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December 14th, 1977
Nothing ever stays the same for Regulus Black. He would never dare to even think of getting comfortable with someone or something. He knew it would go in a blink, like it was never there. So then, how could he have been so stupid? Such a show of idiocracy, he’d tell himself. It could never last. But now? It’s all so close to ending. He can’t play pretend any longer.
It hits him when he’s up the stairs to the astronomy tower that this will be the last time he’ll see James Potter smile at him, and talk softly with him, and oh, Regulus knows he’s in too deep. He’s never drowned before, but this must feel like it. Not knowing where to move, where to breathe. He doesn't want to let go, to stop feeling the hands of the boy who never judged him.
The cool air of the night sky wraps around him like a friend he’s never truly known. It’s before midnight, but still dark enough that Regulus needs to use a lighting charm so he can see. He won’t need it to recognize James. He’d hear his footsteps, the creeks of the stairs with the flimsy converse James never washes. The note said to meet at eleven, but Regulus came fifteen minutes early because he still isn’t sure what it is he’s to say.
Hey James, during winter holiday I have to get a cult marking ingrained on my arm.
You know, the one with the blood purists and murderers. And quite frankly, I don’t think I’ll make it past eighteen. It was nice while it lasted, but I know you’ll hate me and your hatred burns more than an unforgivable.
Well, Regulus at least knows what not to say. Even though that did check all the boxes of what he wanted to say. He’s made lists for everything, marking down all he could so that he’d be in control, but he just couldn't let himself think of this night. What James would think. What he’d say. Even then, Regulus couldn’t shake away the image of James looking at him with pained eyes, begging him to leave, to stop whatever it is Regulus thinks he’ll get out of being on the other side. James is a martyr, in every way someone could be one. Regulus can’t help himself but to be mad at him for that, even just a little.
He’s pacing, and it’s worrisome because he usually stays very still, never moving a muscle. Now though, it’s as if spiders are running up his bones and skin because he can’t stay put. All he can think of is how this is the last night. He won’t be able to go back, to hide in James’ warmth, inside his skin, inside his heart. It’d be easier if he just left. No explanation, no goodbyes. But it can’t be like that. It never could. James needs to know; he needs to hate Regulus. That’s better than him dying trying to save him.
Time has passed –Regulus is sure of it– but he can’t seem to grasp the seconds going by. It all would have been better had he stayed away, pushing back his selfish wants of intimacy. You are not here for that, a strained voice tells him You are here to finish this twisted tale, no matter the cost. And what if the voice is himself? What if it is all some foolish dream?
He’ll have a big house, James. One full of laughter and warmth. Children to raise, a wife to adorn. The memory of a frail boy lost like a sunken ship. He’ll share love with someone who can reciprocate it.
Je dois faire ça
quel que soit le prix
James was just a phase, an era which should never have been. A glimmer in the sky’s dull aroma. All stars must be crushed eventually. Reality must set in. He knew that from the start.
***
One, two
Tip, tap
His steps sync to Regulus’ own heartbeat
One, two
Tip, tap
Like drums in a song from long ago. A tragedy or romance. What’s the difference? They both end all the same. Heartbeats all dim, all turn dull until…
Regulus likes to think that people are all just crows, following each other. A murder. Crows all look the same, all connected. People should be like that too, he thinks.
Whoosh
Goes the wind, like chimes ringing a sweet lullaby. From a time of innocence, or perhaps ignorance. What’s the difference? Both elicit the same perpetuity. Bliss, some may say.
Faster, it goes. Regulus can no longer distinguish his heart from James’ steps, both entangled in his ears. A rhythm almost soothing.
“Reggie?” a dewy voice calls from a distance. His tone has hopefulness to it. James is just different, Regulus supposes. Shielded and cared for, results in caring for others as well. That should have been clear to Regulus, right?
From the shadows comes a figure Regulus can only describe as a statue the Greeks molded to reflect the god of the sun. No worries seemed to pass by him, blocked by his ribbon-like curls. Sometimes Regulus forgets they live in the same world, surrounded by the same threats. Sometimes Regulus wonders if James forgets too.
***
Regulus Arcturus Black, heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, stands across from James Fleamont potter; leaning slightly on the railing of the astronomy tower. He, as planned from the start of his sixth year, will end his brainless attempt at courtship. Words plotting in his tongue, acidic like the first amortentia he brewed. He thought it was supposed to smell like that, because it felt oh so familiar to what he attributed to love. Now, he tells himself love is what poets created to distract us from plagues and war.
It feels strange, he realises, standing poised and posh. Standing no different than when he was not too long ago at his cousin’s wedding ceremony. Almost alien to him. He'll be accustomed to it. He has to.
James had walked over to him, still soft and beaming at Regulus. Looming over to the boy, he was almost clinging to him. “You alright, love?” love, he was his love, wasn’t he? He believed that, childishly. “Look, I know it’ll be hard being back there,” oh you have no clue “but I’ll be here when you come back, I always will be” James reached to cup his face, in an act of comfort. Regulus swatted him like a bug.
“No, James, you won’t” Regulus doesn’t look up at him. Still, he knows exactly how his face shapes. Like a droopy eyed pup. Confused, but not fallen.
“Reggie?” he reaches for his hand, but Regulus is quicker to move back again “Don’t be like that. I’m here for you” his voice strains and Regulus just wants to… he wants it to stop.
They never talked about it. James brought it up once or twice but after a long fight, he never did again. It was hidden away in a corner, stuffed away. The war. The mark. The inevitable end. Regulus told him he couldn’t be saved but James never seemed to believe him. James never faced it. He never understood the truth. Regulus couldn’t help but envy him for that, to feel that supposed bliss.
James widened his eyes, that soft glow that Regulus often loses himself in, still gleams.
“Hey” James reaches to grab his wrist and Regulus finally looks at James.
“James..” Regulus’ voice cracks, like a small teacup shattering. He kept waiting. Waiting for the right time to just…leave. And now? It’s too late. He got attached, he knows what real love is and can’t bear going back to artificial love. He’s broken now, he thinks. He gets lost again, in those sunny eyes and it just falls. It all falls down.
“Baby…” James coos, bringing Regulus to jump, “You froze..” he gives Regulus a small smile, “Let’s sit down, yeah?”. Regulus nods, his knees buckling. “Just like that, breathe for me, okay? You’re not breathing, Reggie” he puts a hand on Regulus’ chest, and he feels time start to rewind.
Regulus breathes, trying not to think of the pathetic nature of this moment. He can’t confront his own mistake of courtship, of inevitable downfall. “I’m- I apologize, that was not right of me” he straightens his back, breathing rhythmically now. They’re both sitting near the edge of the balcony, their wands illuminating their surroundings. It’s not unusual to find them here, but they’re more separated now. James doesn’t push, letting Regulus have his space.