Even before the party, and despite winning the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, James had been having a pretty shit day.
He had woken up that morning feeling great, he had an early Quidditch practice so everyone else was still asleep, the rising sun was shining through his bed curtains and the air had a certain mist in it. It was peaceful. And then Sirius and Remus woke up, and with them came the arguing. He didn't remember how the argument started but he had mostly learned to mute them out by now; it sometimes seemed like that’s all that Remus and Sirius did lately. Argue. He left to Quidditch practice before the he could see who won the fight, but he reckons that Pete had just told them to shut up so he could sleep in because it was a Saturday and they all had a late night last night because all of them snuck out with the girls to go to Hogsmeade.
The second thing that added to him having a shit day happened during practice. He got knocked straight off his broom by a bludger and hit his head pretty hard. Luckily he wasn't very far off the ground so the worst he got was a nasty headache. Unluckily was that it didn't leave him all day, even after Madam Pompfry gave him a headache draught, so every time he moved his head too fast or his eyes caught a particularly harsh light he felt like his head was going to explode.
His friends had spent a good portion of the day trying to convince him not to play in the Quidditch match but they had eventually given up trying because they knew that James would never let up. It wasn’t like anything had gone wrong during the match, in fact aside from right after he woke up that morning, flying in the wind, a slight drizzle in the air, and no unwanted thoughts plaguing his mind - Quidditch all he was thinking about, winning that match his only goals in that moment - he actually felt at peace, not putting on a performance or smile for anyone.
But later, once the high of winning had slightly died down, he felt like all he could see on his friends' faces was disappointment. They were disappointed that he hadn’t listened to them or respected they’re wishes when they said that they didn’t want him to play. They were mad at him for putting them all through that worry. Everyone was mad at him. Despite everyone congratulating him and sending him smiles on the way to the Gryffindor Tower to celebrate, he still felt like everywhere he looked someone was scowling at him or glaring at him. It made him nauseated all over again, and not because of the injury anymore.
He felt someone walk up next to him and it shocked him out of his thoughts. Glancing to his right, he saw Marlene Mckinnon. Marlene has been one of James’ best friends for as long as he can remember. They grew up together, they’re parents being good friends and neighbours.
“Hey, James.”
“Hi, what’s up?”
“I just wanted to thank you for your advice last night, y’know, about Dorcas.” She replied in a slightly tentative tone.
Yesterday, the whole group went out, and at some point Marlene, proper off her head drunk at this point had asked James for advice about how to ask out Dorcas, and James, also proper drunk, had given her some barely feasible advice - it was mostly just random rambles about Quidditch and David Bowie, but he did manage get some actual advice in between the drunken rambles.
“Of course, Marls, you know I'll always be there if you guys need me. How did it go?”
“Really well, we’re going on a date in Hogsmeade tomorrow.” She replied with a faint blush on her cheeks.
James stopped dead in his tracks and reached out to give her a hug. He leaned down slightly as she was shorter than him and whispered in her ear,
“That’s amazing Marlene, I'm so happy for you. You guys are honestly perfect for eachother.”
It was nice knowing that even drunk, James was the person you could go to for advice. It made him feel needed. James never grew tired of feeling particularly needed, but sometimes he wished needed felt less like a synonym for useful.
…
It was around midnight now and everyone was either drunk, high, well on their way to both or either, or they were on their way back to their dorms. There were people here from every house, in fact if he tries to look past all the people in the common room he thinks he sees Barty Crouch. Jr and Evan Rosier. They probably came with Dorcas, who he can see is hanging out with Marlene and Pandora Rosier, but he secretly hopes that Regulus is there.
James feels a tingle on the back of his neck; it feels like someone is watching him. He looks behind him but no one is looking at him - there are people looking over him, or past him, or through him, but no one is looking at him. That’s not as reassuring as it should be because he can still feel his friend's cruel glares at him across the room. But that can’t be right, because as he looks to the corner he can see Remus and Sirius talking and laughing with each other. Not fighting. Sometimes James thinks that it's his fault that they fight all the time, they only ever really fight when James is around, and most of their fights start because James dragged one or the other into doing something irresponsible. It’s not far-fetched to believe that it’s his own fault, maybe it’s his fault that Peter is slowly drifting from the group, maybe they would be better off if he wasn’t friends with them anymore.
