Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

the golden trio

bartythegreat

guys 

regulus_arcturus

no ones home

try again later

bartythegreat

regulus 

im actually serious

and if you make a joke about your brothers name so help me god

peterpeterpumpkineater

whats up barty

bartythegreat

so you only appear when i need something important?

peterpeterpumpkineater

yes 

usually you two are fighting about some stupid shit like if birds are real

ive already lost enough brain cells because of you

if i lose more im going to turn into mulciber

and you would have to live with that on your conscience

bartythegreat

the bird argument is crucial information 

what if theyre just drones

and the queen is spying on us with them

this impacts all of us

we could be living in a conspiracy and have no idea

have you seen how birds just float in the air

that shit isnt right

peterpeterpumpkineater

im sure it has something to do with the wind current

how would you know if its weird? 

youve never flown

oh my god

im engaging

i can feel myself getting dumber

bartythegreat

thats what the government wants you to think

you have to keep your eyes open peter

theyre tricking you

regulus_arcturus

if you really had something important to say you would have said it already

so if youll excuse me

im in the middle of a very intense round of charades 

sirius is currently standing on his head

hes very bad at this game

oh

hes just fallen into the mantle

i heard something break

unsure if its his leg or a picture frame

bartythegreat

no its important i swear

regulus 

come back

peterpeterpumpkineater

im still here

significantly dumber

but present 

bartythegreat

okay so

ive been keeping a secret from you two

kind of a big secret

evan and i kissed on sports day

and im sure youve noticed but its been weird between us since

i think thats my fault

i really like him and ive been running away

but i want to ask him out

regulus_arcturus

oh thank fuck

bartythegreat

???

regulus_arcturus

i was starting to think youd never pull your head out of your arse

but you finally got there

well done

bartythegreat

this is offensive

im offended

regulus_arcturus

go cry about it then

bartythegreat

dickhead 

regulus_arcturus

bitch 

peterpeterpumpkineater

well 

im proud of you

bartythegreat

THANK YOU

see regulus???

thats how you respond to someone being vulnerable

peterpeterpumpkineater

really thought you were going to remain oblivious and pine for the rest of your life

im impressed

bartythegreat

…

i spoke too soon

are you two incapable of being nice and supportive or something

peterpeterpumpkineater

yes 

regulus_arcturus

duh 

next question

peterpeterpumpkineater

so are you gonna ask him out

bartythegreat

well if either of you stopped bullying me and gave me a chance to speak

thats what i need your help with

peterpeterpumpkineater

im not asking him out for you mate

i love you but thats a you problem

bartythegreat

THATS NOT WHAT IM ASKING

oh my god youre both insufferable

why am i friends with you again

i dont even like you

regulus_arcturus

you like us enough to ask us for help

i say go for it

he obviously likes you back

bartythegreat

are you sure about that though

Like 100000% sure

peterpeterpumpkineater

yes

regulus_arcturus

yes 

bartythegreat

ok

but

what if i blew it

ive been a right prat

what if its too late

peterpeterpumpkineater

you wont know unless you try

regulus_arcturus

barty

not to undermine your experience or anything but i JUST did this

i ran away from something good because i was scared

i finally stopped running and look at me now

im actually happy

you deserve good things

and evan does too

and i think you would be very good together

peterpeterpumpkineater

you already are

you two have been different since the day you met

let yourself have this

all you have to do is talk to evan

just explain

hes gonna understand

bartythegreat

are you sure

peterpeterpumpkineater

yes

evans obsessed with you

bartythegreat

im also obsessed with him

regulus_arcturus

we know

so where are you going to take him on your date

bartythegreat

dont jinx it

he hasnt said yes yet

and i dont know

i need your ideas

i need to show him im serious

peterpeterpumpkineater

hes gonna know

i promise

bartythegreat

i love you guys

regulus_arcturus

ew

i love you too

now delete that message and forget i ever sent it

bartythegreat

no chance in hell

im framing that

its going on my wall

regulus_arcturus

you stupid fucker

----

By the time Hooch finally blows the whistle to signal the end of practice, James feels like he’s one step away from collapsing. He never realized just how much he relies on the team during the matches. If he feels tired, he’s supposed to pass the ball and let someone else have a turn. Now, when James can’t trust the boys, the games are his responsibility, and it’s bloody exhausting. No wonder why teams have thirteen members. After that first disastrous practice, James quickly learned he can’t only pass to Sirius, otherwise Hooch would kick him off the field. He’s starting to interact with some of the quieter members, but he’s still avoiding Mulciber and his old friends like the plague. It’s easier to depend on the boys who he’s never seen do anything wrong. 

