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“Do you ever think,” he says softly in the morning light, “that Plato had something there, when he said each motion in your life is part of the search for the half of your soul you’re yearning for?”
Regulus smiles into James shoulder. “I didn’t, before.”
☼
James wakes on the morning of February the fourteenth with a sinking feeling in his gut and a cold sheet beside him.
The cold sheet is nothing new- Regulus has never been one to sleep in, and James can count on one hand the number of times since they’ve moved in together he’s woken up first.
No, the problem is the sinking feeling. James feels distinctly, intrinsically, that something is different today. He feels it resonating through his bones. Vibrating through his body. Something has changed.
His first thought is to glance at his closet, where his Valentine’s gift has been hiding for three weeks and four days. Could Regulus have found it? Moved it? Opened it?
Before he has the chance to check, the door opens minutely, and Regulus pokes the first half of his face through. When he meets James’ eyes- looking almost… nervous- he pushes the rest of him into the room without opening the door any further.
“Morning, James,” he says softly, and James smiles up at him from where he’s still lying on the bed.
“Good morning, Reg,” James replies with a smile. “Happy Valentine’s day.”
Regulus blushes bright red, a thousand chases of crimson crossing his face in an instant, eyes flitting to the doorway, and James tries his hardest to commit it to memory. Regulus blushing is rare, the drop of his guard enough to let that heat into his face, and James will take every available opportunity to make it happen. But this was strange. Unusual.
That sinking, changing feeling is back, and James, confused as he’s ever been, holds his arms out for a cuddle anyway. Regulus complies, climbing into bed and shoving his face in between James’ neck and his shoulder, the cold point of his chin a perfect contrast for the warm junction of his body. “Happy Valentine’s day,” he replies, not quite smiling into James. The warmth of his breath mingles with the cold of his chin, a sensation James has become so innately familiar with, the way the cusp of summer is familiar with spring, or a thousand thunderstorms are familiar with sun.
He moves his arms to wrap around the both of them, rocking slightly side to side with a grin.
“Have you eaten, yet?” he says, running his fingers through the hair at the back of Regulus’ neck.
“Not yet. I was waiting for you.”
“Oh, Reg,” James nudges Regulus’ face off his shoulder, forcing their eyes to meet. “You didn’t have to do that. You’ve probably been awake for hours!”
Regulus blushes brighter at this, somehow, still without a smile, and James smiles despite his confusion.
“I was… sufficiently distracted. I had a few errands to run.” He smiles down at James now, shyly, tracing the arch of his eyebrow lightly with his pointer finger. “Sirius wants to meet at the café for breakfast. I told them it’d be fine with you, but I wanted to check just in case. If you want to eat little heart shaped pancakes together just the two of us, they said they understand.”
James laughs, at this. “No she didn’t.”
“No, she didn’t. Actually they specifically said you weren’t allowed to eat any heart shaped pancakes without them. Said it’s something of a tradition.”
“Ah, that is is, Reg.” James leaned up to kiss his nose before sitting up, letting Regulus gently slide off his chest.
“Give me a few to get ready and then we can go? I want to make the most of today.”
Regulus nods, stretching slightly as he gets off the bed. “Just… let me know before you try to leave the room, okay?”
James raises his eyebrows in question, despite the growing grin on his face as Regulus shakes his head, hand on the doorknob. “Just do it,” he says as he leaves.
James watches him go, and smiles at the closed door for a few more seconds like a fool.
Regulus had never liked Valentine’s day. James specifically remembers that Valentine’s day, 6th year, Regulus had described it- in quite vulgar terms- as ‘a sham to promote capitalism and excess spending despite country wide poverty.’
James assumes it has something to do with his childhood, that adolescent isolationism- Regulus’ hate for the holiday, that is- because Sirius has always loved it. Sirius, ever the juxtaposition of their brother, is so open with her love. So ready to give it, to hand it out and watch it grow and spread, and, sometimes, rot, all with a smile on their face because yes, even if it’s gone, that love had existed. They were capable of making it. Of taking a moment, reaching into their heart and creating it, a more powerful magic than any spell that could be cast.
