James slows down and stops running. Just standing by the sea, hearing the waves, the soft whistle of the wind, and the noise his feet make on the sand as he resumes running and jumps on the ocean. And for a second, the warm water washes over everything he has been feeling for the past three weeks. Everything is fine.
Except that it’s not fine, because Regulus is dead.
At first, James didn’t believe it. He threw the Daily Prophet on the fireplace, and convinced himself that no, they will find him, there is no body, so he can’t be dead, can he?
He probably wouldn’t have believed it, if it wasn’t for the letter. The stupidly short and uninformative letter that he received the morning Regulus had gone missing.
My sun,
I love you. I will always love you.
Don’t look for me, it will be a waste of time. You shall find no body.
R.A.B
Only when he read the letter — more like a note, he thought — he understood that Regulus had died.
Regulus had died, and he knew it. He knew he was going to die, because why else would he send a letter? He must have known someone was after him, it was the only explanation possible.
Or maybe no one was after him. Maybe he killed himself. And the fault was probably yours.
James didn’t tell anyone about it. The Aurors were still looking for Regulus, and even though Sirius was desperate, James knew he still had some hope left. James didn’t tell anyone about the letter though, because it was too personal, too intimate, too much of him to show to the world, even with only a few words. Of course, the Marauders knew he and Regulus had been in love, but they never knew just how much Regulus meant — means — for him.
But having to hide the knowledge that Regulus was dead from his best mates, his family, also meant he had to deal with it all by himself. And it was in times like this, at 2 a.m. on a Wednesday in the middle of April, where he felt the most suffocated about it all. So he went to the one place he ever got to go with his lover, his soulmate, where they didn’t have to be hidden.
It was a simple beach. The nearest village was about seven miles away, so they had some privacy. James had brought Regulus there in the summer of 1975, when they were still so young and carefree and happy, and the war was just an illusion, a thought so far away. Since then, it became their place.
Oh, how James missed those times. They had everything and didn’t even realise it. He just wanted to get a Time-Turner and go back there, stay a bit more in the safety of ignorance, the protection of youth.
But he couldn’t go back, so he swam, and stopped swimming, and reached the bottom of the sea, and his head was pounding and his instincts were telling him to go back to surface but he didn’t, because why would he want to live in a world where Regulus doesn’t survive? Why would he live in a world where Regulus doesn’t breathe, doesn’t smile, doesn’t cry?
He remembered what Peter said when Reg broke up with him. He was never one to comfort, never knew what to say, but he looked him in the eyes and told him, “James, I love you, and I know you loved him, but he broke up with you. If he did it, he must have had a reason. We may never know, but you should move on, because I don’t take Regulus as the type to go back on his word.”
And, even though Remus pointed out that Peter had as much tact as a teaspoon, the other Marauders agreed that James should move on.
James knew that, logically, he should’ve moved on a year ago. But, logically, he shouldn’t have fallen in love with his best friend’s brother, so logic was out of question.
He finally emerged from the water and floated around for a bit, just looking at the pale stars, searching for the only star that he could find with his eyes closed, craving for the person with the same name as it. When he finds it, he starts singing softly.
It’s not a specific song, just a melody that Regulus always sang back in school. He once told James that he had heard it once when they were out to the muggle world, when he was 8, and that he never knew the lyrics, just this melody, and James never forgot it. In times like this, when the longing gets too much, he hums it, and, for a moment, he can pretend that he isn’t the one who’s singing.
“Hey Reg,” he says, looking at the brightest star in the Leo constellation. “How are you? I’m miserable, I know. I’m lying on the ocean, singing your song just the way you sang it.” He laughs half-heartedly and sighs, “I miss you, y’know? Every hour, every minute of every day. How can I live without you?”
Once again, James remembered what Peter told him “I just can’t move on. It’s impossible, unimaginable, even if you’re not here anymore. Loving you can’t be wrong, can it? How can something wrong feel so right?”
James closed his eyes and pictured his lover’s face. When they broke up, he was afraid he’d forget it, forget the details, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. There’s no remedy for memory.
So he pictured Reg’s face, every freckle, every one of his almost imperceptible scars, his long, dark eyelashes, the way his brow would curve when he frowned, the way his eyes would light up when talking about something he loved. His face, his body, his touch, his voice, everything that made Regulus himself were always a constant in James mind, never leaving it for one second, almost like the melody Regulus always sang.
He misses him so, so much. The memory of his now dead ex-lover was like a beautiful soul. Sometimes haunting him, but sometimes telling him it would all be fine. And then, sometimes, when James pictured Regulus in his mind’s eye, he didn’t see the sweet, caring, smart boy. He saw the other side, the ugly side, the side that couldn’t challenge his parents, the side that took the Dark Mark and joined Voldemort, the side that distanced himself from Sirius, the side that, even though he wanted to, didn’t think he could be saved. The side that died, and made the ugly side of James wish he was dead too, just to be with him.
Every time James closed his eyes, briefly or for a long time, to sleep or even blinking, his mind was filled with Regulus, Regulus, Regulus. And even though James loved him, he sometimes wished to forget about it all. To be free to fall in love again, and not keep comparing every potential new partner with Regulus, because no one could compare to Regulus, so why even try? He was certain he would never find such love in anyone else, because when you find true love, it lives on.
But then, sometimes, all he wanted was Regulus back. To have him in his arms, to kiss him, to hear him call James my sun over and over again, to see his face break in a beautiful smile as he watched James play in the salty water like a little kid. And to do the things they never got to, to bake brownies and go camping and play poker and dance in parties and be with him, no matter what his parents said, no matter what Hogwarts house they were in, and they wouldn’t have to care about sides in a war, because there would be no war.
If only you hadn’t given up on us…
James wanted to die. Practically all the time. He wanted to die, because if he did, he would see Regulus once again, and that alone was worth everything he would have to abandon. He would die, and go to after life, or heaven, or whatever, and see Regulus, because they would be dead. There would be no one and nothing to stop them from loving each other.
Or maybe Regulus wouldn’t wait for you. Maybe, when he broke up with you, he meant that he didn’t love you anymore, not that he couldn’t love you anymore. Maybe he never loved you at all. Maybe he wouldn’t wait for you on the other side.
He shakes his head to clear those thoughts. He couldn’t kill himself, and, if he stayed on that beach, he surely would.
Getting back home — no, not home, his home died three weeks ago — he took a bath and went to bed, relieved; he had survived one last night.
But no. There’s no relief. Because of course James would dream with Regulus. Again.
He could feel Regulus’ touch on his skin and Regulus’ mouth on his neck and Regulus’ body moulding with his own, and Regulus whispering “You’re fine, you’re okay, you’re all right,” over and over again.
James woke up, sweating and crying. He blindly reached out to the other side of the bed, looking for a warm body, or any trace that Regulus had been there. But Regulus wasn’t there, of course. There was no Regulus, except on James’ dreams.
There, in his bed, alone and sleep-deprived, James realised he couldn’t take it anymore. There was no release from this living hell.
He got a weight from his gym, a rope, and went back to the beach. All the way there, he kept rethinking if he really wanted to do this, and every time the answer was yes. When he got there, he tied one end of the rope to the weight and the other to his hand. James swam to the deep sea and dropped the weight, drowning himself.
Later, when Sirius and Remus go visit him in the morning to tell him that they finally found Regulus unconscious in a dark cave after interrogating his house-elf Kreacher, they will find only a small letter, almost a note, resting in bed where their best was supposed to be.
I couldn’t bear living anymore. I need him, and I hope I see him on the other side.