“Potter, Avery, Bones, Abbott, you’re on clean-up duty for the day!” Hooch calls. She’s been picking boys at random, so James would think this selection was untargeted if not for the way her eyes linger on him as she lists off their names, complete with an arched eyebrow and a nod. Subtlety is out the window, apparently. Is James really so pathetic that his coach resorted to the old forced proximity trick? Has that ever actually solved anything in reality or just in the movies? The joke is on Hooch because it certainly won’t work now. James has no interest in talking, and the field is big enough he can simply stay away from them. Maybe James should be thankful Hooch didn’t lock them somewhere smaller like a closet, or should he be worried that’s what comes next if they don’t talk now? Was that eye contact a threat? A warning? Is this the easier option?

Regulus lingers at the sidelines, raising his eyebrows at him, but James waves him along. He can handle being near his friends for the three minutes it will take to gather their supplies and bring them back inside. Ex-friends, more like, though admitting it stings like a knife.

The thing is, James doesn’t care about Mulciber. He never really did, even when they were little, so losing him doesn’t feel like a true loss. Same with the other boys in the group that he doesn’t talk to very much. They were always there, and they grew up together, but James didn’t find real camaraderie with them. Not like he did with Avery, Bones, and Abbott. They were never best mates, but that’s something James only learned after becoming close with Regulus and his friends. James thought they were, though, and that’s what matters. For over a decade, they were the people closest to him. Losing that kind of friendship, even if the bonds don’t run as deep, hasn’t been easy for James. He misses them. Even if, even despite, even considering. He misses them.

Still, whenever James thinks about the boys, all he can see is them standing behind Mulciber at his birthday party, at the movie theatre, in the locker room. Always behind, always silent. That used to be James, but he isn’t that person anymore, and there’s no room in his life for people like that, no matter how much he misses them.

James jogs to the end of the field, trying to put as much distance as possible between them. If they split up, this will be done faster, and James can leave. After all the shit went down with Theo, he’s been spending most of his afternoons at Regulus’ house instead of his own. Most of his time is taken up by revising or hanging out with Sirius since Regulus hasn’t been feeling well and has started taking a nap every day after school. James wants to join him, but Regulus wants him to focus on studying. After the disaster of the maths exam, James is listening to anything he says. His other exams are going well, so he feels much less of an abject failure now, and he only has history left to go tomorrow and then he’ll be free for the summer. James doesn’t think he’s ever looked forward to a summer this much in his life. All those weeks with nothing to do but spend time with Regulus - walks with Padfoot, days at the park, trips to the beach, picnics and nights under the stars and bonfires. It sounds like a dream - something much too good to be true.

“James!” The voice is unwelcome on its own, even more so when it interrupts his daydreams. James turns around with a stack of cones in his left hand and finds all three boys standing in front of him. 

“We’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, but you’re hard to get alone,” Avery starts, and James has to bite his lip so he doesn’t laugh. He’s been making himself scarce on purpose because he doesn’t want to hear anything they have to say. It’s something the old James never would have done. “We wanted to tell you how sorry we are for how we’ve handled everything with Regulus.”

Oh.

Maybe James does want to hear what they have to say.

Bones jumps in. “We’ve stopped hanging out with Mulciber. The way he’s been talking about Regulus and treating you is shitty. We should have stood up for you both before, and we’re sorry that we didn’t.”

Is it fair for James to be mad at them for something he did himself? He never knew just how bad Mulciber was either until everything with Regulus brought his behavior to light. James can’t fault them for that, and here they are, apologizing. As long as they actually mean it. “Thanks. I guess it took me a while to see what kind of person Mulciber is too.”

“I don’t blame you for fighting him. I wish I could most of the time. I know you and Regulus are really good mates,” Abbott says, and James feels his stomach sink into the grass.

Really good mates.

It’s not technically a lie. It’s just not the whole truth. 

The field is empty save for the four boys. The only people in sight are leaning against the back of the school, far out of earshot even if James was screaming. There’s no one to see, no one to overhear, just James and his oldest friends. He’s safe - James knows that, and he wants to tell them. James wants them to know this part of him, this magnitude within him.

I’ve known you for so long that I don’t remember life before you. You’ve known every version of me, so you should know this too. It’s always been there, hidden under the surface. Have you seen it? Did you spot it before me?

