Chapter Text
“Hey, Regulus, you have a moment?”
Regulus does not have time for anything right now. He especially doesn't have time for James Potter of all people. James Potter, with his perpetual bedhead and lopsided glasses. His disgustingly bright, blazing, golden brown eyes that seem to slightly melt the wall of ice Regulus puts up, every time James looks at him. He hates him, obviously. Why does he hate him? Well, because… because he’s annoying and entitled and has a perfect family and my brother as a best friend and he’s kind and forgiving and beautiful and obnoxious and cute and- well. It doesn’t matter, I just do, Regulus defends back at his own thoughts. But here James is, following Regulus around like a lost puppy trying to talk to him. And he just has one more class. One more hour and a half until freedom. Sure, he has homework but he’ll worry about that later. He’s missed his morning potions from Madam Pomfrey this morning. He’s missed them and he can feel it.
If he’s completely honest, they don’t help much overall, but he still just feels worse. One potion does its best to keep him up in the morning, but that's kind of pointless since it seems to bring back his insomnia. How, exactly, am I supposed to function when now instead of just being exhausted all the time, I’m exceedingly sleep deprived? Regulus thinks.
See, because now, it’s as if he’s just like every other dumb teenager in this school. How much sleep did you get last night? professors would always ask him. And, well, despite his reputation of being a cold, ruthless arse, Regulus cares about his academic integrity. He doesn't quite know how but every time he’s lied answering that question, they always figure it out. Sirius jokes that the professors all have some weird, sixth sense given to them when they start teaching to detect lies. This of course, is a ridiculous theory, but he appreciates the support from his brother, no matter in what strange way it comes. So, he replies honestly. Maybe six hours? He’ll grumble while inevitably, the professor will tut and say his exhaustion is his own fault and not an excuse to shrug off schoolwork and Regulus returns to his seat to attempt to pay attention rather than scowl and wallow in self pity. He’s only occasionally successful.
Regulus has spent the whole week dealing with that, and he really would prefer not to have to add another tardy to his track record at the moment. He just needs to get through Herbology, and then he’ll have successfully completed one more week of hell, good for him. So he spins around, focuses his eyes on the wall behind James and says, evenly,
“No James, I do not have a moment.” through a slight grimace. It seems, unfortunately, that James won’t fall for that tactic. Is he that obvious? Is James just really observant? Does Sirius do the same thing? Regulus isn’t sure he likes any of these suggestions.
“Why are you looking at the wall?” he asks, genuinely a bit confused. Well, so much for getting to class on time, Regulus thinks. Once you start a conversation with James Potter, it's rather hard to stop. He’s just so genuinely kind and easy to talk to. Regulus finds this infuriating.
“I-” Regulus shakes his head, he can’t do this right now, he has to remind himself. So, he takes a moment to mentally prepare, and snaps his gaze up to James’ eyes. Oh, it's going to be hard to look away. James is looking at him with those bright, blazing eyes, with so many emotions painted across his face it would take multiple art degrees to fully decode it. And his face really is a work of art, isn’t it? Especially along the courtyard in the late afternoon sun. He’s practically glowing, a slight glint of the gold wire frames of his glasses perfectly complementing the light sheen to his warm, brown skin, likely from a light sweat he worked up running after Regulus. He’s sweating from running after me, Regulus thinks. Then promptly deletes that thought permanently. The sun is at the perfect angle for the light to fall just along his jawline, casting his neck into shadow and further accentuating the contours of his sharp, strong features.
And- Fuck. He’s staring. How long has he been there? Who cares, it is perfectly normal to stand and stare at someone you hate and admire their beauty in silence for a slightly uncomfortable period of time. He partially wants to try and cover for himself, offer some kind of explanation, but he really can’t afford another detention, or his parents will find out. And even though he isn’t living with them anymore, he is technically still sixteen, and legally under their care. Yeah, that cannot happen. So, he forces himself to quickly mutter,
“Sorry, I’m really quite late.” Then he turns around again, and fully sprints down the hallway, and out into the grass, all the way to the greenhouses.
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Because Regulus cares about his academic integrity, he doesn't argue when his professors criticise him for incomplete work. He just glares at any student who dares make a comment about it. At least Regulus has an ice cold glare that will make almost anybody leave him alone if he wants them to. Barty had once told him it was even colder than ice, more like liquid Nitrogen. In Barty’s own way, Regulus is pretty sure that’s a compliment. The key word there, though, is “almost.” Because for some godforsaken reason, James Fucking Potter of all people seems to be immune.