And yet Regulus, shy and reserved as he is, so afraid of the possibility of that rot, guards his heart. Keeps it hidden, locked away like a princess in a tower so high only the stupidest knight would brave it. Luckily, James was just smart enough to try. He’s now got a piece of his heart, a jagged edge to the tower ripped open, but still not Regulus in full.
Despite how his heart screams it, shouts that four letter word from the deepest pits of his chest, the largest holes in his heart, they have yet to say it.
It.
And yet.
Here Regulus is today, making an effort. Trying. Joking, even, about little heart shaped pancakes for them and them alone.
‘It’ does not encompass the feeling. Two small letters for a lifetime of yearning, and learning, and feeling.
Only the real word could ever be enough.
Because James loves him.
Loves him with his whole, entire heart, despite only being given part of his.
He has no idea if Regulus loves him back. He thinks he must, in some way. Regulus has never treated a single person the way he treats James, and he may be a little oblivious at times, but he’d have to be continents away if he didn’t want to notice the way that Regulus exists around him, his lanky body unrestricted, his laughter light, his face never that carefully constructed blank slate.
But even with that, James does not have it all. His heart. He doesn’t have it, all of it, and the fact rips into him, digs through his chest, leaving a cavern where his heart should be, a yearning where his logic should rest, a cry where his voice tries to reach.
He knocks on the door when he’s ready, hastily dressed, hair rumpled and sheet-swept.
“Ready?” Regulus calls from the other side of the door.
“Enough,” James says.
“Alright, step back and… and close your eyes, okay?”
“Reg?”
“Oh, just do it, James. You’ve asked much less of me.”
James shrugs and closes his eyes, making a sound of affirmation when Reg asks again if he’s ready. The door opens slowly, and James feels the shift in the atmosphere as Regulus gets closer. Regulus laughs when he sees him, rumpled as he is, and James wants to describe it as something sweet, like the twinkling of a bell, or the ruffling of a fairies wings, but really all he hears is Regulus, encompassed. Hands fall over his eyes, arms locking into place behind his head and slowly walking him forward towards the door.
“Are you going to explain this to me, or am I going out the door this way?”
“Door,” Reg says, without explanation.
James, far more trusting than he likely should be, complies, with only a few grumbles of serial killers and kidnapping attempts. When they make it out the front door, Regulus spins him around, facing the hallway, as he quickly locks the door and walks them forward again.
“You can open your eyes, now.”
He does, and he blinks at the brightness of the hallway, then at the red on Regulus’ face. This is twice, now, he’s made him blush today.
Rather than questioning it- this is a lie, his brain is moving at a hundred miles a minute, trying to figure out what in their flat could possibly be so secretive- James holds out an arm for Regulus to grab as they make their way outside.
On the walk there, James has a lot of time to think, but, very early on, he shifts from trying to dissect the morning to waxing poetic at every moment the breeze ruffles Regulus’ hair.
By the time they make it to the Three Broomsticks, James has resigned himself to his fate- staring so deeply at Regulus he notices the ripple as a gust of wind hit his lips- he’s nearly forgotten about his odd display this morning.
“Prongs!”
“Padfoot!”
Sirius and Remus had been waiting inside of The Three Broomsticks, a small café at the halfway point between Regulus and James’ flat and Sirius and Remus’, but Sirius had sprinted out the moment James and Regulus were visible from the sidewalk, Remus wheezing behind them. Remus likes it because of its fairytale essence, the quaint and homey vibe, while James likes it because of its prized pancakes. Regulus, partial to waffles, and Sirius, partial to whatever Remus wants, get dragged along.
Regulus lets his arm slip from James in anticipation as Sirius runs up to him, grabs him around the middle, and jumps them up and down.
“In the middle of the sidewalk? Christ. Get a room,” Remus boos.
“Ever the reasonable one of the two of you, Remus.” Regulus and Remus share a hug, a small, shoulder one that James is inexplicably proud of Regulus for, much tamer than the one James and Sirius are still holding onto.
