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Objectively speaking, Regulus didn’t think he was a coward, just too tired to think of a better option; to have enough courage to face the problems he created himself.
And, objectively speaking, he knew his life was better ever since he booked a ticket to Paris and hopped on that plane. Moving to France meant revisiting his past self, a childhood he didn’t get to experience. Meant getting rid of daily London rains and tight flats that barely fit all of him inside. It meant reinventing who he was, and giving his story a brand new chapter that he had control over.
Yet, perhaps the reasons for that choice hadn’t been the best. Maybe he should’ve waited a little longer, just enough to not make it seem as though he was fleeing from his ex-boyfriend — which he most definitely was.
You see, it truly wasn’t his fault. When you fall in love at 15, that person inevitably gets stuck with you for all eternity. Worse even when you break up 5 years later for the mere reason of being too depressed to take care of someone else’s feelings.
Regulus had searched all the ways to heal while staying around for the people he loved. Tried making new friends, and making new memories in the places that were his and James’s, but none of it worked. It didn’t make a difference, because at the end of the day, he would still cry against his pillow, wishing he wasn’t fucked up to the point of ruining the only good thing God had offered him without asking for anything back.
That’s exactly what led him to fly away — the pain that was too stained in his soul to ever truly faint away.
It was his best choice. He now had a flat he could actually call his, and the sun was comfortable over his head. It was his worst choice. He felt like a coward, missed his brother and his old life. Missed James like he never had before.
It was ache. It was necessary.
That way, he didn’t end up at James’s door, soaking wet with heart in hands. That way, he couldn’t get upset because James was smiling while he sobbed alone in his room — he could grieve in peace, focus on himself. That is all Regulus did.
He worked, paid the bills and hung out with the friends he had made in the years he had been living in France. Luckily for him, they were foreigners too. Regulus would’ve hated having to force his rusty French outside of his work environment.
Back when he moved here, he didn’t believe he would've made any friends by the time the year was ending. But, only 5 months in, Pandora was coming along. They’d met at a bookstore, her being too excited over Regulus reading over her favourite book. They clicked immediately.
Then, came Evan and Dorcas, her brother and girlfriend. It took a little longer, but soon enough, Regulus was enjoying their presence more than he would’ve liked to admit at the time.
And finally, Barty. He was just one more arsehole at the road whose car had crashed against Regulus’s. They surely didn’t start as friends, but when you’re found in situations as awkward as those, a bond tends to develop.
So, three years later, Regulus could say he had a friendgroup made of 3 british people, an italian demon and a beautiful ghanaian goddess. He couldn’t ever ask for anything more.
“Your break is over,” Héloise leaned against the doorframe, crossed arms and an unpleasant look on her face.
Looking over his shoulder, Regulus flickered his cigarette to the floor, stomping on it. He knew not to talk much with Héloise — she was slightly older than him, around her late 20s, maybe even early 30s. There wasn’t much he knew about her, except the fact she was an extremely grumpy woman. Her book was filled with silent rules she believed everyone else had to keep; like, for example, not stay outside a second longer after your break ended, and not speak back to her no matter the circumstances.
Regulus might have broken a few, earning himself a place on her dark list. Truly, he didn’t care that much; it was not like he liked her, either.
“I know,” it was all he said, brushing past her to return inside where the air was thick and steamy, reeking at alcohol and sweat.
It had been a year since he began working at this bar, and not once has he gotten used to how bad it smelled this late at night. He could scrub the shit out of every corner, and it would still be unbearably stinky. Eventually, he sort of gave up on it, deciding to look past it the best he could.
Maxence’s feet worked faster than his arms as he attended to every old, disgusting man at the counter. In a way, Regulus felt bad for leaving him to fend for himself. On the other hand, it was Héloise’s job to help, and she didn’t — no, she preferred keeping her hawk eyes over the clock to torment Regulus.
“You’re here,” Regulus could see Maxence’s relief as he watched him put on the apron.