Perhaps it had to do with his constant proximity to his brother. Perhaps he’s just too much of a fucking ray of sunshine to be affected by the cold state. Perhaps he’s too much of a ray of sunshine for Regulus to fully commit to the glare. But that’s neither here nor there. Regulus really just needs to get through Herbology. Why the fuck is he even think about James right now, anyway?
“Because my brain is barely awake enough to think about anything else.” He’d meant that to stay in his head, but based on the way Professor Griffiths warningly glances at him, it had at least come out as a whisper. Okay time to just suck it up and focus. That one did stay in his head. So he tries his hardest to tune in for the rest of class. One humiliating interaction with a professor per class is enough for him, thank you very much.
“Do you have any idea what the fuck she’s talking about?” Barty whispers from next to him, and Regulus shoots him a look he hopes says Please, I can’t afford to get caught talking in class. Barty just rolls his eyes in a lighthearted way Regulus interprets as, Whatever, buzzkill, and turns around to try to get Dorcas to talk to him.
Regulus really does try his best to concentrate on the lesson. His mind really doesn't want to listen, though, and he ends up spending most of his energy trying to refocus his mind away from all his other worries and back to Professor Griffiths, which rather has the opposite effect he’d hoped it would. He's trying so hard to listen, he really is. Anybody who could hear his thoughts right now would say he’s lying, though.
He understands the material. Not to brag, but he’s pretty brilliant, especially with Potions and Herbology. This should be one of his favourite classes. This should be one of his easiest classes. But right now, he needs to focus on keeping his eyes open. He needs to focus on hiding his exhaustion and the pained expression he wants to let out. In this state, all these plant names make no sense. Regular, conversational English is hard enough, now he has to listen to Professor Griffiths drone on about the medicinal properties of.. what was it, Datura Stramonium? It takes half his brain to even process those as real words.
He knows he needs this information. He knows he's dangerously close to dropping his grade another level. He is very, fully, awfully, aware of this. But he can’t do anything about it. And nobody understands. Nobody ever understands, because they don’t experience it. Sirius tries his best, and he’ll defend Regulus ‘til the day he dies and Regulus loves him for it, but he still doesn't understand. Because for most everybody else in this school, they go to sleep when they want to, or at least when they choose to. They wake up early and they’re tired, but they wake up, and they drink their coffee, and if they’re sleep deprived well, that's their problem. That's exactly how his professors see him. As some lazy, spoiled teenager, who thinks he can just not do his work and stay up late and face no consequences.
“Mr. Black?” Regulus blinks, hard, and looks up to see Professor Griffiths giving him a rather disapproving look. Was that the first time she’d said his name? Merlin, he hopes so.
“I asked which member of the datura flower tribe, the same group Datura Stramonium belongs to, mimics the effects of the Imperius Curse for muggles,” she definitely sounds like she’s said that more than once. But what do any of those words mean? “As we have already established from Mr. Crouch’s reply, the answer is not Datura Imperio,” Professor Griffiths gives a pointed look at Barty.
“What? It was a reasonable guess!” Barty puts his hand over his chest in a sort of woe is me gesture.
“Yes, well, anyway,” she starts again. Regulus has already forgotten the question. He thinks she said something about muggles? Not that that should surprise him in a Muggle Studies-Herbology class. “Mr. Black, what is your answer?” Deep breaths, Regulus.
“Right, yes, um-” Um? Regulus Black does not say ‘um.’ “I believe the answer would have to be-” Regulus knows he’s stalling but all the words are just cluttered around in his brain and he can barely remember what the last thing he said was. He’s pretty sure the entire class is staring at him. He’s also sure they would be snickering and whispering amongst themselves if he weren’t sitting next to Barty Crouch Jr. and Dorcas Meadowes, who are most certainly glaring daggers at all of them, daring them to make a comment. Most people in this class at least seem to have the sense not to mess with Dorcas Meadowes.
Merlin, his head hurts. He’s still struggling to form a coherent sentence in his head. But he tries again, only to let out another string of half formed words and ums, it must’ve been a while since Professor Griffiths is clearly done with him, and has moved on to another student.