James finally lets go, pats Sirius on the head, and moves back to Regulus’ side like a magnet. He waves giddily to Remus, whom Regulus hadn’t mentioned coming, but James is always happy to see.
“Pancakes.” Sirius says with a clap, sharply turning around and marching back to the booth they and Remus had been holding.
“You heard her,” Regulus says, shoving James inside.
“Bossy, today, aren’t you, Reg?”
“Shut up and eat your pancakes before I change my mind.”
James doesn’t get a chance to ask what, exactly, he’d be changing his mind about, as the second he’s sitting down he’s presented with an assortment of both small and large heart shaped pancakes, slathered in butter and syrup, with little heart shaped sprinkles spread out across them.
“The Broomsticks really went all out this year,” Sirius says, a small laugh in their voice.
“No, look.” Remus points to a couple seated at the table across from them, heart shaped pancakes seemingly strikingly deserted next to James’ monstrosity. “It’s just you, James.”
“Well, us,” he says, pointing between himself and Sirius, who are sharing the plate of pancakes, mostly to swipe that smug look off of Remus’ face. The one that says he knows exactly how James feels about Valentine’s day, about the hearts, and the colors, and the sentiment, and is laughing at the display.
Remus, undeterred, nods subtly at Regulus, who’s been eerily silent, always one to take the opportunity to tease James, and is, quite obviously, blushing from head to toe. His cheeks look so red James wonders if they’d be hot to the touch. Three. He grins sappily, and nudges him with his shoulder.
“Did you do this?”
Regulus scowls, embarrassed at being found out, despite James’ tone being anything but teasing, and nods.
Sirius grins at her brother, before she pouts her lips and teasingly frowns at Remus. “Why can’t you love me that much, Moons?”
“Sorry, love, we’re fresh out of hot pink sprinkles at home. Better luck next time, yeah?”
Despite the joke in his tone, James stiffens at the words, and can feel Regulus beside him go rigid.
He laughs, awkwardly, and shoves a large heart into his mouth.
By the time they finish breakfast, the tension hasn’t dissipated. In fact, it feels only like it’s grown, multiplied with every breath from Regulus’ lips, every second James could feel his guarded body against his side.
James knows, now. He has to say it today. Has to say it, so that Regulus knows, so that James will know in return. Somehow, the prospect only brings him comfort, not fear.
In all honesty, he’d expected it to slip out ages ago, to fall from his lips like sugar from a sifter, to catch them both by surprise, but somehow he’s always noticed, always felt those words on the brink and swallowed them back in, shoved the bowl out from under the sifter at the last second, or… something. He didn’t quite think that one through. How can he, when Regulus is right in front of him, sunlight on his face in front of the Broomsticks, stiff as his sister hugs him goodbye, relaxing into James arms as Sirius and Remus walk away.
“Home?” James asks into the top of Regulus’ head.
Reg turns, shifting our from James’ arms to look him in the eyes, searching his soul. James doesn’t know what it is he finds, but he smiles gently. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go.”
Regulus leads the way, pulling James by the hand, and James lets him, happy to be led anywhere as long as it’s with him. He thinks, fleetingly, that he may be nearing a level of thought that is too sappy even for him, but quickly shakes the notion off. It’s Valentine’s day. He’s allowed a bit of sap, especially to make up for Regulus’ lack.
Speaking of.
“Hey,” he says, when they’re only a block away, “I appreciate you putting up with me, today.”
Regulus turns to look back at him, frowning, but still holding his hand, and, really, how is James ever meant to focus on anything else? “Don’t phrase it like that. I’m not putting up with you. I’m spending the day out with you, because I want to. I’m choosing to do this, James. If I didn’t want to be here, or at the Three Broomsticks eating disgustingly sweet pancakes today, you’d know.”
James smiles. “Which is very sweet of you. I didn’t really mean it like that, anyway. I only meant I hope you’ll choose to put up with it for a few minutes more, once we get home. I got you something. I was going to keep it as a surprise, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you, or anything.”