And yet, when push comes to shove, James can only nod and move his mouth into a shape he hopes resembles a smile more than a grimace.

I’m sorry. I’m trying. Lucius, do you see this? Can you hear me? I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.

A few beats pass where there isn’t enough air for James to breathe, and then Avery changes the subject. “Anyway, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we’re throwing an end-of-GCSE party tomorrow night in the woods. You should come, and you can bring Regulus, and whoever else you want. We just want to have some fun, and after the revising we’ve all been chained to, we deserve it.”

James can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, fully aware this is the first time in years that the boys have invited him to anything. It’s not an individual hang-out, but they haven’t had one of those since they became teenagers. James is going for realism here, not for them to suddenly turn out to be the best mates in the world, and this is undeniably more progress than he thought he’d see.

Maybe they don’t have to be ex-friends after all.

----

Regulus is taking a calculated risk by going to the supply shed instead of the locker room. Four boys are collecting the equipment, which means the odds are 25% that James opens that door. 1 out of 4. Regulus likes that number. He’s more likely to take a chance if the numbers are even, especially if they’re four. Four doesn’t let Regulus down. If it is one of the other boys that comes in, Regulus can just pretend that he’s looking for something. He can play up the dumb gay boy who doesn’t know sports act and he’s sure they’ll buy it. They don’t seem like the sharpest tools in the shed, so to speak. They certainly wouldn’t even understand what that expression means. Regulus hates stupid people. If someone can’t keep up with him, he’s leaving them in the dust, simple as that.

By the power of the number four, it is James who opens the shed, arms full of cones, balls, jerseys, and his own trainers. 

See? Four always works. How can I be lying if I’m always right? You must listen to me. I’ll never lead you astray.

When James shuts the door behind him and turns to Regulus, his face is glowing so brightly Regulus takes a step back. He hasn’t seen James shine like this since the first day they met, and it instantly transports Regulus to that moment, mere months ago yet also seconds and lifetimes, infinity and now, wrapped together.

Regulus knows why Icarus loved the sun so much it was his downfall, because face to face with it, in a life that’s only been lived in darkness, how could he not fall head over heels for the light? But Regulus is not Icarus, and thus James is not the sun. Regulus will not drown, and James will not burn him. 

But you might burn him. You’re not safe to be around. You’ll hurt him.

“What are you doing in here?” James asks.

“Just wanted some alone time with you. Was everything alright with your friends?” Regulus asks. It’s not that he was expecting it to go badly, but he didn’t anticipate James being this happy. He was prepared for neutrality, admittedly leaning toward the negative side. Regulus doesn’t have a lot of faith in these prats. Sue him. 

“Yeah, actually,” James replies, sounding as surprised as Regulus feels. “It was… nice. They apologized for not standing up for you and said they don’t like Mulciber.”

“Wow.” It’s more than Regulus ever thought they’d say if he’s being honest. He knows how much James cared about the rugby team, specifically those three boys, and how much it hurt him to lose them. They’re a part of James’ childhood that’s irreplaceable, and maybe they don't have to exist entirely in his past anymore. The part of Barty that exists in Regulus’ mind is screaming and banging at his skull at the thought of them reentering James’ life, but as long as they mean their apology and treat James well, Regulus doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to be one of those people that doesn’t let their partner have any other friends. Regulus already introduced James to his friends and family. James’ family is shit outside of his mum, so he needs people that were his before they were Regulus’. 

“They also invited me and you to a party they’re throwing tomorrow night to celebrate the end of exams.”

Regulus resists the urge to check the corners of the shed for hidden cameras. “Me?” He can count the number of times he’s spoken directly to Avery, Bones, and Abbott on one hand. They’ve been perfectly nice during those few interactions, but Regulus didn’t think he existed on their radar. Why would he?

“Yeah, they said they know what good mates we are,” James says, reaching out to playfully punch Regulus’ arm, but his wrist is limp, his heart and mind clearly somewhere else. 

“James,” Regulus says gently, stepping forward so he can take James’ hands, and they’re shaking. 

“I tried to come out to them, Reg, I really did. It would have been the perfect time. I don’t think they’d care, and after my cousin, I’m not afraid of bad responses anymore.” It’s the first time either one of them has mentioned the whole Theo fiasco, where Theo wasn’t even the main problem, it was Regulus freaking out and making everything about him. Really, Regulus hasn’t experienced something where he’s less the center of attention before. The conflict was between James and his cousin, yet Regulus just had to lose his grip on reality. His mental spirals are under control most of the time. He can usually stop himself before he careens into oblivion, but not then, not when it matters. It makes Regulus a terrible person, and an even worse boyfriend.