“Ms. Greene, then, same question.” Eris Greene shoots him a look that seems like some kind of apology or maybe just guilt. It is the last thing Regulus cares about at this moment. Eris is nice enough, she’s a Hufflepuff whom he thinks gets on with his brother and his friends. She’s quiet but brilliant. She’s named after a dwarf planet, a fellow student with an astronomical name, which is cool too, I guess. But right now, the best Regulus can feel towards her is indifference.
“I believe the answer you’re looking for, Professor, is that it’s a trick question,” Eris starts. Professor Griffiths is giving her a very approving look. Regulus misses when he would get that look. None of this whole sleep thing had affected him much until Fifth Year. Before then, every professor had loved him. He always knew an answer when asked, he would participate in class discussions and even stay after class to talk about a topic he was really passionate about. He never, never, turned in late assignments, and he was rarely ever late. The perfect student. And now he’s in danger of having to repeat Sixth Year.
“The substance you’re referring to is scopolamine, also known as Devil’s Breath which is made from the seeds of a few datura plants.” Professor Griffiths is practically beaming at the moment. “Muggles call it the Most Dangerous Drug as it renders the victim highly suggestible, allowing somebody to heavily influence or control their actions. While vastly different from the Imperius Curse, it is probably the closest thing muggles have to it,” Eris finishes.
“Excellent work, Ms. Greene!” Professor Griffiths gives a smile and a nod of approval to Eris. “Five points to Hufflepuff!” Eris gives a small smile. And then Professor Griffiths turns back to him. Merlin, what now? “As for you, Mr. Black, I will not accept this level of disrespect in my greenhouse again. This is the third time this week!” Is it really? It feels like it’s been more than three. “You are not to show up to my class in this state again, and I’m going to have a conversation with Professor Slughorn about regulating your sleeping habits, you’ve been terribly irresponsible.” Regulus is getting angry now, he’s used to a comment here and there, a this is your own fault after a late assignment, but this is a bit too far, it’s a bit too much all at once, especially after the week he’s had. He thinks Barty senses this from the way he starts laughing out of nowhere from next to him, his way of trying to diffuse a tense environment.
“You want RegulUS to regulATE his sleep? Get it? Regulus? Regulate?” Regulus knows that's the best Barty could think of on the spot but it really was quite terrible. And Professor Griffiths does not like to be interrupted.
“Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Crouch, for that ridiculous comment.” Barty just shrugs it off, how is he so good at that? Regulus supposes that in the worst case scenario they'll call his parents and Barty gets to piss off his father so it's a win-win for him, really. “And for you, Mr. Black, ten points from Slytherin.” And with that, she returns to class. She really managed to piss Regulus off, right at the end of the week. He's being disrespectful and irresponsible? The only disrespect he sees in that interaction was from her. How dare she tell him to just fix himself? That she’ll go to his Head of House? Quite frankly, he’s not sure why this all bothers him so much right now, it's not as if he's never heard it before. But it’s the end of the week and he is so close to snapping.
See, most people, if they really tried, could work towards getting a healthy sleep schedule. They could avoid naps, go to sleep early, and wake up early. They could set alarms, exercise in the morning to wake themselves up and meditate at night to calm themselves down. And they see that as how everybody works. They try to tell him that if he just does these things he’ll magically be cured.
Of course, Regulus knows it's not like that for everybody. But that’s sort of the problem isn’t it? Everybody just assumes everybody else’s experiences are the same as theirs. There’s no room to be different. If your sleep isn’t like what he just described, it’s somehow your fault. Or else they assume what you’re describing is something they know and therefore it can’t possibly be that bad. Regulus has stopped telling people he's tired because inevitably they'll respond with something like “Oh, I hear that, I was up until three am cramming my Charms essay,” “Ugh, Mondays am I right?” or “Everybody gets tired sometimes!” And just, no. No, that's not it.
Because he wakes up every morning and whether he’s gotten four hours or ten hours of sleep he feels the same level of exhaustion. He would drink coffee but it doesn't do anything, so he switched to tea because at least it tastes good. He floats his way through the day, flitting in and out of a dreamlike air of sleepiness and hoping nobody notices. Sometimes he gets a slight headache and he knows it's about to get really bad. Sometimes he remembers to fulfil his basic needs (eating, drinking water, showering) and sometimes he doesn't notice those things have been missing from his day.
