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He was frozen in time. Breathless. Bewitched. In awe. Bubbling through his veins, surging into the deepest parts of him was something akin to love, the second cousin of admiration, accounced as hatred turned artfully into absolute awe.
Regulus black had him wrapped around his finger, snug and tight, and James would be damned to ever let out a protest or resist him.
Regulus black could angle the sharpest knife known to man against his neck and James would decide then and there that he was a happy dying man at the hands of his creator.
Watching the greys of his eyes for any hint of malice but Regulus was vicious and his eyes would burn.
They would burn, and burn, and burn, James never yearned more to be surrounded by fire.
Being confronted and harassed harshly and publicly was never James favorite experience during hogwarts. But Regulus? He’d get on his knees if he had to.
He would refuse to pray, however. Thankful, he was, but nothing. Nothing could have ever made something as vicious, as deadly, as venomous, as sweet as Regulus fucking black.
His mother had told him once, young and naive, that time was of the essence.
“When you spot time, you should always give your hand for him to fly and land into your palms James, but when he flies away you have to let him go”.
But he couldn’t. He can’t. He was born selfless.
A vessel filled to the brink for the sake of others to use for their own benefit.
Always “how can I help?”
Never “Do you need any help, James?”
But for him? Selfish is the only thing he’d known to be. He didn’t need Regulus to ask him if he needed help because around him he was nothing but helpless.
So when Remus asked him if he was in love with Sirius’ brother of course James denied it. “Why would you even think about that?” But he was so wrong.
He was infatuated with the pompous bastard that dressed in black robes, glared at every living soul, and wore one ring. Just one silver ring, the Sun and the Leo constellation engraved on it, on his right ring finger and it heated James’ entire nervous system with pride and giddyness. A promise. No one knew and that was quiet enough.
When Evan Rosier, Regulus’ blonde, rich, but humble roommate walked, rather solemnly, into the boys locker room after quidditch he spotted two figures wrestling on the wooden benches. The fight was loud and the punches sounded harsh, the wood groaning under the weight. He almost walked out until he recognized his roommate.
“Regulus, what the fuck is even going on?!” Evan Rosier, as sweet (debatable) as he is, was trying to separate the two WWE fighters with his hands, face contorted into genuine shock and concern. Until he noticed that they were smiling, rather fondly at each other. Teeth bloodied, knuckles bruised and all.
It wasn’t one sided. When James fell first, Regulus fell harder. “Not that it’s any of your concern,” he said, his smile lopsided as the two got up, “we’re just blowing off some steam, isn’t that right, James, darling?” As if they didn’t look like Hannibal Lecter's victims painted in blood, James blushed profusely and nodded, shrugging.
“Merlin, as if you two aren’t the weirdest fucking couple. Can’t you like- I don’t know- rub it off like any other horny teenagers?”
Because in the end it didn’t really matter that their ending wasn’t a fairytale. It didn’t matter that they were mirrors, reflections that drew a picture of others but could never draw a picture of what they truly are.
Because James Potter was destined to be good, destined to live, and love, to be loved and forgiven.
Because it didn’t hurt when Regulus knew he wasn’t any of that, Regulus knew that he was a mirror that could never reflect the light James would ever be willing to give him, because he too was selfish.
He would never delude himself in the painting that James drew of what Regulus’ future could be if he would just let him. But he can't stop looking. He can’t stop rotating, lulled by James’ gravitational force. To be around him, surrounded by him, engulfed in everything that could ever be him.
“I know what you're doing, James. I just hope you’re sure this won’t end with you in pain and Sirius gone. I won’t tell him. But you have to at some point.”
Remus sighed, as if he too was in just as much pain as James was. “I- I can’t, Remus, I can’t tell him. I’ve never said no to anything Sirius ever asked for but, but this? I-”
Can’t he just have this? Just this once? It wasn’t his fault. But it was entirely his to blame. He’d strip himself off of magic, he’d take Remus’ place every full moon, he’d cut his limbs and rip his eyes out, he’d lose his mind if he had to, if it was to keep this his. No one else’s. It terrified him. But it didn’t matter.