“I tried, and I couldn’t do it, and what does that make me?” James asks, voice breaking, and Regulus forgets all about Theo and his own shortcomings.

“Human, James. It makes you human,” Regulus says, and then James is crying, and whatever self-control Regulus has shatters on the ground. He pulls James into his chest, his hands touching every part of his skin, not caring for once that he’s damp with sweat. “It doesn’t matter when you tell people, and you don’t have to come out to anyone you don’t want to. There’s no deadline. This is your life. You control this. You’re driving the car - not me or Theo or Barty or anyone, okay? This is you - all you .” Regulus needs to stress this, needs this to be clear. He can control the exterior (no you can’t, you can’t control anything) but he isn’t in charge of James, no matter how much he wants to crawl inside of James’ mind and change his feelings like a puppeteer pulling on the strings. Regulus isn’t putting pressure on James, and neither are any of their friends that know - he’s making damn sure of that. The only person doing this is James. He’s hurting himself, and Regulus needs him to stop, needs it to stop, needs it all to stop so he can take the reins again.

It’s meant to make James feel better, but he only starts sobbing harder. “I don’t deserve you,” He whispers, so quietly Regulus can register the words, but the voice in his head hears James loud and clear.

You’re the one who doesn’t deserve him. You’re bad, spoiled, wrong, broken.

Then, just as suddenly as the tears started, they’re kissing, and even Regulus’ fucked up mind can’t interrupt that.

Hooch can, though, as the door bangs open. “Boys, I just need-” Regulus and James jump apart, the back of James’ head colliding with the metal shelving, but judging based on the surprise painted across her face, it’s too late. Fuck. “Black, your brother is looking for you inside. I’ll help Potter put away the rest of the cones.” Her eyes are sharp, leaving no room for Regulus to protest. James’ gaze is hazy, but that might just be due to the head injury. He waves him on, and Regulus only hesitates a minute before pelting across the grass toward his brother.

One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four.

----

When Regulus said they should make that stupid bloody no kissing at school rule, James thought he was off his rocker. He went along with it, well, because he’ll listen to almost everything Regulus says, but they both knew it would never last. It didn’t, and look where James is now - shut in a tiny storage shed with his coach who just caught two boys making out. James wants to disappear through the splintering floorboards. 

Note to self: the Black brothers are always late and I need to start listening to them more.

“It’s been pretty obvious lately that the team hasn’t been acting like a team. I’m trying not to assume, but does it have something to do with this?” Hooch asks, taking the cones from James and beginning to stack them.

“Yes, but it’s not the whole reason.” He won’t let his coach think that his sexuality crisis, and Regulus himself, are the entire driving force behind the fracture of the team. “It just brought things to the surface.”

“Like what?” 

James sighs. He doesn’t want to explain it, but his coach won’t let up until she has the proper answers. “That all of the boys are rubbish people. If they can say horrible things about Regulus, or stand by while others do, that says everything I need to know about who they are. I don’t want to be on a team with them. I can’t trust them.”

Hooch is quiet for a moment, then closes her eyes. “When I played rugby in uni, half of my team were bullies. I didn’t even know bullies still existed in uni, but they were loud about their hatred for everyone living outside of the norm, which included me. I was shoved around on the field, jeered at in the locker room, and catcalled when they saw me across campus. I still stayed on the team, though. You know why?” James shakes his head. “Because I loved rugby more than I hated them. When I thought about leaving, I was sick to my stomach. Even though life with them was awful, it was better than life without rugby, and those were my two options.” 

In all of this shit, James never once thought of quitting the team. Regulus recently left, so clearly James knows it’s an option, but it really isn’t. Not for his. It’s like Hooch said - the thought makes his lunch churn in his stomach. James would rather dismantle the team person by person and play the game entirely by himself than give up rugby altogether.