Sometimes he can participate in a conversation but oftentimes he just sits there in his own head, half asleep. And then, usually almost dead by this point, he stumbles his way back to the Slytherin common room, and up the stairs to his dorm, trying to ignore the way everybody always stares because quite honestly, he looks pissed. He barely has time to set his things down and at least change into a clean pair of pyjamas before he’s lying in his bed like a brick and can't move until the morning.
And if that isn’t the case it’s because he’s too awake. His sleep will get interrupted out of nowhere. If he’s awake in the morning that means he isn’t getting any good sleep that night. It also means he’s going to be painfully alert the whole day.
But no one will ever understand that, so he’s given up trying. Most people just think he's being rude or cold on purpose and he's fine with that. He is.
Apparently class has just ended. He wouldn't have noticed if Barty hadn’t jabbed his elbow into Regulus’ side, nearly knocking him over. He can hear Barty talking to him, asking a question, he thinks, and so he nods and says “Yeah, sure,” and walks towards the door. He’s usually a bit more awake by the end of classes, more so than during, at least.
As he steps back out into the cold October air, his mind goes blank for a second.
“Oi! Watch It!” He hears immediately after somebody rams directly into his back. It seems Regulus’ momentary brian freeze had occurred approximately six inches directly outside the door to Greenhouse Five. “Stupid git,” the student mutters as he walks away. He never noticed who it was.
Regulus thinks he speaks something along the lines of an apology before his feet are miraculously dragging him back up to the castle of their own accord.
“Well that didn't last long.” Regulus sighs, thinking it was foolish to believe he could stay alert longer than five minutes.
“What didn't last long?” and Regulus nearly jumps out of his own skin, back to reality as he realises he's only a few metres from Hogwarts and James Potter has materialised next to him. Because of course he has.
“Jesus fuck, Potter. Where the hell did you come from?”
“Um. The courtyard? I literally walked directly towards you and waved.” Fuck. He has got to stop spacing out while walking. One of these days he’s going to get stuck in one of these conversations with somebody he really hates. Not that he doesn't hate James, of course he does, just slightly less than some other people. He is at least a bit grateful for the wake up call before reaching the castle.
“Well, obviously. I meant why are you here?” Regulus is very aware that this is an awful cover-up. Just like before, James looks thoroughly unconvinced but just nods and moves on.
“I needed to talk to you, remember? You ran off towards the greenhouses so I assumed you’d be heading back around now, after The Muggle Implications of Wizarding Herbology.” James says frankly, sort of shrugging after he’s done speaking. “Merlin, what a haughty name, isn’t it?” Regulus chuckles because, well, he was right. Who the fuck named this class? It’s just Herbology through a Muggle lens, honestly.
“In the habit of stalking our best friend’s little brother, are we?” Regulus muses sarcastically. James lets out a warm, bubbly laugh and lightly shakes his head. Stop it, he thinks. Someone so obnoxious is not allowed to have such a cute laugh. Wait, no- Cute? What the fuck, Regulus? No, he hates this laugh. It definitely doesn't make him relax his shoulders a bit and pause his guard for a moment. That would be preposterous. Regulus is adding that laugh to the list of things he hates about James Potter.
“I suppose that did sound a bit stalker-ish, didn’t it?” James is still wearing that ‘signature James Potter smile,’ which Regulus noticed almost the first time he saw it, was an act. Doesn’t mean it’s not a great smile though. He wonders if James has ever thought about acting before. Well, professionally.
It isn't until they’ve reached the courtyard and James pauses in front of the weird, knobby, bench-like tree that seems entirely too short for how old it is, that yet again, he forgot to actually respond. Idiot.
“Right, so, can I?” James asks a bit awkwardly, after the uncomfortable silence Regulus accidentally left him in. Regulus cocks his head a bit with his eyebrow raised. Can you what, James?
“Talk to you.”
“Well you're talking to me now, aren't you?”
“Well yes, but-” James looks flustered. Regulus likes that James looks flustered. Good to make those you hate nervous and all. Got to hold on to the upper hand. That’s the only explanation that makes sense, in any case.
“What are you trying to ask me, James?” He says, cutting him off. He doesn’t really mean to, but Regulus’ words come out with an exasperated sigh. He’s ready for this week to be over. Professor Griffiths had nearly pushed him to his breaking point and he's not sure how much more he can handle. As much as he’d like to avoid dinner in the Great Hall, this is really not how he’d like to achieve that. James looks up, his eyes a bit wide, with an unreadable expression for only a second before he's switched back to his default James Potter grin. The grin that anybody who pays attention would realise is entirely fake.
