Chapter 6
In retrospect, the kiss shouldn’t have been such a big deal. It was just two men, one living and one dead, finally resolving some of the apparent sexual tension. James just couldn’t deal with the fact that after about 3 minutes of the most intense makeout session of his life, his partner had just blinked out of existence.
This led to many questions, including : WHERE THE HELL HAD HE GONE? and WHY WHY WHY WERE THERE NO COLD SPOTS?? and also AAHHHHSLJSFJLFJLKFSE WHAT WAS HE SUPPOSED TO DO!!>!>?!?!?
James was very composed, if you couldn’t tell.
He spent the next week or two sitting at his desk, slowly writing out assignments that had been sent in weeks ago. He completed 3 or 4 of them, and consumed around 18 cups of tea in the process.
James didn’t want to admit it, but he missed Reg. The ghost was a nice break to the monotony of the summer. It was difficult, he had to admit, being stuck in an empty house in the middle of nowhere. Especially without being able to talk to friends, assuming he had any after going AWOL for an entire summer. James would get into that later.
He replayed their kiss over and over in his mind. It barely qualified as one, just a taste of what could have been. After a month, what little hope he had of Regulus coming back had dissipated. It was almost as if whatever had existed between them had disappeared when Reg had.
~~
Regulus watched as James petered around his house. After a couple days spent in bed, he actually began to work on the pile of files that had continued to stack up over the weeks spent. He watched as James consumed copious amounts of tea. It came to the point where Reg had tried to hide the rest of the tea cups from him (3), but it seemed like he no longer had the ability to touch things.
He had to admit that he was a little attached to him. It was difficult to watch as James descended into literal madness. All he did was scribble onto sheets of tea stained paper and type madly onto an ancient laptop. He slept restlessly, often waking up in a cold sweat.
He guessed it was a little abnormal to watch his..roommate? boyfriend? they hadn’t really established anything- but it was odd anyways. James had no idea he was still in the house and that just made it even more creepy. This was the first time that he felt like an actual unwelcome spirit since he had begun haunting his home.
Over the weeks he saw a slight improvement. He could also see that James was moving on. Maybe if James moved on, he could finally be released. The issue was that Regulus was no longer sure if he wanted to pass on or not.
As Regulus floated through the house he had called his home for decades, he realised how little he actually knew. He felt the uncertainty of life, or what reflection of life was available to him. Every fragmented gaze at James could be his last. That thought made his heart clench in the most unpleasant way.
It seemed to him that his limited time on earth should be spent doing things that were worthwhile. Of course, he could no longer change other people’s lives, so worthwhile things only applied to him.
Regulus started by going to the attic and looking through every box, nook and cranny. It was more difficult to move objects but with a little practice he could push the air to move things. There was an astounding amount of clothes that would almost never go back into fashion. He pushed them aside, wrinkling his nose at the musty smell of moth balls. The boxes of papers rivalled the clothes.
There were too many to go through, so many words that began to blur after a couple hours of reading through them. There were generally three types of letters or documents : 1. Love letters from a mysterious M~ to an equally mysterious P~, 2. Hordes of fictional research about pseudoscience that made no sense, and 3. Graphite sketches.
Reg spent more time looking at the love letters and drawings than he did at the research papers. The two people seemed to be men- which confused and delighted him. He didn’t understand any of the references but he could tell that they were written from the heart. Affection basically radiated off of the letters. A part of him held a sharp pain knowing that he would never have that.
The drawings prominently featured a man with dark hair and sharp cheekbones. His eyes were the most expressive, and Reg was impressed at the artist. Whoever they were, managed to capture so many emotions. Some papers showed the man elated, eyes sparkling despite the rest of his face showing minimal emotion. In others he was sullen, angry, or bored.
He abandoned the papers after a while, not finding anything that felt meaningful to him. He moved onto the boxes full of trinkets. They were all material memories from another person’s life. Some were so obviously from James’ generation. A new polaroid camera was made to look vintage and a dusty iphone lay tangled in chords.
At least this let him know that someone relatively young/tech savvy had occupied the house before the old man. Maybe his son?
Reg tried to connect the dots, why would an old man live in a house all alone? He had never received visitors, and Regulus hadn’t been able to follow him into town.
As he unpacked the boxes, he realised that somebody’s whole entire life was in them. Clothes, relatively modern and stylish, had been neatly packed into chests. A well worn leather jacket was wrapped around a small wooden carving of a wolf. The wood still gleamed with the varnish. Regulus recognised a prized possession when he saw one, and he neatly covered it back up with the jacket.
As he placed it back into the chest, a small paper fluttered to the ground. When he picked it up he saw a faded photo of the boy in all of the drawings.
He was just as handsome as the artist had portrayed him to be. His cheekbones were a little sharper, and he was a little more gaunt. The sparkle in his eye was undeniable, mouth caught open mid-laugh.
A part of Regulus’ mind blinked awake, memories of summer nights laughing on the roof of a manor, and the smell of musty beer. He pushed it down, focusing on the vaguely familiar smile the boy held. Sirius, his mind presented. He shoved it down, because how could this smiling young man be his- for lack of a better word- serious brother? It made no sense.
He placed the photo on top of the jacket and shut the lid of the chest. He promptly forgot about it and moved on to the next box. It was made of tattered cardboard. Regulus speculated that it wasn’t from the same owner as the rest of the boxes. Maybe a remnant of the old man, something his family had forgotten or chosen to leave behind.