But why isn't he enough for them anymore?
Maybe he never was enough. Maybe he never will be.
James feels and hand on his shoulder and with a start he realises that he had been hyperventilating, on the verge of a panic attack.
He looks up and his eyes find a pair of stormy grey eyes. Regulus.
“Are you alright, Potter?” Regulus says it as if he would rather be anywhere but here but also nowhere else at the same time. It’s strangely comforting.
“Yeah, yeah of course I am, why wouldn't I be?” James stammers out.
Regulus looks at James like he doesn't believe him in the slightest.
“Because you’re sitting here, all alone at a party that’s literally for you, and you look like you were just told that your mum had died.”
James is almost too stunned to answer him. He didn’t think anyone had noticed, but he supposes he probably does look rather panicked.
“Yeah, no I- uh I’m fine, I’m just a bit under the weather I think.”
But his voice comes out slightly strained and James knows he’s been caught. He goes to reassure Regulus again but as he’s looking around the room he starts to feel the hateful stares of his friends again and suddenly not even the hand that he just realised is still on his shoulder or Regulus’ comforting eyes staring at him can stop him from spiralling.
He faintly feels Regulus help him stand and lead James upstairs and into the safety of James’ dorm room but James isn’t fully present so he barely notices. Regulus sits them down on James bed but he’s not sure what to do so he just sits there as James curls himself into a ball next to him and gently shushes James. James unknowingly reaches out towards Regulus with a shaky hand and grabs his hand. Regulus is a bit stiff as he moves forward towards James but he slowly relaxes, not used to James touching him, and James leans his head on Regulus’ shoulder, slowly rocking back and forth.
Once James has got his breathing under control a bit Regulus asks him,
“What happened?”
James is quiet for a while and Regulus has resigned to the fact that he probably won't get an answer but then James takes a deep breath and says something unexpected,
“The truth is, I’m not really a good person.”
Regulus’ breath hitched and he paused, collecting his thoughts.
“Why do you think that, James?”
“Because I’m tired. I’m tired of being there for other people first and myself second because it is fucking exhausting. But I can’t think like that because if I’m not there for other people then I’m just this boy who has everything but still wants more for nothing in exchange. Because I do. I want more with my life.” James’ voice cracks and he thinks he’s about to start crying again but instead he takes a deep breath and waits for Regulus’ reply.
“You are not a bad person for wanting more for yourself, James. You are not a bad person for being tired of being there for your friends all the time, either. And I don't know if anyone else has noticed, James, I don't even know if you’ve noticed, but you’re falling apart under the weight of everyone else's lives, and it isn’t healthy. Because James, you can’t sit there and put everyone's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love.”
James has noticed, he’s just been pushing it away because if he stops giving his friends advice or being there for them to talk to or being the person that grounds them when they need it then who is he? Who would James be if he didn’t exist solely to help other people? Would he even exist at all?
Sometimes James thinks that he's forgotten how to live his life without feeling like he owes the world everything all the time.
“I feel like all that I do is cause problems for other people, and then move on to help the next person without putting out that fire first and it’s catching up to me and I don’t think that I can handle it.” James rushes out after a moment.
“Maybe. But I can help you handle it, because you don’t need to carry this all by yourself, James.”
James doesn't answer, he just hums appreciatively and lies down, Regulus lying down next to him. It doesn’t take long for Regulus to fall asleep, James not long after, but not before realising that his headache had gone away.
…
They both awoke the next morning to find Sirius standing next to the bed with a seething look in his eye, probably ready to fight if it weren’t for Remus holding his arm, about to interrogate them on why Regulus is currently in James bed. They don’t really have an answer for him.