“Well, Reggie, since you asked so nicely-” Regulus ignores the fact that every word of that sentence is giving him goosebumps. “-I need to ask a favour of you.” Regulus raises one eyebrow, almost a warning to choose his next words very carefully. Regulus Black doesn't go around completing favours for others.
He is aware, however, that he’s been pulled out of his floating, dreaming state. It happens, usually when he’s doing something he enjoys, like during a Quidditch game. Talking to James Potter is not something he enjoys though, he reminds himself. But at the very least, this conversation seems to be entertaining enough that he isn’t presently falling asleep.
“Listen, I’m sorry, I really don’t mean to be a bother I-” Regulus was not expecting that. Nor was he expecting to look up and find that James looked nervous. Was he really that scary? “I wouldn't be asking if it weren't important.” James looks up, slightly sadly, into Regulus’ eyes and oh, how can he possibly say no to that? He's never seen James look so genuinely upset before, he doesn't like seeing it.
“Oh.” Is all he manages in response. It comes out very small, so small that Regulus isn't even entirely sure it came from him. He thinks about his missing homework. He thinks about the fact that he really, really needs to get back to his dorm and lie down. He thinks about the fact that English still doesn't quite make full sense to his brain at the moment. But he can't just leave now. So against all his better judgement he just says, “Okay.” Regulus is surprised to hear that coming out of his mouth, but if James is too, he doesn't show it. He just nods, rather firmly, and speaks a bit lower.
“Can we um- can we go inside somewhere? I-It's kind of…” He starts to falter there and Regulus is honestly starting to get a bit scared. James Potter is always perfect. He never lets himself be anything less. Except, maybe, around his brother and their little group of four, only behind closed doors. Certainly not in front of Regulus, of all people. He keeps his well-crafted image cemented up at all times, only ever cracking for a split second at most, barely even perceptible. Seeing the whole mask come off all at once is, well, disconcerting at best. What could possibly be so wrong that the concrete just crumbles in the middle of the – not yet empty, as Regulus notes – North Courtyard? There aren't many people around, but Regulus is quite sure it’s important to get James somewhere safe, soon.
“Yes,” Regulus breathes out. He doesn't need James to keep stuttering through that sentence to get the gist. He points his head towards the castle and starts walking again, James trailing behind.
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What is he doing? Regulus Black doesn't do favours for people. Not even his own brother. And he hates James… right? Honestly, at this point it's a bit difficult to sort through his thoughts. He can feel them start to get jumbled again and oh, he should really be getting back to his dorm right about now. But he spots an empty classroom and, yet again against all his better judgement, motions towards it.
As soon as the door is closed, James seems to sort of realise he's just been much more real and genuine with Regulus than he meant to. He sees him try to start to put his mask back up and return to control of himself.
“Right, sorry I-” he chuckles a bit, but it's hollow. “I guess I got a bit emotional there. Didn't mean to force you to come with me, I know you weren't having the greatest day and-” Now this side of James, Regulus is very aware of. He’s never personally witnessed it before, but Regulus can tell James is a very anxious person. But it goes beyond that, doesn't it? He’s seen his brother glancing at him in worry constantly, around stressful events, or after a particularly bad day, or really just in general. And he had accidentally overheard part of a breakdown while he was at the Potter’s over the summer – of course, the minute he realised, he left as fast as possible, not wanting to intrude, but he never forgot those few moments. If he doesn't cut in now, he doesn't know if he’ll ever shut up.
“James-” he tries, lightly.
“And I should've just left you alone when you wanted me to, you were probably right about that stalking comment. I could've just waited to see you in the Great Hall, or asked Sirius to find you, that would’ve made more sense anyway.” Regulus can see his hands start shaking a bit and he slowly starts inching forward, closer to the wall by the door where James is. Well, he’s not exactly standing, “I swear I’m not weirdly memorising your schedule or anything, I have a friend who’s in that class and-” He rambles on, clearly lost in his own head, crumpled against the wall. He can’t fully make out all the words James is saying, but his brain is clearly running a mile a minute.
“James.” This time a bit more forcefully. Regulus doesn't want to have to yell, but he needs to get James to stop talking. He can hear him start to flip between apologising and panicking.