“James!” he says admonishingly. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“Oh, come on, Reg. It’s me. I think I may combust if I don’t get to celebrate Valentine’s day one way or another. And I wanted to, as you so sweetly put it.”
Regulus smiles gently, and squeezes James hand, turning back to the road. If James hadn’t been paying attention, if he hadn’t been watching Regulus’ face for the shift of every freckle, he wouldn’t have noticed the show flush that built up on his face, heat climbing and climbing until, so fiery James wonders what he could possibly be so embarrassed about, he says, strained, “I got you something, too.”
James stops. Stops right in the middle of the sidewalk, four feet away from the entrance to their building. Because yeah, sure, he’d gotten Reg a gift, and they’d gone out for breakfast, and he’d decided to say it, to let out those three words but-
James has never felt reciprocation before. Not before Regulus, and certainly not on days like these, when he knows he can be draining, and clingy, and downright annoying. And here Regulus is. If James had thought his ability to joke about heart-shaped pancakes was debilitating- before he’d even known Regulus had called ahead to put special heart-shaped sprinkles on his Valentine’s day pancakes, Christ, James feels faint- he thinks that this may just take him out.
“You- you what?”
“It’s not- don’t get your hopes up or anything, I’m absolutely rubbish at- at this sort of of stuff but I-“
James cuts him off with a kiss, harsh and in the open, not caring who could be out and about, not caring that they’re outside, that it smells slightly of the recently emptied dumpster, that his clothes are rumpled and his hair is messy, because this is the fourth time Regulus has blushed today.
Instead, he focus’ on the warmth of Regulus’ mouth. The calming chirp of the birds that nest on their windowsill. The smell of sickly sweet candy wafting next to them.
Regulus pulls away with a dazed smile and James feels himself succumbing.
“I-“ he starts.
Then he stops himself. Looks at the bird shit on the sidewalk beside him. Looks at the 3 year old year girl on the bench beside them, staring him down as she sticks a lollipop in her hair. Looks at Regulus, ethereal and glowing.
Not yet.
Regulus smiles like he knows, anyway.
They make it up the stairs slowly, gazes reverent, grazes of pinkies sending sparks up spines.
“Okay,” Regulus says at the top. “Just- close your eyes again, yeah? Just for a second.”
James smiles, confused, but holds a hand over his eyes at Regulus’ insistence.
Before he moves inside, he stands up on his toes and pecks James on the mouth.
Inside, James hears the click of a lighter, several times, and the rustling of fabric, the clinking of glass. It’s only about two minutes before Regulus comes to stand in front of him, and gently moves James’ hand from his eyes.
“Happy Valentine’s day.”
James sucks in a gasp.
It’s beautiful.
He’s beautiful.
He’s rearranged the entire apartment, moved the living room table to the kitchen, set up a dining table, with a table cloth, and champagne glasses, and chocolate covered strawberries. The lights are off, and the flat is lit with dozens of candles, James’ favorites, the one he leaves scattered around each room.
It’s a classic romantic date, but something about it just feels so them. Maybe it’s the fact that James can feel Regulus, poured into the entirety of the setup, each pristine edge, each folded corner. He feels his own love, ricocheting around the room, off the walls, through the glasses, searching and searching and finally and pouring into its target.
Regulus.
Regulus, who’s standing in front of the table, fingers clasped lightly in front of him, looking like he’s going to be sick.
“Regulus, I… I can’t even- it’s- its-“
He stops. Words cannot describe.
Regulus sounds slightly queasy as he says, “I also- erm.” He moves sharply, opening the door to the linen closet, and out falls-
“Holy shit. Oh my god, Reg you- you got me a giant teddy bear?”
Regulus grimaces. “His name was Mr. Sunshine. He made me think of you, and I- I know it’s like… a cheesy Valentine’s day thing to do, so I- I figured you might like it.”
James rushes forward to grab the teddy bear off the ground- it’s life-sized, probably only a few inches shorter than Regulus. James squeezes it, his smile permanent, and turns towards Regulus. “I love it, Reg. This is- it’s perfect. Thank you.” His smile falters, just a little. “You didn’t have to do all of this, you know.”
