The Morning
It’s early when the letter comes. At first, James thinks Regulus is pulling away to get up. Start the day, all that. He groans, tugging at the closest limb he can reach. Regulus huffs, placing a kiss to the side of James’ head, but untangles his arm at the same time–which is totally not fair.
“There’s a message from Dumbledore, love.”
James sits up at that, still drunk with sleep. He leans his head against Regulus’ face, bumping into his nose, drawing a light smile to the other's face.
“What kind of message?”
“Well, I have to go open it to find out, don’t I?” He can feel Regulus smile, lips still close to the side of James’ head, breath ghosting over his ear.
Regulus does end up leaving the warmth of the covers, but James only smushes his head back into the pillow.
Their days off are increasingly more sporadic as the war gets darker, but the order is being a bit lenient on all of them this week. Fabian and Giddons’ deaths have shaken everyone.
Regulus and him took over some homemade pizzas for Molly and her family last night. James still can’t really handle imagining what it’s like for her. Losing her brothers. Nothing he could say would dent grief like that.
He knows their deaths are messing with Sirius’ head. Regulus is at twice the risk the two of them are.
It’s hard to explain, but their deaths aren’t unsettling to James in that way. Maybe its because he’s always so aware of the possibility that each time they leave–either to help, or because they’re being called in, there is a real risk it’s the last time they see each other alive. It makes him sick just thinking about it. Even though it’s less than a minute before Regulus is back, climbing into bed, body heat returning with him.
This, here, is what gets James through the bad days. Drinking in the life a moment holds. The warmth of the soft morning light filtering in through the windows. His head resting on Regulus’ chest. The feel of Regulus’ hands carding through his hair. All while knowing they have the most beautiful day ahead of them, because it’s so easy to picture it.
They’ll order from that all day breakfast place Regulus hated the first time James took him, but now craves most mornings. James will play some guitar while Regulus reads, or paints. They’ll play some quiet music in the background, and just enjoy each other's company.
He’ll romance Regulus with an old recipe of Effie’s she’d given to him months ago, and open some wine. After, he’ll pull Regulus to him, say something like “what did I do to deserve having you,” and Regulus will reply with something snarky, like “well, you deserve some kind of award for putting up with my brother all these years.”
But, he can’t ignore the way Regulus' pulse is racing. How his hands tremble. He’s gripping James tighter than before he left. He holds his breath a moment before he asks. Pulls just far enough away that he can look into Regulus’ face, so he can be a part of the dread unfolding.
“What was in the letter, Reg?”
“I have to go,” he sighs, placing his palm against the side of James face. The woundedness of his expression must be profound because Regulus pulls him even closer until James is practically on top of him.
“It’ll be alright, though.” Even James knows what it sounds like when Regulus is lying through his teeth. The sound of it reverberates into all parts of him. It makes James tighten his grip around Regulus’ back, and only a second longer to realise Regulus is scared.
Things don’t scare Regulus Black
“How long?” is all he can ask, refusing to move from where he’s pressing into Regulus’ skin. How dangerous, is what he means, but he can’t really bear asking that just yet.
“I should be home by tonight,” Regulus murmurs.
In the end, James pulls himself out of bed, despite it not being eight am yet. He watches Regulus pack. If you can even call it that, all he takes is his wand, and a notebook.
It does nothing to ease the anxiety thrumming through James’ whole body, but he likes watching Regulus move around their cottage. Complaining about the clutter, even though secretly James knows it’s his favourite thing about this place. He talks about how bare Grimmauld is to grow up in, you can’t breathe through it all. Here, mess is just another form of appreciation.
Too soon, Regulus’s shoes are on. James stands, somewhat sulkily in the doorway. Neither of them know what to say until Regulus sighs and closes the distance between them. Wrapping James tight in his arms.
“Why does this one feel so different,” James asks quietly. Not quite succeeding on stopping his voice from shaking.
“It’s scary every time, I think we just forget how much.” Regulus responds, not making any move to pull away from James’ hold on him. He knows they should let go, Dumbledore’s waiting. It makes his blood boil, how much fear that man has brought into their lives. Maybe it’s selfish to think that, maybe it simplifies it too much. Wars don’t put people in charge because their morales are clean.
He only pulls back a bit before one of Regulus’ hands moves to cup James’ face, fingers sliding delicately over his cheekbones. His grey eyes study James’ face in a way he used to find unnerving, but now he could get drunk on. “My Jamie,” he whispers, tilting his forehead so it bumps against his own. “I’ll come home.”
“You better,” James inhales sharply before pulling Regulus in to kiss him properly. There's something desperate about it. He brings one hand to Regulus’ hair, the other gripping his arm, a bit too tight for any old moment of comfort.
It feels like the only thing keeping James here on earth is getting to hold him like this. Regulus tilts his head, allowing James to kiss him deeply.
He hates that it feels like goodbye. That every time it feels like goodbye. James bites down on Regulus’ lip drawing a sharp sound from his lungs. Briefly, James feels them slip away from their goodbye. The doorway disappears, and he’s devouring the scent of the other boy, the feel of him. Completely, utterly lost in a timeless world.
It’s heartbreaking, and it’s beautiful but mostly…he just wants to hold this moment. It can only exist for as long as he can keep the rest of it away. The world threatening to force them forward. Enduring a goodbye is almost as painful as what becomes of you after. The moment where James is standing, staring at a closed door.
He’ll be back tonight, a voice in his head whispers pathetically.
Yeah, he thinks. Tonight.