“Yes, sorry.”
The bar was packed as it always was, it being in the centre of Paris; a sparkling light for locals and tourists alike. Every night was a workout of arms and legs, sprinting back and forth to get everyone as drunk as they possibly could. It was their job, after all.
“Gin and tonic for that man over there,” he pointed over his shoulder, right to the other end of the bar. Regulus squinted. “The one in red.”
There were many men by the bar. Old, young, in between — a few women too. But, despite how many people surrounded them, none of them had the shine that one man had, Regulus’s eyes being immediately pulled into his direction.
He was looking down at his own hands. The only thing Regulus could see was his dark brown curls and red flannel. Faintly, he could catch a glimpse of glasses, and if the rest wasn’t a giveaway, then that would’ve been it.
Regulus froze into place, hands being his back where he tied his apron. Maxence said something, but he didn’t catch a word of it.
You’re going insane, his brain said. There is no way that’s him.
You’re in Paris, he’s in London.
But then, the man lifted his head, eyes locking into his. Regulus saw the moment all the blood rushed out of his face, and for a beat, everything went quiet. There weren’t people talking anymore, or music coming out of the speakers. It was quiet, falling into crickets.
James .
James James James James James James James James James James James James James.
He gulped, limbs shaking as Maxence waved a hand in front of his face in an attempt to wake him up from the daze he had been put in.
“Regulus!”
He shook his head, heart beating so fast it could be heard from the other side of the country. “Désolé, désolé.”
Speaking made him want to throw up. The effort made on his throat not to scream was unbearable — run, he yelped inside.
Run as far as you can, to the farthest place you can think of. Get on another plane, find a new job, new friends, a new life. Somewhere James can’t find him.
He wondered then how this even happened. Why he was here, when, how long. How he managed to find him and if it even was purposefully or a mere accident.
Questions ran back and forth in his mind as he forced himself to make gin and tonic for the boy whose heart he broke. Maybe it could be enough of an apology if the drink was nice enough. Maybe gin and tonic could fix the mess he had made back in the day, and that way they wouldn’t have to talk about it.
Would they even talk? Would James say anything or pretend not to know him?
He pushed through it all as he walked step by step toward where James stood, a dreadful look on his face that could only be called fear — maybe desperation, even.
“Gin and tonic,” Regulus’s voice was strained as he placed the glass in front of James’s crossed fingers.
James didn’t say a word, didn’t move, didn’t blink. He stared, and stared until Regulus’s body was itching. “Is it you?”
Regulus sucked in all the air he humanly could, heartbeat at the edges of his skin. He swallowed down, exhaling shakingly. It was silent for too long, long enough for James to shake his head, and speak again. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”
“It’s – it’s okay.”
Unbelievably, he was replying to James, who was sitting in front of him, in his bar, in Paris. Life was a simulation at that very moment, he firmly believed in it.
“Why are you here?” he couldn’t help but question, making James gap.
“I’m on holiday.”
“In France.”
“It’s a very popular country,” he shrugged.
“Mmm.”
“Regulus…” James tasted his name, rolling off his tongue so gently.
It had been exactly three years and a half since he had heard his voice, seen his face. Somehow, nothing had changed. He still looked like James — his James —, and, in a weird way, amidst the sweat and drinks, Regulus could smell him too.
James.
His heart sank as he replied. “Enjoy your drink.”
Before he could turn around and do what he did best, James leaned forward. “Wait.”
Regulus turned dangerously slowly, torso too heavy to carry. “Yes?”
“Can we – can we please talk?”
Considering this, Regulus really shouldn’t. Talking to James would be messing with his job, getting one more problem with Héloise and ruining everything he had built these past years when it came to moving on from him. He would be putting everything at risk; but, when James looked up at him with sparkling puppy eyes, Regulus knew he was done for.
He looked between him and the clock. “My shift ends in two hours."
James gave him a curt nod, and as Regulus turned around, his back burnt with his gaze on him.