“Sometimes you’re going to be stuck working with people you don’t like.” James must pout because his coach shakes her head. “Don’t give me that look, Potter. It’s a fact of life. None of us enjoy it, but you have to figure out how to deal with it. You’re not going to like everyone - whether that’s because they’re bad people or your personalities just don’t match. Now, if anyone says anything negative about you or Regulus during practice, you come to me instantly. I won’t tolerate any form of hatred on this team, and I do say team deliberately. There’s only one more practice tomorrow until summer. I don’t care how foolish you all act tomorrow, but come the start of term, I want my team back. You’re a good kid, James, and a good person too. You have high moral standards, and when people don’t meet them, that makes you upset. I sincerely hope this is the last time you have to work with people like this in your life, but I doubt it will be. I might be biased, but the rugby field is the perfect place to learn how to do that. Put a little extra aggression into your tackles and passes, and I won’t mention it to anyone, understand?”

James nods. He doesn’t like it, but he gets it. It shouldn’t be too much to ask for to have his team be people he trusts off the field, but maybe it is. James has never had a pessimistic outlook on life or people like Regulus does, but the more time he spends with his boyfriend and unlocks new parts of his thought process, the more he realizes that Regulus somehow has everything figured out. James can be fascinated by people and want to know everyone, but not all of them are good under the surface. Not many are bad, either, which is where the roots of the issue lay. A person who does good and bad things, makes good and bad decisions, is friends with good or bad people. What does that make them? Good, bad, or just a person?

They finish putting away the rest of the supplies in silence. When they stop, Hooch nods toward the door, signalling to James that he’s free to leave. “Oh, and Potter? Maybe keep the kissing out of team practice?”

James can’t help but snort at that. “Believe it or not, we actually have a no kissing at school rule to avoid situations, er, exactly like this. We’re just not very good at following it. We got the idea from S-” James stops, realizing he’s about to out Sirius. “Er, I can’t tell you who, but we got the idea from someone.”

If James isn’t mistaken, it looks like Hooch is trying very hard not to laugh.

----

Lily hates history. She feels like that’s a bit of a taboo statement, or at least the reactions she gets every time she complains lead her to believe that. Maybe she’s just surrounded by history nerds like James. It could be because Lily’s never had a good history teacher, but she simply doesn’t care. It doesn’t interest her in the slightest to learn about people who have been dead for a long time. Quite frankly, it upsets her to learn about how shitty life used to be because it just makes her feel bad for all these people that didn’t know any better. Then she gets existential, because if they didn’t know any better, then what will life look like when she is the one in the history book and there’s a kid in the future learning about this generation and pitying her? The concept of time passing like that, of things not always being exactly like they are now, of her life one day being a prompt for a student’s essay, makes her head spin. James always tells her “those who forget history are doomed to repeat it”, and calls Lily cocky, but she thinks she has to be better than everyone then because she doesn’t need to learn the past to know what not to do. She knows the warning signs of sliding near the edge of ruin - just look at the current state of the world. Maybe studying history doesn’t actually help anything and humans are just doomed. She knows better than to bring that up in front of James - he’d probably implode.

Regardless, Lily revises and memorizes all the dates and people she’s going to forget in a week, and when she throws her pencil down on the desk for the last time, she feels so light she could float into the air. That’s what she’s doing, floating - not giving a fuck where her testing booklet ends up, throwing herself into the group of girls flooding out of the doors, letting her head fall back so the first official summer sun can warm her face, cheering and whooping so loudly a flock of birds is startled into flight, beginning to run through the woods, somehow finding Mary in the crowd and plastering herself to her back, catching flashes of her girlfriend’s smile through her wild hair, laughing laughing laughing.

The Truham boys are having a similar celebration, though theirs involves a lot more punches to the arm, knuckles to the head, and fingers in the ear. Lily spots James and Regulus hiding under the shade of a tree and heads for them, but Mary pulls her in the opposite direction toward the back of the school. Even though they don’t have to hide anymore, Mary still gravitates toward the shadows. Lily tries not to blame her for it, tries to think it’s just an ingrained habit and that it’s not on purpose, not that she’s ashamed of Lily or the attention they attract, but she’s too happy for any of those doubts right now.

“We’re free, Mar! I never have to memorize when another battle happened or a queen died again! Now it’s summer and we don’t have to wake up at the arse crack of dawn for school or do homework, and we’re going to Paris .” The Paris field trip is why they’re all at Truham right now. Of course the school tried to stop end-of-exams celebrations by dangling information about their holiday in front of their noses. Sorry, field trip, but you don’t even have to be taking French to go, so Lily doesn’t know who the schools think they’re fooling. There’s going to be minimal education on this trip. It’s the summer, so can they even legally make them learn? Lily thinks there should be laws against that, especially after the exam hell they just survived. Surely it counts as child cruelty. 

