Chapter 12
He listened to James knock on his front door for over an hour, smoking through the rest of his pack. His chest was burning when James finally gave up, stepping away from the door, disappearing down the hall. His phone, which had been on the counter in front of him, silently rang out at least 12 times. He turned it off after he lost count, lighting up his last cigarette.
“I know you’re home, Reg, I can smell the smoke! Just let me in!” He called through the door, but Regulus ignored him, occasionally wiping a few tears from his cheeks. He hadn’t cried this much in years, but the past two days were taking their toll on him.
When James finally left, and Regulus was sure he had, he left himself cry. Loud, choking sobs echoed around his apartment until he eventually fell asleep, curled up on the couch under a throw he had been using as a giant tissue to wipe his eyes.
With his phone turned off, he slept through the night, and through his classes the next day, the exhaustion taking over. It was easy, really, to roll off his couch around noon, and eat handfuls of leftover cereal in his kitchen. His throat felt raw from the loud sobs, and his cheeks felt smoother than usual considering the number of tears that had run down them the night before. That’s how he spent the entire week.
He occasionally glanced at his books, eyes scanning for random bits of information that could be used in future essays, or quizzes. But he didn’t really take anything in. It was easier to pretend his classes didn’t exist. He was falling behind, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d cram before the Christmas exams, and do well enough to get to the next semester and worry about the rest when it came. It wasn’t the best way to go about things, but it was all he could manage to do.
His mother called him during the week, demanding to know why he left all her events early. He had mumbled something about being swamped with assignments all the time, even weekends. He said he’d do better next time, but he knew it was easier to say than to do.
Finally, as the next week rolled around, he realised he couldn’t live like this. It was worse for him to simply mope around. He had to do something with his time, even if it was just taking a long shower. His hair felt dry, and uncared for, even though parts were greasy from being pushed away from his forehead. His eyes looked bigger than usual, but only because the skin under them was darker than usual, almost purple. His pale skin was the palest he’d seen it, almost as white as his walls. He had lost weight, although all he’d eaten was junk at random intervals. He probably needed a salad or at least something mixed into a dish. He was probably lacking protein too, dry cereal and whatever noodles were left in his cupboard feeding him for the week.
By Thursday night he had decided seeing someone else would be good. He decided on Barty, although he really was a last resort sort of option. “Pub, then? Broomsticks?” Barty had excitedly asked. Regulus had vaguely wondered if something quieter would be better, but he’d agreed nonetheless. He needed to dive into the deep end, he supposed.
He took a long shower, pulling a random t-shirt from his wardrobe, tugging it over his head. He looked somewhat normal back in his jeans, pulling a hoodie from the back of his wardrobe. He couldn’t make himself look less sickly, so he simply blow-dried his hair, and left his flat for the first time in days.
The Three Broomsticks was bustling for a Thursday night. There were students bustling around, and the music for the night was claiming an 80’s theme, with the Cure blaring as Regulus walked in, Barty following his lead. They ended up at a table, seemingly the last available one, pints in front of them as Barty began his long-winded recap on his life.
“Honestly, surprised you called,” Barty said after he’d ordered a second round. Regulus had really only been half-listening all night, but he hadn’t given that away.
“Really?” Regulus asked.
Barty nodded quickly, taking a gulp of his drink. “Well, I mean, I haven’t seen you in almost months, mate. You’ve been god knows where doing god knows what. I saw you outside the arts building a few weeks ago, but you looked so bloody miserable I didn’t even want to go up to you!”
Regulus tried not to frown, staring at his drink for a moment. He felt bad. Barty, although kind of a dick at times, was his friend. They were close once upon a time. And now, Regulus had ditched him, for no one. He hadn’t seen ignored him on purpose.
“I’m sorry, man, honestly,” he said, which Barty waved off, obviously not that upset about it. “Just been a bit in my head.”
“Happens to us all,” he flippantly remarked. “At least you’re out the other end.”
Regulus couldn’t exactly tell him he wasn’t, so he simply nodded, tipping back another mouthful of beer. Barty gave him a slight grin, which he returned. “We should do shots.”
“Shots?” Barty questioned, eyebrows raising. He was fully grinning now. Barty was slightly wilder than Regulus, almost as self-destructive. He was nodding as fast as he could. “We should do shots!”
They started with Jäger, working their way towards tequila, the bartender handing over random glasses of god knows what as the night progressed. Regulus was vaguely aware that he’d be hungover in the morning, but his foggy mind was telling him to knock back a few more shots with his friend. So, he did.
They ended up stumbling out of the pub near closing, both wobbling on their feet as they fell onto the pavement, taking their giant steps away from the pub. “We should do this every week!” Barty laughed, his voice higher than usual. Regulus laughed along with him, unable to stop himself.
“Let’s do it,” he agreed, although he knew deep down he wouldn’t. Barty laughed again, slapping him on the shoulder.
They ended up back in Regulus’, as Barty seemed too drunk to make the journey home. He landed on the couch as soon as they got in, and appeared to fall asleep within seconds, as Regulus shuffled around, trying to find himself some food. He gave up after he almost dropped a jar of pasta sauce, resigning himself to stumble down the hall to his bedroom.
He picked up his phone, staring at it as he fell back onto his bed, the room spinning. He could be sick, he thought. But he wouldn’t be. He squinted at his phone, thumbing through his contacts. He needed to make a call. He had to.
He arrived at James’ name, staring at the contact. His thumb hovered over the call button, a debate pulsing around his head. He finally clicked it, clumsily pulling the phone closer to his ear. He listened closely as the phone rang out. On the third ring someone answered. “Regulus?!”
It was Lily. Her voice reminded Regulus of who he was, and what he was doing. What would he have even said to James if he had answered? What was wrong with him? “Regulus?” She repeated, but he felt frozen as he stared at his ceiling, attempting to stop the room from spinning. He blinked a few times, opening and closing his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, pulling the phone away from him, ending the call.
He threw the phone across the room, ignoring the crash as he crawled into bed.