“And, oh Merlin, now I’ve got you trapped in some old, abandoned classroom with no explanation? What is wrong with me?” His breath is getting shakier by the second and Regulus is trying so hard to remain calm. “I’m so sorry. How did we even get here? Were we talking in the courtyard? Why are we here? Oh my god, what did I do- you would never just willingly come with me to talk about a favour.” The way he says Regulus wouldn’t go with him distracts him for a moment. What did he mean by that? It’s true, he wouldn’t just run into an abandoned classroom to offer up a favour to somebody, but this was different. It sounded so pained, so personal. Why should the fact that it’s Regulus matter? He’s just Sirius’ little brother. “Is Sirius going to kill me now? What if-'' Ok, right. Regulus needs to put his own thoughts aside right now, this is more important. “You can leave if you want to, I won't bother you agai-”
“James.” He says, louder this time, but not a yell. By now he’s crossed all the way over to the other side of the room, close enough to try to ground him, he hopes not too close, he really doesn’t want to freak him out any more. James pauses for a moment and Regulus takes the opportunity to place a steady hand on his shoulder. James’ head jolts up to look at him, eyes a bit wild, wracked with fear. Regulus does his best to appear calm. He’s been here before, the last thing James needs is another person worrying and talking over him. He needs something, or someone, stable, to just be present and pay attention. Regulus is trying to be that person. As fast as he’d looked up, James quickly looks away.
“Look at me, I’m here because I want to be, yeah? You didn't force me to do anything. I agreed of my own free will. You’re okay.” He hears James’ breath catch with a weak, choked sound. “You’re okay. You haven’t done anything wrong.” James appears to be trying to breathe, which is a start.
“James, I need you to look at me, okay? Can you do that?” He just waits, barely moving a muscle until James eventually works his gaze back up to Regulus’. The blazing golden brown that usually resides in his eyes is reduced to the dying embers of a campfire and Regulus feels his heart drop. If James stuttering in the courtyard was scary, this was downright petrifying. He’d always known that James’ whole demeanour was an act, but he’d never thought beyond that. Regulus, of all people, should’ve thought past that because he does the same thing, really.
Where James hides behind a concrete wall of a permanent grin, Regulus hides behind a giant scowl carved in ice. He never even considered that James was holding up his charm, not as a way to make everybody like him, or to try to get ahead in some game, but to protect himself. One look in his eyes now, and he gets it all. He desperately wants to look away, to hide from the emptiness where there’s usually sunlight in James’ eyes, but that’s exactly why he can’t look away. James needs somebody right now and for some unknown reason, the universe decided it would be Regulus. So Regulus is going to be here.
“I’m here, alright? I’m not going anywhere.” By this point, James had slid halfway down the wall, still crumpled, now looking up at Regulus. Regulus feels a lull in the shaking of James’ shoulders and a wave of relief washes over him.
Except, there was a reason Regulus shouldn’t have come here. He can feel the early signs of a hypersomnia attack coming on, the faint pang of a headache, too. Today. It had to be today that he missed the potion. Because sleep deprivation may drive him up the wall, and it may discredit his struggles to nearly anybody he speaks to, but at the very least, he’s used to it. And he can deal with it. But this… this is different. It’s a completely different kind of tiredness that he can’t really explain to anybody else. Now is really not the time. Anytime but now. There must have been a flicker of panic in his eyes that he didn’t mean to show, because as he starts to refocus,
“Regulus?” That snaps him back immediately. James still has a mostly empty stare, and he still looks hollow, but there’s more there now. He really hopes they aren’t bad things. Regulus puts his calm face back up.
“James?” It isn’t until then that Regulus notices the tear stains on James’ cheeks. He must’ve missed that part.
“Are- are you alright?” That was probably the last thing Regulus expected to hear at that moment, and his mouth hangs open for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. After a few seconds, he takes a deep breath and quietly continues,
“Yes, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” He starts, loosening his grip on James’ shoulder he now realises was much stronger than he’d thought. “I need to know about you right now, okay? Are you back?” He keeps searching James’ eyes waiting for some sign. What of? He has no idea.
“I- I think so.” James lets out, his voice still pretty wobbly but surprisingly together. Regulus lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He feels his face wanting to show a very small, light smile and he both doesn’t have the energy to and doesn’t think now is the time to fight it. He sees one ember spark back up in James’ eyes and finally fully relaxes, finding his way to the floor to sit next to him.
