stuff you’re enjoying.”

“You think I’m sweet?” James asks. Regulus huffs and does not respond to his question.

"Well, he wasn't really wrong, actually."

“What do you mean?”

"Well, you see, Potter, there is this thing called internalized homophobia, and I had a severe case of it in my youth."

"Oh—shit, Reg, that sucks."

Regulus just shrugs as if to say eh, what you gonna do?

“So, you’ve never hated yourself for being a family-disappointing fag?” Regulus sees James wince at his question.

“I don’t like that word.”

“Well, I like it.”

"How do you not like queer, but you're fine with… fag?”

“My parents were too fucking posh to say fag, but they sure loved to use queer as an insult at every opportunity," Regulus answers honestly, and he feels like he's poking at years-old wounds.

“Ah,” James makes a sound of understanding. 

“Yeah.”

“I wonder that’s why Sirius loves the word, like an act of defiance against your parents? They’ve tried to hurt him with it, but he turned around and said you know what fuck you, I am queer.”

Regulus feels terrible at the mention of his brother and his acts of bravery and how he was proud of being gay and never really hid himself, while Regulus was a coward. He knows James didn’t say all of that to hurt him, but it hurts nonetheless. James must've realised something's wrong with Regulus's lack of response, so he turns his whole body to Regulus.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making it about Sirius, it’s not. I was just thinking out loud, sorry.”

“It kind of is.”

“No, not really. It was—is about you. There is nothing wrong with hating the words someone used to hurt you; there is no right or wrong response to it. His response is not better than yours, just different.”

“It wasn’t used against me. Queer. It was always targeted at Sirius.”

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear your parents’ thoughts about who you are.”

“Sirius used to flinch whenever mother made a snide remark, indirectly calling him queer, but with time, he stopped flinching and accepted it, not what mother was saying about him, but you know… like you said—you know what, fuck you I am queer kind of way. I was just never like that.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“You love Sirius’s courage; you must, so don’t lie.”

"I do, but that doesn't mean you weren't courageous too. I mean, you survived that hellhole." Regulus gives a wry chuckle at that.

“That I did, by the skin of my teeth, but I did,” he says with a surprising amount of pride.

"Yeah, you did." James smiles at him, and it feels like light.

There is a silence after that, a comfortable one.

"How do you think it'll happen?" Regulus asks after some time has passed, and their teas have gone cold.

"The big meeting, you mean? Um, not sure. Pads and I, we didn't really talk about technicalities yet. I guess you'll come over on Saturday. Rem and I will leave you guys alone for however long you need. Then, maybe we'll all go out?" James finishes with a hopeful tone.

“Potter, I hate to admit it, but I know you’re smarter than that,” Regulus almost chastises.

“Yeah, that was dumb, sorry. I just want it to go well.”

“Hm, you might need to lower your expectations.”

"Sirius said the same thing!" he almost shouts in surprise, pointing at Regulus.

“Well, Blacks aren’t really known for their sunny disposition, so I’m not surprised,” Regulus sighs heavily. “I’m fucking terrified,” he gets out in a moment of wretched vulnerability.

"I think that's ok," James sounds so soft and reassuring when he speaks; Regulus doesn't know how he manages that. He doesn't say that's normal or that it'll be fine; he says that's ok. It's ok that you're terrified, Regulus, that's ok.

“I still don’t think I’ll be able to do it,” he says, not looking at James. “I might just hide until he has to go back.”

"Well, you can do that, but that'll only work till next term. He's only gone for a semester."

“I might move back next semester, you don’t know my life,” he tries for a lighter tone, but it falls flat.

“I can come get you.”

“What?” Regulus turns to James, shocked.

"I mean, Saturday morning, I can pick you up and drive you to our flat. That way, you won't be alone. It'll be easier to do it with someone else, I think." James's face is soft, gaze gentle; Regulus has to turn away.

James might be right. Maybe having someone else accompany him till he has to see Sirius could help. He knows when he's in the same room as Sirius, there will be no running, even though that's all they've been doing their entire lives. Logically, Barty or Pandora, or even Evan, would be better choices than James. They know him; they know how to handle him, unlike James, who seems to stumble on every fucking bump that comes his way. But… but Regulus wants James. Regulus is all reason all the time, but this once, he allows himself to just go with his gut. He doesn't try to rationalize it to himself; he just lets himself have it.

“Yeah, alright,” he says softly, still not looking at James.

“Really?” James sounds surprised.

“Well, you offered,” he turns to James, annoyed.

"Yeah, yes, but I just didn't—you know what, it's not important. I'll pick you up, we'll drive together to our flat, yes. It's decided," James is rambling.

“Are you having a stroke, Potter?”

“Nope, I’m perfect—” he winces, “I mean, I’m good, no health complications here!” he points to himself. Regulus just rolls his eyes.

He is going to see his brother on Saturday. Regulus is going to see Sirius in three days. Not a hypothetical, a certainty. Regulus can’t believe it. Sirius has only been a memory to him for so long now, a ghost of a brother. He has Sirius at five, at eight, at nine, at eleven, at thirteen; he has all these Siriuses but not a twenty-one-year-old one, never at twenty, at nineteen, at eighteen, at seventeen. And he'll never have those, but he might get to have Sirius now. He doesn't know if he wants it, if he's capable of wanting, but he is yearning for his brother just as he did at five, at eight, at nine, at eleven, at thirteen, at fifteen, at sixteen, at seventeen, at eighteen, at nineteen.