*
James watched him the entire night. He drank carefully, not touching his phone once or looking anywhere else but Regulus. Casually, their eyes would meet, filled with things they had yet to say. If asked, Regulus wouldn’t know how to tell if he would ever speak his heart out. If talking to James would be as healing as he made it look.
Perhaps it would be a disaster, something that would crumble Regulus’s world. He wouldn’t be surprised if by the end of it, James would walk through the door with the decision of never looking at Regulus’s face again.
After all, what else could happen? Regulus had broken up with him. A choice he had to learn not to regret. A choice that changed his entire life in ways he still couldn’t figure out.
Maxence left a little after Héloise, giving Regulus a kiss on the cheek and telling him good luck, like he always did when Regulus had the closing shift. Everything always went well, but he was glad for it anyway, even if the physical proximity wasn’t something he was a hundred percent comfortable with.
After everyone left, Regulus went to work cleaning the tables and counter while James watched him. The atmosphere was tense, filled with a heavy air that made his heart race, pushing back the moment he needed to go and talk to him.
Eventually, it became impossible to ignore his presence. James cleared his throat a couple of times, as though he was reminding Regulus he was still there. He didn’t need one, being painfully aware of the human warmth filling the bar.
When things were halfway ready, he moved to James, a counter still separating them. “We can talk.”
“Good, great,” he cleared his throat. “Can we sit somewhere?”
It shouldn’t be long — the conversation was supposed to be something short, quick. Like taking off a band-aid. They shouldn’t need to sit down. What was next? a free drink for both?
“Sure,” he said, shuffling out of the bar to pull a chair for both. James sat across from him, fingers crossed on top of the table. Everything was awkward, there was no other word to describe the situation.
James stared at him like he wasn’t real, and if Regulus was being totally fair, it didn’t seem factual for him either. They’d grown, somehow. In one way or another, they weren’t the same people they were when they had last talked, let alone when they’d fallen in love.
Looking closely, Regulus could see James was growing out his facial hair, which was weird, because he had always claimed to hate the sensation of it on his fingertips.
“Your hair,” James pointed out. “There’s a blonde strand on it.”
“My friend did it.”
“It looks good,” he said.
“Thank you.”
None of them knew how to address the elephant in the room, settling for staring at each other like one might disappear if they dared blink. Both trying to make sense out of their own thoughts.
“Why’d you wanna talk?” Regulus was the first to break the ice.
James inhaled slowly, leaning backwards. “I – I haven’t seen you in so long. I wanted to know how you were doing.”
Regulus hummed. “Good. Working, as you can see.”
James chuckled. “What are the chances, huh? Bumping into you in such a big city.”
Regulus pressed his lips onto a thin line. Fuck whatever the universe was planning on him. “I guess someone really wanted us to talk.”
“Yeah, I think we need to.”
“Maybe.”
James ignored the response. “I’m sorry,” he began. “I think I should’ve said this much earlier, and it might not mean anything now, but I should’ve been more attentive to how you were doing. I was selfish.”
That wasn’t entirely untrue. Back when their relationship was still up for the saving, Regulus did feel pushed aside, like James didn’t truly pay any mind to him or how he was feeling — he felt like a ghost in James’s presence, but that wasn’t his fault. He felt like a ghost with everyone.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he acknowledged. “I was in a very fucked up stage of my life. If anything, I shouldn’t have brought you into it.”
“I was your boyfriend.”
“But you weren’t my therapist,” he replied without missing a beat.
James sighed, eyes darting around. “Can I have a drink? I’ll pay.”
See.
Regulus shook his head dismissively. “It’s on the house,” he pushed the chair back, hopping onto his feet to stroll behind the bar. “Beer?”
“Perfect,” he could hear James’s terribly awkward smile.
When he returned, it was with two beers in hand, sliding one across the table. James mumbled a thank you, and they fell back into silence.