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They’ve been sitting in silence for a while now. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been two hours, Regulus wouldn’t be able to tell. He’s pretty sure it would have to be on the shorter side though, otherwise he would probably already be asleep.
Regulus’ hand is no longer on James’ shoulder but they’re sitting close enough that when either of them takes a particularly deep breath, their upper arms brush briefly. Regulus finds this strangely comforting. He’s registered that James’ breathing is mostly back to normal and the classroom is full of the loudest silence he’s ever heard. That is until,
“Why did you stay?” James asks. It comes out so weak and small, it’s a wonder Regulus even hears it. Merlin, is he in it now. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall, trying to find the words to say… well, anything, really. He’s so, so tired. He opens his eyes quickly, forgetting he can’t do that. James seems slightly startled but doesn’t say anything. If he closes his eyes there’s no staying sober, so to speak. It really is incredible how much sleepiness can feel like drunkenness sometimes. He’s approximately ten minutes away from reverting to child-like brain functioning at this point. Why did he stay? Why did he even go in the first place? He knew he needed to get back to his dorm. How did he end up helping James Potter down from a panic attack in, what he now realises is, the old Arithmancy classroom? He thinks he remembers Pandora saying something about it getting infested with Nargles, whatever those are, leading to its eventual abandonment. But these thoughts of why and how aren’t helping anybody, staying in his head, he at least has the sense to realise that.
“I don’t know,” he admits, hoping that doesn’t sound awful. “It’s a bit of a blur for me too, if I’m being honest.” Deep breaths, Regulus, deep breaths. You can do this. You can be vulnerable. Maybe it’s a mistake, or maybe it’s exactly what needed to happen, but Regulus looks over next to him and catches James’ eyes again. There’s warmth in them again. He feels a bit of the icy wall melt in it. “You- you looked so scared and I just felt like I needed to help.” James’ eyes widen a bit, but it’s too late to turn back now, so Regulus just keeps going. “I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening or what I was doing or why, I just knew that I-” his voice catches there. Deep breath. “I needed you to be okay and I guess… I guess the universe decided I was the person to help with that today.” You did it. The hardest part is over. You started the conversation. “There was just this voice in the back of my head from the moment I stepped into the courtyard telling me to stay even if I needed to get back to my dorm.” He sighed. Merlin, he sounds insane. “Or… something like that,” he finishes. Nice save, Regulus.
It’s so quiet. Why is it so quiet? Why isn’t he saying anything? He really does sound insane doesn't he? Is this what James feels like when Regulus spaces out and forgets to talk out loud? That’s a shit feeling. He starts to close his eyes again, before remembering and trying to jolt himself awake, only semi-successfully. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep this up but he’s going to try.
“Hey,” this time it’s James reaching out to touch Regulus’ shoulder. He really is so warm. He can feel the warmth slowly creeping out, over his whole body, just from the hand on his shoulder. What is he, made out of sunshine? Regulus would believe it. He looks down to his newly defrosted shoulder and then, more warily, up at James again. And oh, he’s really starting to come back. The single ember in James’ eyes he saw last time he looked had grown to ten, maybe even twenty. He could see a small flame forming. How did he know to interrupt his thoughts like that? Can he read minds? Is Regulus really that transparent? Merlin, he hopes not. “Regulus, come back,” and he does.
“It’s okay, I believe you.” Apparently Regulus’ breaths have become a bit wheezy. His mind is moving too fast and too slow at the same time. He’s not really sure what’s going on or what his brain is thinking and that’s starting to catch up with him. Regulus isn’t in control right now, and that’s one of the scariest things he can think of.
“I- I don’t think anybody’s ever said that to me before,” Regulus murmurs. When you hate people, and when they hate you, it’s easy to control their perceptions of you. And they’ll never get close enough to affect him like this. If he hates them, he can’t value their opinion, and only he gets to decide how he sees himself.
“Well, then I’ll be the first, yeah?” There’s a ghost of a smile that washes across James’ face and now Regulus is feeling warm all over. The sun is rising again, right in front of him, and somehow he’s the only one who has the privilege of witnessing it. What did Regulus do to become the universe’s favourite today? James’ face turns a bit more serious, then, and it somehow manages to stay a soft expression. He really should become an actor, Regulus thinks again.
