the poets mistake
When James was younger he had a bad habit of sleepwalking, his mum and dad used to lock his doors and tuck him in a little tighter just to try and get him to stay in bed. One night when he woke up he was laying in the garden, he was around six and it was the first summer his parents let him have a sleepover. He had asked them if he should tell the parents of the bad habit, but his mum said not to worry them and, what the heck, James hadn't woken up in the garden for at least a month, he'd probably grown out of it.
So he went to his friend Paul's house, they played pirates in his back garden till they collapsed in the dirt and felt the rain trickle down. He remembers going to sleep in the sleeping bag next to Max on the floor, they had built a fort and James had made sure to tie the makeshift door shut tight, just in case. So when James woke up in his friend's garden, the sun peeking through his eyelids, he cried and cried and cried, shame inched through his body, for the first time in his life, he felt like he had no control.
And it's not that he wanted control over everything. But maybe just himself.
When Paul's parents found him, weeping in the grass, they scooped him up and took him right back home, her sharp nails dug into his arms as he watched his friend fade from view.
“This is unacceptable behavior, your son needs to learn to control himself” her face pinched, with sleep still painting her eyes she shoved him though the door.
James never went to pauls again.
“Mum i didn't mean to” james felt his throat thicken, like when he put too much peanut butter in his sandwiches and he had to gulp milk so he could swallow “i really didn't”
“I know darling, it's okay” she closed the door and ushered him to the couch, the soft smell of her perfume filling his head and calming his heart down by the minute. His mother was always prettiest in the mornings, her pink cotton robe and favorite mug in hand. James could hear his fathers footsteps upstairs and the sound of the radio being flicked on. James took a slow breath and climbed onto the couch next to his mother, curling into her side, taking refuge as the crook of her elbow landed on his shoulders.
“What scares you the most about sleepwalking” His mother always spoke so softly, like she was a cloud, or the softest blanket James had on his bed.
“I can't stop” he hiccuped “i can't control it”
“Not everything in life we can control, some things are just out of reach, you have to learn to live with it, no matter how much we hate it” she gave him a soft squeeze and let out a small laugh as she poked his side “and remember i love you no matter how many times you wake up like a little gnome in the garden”
James dug his palms into his closed eyes and wiped away the last of his tears, smiling up at his mother. He felt his body relax and collapsed into the best sleep he'd gotten in weeks.
James now dug the palms of his hands into his closed eyes and screamed into his elbows, curling in on himself on the cold cement. James had decided the best plan of action when feeling himself spiral out of control is to step outside. Deep down James was hoping this was just a bad, bad dream and he was going to wake up covered in dirt and flowers in his parents back garden.
But James was the only person braving the cold night, loitering under the streetlights. Goosebumps littered his arms whenever the wind picked up too much, but he ignored it and drudged himself farther down the street.
He tried to remember if he had said something in the final moment between him and regulus that would have made him do something so evil and vile, this was his moment, his new life, and the prick was fucking it up all over again.
But deep, deep down, somewhere hidden away, James knew, he just knew, that Regulus probably didn't even know that it was his book getting published. He knew that regulus, well he prayed that regulus was blind to what he'd done to james.
Letting out an exasperated breath James let himself round the corner, the brick wall his hand was trailing, ending letting it fall back to his side. His eyes focused on the cement, unaware of the landscape ahead of him and as if he was cracking open a door, he let his mind inch back into the dedication.
“Roses are red, violets are blue, if you run to me, i shall run to you, forever till the sun you hold bleeds right through”
The words were supposed to taste bitter, but it left him feeling sick from the memory they were coated in. James gagged and leaned into the nearest bush he could find, internally apologizing to whoever tended to them.
“Oh what a cherry on fucking top of this night”
James froze as the voice spoke, his head still ducked in the bushes, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he stood up, the bushes were tall and blocked most of the garden's view.