“It’s basically a five-day long sleepover,” Mary says, wiggling her eyebrows. “You’re gonna be so annoyed with me after the week.” There’s an edge to her voice, humour that doesn’t quite make it, and Lily bites her lip. It’s little things like these, failed jokes and quips and side comments that make Lily think something is wrong. She wouldn’t blink twice if Evan or James spoke like that, but it’s so un-Mary, who’s usually the picture of confidence.

“I love you because of how annoying you are,” Lily replies, leaning in to kiss Mary on the cheek, and only realizes what she’s said by the way Mary gasps and steps back.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Lily and Mary have been dating for a while now. She doesn’t know how long couples tend to wait before love declarations, but Lily also doesn’t give a fuck what normal people do. She’s loved Mary for as long as she can remember - first as a friend, then as something more. They said “I love you” constantly when they were just friends, and Lily doesn’t understand what’s so different now. They still know each other. They still love each other. Her first love for Mary didn’t disappear when they started dating - it just multiplied. Besides, it’s not like her love is a secret. They’ve never said it out loud before, but Mary must know. Lily knows Mary loves her, they’ve just never needed to say it out loud before.

Until Lily’s big mouth slipped.

It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Shouldn’t be, since Mary already knows, but her face is blank and slack like Lily just ripped off her own head to reveal an alien underneath. “I… erm…” Lily stammers, but she’s so rarely speechless that the lack of words coming out of her mouth just sends her into more of a panic while Mary turns paler and paler. “I… shit… um… fuck.”

“Everyone who is here for the Paris meeting may gather inside now. Anyone who is not, please vacate the premises immediately,” A sharp voice calls out, saving Lily from her floundering.

“Oh, that’s us!” Mary says, cheery and bright, and it would almost be like Lily’s slip-up never happened, except Mary turns on her heel and practically sprints away before Lily can even close her jaw.

Well, shit.

----

It’s been half an hour - or more precisely thirty-two minutes and twenty-five seconds. Not that Lily is keeping track or anything. No, she’s certainly not counting each second that goes by to keep her mind from straying to other things, like what she accidentally said, like how the words felt soft and warm coming out of her mouth but Mary’s face was cold and hard, like the way Mary ran away, like their seating arrangement now with Evan in between them, like Mary not even glancing at her once in the thirty-two minutes-

Fuck. Lily’s lost track of her counting. They must be at thirty-three minutes now. It feels like thirty-three years.

She would never even dream of listening to the Paris presentation. Someone in their friend group (probably Evan or Regulus) will remember the important bits. Lily already knows what they’re saying anyway. No drinking, no partying, no sneaking off, this is a school trip. Blah, blah, blah. It’s a bunch of barmy, and surely the teachers must know it too, based on how bored they look. There’s Ms. Pomfrey, the school nurse from Higgs, who is sitting on the edge of a table and swinging her leg. Lily is a chronic visitor of the nurse to get out of class, and she’d be lying if she said some of those visits weren’t solely to spend time with Pomfrey. She’s far kinder than any teacher Lily’s ever had, even in primary school, and always gives her peppermints even when she isn’t pretending that her stomach hurts. The other woman Lily doesn’t know. She’s tall and severe with sharp facial features. She’s taking the lead on this presentation, but Lily can tell by the vacant look in her eyes that she’s bored. Surely no teacher wants to chaperone this trip. They can’t be delusional enough to not know that they’re signing up to babysit a bunch of teenagers running loose in France. Their salaries must really be shit to supervise this. 

“Now, we would normally instruct you to split into groups of four, but the numbers are uneven and unbalanced this year, so there will be five people to a room.” The boys all cheer and high-five each other, their odd group somehow hitting the mark perfectly. When Barty’s hand meets Evan’s, they linger, staring at each other with wide eyes, and then immediately pull away and stare at their laps. Mary’s suggestion of locking them in a closet until they sort their shit out is getting better and better every day they continue to be idiots. “There will be no boys and girls sharing rooms,” The unfamiliar woman continues, and there’s an immediate uproar from everyone except Mary, it appears, because she leans over Evan to smirk at Lily.

“Oh, no, however will we manage?” She asks, grinning at Lily. If she weren’t sitting down, Lily would swear she got whiplash. Was she projecting her insecurities or something, or were they just practically on the verge of a break-up? Mary hasn’t spoken to her in thirty-five minutes and ten seconds, but she breaks the silence because they’re sharing a room? Something hot like anger boils in Lily’s throat, but she swallows it down. She doesn’t get mad at Mary, especially when she knows she’s going through something. Lily can’t even blame her for being put off by the love confession. They’re big words, and they can change a relationship, especially when it isn’t expected.