Until it did.
“I thought, Regulus, I thought you…changed. Why? Why would you do this?”
He held his arm in both his hands. His eyes filled with rage and confusion and hurt. The dark mark was so ugly against his beloved's skin. He wondered if it hurt as much as he did.
Regulus ripped his arm off of his grip, looking away as if in shame. “I had to. Not everyone can be saved, Potter”.
That was it. That was the last time they’d spoken. After Regulus hurried off without a word, leaving James in absolute shambles. Like a fish, his mouth opened and closed to say words that couldn’t come out. Things like ‘please come back’ and ‘I don’t care that you have it’ and the most painful one he never had the chance to say ‘I lo-’
When his mother died snow wouldn’t come down during all of winter. It was symbolic. To who? No one knows.
The funeral was large. They were Potters, everyone in the wizarding world with sympathy and grief came to mourn. He wished it was snowing. He wanted it to be so cold he wouldn’t feel as empty and lost as he did. To lose his mother was one thing, but to lose the reason he breathed was another.
“James…” The hand on his shoulder was warm. James hated it. He hated his name. Nothing would ever not remind him of the people he lost. How could a name sound so simple coming from the mouths of anyone but him?
“We should head back inside, I’ll make you hot cocoa?” Sirius, as always, was by his side. James' gratitude never wavered. But he couldn’t face him.
He couldn’t face him because if he did he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from laying out the truth. How would Sirius reply if he told him,
“By the way, other than the fact that I’m mourning my mother who I just lost, I’m also I’m love with your brother, and it feels like I’m mourning him most”.
He’d better start digging his grave. And so he followed him inside his house, dull as ever, and drank hot cocoa on the sofa his mother always sat on.
‘Time is of the essence’ but did it have to hurt when you let it go?
Everyone noticed it. The way he would eat during lunch, the way he would captain his team, the way he’d walk mindlessly around the halls as prefect.
James was lifeless.
But they all thought he was grieving his mother. He did. He loved her. The lack of her presence in his life dug a hole in his chest,
But Regulus?
He built an empire in it, with two thrones, and just left.
The sun would go down and he’d find himself looking for something he lost at the night sky. He’d try to remember but what difference did it make when it didn’t matter? He’d wake up the next day with a cramp in his neck and he would repeat his day. Over and over.
Sirius noticed it all but said nothing. He wondered if he would react like this if his parents died. He thought he was selfish. But then again, when was he not, when it came to James. His best friend who was obviously, painstakingly, hurting. Until it hit him. Harder than his parents ever could.
How James would look at the Slytherin tables and as soon as he’d find his target he’d look back down and his unfinished plate and just stare. He caught him many times doing just that but he never found out who he was looking at. Until he did.
Regulus Black.
Getting the mark was easy. His parents led him to a hall in their home, the walls opening up and revealing a door so tall he wondered if they ever had giants visiting grimmauld place. When Voldemort sank his wand into his forearm Regulus tried, and succeeded, to look proud and excited about getting the mark.
To be marked as a follower of the dark lord. But he was breaking. He was ripping, the seams that held his entire being came undone one by one as the mark sank into his skin, into his blood, and he knew.
He knew at that moment that everything he ever thought good about him was gone.
Everything he built with James, gone. And so he took the mark proudly, smiled shyly as his parents and relatives welcomed him as a member.
His back was straight, his suit wrinkle-less, and all he had was absolute manners as they dined together as a celebration. It lasted for what seemed like hours.
The mask he built around himself, molding him into the perfect obedient son came shattering on his bathroom floor as he heaved and heaved out his guilt.
He knew that nothing he could do or say would ever give him back what he fought so hard for. It was then he decided to let go of everything he ever thought he was and just be. Because it didn’t matter.
Remus Lupin never felt as stressed as he was right now, ever, in his entire life. Both of his best friends, which anyone would doubt they’d be called by now, we’re avoiding each other like they were two masses of black holes ready to suck everything surrounding it and just cease.