“We got together when we were both very young,” Regulus said. “We needed to grow outside of each other, and that’s what we did. It was needed, even if how it ended wasn’t ideal.”
That was what he had been telling himself throughout the years, a sick fantasy to make himself less blue. To make himself believe something that was simply not true — he grew with James. Never had he felt like he was slacking at anything, like he needed new experiences or new people. He had James, like he had his brother. They accompanied him rather than holding him back from anything.
But, right now, he needed to hold onto the rational, lying side of his brain.
“Definitely not ideal.”
They hadn’t ended things in a fight. Yet, it didn’t need to be borderline aggressive to be painful. The tears and the love as they held each other for the last time was enough to ruin Regulus for a lifetime. How none of them wanted to let go — how, if given a chance, they would’ve swam against the tie.
Regulus swallowed down. “I’m sorry for how I treated you,” it took him an immeasurably amount of courage to say the word. To apologise. “My depression didn’t have anything to do with you, and I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve – I should’ve been more present, too. Should’ve talked to you about how I was feeling instead of closing myself away.”
This is why he never apologised. Why he preferred to be hated rather than understood — once he started, he never stopped. His mouth worked faster than his brain, letting all the words spill before he could control them.
James watched him thoroughly, eyes softening.
“You don’t have to apologise,” he said. “Our brain betrays us. I don’t blame you for feeling lonely, even if you weren’t.”
Despite everything, James was still awfully gentle, and Regulus had never hated him more for it. Somehow, he had hoped James would hate him, scream at him for how shitty he had been. Yet, here he was, so understanding when Regulus didn’t deserve it.
“Thanks,” he muttered. “It’s okay if you didn’t ask, by the way. Your life was more than just me.”
James shot him a tight smile as they finally began drinking. The tension on Regulus’s shoulder dissipated at the realisation James didn’t hate him — that James understood, after all. For the longest time, even now, Regulus had felt ashamed. Ashamed for letting go so easily without a final fight, ashamed for having broken James’s heart. But now, they stood in front of one another with silent mutual respect, and that was all Regulus needed.
He thought then, if perhaps Sirius was angry at him. If, in the end, he had lost his brother once again all because of a choice he had made for the sake of his mental health. After all, Sirius had bended himself in half to try and make things work between them, to reconnect as actual brothers. Of course Regulus had to go and run away instead of staying for him, at least.
He gulped harshly on the beer. “How’s Sirius?”
“Great,” James said. “Remus wants to propose.”
A knot grew on Regulus’s throat at the words. Propose. His brother was about to get engaged and he wasn’t there to celebrate with him. His face fell. James noticed, Regulus knew he did. Yet, he didn’t say anything.
“Oh,” his finger circled the bottle. “That’s nice. When?”
“On Christmas,” Regulus nodded, sucking his lips in. “I’m sure there will be videos, Sirius will show you.”
And, oh, the poignancy of it all. Knowing that he was so far away, far enough that in order for Sirius to get any closure, he’d have to send a video of one of the most important moments of his life when Regulus should’ve just been there.
“I know,” he nodded.
James sighed, leaning forward and backward as though he didn’t know what to do with himself. Regulus shared the same feeling.
His fingers wrapped around the bottle as he spoke. “So, how’s your life?”
James chuckled awkwardly, staring down the window by the end of the bar, right behind Regulus’s shoulder. “Great. I’m finally working.”
James had always wanted to be a social worker; Regulus could still remember the excitement on his face when he started university, like his life had been fulfilled forever. He was a hard worker, too.
“Nice,” Regulus said. “How’re you holding up?”
“Great,” James nodded. “Still getting used to it – I quit uni last year.”
Regulus frowned, an ice bucket falling over his head. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah.”
“What about – what… what are you working as?”
“Chef,” he said. “at this fancy restaurant I only got in because of my mum.”
“Oh.”