But we’re us. She must have known I love her. Doesn’t she love me? Why didn’t she say it back? Is this not serious for her? She has to love me, doesn’t she-

Lily jumps, her mental ramble cut off by one of her friends clapping her and Mary on the shoulders, adding them to their group.

“Once you arrange living assortments, you are free to leave. We will be leaving bright and early on Monday morning. Do not be late!” The warnings fall on deaf ears, because the instant she said they could leave, everyone stopped listening, if they were ever paying attention anyway. Lily certainly wasn’t. She turns to Evan, ready to ask him if anything important was said at all, but she only gets half of her sentence out before Barty interrupts.

“Evan, can I talk to you? Outside? Alone?” He asks, stumbling over his words like they’re heavy and sticky in his mouth, but he says them. He says them.

Lily looks to Mary, all tension vanishing between them in the time it takes Barty to speak. Evan is more important than whatever fight they are or aren’t having, and he always will be.

----

Barty is shitting bricks.

He’s always hated that expression. Who came up with that anyway? Barty knows his arse can stretch, but he can’t imagine ever being able to shove a brick out of it. It’s just unattainable, and Barty knows what idioms are, but they should at least make anatomical sense. Maybe his thought processes have changed because right about now, shitting a brick sounds easier than the conversation he needs to have.

The worst part is it shouldn’t be difficult. Barty likes Evan. They’ve kissed, and it’s not like Barty has that much to compare it to, but it was a pretty bloody amazing kiss. He wants Evan and everyone says Evan wants him back. They kissed. They like each other. It should be simple and it’s infuriating that it’s not. 

Barty can’t ignore this anymore, especially not after his conversation with his mum. Barty is scared and he is running away and he does think things will work out. There’s no universe where Evan hurts him intentionally. That’s not the hardest part to comprehend like it is for Regulus. No, the biggest hurdle is overcoming the fuzz that takes over his body when Barty is near Evan. It’s like his head goes completely blank. All he hears is the ringing in his ears, and he can’t control what he’s doing or saying. It’s happening now, as he and Evan walk through the halls of Truham. Honestly, Barty doesn’t know where they’re going. He didn’t think this far ahead because he never thought he’d actually ask Evan to talk, yet here they are. Evan must be expecting some grand speech that Barty simply doesn’t have. Should he just abandon the ship? Doesn’t Evan deserve someone who can spit out a whole romantic speech at a moment’s notice like James? 

Fuck it. If Evan supposedly likes Barty so much, this is the real Barty - a bloody fucking mess. He needs to know what he’s getting into if he agrees to this. 

Barty reaches behind him and grabs Evan’s wrist, trying to ignore the little gasp he lets out at the touch, and drags him into the nearest classroom. 

Then he starts talking. Talking might be too relative of a term, actually. That implies Barty has any control over the shit that’s coming out of his mouth, which he doesn’t. A better term might be word vomit, because that’s what Barty’s doing, throwing up his heart all over Evan’s feet.

“I’m really sorry. Like, I’m really bloody sorry. I’ve been a complete prat. Worse than a prat. I’ve been an arsehole. I kissed you, or you kissed me, I don’t remember. Oh, fuck, I’m sorry. Again. That sounds terrible, but I promise I don’t mean it like that. I swear I remember every second of our kiss. You’ve gotta believe me - I play it in my head over and over at least a hundred times a day. Shit. That was probably too much information. I don’t mean to be a creep. I just really like you and it’s turning me into some kind of nut case. I can’t think and I can’t speak, clearly, and I can’t function when I’m near you and I think that’s hurting your feelings and I’m sorry for that. I don’t mean to do that. I swear. I just think my body overheats like my laptop when I try to pirate a movie the minute you’re next to me. Like right now I’m shaking so hard I feel like a plane that’s about to take off. Sorry, I should have practiced this. Shit. Take a shot every time I say ‘sorry’ and you’ll be plastered. I just wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been acting and how it made you feel. The thing is, I run when I get scared, and you’re the scariest person I’ve ever met in the best way possible. You terrify me and that’s because you make me feel so much, so I run, and I know that’s not healthy, but that’s how I cope. Believe it or not, it was my mum that helped me see that. She bloody adores you, and she figured out that we’re… whatever we are. What are we, Evan? Because I would really like to be something. If we can’t be and I’ve blown it, I completely understand, more than understand, I’m an arsehole and a prick, but even then, I’d love to be friends again because I miss you. But preferably I fancy being more than friends. Be my boyfriend. Go out on a date with me. I’ve been planning something. Tonight, if you’re free. Oh, fuck, I forgot to say please. Please-”

