Brother Frank
James stared at his face in the mirror.
His eye bags grew with each day.
He was more pale than usual and looked all together just not that healthy.
He had Quidditch practice in like an hour.
James was excited, or is what he has been telling himself these past minutes while staring at himself.
He loved his team and the game itself was everything to James.
The thought usually puts a simile on his face. It did today as well, it just didn’t feel as real.
He wanted to do his best and would give absolutely everything again today, he knew it. He didn’t understand how you could play Quidditch without pouring your heart and soul into the sport.
How could you not?
It felt disrespectful not to.
James knew the others worked hard as well, he knew they gave a lot during the practices and games, but they didn’t give everything.
The only other person James had met, who really does, was Frank.
Frank is an awesome captain.
And an incredible human being.
Yes, he expects a lot, but James would have it no other way.
These last couple of weeks James had been working hard, but not hard enough, as he so kindly tells himself every chance he gets.
He would get up before the crack of dawn and go on runs by himself, then take a long warm shower and sometimes an ice-cold one and just sit in the quiet locker room waiting for everyone else to arrive.
He ran, in the hopes of running away from his problems.
Annoyingly, he just couldn’t seem to run fast enough. It still helped, though. It was something. A small win. No matter how much his body protested after being out through such a brutal workout.
Frank was always the first other player to arrive.
They would talk for a bit, but mostly Frank was busy with planning the next couple of practices or going over some plays, so they mostly sat in silence.
The silence James normally would despise, he welcomed in these moments. It helped to be around people who you could just tell were calm, who had everything together, who didn’t need to go to war mentally every day.
Frank during Quidditch games and practices wasn’t as calm, but James didn’t mind.
That is when Frank's passion for the sport came out, and James adored it. Despite having taken a long warm shower in the Gryffindor locker rooms, James felt cold. The cold came from deep within.
Frank wasn’t here yet, and James needed him.
He sighed, dramatically, and hung his too heavy head.
The morning he had spent running around the Great Lake.
That morning, it was just him and the giant Squid.
On his runs, he loved seeing Hogwarts from afar.
Hogwarts was truly magical.
It’s the most beautiful place on earth, if you asked James.
It was his home.
Not that James didn’t love his other home in England, the one where his parents lived.
And it’s not like James doesn’t love his parents, he does, truly. He just can’t shake the feeling of feeling trapped, at home.
He had a healthy relationship with his parents.
It’s just his home, reminding him of how he used to be.
Little James would be so utterly disappointed in him, and he could hardly live with knowing this.
When he was home, in his room that had been his for so many years, he just remembered lying in bed and thinking about going to Hogwarts in a couple of years and being truly and utterly unable to lie still at the thought.
It made his heart beat harder.
Little James was so beautiful, not his outer appearance, although, despite the messy hair he looked like a little angel, no his soul. It was truly pure. He wanted the very best for everyone, and he still does now.
Little James saw the color in the world, he only saw the color. It was beautiful.
How could he not anymore?
Now, he is struggling with the fact that he wakes up every day and only sees the grey and darkness in the world.
James realized, he finally got to the age he had always dreamed of being, but it is not how he wanted it.
He did not want to feel like this. He wants to be a kid again, wants to hide under his blanket and never come out again.
You know you are in trouble when you can no longer hide from the monsters, under the blankets because unlike before, the monsters are within.
And you can’t hide from yourself, you might still try though because knowing you longer can hide, there is nowhere to hide, it’s you is something that James tries not to think too much about. It would truly shatter little James's heart.
He want's everyone to forget him.
He did not wish this on young James.
It shatters his heart, knowing little him and him now are the same person.
They could not be more different, but they were both called James.
Time flies, and he wants to go back and stop time.
Would give everything to live one night, in his childhood home, with his parents and still look at himself, them and the world the same.
The two years before his first year at Hogwarts, James hadn’t exactly felt bullied, but he felt left out.
Not seen and not cared for by his peers. He was still the extroverted, outgoing, happy James, they just didn’t seem to care. And James for the life of him couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong. Why did they not enjoy his company as much as James enjoyed theirs at the beginning?
He never spoke to his parents about this because James felt ashamed, ashamed for being different without knowing what made him different, ashamed for growing up with everything but feeling slowly more and more like he had nothing, that he felt would truly disappoint his parents and he knew it would disrespect them to, say his feelings out loud.