He wanted to ask so many things. Like how and why he gave up on his dream when it was the thing he was more excited about. James had wanted to help people since he learnt how to do it. His biggest goal in life was to take kids out of harmful situations and help struggling families. That was his purpose in life.
To know he had simply given up on it was, without a doubt, a slap on Regulus’s face. A reminder that he didn’t know the man anymore.
“Why?”
“Why what?” James’s eyebrows joined together.
“You’ve always wanted to be a social worker.”
“I know,” James took a sip of his beer. “It’s just… I don’t know, I wasn’t enjoying it. It was scary, a big responsibility. Besides – I wanted to learn more about myself, you know? And reconnecting with culinary gave me a new purpose, that’s all.”
Regulus hummed, eyes darting to the table. “It’s hard picturing you as a chef.”
James laughed, and oh, if that wasn’t the most beautiful sound on Earth.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Regulus felt his lips twitch. “Guess my image of you is outdated.”
The joke didn’t land. James simply stared at him with nothing but pain in his eyes. “You can update it.”
His heart sank just to jump around the next second. The meaning of what he said was blurry. Regulus couldn’t exactly understand what he had meant by it, but allowed himself to embrace hope, as the masochist he’d always be.
“You can update yours too.”
James smiled tightly. “Do you still like your coffee black?”
Regulus shook his head. “I prefer café au lait.”
James didn’t seem happy with the answer, nose contorting and sigh ripping through him.
“Your French is better. I mean, you already spoke French, but… I don’t know.”
Regulus nodded. He had learnt French later in life, as his parents never really cared enough to teach him from a very young age — it was one of the things that helped him and Sirius bond. French classes.
They’d always been good, but Regulus was just slightly better. After moving out, he wondered if they could even keep a conversation in French if they tried now.
“I do live here.”
“Yeah, sorry. This is just…”
“Crazy? Unexpected? Weird?”
“All of those. I feel like I am getting to know you,” he confessed. “It shouldn’t be like that.”
James used to know him better than anyone. Now, Regulus couldn’t even understand half of his words, like he was speaking a foreign language. There was a barrier between them. Barrier which he desperately wanted to break, but didn’t know how.
“So,” he decided to brush past his comment. “What’re you doing alone in France?”
All the blood rushed out of James’s face, a frown that stood between confusion for the subject switch and fear from Regulus’s question.
And, in a second, Regulus knew. James wasn’t alone.
Of course he wasn’t alone. Who in their right mind came to Paris for holidays all by themselves? No one. No one came to the city of love without someone by their side.
The barrier grew taller, thicker. Regulus could hardly see James through it.
At the lack of response, Regulus chuckled. “What’s their name?”
Ashamed, James’s eyes darted away from his face as though any contact would burn him alive. “Amelia. We – we met a year ago.”
Regulus gulped at the confirmation. In some twisted way, he hoped James would say he was single. That maybe he wasn’t a fool for holding onto the delusional fantasy of exiting this bar with his hand interlocked in James’s.
But that wouldn’t happen. Not now, not in a million years. James was taken. He had moved on, like he was supposed to do — found someone good enough to spend the holidays with, on sick lovely dates under the Eiffel Tower.
“Why is she not here?” he dared ask, although it was none of his business.
“She goes to bed early,” he said. “I don’t, so we agreed I was free to wander around. Initially I wanted to try and sleep, but… something told me to go get a drink and see Paris.”
Regulus nodded slowly. Something had brought James to him. Some perverted entity whose purpose was to break Regulus’s heart further. To make him face reality: James would never be his again. Ever.
“Destiny works in weird ways.”
“Sure does,” he chuckled, but it wasn’t sincere. It was awkward as though they were on a very bad first date.
Regulus sucked his lips in, biting down to hide his crumbled heart. In that moment, he pictured James falling in love — him looking at Amelia like he used to look at him, with eyes full of love and adoration. Him holding her, spinning her around and kissing on top of kitchen counters.