Sirius and James never fought. Ever. Remus used to be quite jealous of that. Knowing that they never had a reason to until now. Sirius found out about James’ rather secretive relationship at breakfast.
He was never stupid. In fact he never gave himself the credit. Sirius Black was a fucking genius because he pieced two and two together by one glance. It was a late realization, but a quick one at that.
Remus quarreled with Sirius as often as the sun came up but never like this. Never the way he did with James right then. He had to hold him at night when he sobbed, screaming that he was just like his mother.
Because his mother hit him when she was upset and Sirius Black broke James’ rib for fucking his brother for months and then having the audacity to be in pain about it.
Because Sirius Black found James Potter first. James was his best friend and he didn’t want anyone to taste the sweetness of their friendship. Because Regulus was his brother that he failed to protect, failed to be by his side, and he didn’t want anyone else to have him.
It was cathartic, being in the same room as James and Sirius this past week. James felt pathetic as he tried to apologize time and time again everywhere he’d see his best friend and get a cold shoulder in return.
As if it couldn’t get any worse.
The following week everyone sat quietly at the great hall reading the news from the Daily Prophet that was passed around.
Regulus Arcturus Black, heir to the Black Family, son of Orion Black and Walpurga Black, found dead. The cause of death is unknown.
No one knew how. No one knew why. It was sudden and everyone seemed to move on by second class. Except James.
James was confined in bed in the hospital wing for reasons his friends didn’t know.
“He just passed out at breakfast and didn’t wake up, Pete and Lily carried him all the way to Madame Pomfrey. He’s still in there. No visitors allowed”.
Mary Mcdonald whispered to Marlene Mckinnon when she asked why James didn’t come to practice. Half of the Gryffindor tower, however, we’re passing their condolences to Sirius Black who sat at the couch opposite the fire, crackling in its hearth.
Remus gave his friends a nod as a thank you. Sirius hasn’t said a word since he found out. He didn’t know what to do. His boyfriend was grieving very very quietly and Remus had no clue what he could ever possibly do to help because he’s never lost a family member the way Sirius did.
He could only hold his hand and squeeze every time he could feel a tremor would go through Sirius’ body as if the common room was the coldest place he’s ever been.
The next day Remus almost had a heart attack, for the fifth time, when he found his bed empty. Until he spotted Sirius’ head beside James’ hospital bed. His hand clenched against James’ with his head on his forearm.
He was sobbing violently, as if he regained his senses, and Remus was back in his loop of not knowing what to do.
Regulus Black figured it out. He figured out how to keep James alive without hurting him. He figured out the horcruxes Voldemort made. And when he found the first one he knew what he had to do.
He spoke to no one. Regulus Black had something he needed to do and he knew there was no one else who would do it other than him. At first he laughed. He laughed so hard his ribs hurt. And then he cried.
He cried like never before. Because this hurt. This mattered. If he wanted to keep what he had with James and be happy in the end, he had to die. That was the only way. Or the only way he knew how to do. He apologized to the imaginary James in his room that looked at him with so much hatred and disgust.
“I have to” and so he did.
He did it before James could. When he woke up he hugged him hard and sobbed it out.
“I don’t want to lose you too, Jamie”
When he felt arms squeezing around his back he was so relieved he thought he died. He wished he did. “I’m sorry”. And if that didn’t break Sirius’ heart more than anything. He stayed with James in the hospital wing that night, muttering ‘Sorry's' and ‘It’s okay’s’ and ‘I love you’s’.
If loving Regulus hurt, James would do it over and over again if he had to. He couldn’t forgive himself for not saving him enough. For not being safe enough for him to run to.
He couldn’t pretend like looking at Sirius didn’t hurt. Like looking into the same eyes didn’t hurt, when Sirius would sleep and James would imagine Regulus instead and it would end up with him heaving into a toilet and wishing he was water so he could rain all over the planet in search to find the body of Regulus and wash him to safety.
James Potter was once the sun. Everyone gravitated towards him but never too close. Until one did. And that cost him both their lives. James Potter used to live like nothing mattered. Until one did. But it caught fire the moment he held it too close. It didn’t matter.
Until it did.