“Honestly, I would love to keep talking and maybe offer you a bit of an explanation,” And then a sudden flash of worry flies across his eyes. It’s fleeting, barely noticeable, James Potter-style. Barely noticeable, unless you happen to be Regulus Black. “But I really need you to tell me what’s going on,” he continues. Regulus can feel himself wince which is, quite honestly, just embarrassing.
“I really, really appreciate you being here for me and bringing me back to reality a bit,” and there he lets out a real chuckle. That genuine laugh that Regulus added to his list of Things to Hate About James Potter just a few hours ago. He definitely feels strongly about it, but maybe hate isn’t the right word. “But you’ve been sort of… how do I say this?” James looks at Regulus in an almost pleading way and Regulus feels his heart sink for the second time that evening. What could he have done to upset James like this? “Well, disappearing, I guess. All night.” Right, he noticed. To be honest, he would have to be pretty thick not to have. Regulus nods and sighs, he’s not sure he’s ready to explain. And then yet again, it’s like James can read his mind because a few moments later he says,
“You don’t have to tell me everything that’s going on. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, Reg,” He really doesn’t want to react to that nickname. He would love to just move on, that’s what he wants. But he needs James to never stop calling him Reg. “I just want to know that you’re okay,” He’s not even trying to hide the worry in his face anymore and Regulus is back in uncharted James territory again. “And if you aren’t, what I can do, or who I can find, to help.” Actually, he takes it back. This isn’t only uncharted James territory, this is just uncharted territory. The only person who’s ever shown genuine concern for him, who’s even been able to notice he isn’t fine, is Sirius. Regulus thinks he chokes. “Sorry- was that the wrong thing to say?” Regulus just shakes his head because he thinks that’s all he can get out at the moment. Deep breaths.
“No, um, actually I think that was exactly the right thing to say,” Regulus manages to choke out. James looks confused. “Nobody-” he takes yet another deep breath. Merlin, how many of those has he taken tonight? “Nobody’s ever really-” Regulus deflates a little.
“Oh.” James understands, it’s written all over his face. Gosh, when he doesn’t have that mask up he shows every thought and every emotion so plainly on his face. Is Regulus the same way? James has to stop reading his mind. Regulus just nods and looks away. A few moments later he feels James’ hand lift off his shoulder and, oh he feels so cold now. Why is he pulling away? But instead of getting up and walking away, James uses his now free hand to ever so slightly brush against Regulus’ chin and tilt his head to look back at him. Regulus is very sure his heart has stopped for at least a solid eight seconds. He needs to rethink his Things to Hate About James Potter list, maybe abolish it altogether.
He quickly changes his mind the second his eyes meet James’ again. He’s wearing that devastating worried look. That belongs in third place on the list. The pleading look that returns next is second. And first, with no competition, is how Regulus can feel James’ eyes searching his face, looking for answers, before he barely whispers “Please,” this time James taking a deep breath, and then, “Are you okay?”
Regulus realises he’s been trying to keep his eyes open. He isn’t sure how much longer he’s going to last and it is a bit worrying. Obviously James has noticed. Regulus tends to sort of scrunch up or contort his face, or squint his eyes. Anything to keep them open, and him in control. Actively doing something with his face helps keep him together. Based on how sore his face is now, he realises he’s probably been doing this and blinking like a madman for the past five minutes or so. It’s almost automatic at this point, so he doesn’t always notice it. But, maybe he should just let go for a minute. James wouldn’t judge him, right? If he and Sirius really are such good friends there’s no way he would be cruel about something like this. So he lets his face go slack and drops his shoulders. That was using a lot more energy than he realised. Yet again, he remembers he was supposed to be answering a question. He swims around through his thoughts trying to remember what was said and stumbles across Are you okay? That. That must’ve been it. That’s the only question that would account for James’ current facial expression. Deep breaths, Regulus.
“No.” It’s the shakiest, quietest, most uneven, most pathetic thing he thinks he’s said in all sixteen years of life he’s lived. That’s it, it’s all gone. Somehow, Regulus managed to crumble James’ concrete wall of a smile. And then James had turned right around and melted Regulus’ scowled ice sculpture. All of his defences have gone down and he doesn’t even remember it happening. He just knows that now, it’s just him, a scared kid, really, and he’s never been so vulnerable before.