He opened it and peered in. The inside of the box was covered in torn tin foil. It was completely empty besides a carved wooden box and an aged pamphlet. The box had flowers carved into the surface and a gleaming latch made of bronze. Regulus picked up the pamphlet and glanced over the words inside. It was very ambiguous but the gist was that it belonged to an organisation of magicians who believed in rebirth and purity. Quite bullshit.
He huffed, magic was always preposterous. As a young child he had gone to a classmate's birthday party. Regulus could not remember the precise tricks performed, but the man had been dressed in chintzy clothes and was very unenthusiastic. Rabbits had most likely been present as well as lots of glitter and wand waving. Magic wasn’t real, and was mostly about sleight of hand and deceiving young children.
Of course, nine years old Regulus had been enamoured, but his parents had not been. The stern talking to he had received from his father had immediately put him off any pursuit of magic. Be it real or not, the box could not hold anything truly impressive.
He managed to lift it out of the cardboard box with much effort and concentration. It was simple to open the latch. The inside was covered in purple velvet, only solidifying the fact that the talisman inside was fake. The talisman itself was made of cedar wood. It was a lily, the tips of the flower were stained. This gave the illusion of an ombre fade. The base of the flower was capped in a shining metal. A faint blue glow was carved into the metal, shining an electric shade.
A stem, made from the same material of the base lay in the box as well. Regulus took it out and attached it to a small hole in the base. A wave of blue light shot out from the flower, covering everything in the attic in a light blue haze.
Regulus let out a sound of surprise and dropped the flower. The flower hit the floor and the stem disconnected, rolling away. The light vanished. Regulus blinked, completely fucking confused. He picked the flower back up and stuck the stem back in. This time he was more prepared for the light that came, this time a slightly darker shade of azul blue.
It glittered in the air, writhing like a snake. It moved subconsciously, drifting in between the boxes. He couldn’t provide himself with an explanation for how this could work. Regulus watched awestruck as the light turned towards him. It advanced at a steady crawl, coming close to him. It intertwined itself around his body, drifting back to its source.
The light felt thick and thrummed with heat. The attic hadn’t changed temperatures but Regulus felt the chill that had been present within him since his death disperse. Was this what it felt like to be human? He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t felt an icey coldness inside him.
He crossed the attic and climbed down the ladder, closing it behind him.
He barely noticed that he had no trouble pushing the ladder up towards the ceiling. He didn’t notice that his feet had weight to them. He didn’t notice that his skin was slowly absorbing the blue light, and that the flower had stopped glowing.
All he could think about was James. Had the light spread to the rest of the house as well?
He found James in his office, typing away at his computer as usual. He was lost in his work, not aware that Regulus was watching him. This wasn’t odd, as he hadn’t been able to see Regulus for months. Reg smiled sadly, nothing was different. A secret hope that he had harboured drifted away, nothing had changed.
Part of his mind criticised him. Why had he thought that this faux magic might help him? His father had thoroughly explained to him that miracles weren’t real, and all wonder about the mysterious and otherworldly had died after that beating.
A small part of him wanted to rebel because how could he exist as a ghost, a fragment of a human being, if there wasn’t some magic left? He let out a sigh, and turned to leave. He had a book to finish, and was going to re-hide some of the tea cups James had discovered.
His attempt at drifting through a wall was deftly curbed as he hit it with a loud thump. His nose cracked and he let out a pained yelp.
“What the fuck!” he exclaimed. He stumbled away from the wall right into James’ desk.
James on the other hand was halfway out of his chair in surprise.
“What the hell?” He yelled, blinking his eyes rapidly. “What are you doing in my house?” He cowered away from Regulus.
Regulus backed away, pressing back into the wall. He was completely and utterly perplexed. Frightened too, at the shock of being corporeal again. This was not how he was supposed to be, he was supposed to be able to float through walls and make short cuts throughout his house.
Also, what was James talking about when he called Reg’s house, his house? It was NOT his house. Except for the fact that he had lived here for months, and had all of his possessions here. He had built a life, a small life. Albeit sad, it was still something real.
Real, unlike Regulus. Who was apparently very real now.
“James?” He whispered, “It’s me, Regulus.”
James peered up at him in fear, “Reg?”
~~
James was pressed against his desk as the intruder was pressed against the wall. He had not looked up since the man had yelled, very loudly, in a room that had not heard noise for a very long time. To say it had been a shock would have been an understatement.
James had lived in a reverie for months. He had not spoken out loud to anyone. There was no noise other than the soft drifting tones of music he played, or the clacking of his keyboard.
And all of a sudden there had been a loud noise and loud words in an otherwise quiet house.
“What are you doing in my house?” James had asked, staring down at the floor. Hopefully he looked submissive and completely harmless. This had not been how he imagined himself dying. Tripping and falling down stairs? Yes. Being hit by a bus as he walked into oncoming traffic distracted by his phone? Also yes. Being murdered in his isolated home by an intruder with a shockingly deep voice? Not at all.
Then words came that completely rocked his world. He didn’t know it at the time, but those words would disrupt his entire life. They would set him onto a path that he never thought would be possible for him.
“James? It’s me, Regulus.”
James looked up in shock, and promptly fainted to the floor.