”I know. It’s just- you just… you make me want to try.” James beams, and Regulus smiles brightly. “I thought… you deserved it. The fanfare. I know how much you love it.”
And that’s just it. Because James does love it. But Regulus does not. It’s apparent in his stiff stance, his excuses for each and every gift. And still, here he stands, giddy, all because of James’ happiness.
James loves him.
“My gift for you seems a lot lamer, now.” He smiles, only a little afraid. “I figured you wouldn’t want any of that… fanfare.”
“I don’t.” Regulus says, quickly. “It’s just you I want, James. That’s all. You, and everything that comes with you.”
And James can’t not kiss him, after that.
When he finally goes to get his gift, pull it from the top shelf of the closet, where Reg can’t reach, he looks down at the gift with a frown. He thinks he may update it, once Regulus has it.
He keeps it behind his back as he walks out of the room. Regulus has seated himself on one side of the makeshift dining room table, and is filling their glasses with champagne.
He looks up, eyes twinkling, happier than he’s looked maybe ever, joy contagious.
“Let’s see it, then,” he says, teasingly.
James pulls the square box out from behind him and places it on the table. “Take the top off gently, yeah? The glue is old.”
Regulus listens, and carefully pulls the lid of the box until the first set of pictures flops out. It’s them as children, when they had only just met. Sirius is in most of them, but he and Reg are the focus- staring into each others eyes, attacking the other with a snowball, sharing a hot chocolate. Regulus goes to open the next box, the smaller one inside, and reveals the next row of photos.
“Like a nesting doll,” he says quietly.
This next row is them a bit older, when they had just started school. Regulus watching James on the football field from the stands, James and Regulus against each other on the field, a polaroid from Regulus’ 12th birthday party, thrown by James in secret, just the two of them.
The boxes continue in much the same manor, moving chronologically through all the years they’ve known each other. The last box, the smallest, contains a little locket, with a pressed lavender bud inside. James’ favorite flower.
“I’ve got one with a carnation.” Regulus’s favorite. “I thought… thought it’d be more sentimental than just a tiny picture. I- I know it’s not… not all of this, but- it took me quite a long while- I had my fingers glued together for ages- and, erm. Sorry. I guess it feels a bit anticlimactic after-” he gestures around the room with a weak smile.
Regulus walks up to him, determination in his face, chocolate in his breath, warmth in his fingers and his face as he gently grasps James’ face between his hands. Five.
“James.”
James swallows.
“I love it.”
Regulus’ breath ghosts over his face, and he feels that feeling again, rising in his chest- change.
“I-“ Reg gulps, and-
Oh.
Oh.
He’s-
Oh.
“I love you, James.”
James feels his entire world crack and tumble, laying waste to the beige and grey world he’d grown accustomed to and making way for the vibrant scenery painted by Regulus’ love.
All of it.
In the palm of his hands.
In the hips beneath his fingers.
In the hair tickling his nose.
In the nails pressing gently into his cheeks.
In the eyes staring gently into his own, the eye of the storm, the calming of the tides.
“I love you too,” he says, finally. “Of course I do, Regulus, of course. I love you.” He moves closer to Regulus and pecks his lips on his cheeks. “I love you.” His nose. “I love you.” His forehead.
Regulus giggles- giggles!- and James has never felt such exhilaration.
They feast on the dinner Regulus has prepared, feeding each other chocolate strawberries as they reminisce over pictures of the past.
In all honesty, James can’t believe Regulus said it first. Tore down those castle walls himself, came out swinging, riding the dragon entrapping him, pulling James up and out along the way. It feels inevitable, somehow, like James was never supposed to penetrate Regulus’ heart, only be there to watch it shatter, in the most beautiful way, waves of the ocean cascading down a moonlit painting, waves of his eyes hypnotizing James into their stormy grey waters.
The day goes on. James ties the chain of Regulus’ locket, kisses him softly, dances with him in the dimly lit living room- thinking all the while of love. Of its declaration. Of it’s eyes. Its hands. It’s hair. Its voice. It.