“Hello” hesitantly james stepped further into the bushes “whos there”
“The bloody garden fairies” the voice drawled
James squinted and puffed his chest out as he shook his head “look my nights not exactly going fucking amazing either”
“obviously , i'm not the one getting sick in some old womans poor bushes” the voices strained “she probably works so hard on them and you've gotten sick all over her roses”
“I didn't mean to '' James stomped his foot, unable to control his movements, this was the last thing he needed and he was getting dizzy from the consonant sounds entering his ears. He really should have started the walk back home hours ago
“Did you just stomp your foot?” The man began laughing, James could tell he was drunk now, his laugh was bright and James flushed
“At least i'm not hiding in the bushes”
“I fell” he spat, going quiet for only a second before letting out another breathy laugh “into the bushes yes”
James laughed and peeked around the edges, he could just barely make out the outline of the boy. He was thin and lank, all sharp edges and long hair, the curls looked soft even in the shadows of the flowers. Sick of feeling useless and miserable for himself, James found a new confidence in being the only one in the situation with his feet planted on the ground.
“I'm going to reach my hand in and help you out”
“No”
James let out a strangled breath
“I like it in here”
“In. the. bushes.”
James waited for an answer, all he got was silence.
When Sirius would get scared he'd hide under the bed all the time, when he got overwhelmed and explosive, he said it made him feel contained, like if he exploded there would be less casualties. He tried to think of how he would talk to him.
James squinted his eyes and suddenly all he could see was roses and thorns, he got nervous that maybe the boy had passed out, but when he heard him shift and a small whimper followed, he eased.
“You can't stay in there forever, aren't the thorns making you nervous?”
Seconds passed, then a minute
“It's nicer in here”
“Nice than where?”
“Than out there”
James huffed and rolled his eyes, he stood his knees cracking slightly, he needed to get out more, writing and sitting all day was not doing him any favors.
“Well have fun in that bush, out here in the real world” he waved his arms around hoping the boy could see them “we have pubs, where you can sit and drink away your problems instead of hiding in a bloody bush”
James slowly stepped away, scraping his shoes on the cracked cement beneath him to make more noise, emphasizing his departure.
Two.. three..four steps
“Fine” the flowers shook “get me out if this bloody bush, fucks sake” he let out a string of curses under his breath and james watched a thin pale hand stick out from the bushes. He felt a smile tug at his lips and he quickly made his way back over, grabbing hold.
He tugged on it and laughed as the boy let out a hiss
“Fuck these bloody thorns, fuck this, fuck fuck fuck”
James doubled over accidentally letting go of the boy, he clutched his stomach, the boy yelped as he hit the wet ground again.
“You let go of me, you asshole” a low growl following the words
“I'm sorry” James caught his breath and stuck his hand back into the bush blindly.
“Absolutely not”
“Cmon trust me” he pushed
“Do you really think im that idiotic”
“I don't know you at all”
Frustrated and tired, James pushed his hand in further grappling for the boy's arm, ignoring the protest that followed his actions. Once he grazed the boy, he latched on and started tugging. If someone told James this would be how he was spending his night, or by now early morning, he would laugh. He remembered his childhood garden rendezvous. It felt sort of full circle.
With one last tug the boy toppled out and both boys let out a strangled sound as they fell to the hard pavement. James could feel the bruises forming on his back, he let himself go still, laying flat on the ground, his head was angled away from the other boy, he could slightly see him in the dark, he was laying on his side facing away from james.
He could just barely see his spine through his tight shirt, he looked just as small as he did when he was in the bushes. James felt his face flush as he noticed the exposed skin on his waistline, he coughed awkwardly, sitting up, he let his arms fall around his legs and tucked them into his chest, resting his head on his knees, exhaustion taking him over.
“You alright ?”
The boy grunted in response, as he twisted his body James watched his muscles, like liquid under his skin, he made sure to stare at the ground when the boy turned towards him letting his eyes slide close.
“I guess saying thank you is due or–”
Silence clouded the space and James looked up confused, he felt his mouth run dry and a small whimper crawled up his throat.
He looked gaunt, like the shell of himself, like someone was pretending to be regulus. James panicked and looked back at the ground and willed his stomach contents to stay where they belonged.
“James?”