He wondered if James ever told her she was the most perfect thing God had created, or if he swore she was made for him and that his heart would be hers for eternity. If he reused all the pick-up lines, and the date ideas.
Or, if maybe it was all new, pure and more sincere. If everything was different, because it was better.
“How’s she?” he couldn’t help but question, taking James aback.
He gaped, clearly avoiding an answer. “She’s – she’s great. She likes painting, too. You’d love her.”
“No, James. How is she?”
An inhale. Exhale. “I love her,” he admitted, shooting an arrow through Regulus’s heart. “She is supportive of me, and was there when no one was. When I wanted to quit uni and felt like a wreck for it. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Regulus nodded. “Yes,” they gazed at each other long enough for a knot to grow on his throat. “I’m – it’s getting late.”
James checked his watch. “Shit.”
Regulus didn’t waste a second before standing up, throwing the chair upside down on top of the table once he had picked up the empty beers. His limbs shook, and his brain raced.
Silence enveloped them as Regulus walked James to the door, both stopping in their tracks as though they didn’t wanna go. Didn’t want to say the last word and officially end their story for good.
Regulus thought back to their book, full of dust and crumbled pages. That was enough for him to speak first. “It was nice seeing you.”
James shot him a tight smile. “Yeah, same. I wish we could’ve talked more, but,” he pointed over his shoulder.
“She’s waiting for you,” he completed, and James pressed his lips onto a thin line.
Somewhere in Paris, Amelia was sleeping alone in a hotel bed, arm reaching out to the empty space, just waiting for James to slip inside and cuddle to sleep.
The thought of it made Regulus want to throw up.
He stared up at James, whose eyes were filled with melancholy. He opened the door for him, arm behind his back, too afraid he might reach out and hold James before he could leave. Hug him until their souls were merging together.
James peeked his head outside, curls moving with the wind. If times were different, Regulus would’ve run his hand through them. They would’ve laughed, and Regulus would’ve kissed him on his tiptoes.
In this universe, though, he just watched him. James looked back, and stepped outside. “Bye.”
“Bye,” his voice is strained.
Time moved slowly, both avoiding having to make the final step. This time, it was James who walked backward, smiling softly. Nothing ever felt more like a goodbye.
“Your hair looks really cool.”
Regulus’s lips twitched. “Thanks.”
James nodded once, and turned around, head down as he walked down the road. Regulus’s smile fainted as he watched, too scared of closing the door and forgetting how his silhouette looked.
His eyebrows join together, an urge to cry travelling up on his throat. He breathed through it, edges of his eyes blurring before he finally closed the door, heart beating faster than he could handle.
Like the weak man he’d always been, he ended up with tears rolling down his eyes as he finished cleaning the bar up. By the time he left through the same door as James’s, his eyes burnt.
He pushed himself down the same path James took, trying to get a glimpse of his smell. Nothing came. James had evaporated as though he’d never been there in the first place.
Somehow, his heart felt lighter, even if still aching. Like his fantasies couldn’t be fed anymore — everything was over for good. No more wishing to go back to him, no more dreaming about the possibility of a new chance. James had moved on, happily. He had changed, turned into a man he no longer recognised.
Life had shifted, and so did both of them. The times were different and they were no longer in sync. James had found someone new to dance with, and Regulus was getting through his 20s the best way he could.
His phone rang in his pocket, and with a stuffy nose, Regulus picked up.
“Bonne nuit,” Barty spoke through a very shitty French accent that made Regulus smile. “You off work?”
“Just got out.”
Silence. “Have you been crying?”
“No,” he cleaned his nose. “I’m fine. Why’d you call?”
“Can’t sleep. Do you wanna come over?”
Regulus pondered this. He could go to his flat, and cry himself to sleep while James slept peacefully next to his girlfriend, or he could crash out at Barty’s, cry and get pissed.
In all honesty, being lonely at this very moment terrified him.
“On my way,” he said a little before hanging up, leaving James’s path to walk his way to Barty’s house.