So, he never did.
He looked again in the mirror.
He had the same brown, caramel warm eyes that he did as a kid, they look the same still.
They just don’t see the same things anymore.
Somehow, everything around him became colorless, metaphorically speaking.
What day did the world lose it’s color?
Was it his fault? It probably was, he thought glumly.
Growing up he spent a sick amount of time waiting to be older, now having reached said age, he has never wanted to be young again more.
With every day that goes by, James will be further and further away from the age back then, from his happiness back then. Time is slipping through his fingers. He still felt happiness now, not nearly as much, it wasn’t a truly foreign feeling, but it never has felt the same as back then and probably never will.
He was still young, in his fifth year, he still felt old, too old.
He should be excited about growing up.
But I am not.
I feel very overwhelmed.
He was such a good little boy.
He honestly couldn’t stand seeing the first years, he was ashamed of this fact, and he has never told anyone this.
Seeing them, knowing they are running around the halls, all happy, playing games.
Knowing their imagination was still a blessing, hurts, what day had his become a curse?
I’m only watching to live through you vicariously.
Seeing them pretending the broken sink in the bathrooms on the second floor, where water dripped to the floor, was the water dripping from their pirate ship after they had found the treasure, fought the dragons, saved the day and were eating chocolate frogs, jumping up excitedly after realizing they had made it home, even though a huge waved had it them, soaking their boat. They had made it home.
James missed seeing simple things, and turning them into something magically. Now that he literally could, they no longer had the magic to them.
A tree stump wasn't thrown anymore. A swing wasn’t a plane high up in the sky anymore. Some sand, mashed leaves and water wasn’t some incredible potion that could do anything you wanted, it was a waste, as Professor Slughorn would say.
Damn it, his potions essay.
Never mind.
But once again, James did mind.
He ran his hands through his hair, sighed and turned around and left the bathroom. He sat on the bench, pulled out his snitch and watched it fly around the locker room, while watching for Frank and the others to arrive.
He needed a break from his mind, from himself. James zoned out and tried to think of ways to finish or more do, he hadn’t started his potion's assignment yet. Sadly, it was rather helpless. He had a good idea, knew a way to make the potion last longer and have a stronger effect, but he kind of forgot what it was, damn it.
His head wasn’t in the right place.
“Hi, mate” Frank said as he entered the locker room, dropping bag and his broom on the bench. His broom was freshly polished. James would do that tonight, it helped ground him.
“Hey, Frank”, James said, giving him a soft smile. Like Remus, Frank could always tell when James wasn’t quite himself. He would just be there for him.
Frank walked over to James and stood before him.
James stood up in front of him. He let out a deep breath.
Frank embraced him in a tight hug, James hugged Frank back, just as tightly.
They stayed like that for a while.
Frank let go first.
“Okay?”, the older boy asked.
“Okay”, the younger boy answered. “Thanks”
“Oh, James, don’t mention it.”
After a short pause, Frank added:
“You know, your mind is truly brilliant. It enables you to do incredible things. You have the ability to think of things that no one else has. You see the world, and the Quidditch pitch so uniquely, you see it in a way that we wouldn’t really understand.
I can see it in your eyes, that it’s all becoming a little much. I don’t exactly know what you are going through, James, but I am here for you.
Likewise, I want you to know that and more importantly, believe that. You can come to me with anything, James. You are the younger brother I never had. Talking to Alice has helped me so much over the years, I owe her the world.” he laughs softly, as if recalling a sweet memory in his mind.
He adds: “We don’t have to talk, I know that someone just being there with you helps”.
James all but gawks at him, Frank laughs softly at his reaction.
Frank is one of the best people. He is usually a little more reserved about feelings and his feelings, this does not include anything involving Quidditch, but he still always manages to say the right things.
James nods softly, that’s the great thing about their friendship or brotherhood, they just got each other.
Nodding was enough, Frank knew.
Frank goes back to scribbling down some notes and putting some things in his locker.
James watches him and the snitch as it flies through the room.
He took a few deep breaths. Frank's words had hit deep. He was so touched and honestly on the verge of tears for like the fourth time today.
These tears, however, he would welcome if they ended up falling, they would come from a place of love and warmth, where usually they didn’t come from.
James had forgotten that his tears could come from a place that wasn’t a pit of hopelessness.