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Summary
“You know,” he says, but it’s simply empty words to buy himself some time, to think of something better, something clever, “I think you’re overestimating our ability to cohabitate without killing each other.”
Regulus doesn’t spare him a look. James had been so afraid of the hostility, he’d never thought to be afraid of this: the distance, the empty, the nothing-at-all. “I think you’re underestimating how much I really don’t fucking care about you, Potter. Do whatever you want. Just don’t bother me with it.”
or: my 'there's only one bed' trope that got entirely out of hand.