Evan stops Barty’s ramble with a kiss, which is good for two reasons. The first being it’s probably the only way to stop the absolute river of shit coming out of his mouth and the second being Barty never thought he’d get to do this again, and he quite enjoys kissing Evan, so this is the best possible scenario. Why was he running from this for ages? If he’d gotten his head out of his arse sooner, could they have been doing this all along? Next time he sees Regulus, Barty needs to instruct him to slap him upside the head until he regains some common sense. 

Far too soon, before Barty’s gotten over the shock, Evan pulls away. “Yes, you absolute berk, I’ll go out with you.”

“Really?” Barty asks, completely shocked. Maybe this is why he’s been so scared - he never imagined Evan would agree. “You’re sure? Quite sure? I’m terrible, honestly. I wouldn’t blame you if you said no.”

Evan laughs, breathing hot against Barty’s lips, and he wants to swallow it, to consume and digest any part of him that he can so Evan can live inside of him, become one with his body. “I’m fully aware of what a menace you are, and I still fancy you, so yes, I’m sure. Take me out on the date. I’m free tonight.”

“So you’ll be my boyfriend?” Barty asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet, unable to stay still. He’s floating, untethered, on top of the world. The best dream he’s ever had. Please, God, don’t let him wake up. Let him stay asleep, in paradise, forever.

“Let’s see how the date goes first,” Evan replies, and Barty pouts. He agreed to the date, so is being boyfriends that much of a bigger step? It’s just a label, and Barty hates those, so he doesn’t know why he cares, but he does. “Barty, don’t look at me like that. I have to hold back on some front. I can’t just fold the instant you apologize.”

“Even though you want to?” Barty asks, unable to resist the urge to be a little shit, simply because he knows it will make Evan’s brow crinkle just so, which it does, and Barty grins, grins, grins. It’s not that he’s usually an unhappy person, per se, but he’s rarely happy. Barty exists in a perpetual state of meh. He doesn’t want to die, but if someone held a gun to his head, he might not fight back. When he’s with Evan, though, any thoughts of death disappear. He wants to be here with Evan in this moment for the rest of time.

Forever used to scare Barty. It doesn’t anymore. Now, it’s all he wants. 

“You’re insufferable. Why did I agree to this again?”

“Because you fancy me,” Barty says, dragging out the word, an addict relentlessly chasing the dimple on Evan’s face when he smiles. He’s got a dimple on both, but the one on his left cheek is slightly higher and it meets the crease of Evan’s eye. Barty wants to lick it, and after how well this conversation went, he just might get the opportunity to, and it’s thrilling.

“God help me, I do. Despite my better judgment.” Evan remains stoic, and Barty drops the humour. 

“Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Barty moves in closer so their foreheads just miss each other, and he can still see Evan’s face. “I fancy you too. So much that I think I’m floating.”

There’s the smile.

----

Regulus was all for James letting his friends back in. He was wary, of course, but still his number one fan of rebuilding relationships. But that was all before they invited James, and Regulus, to the party. Currently, Regulus wants a time machine just so he can kick himself in the head because now Regulus actually has to go to the party. He was specifically invited, and through a gesture to show James how badly the boys feel and how they want to be friends again. He’d be a complete piece of shit if he backed out now. An irredeemable piece of shit.

You already are.

Regulus’ hands find their way unconsciously to each other. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. 

“Almost ready?” Sirius asks, swinging onto the bathroom on the doorframe. Regulus has never understood how people can do that. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he’s wasted many hours of his life trying the same tricks his brother does only to walk away with bruised limbs and an even more bruised ego. Some people just must be born with a different gene that lets them do cool things - one of those being the ability to attend a party without completely freaking the fuck out like Regulus is doing right now.

“Yeah, I guess,” Regulus mutters, abandoning the hairbrush. Why was he even trying anyway? The party is in the bloody woods. He’s just going to get sticks and dirt all over him, so why put in the effort?

“I’m getting major deja vu from the last party we went to together,” Sirius says, bumping Regulus’ hip as they head down the stairs. Regulus’ legs are shaking so badly it’s a miracle he doesn’t miss a step and crack his head open. He would have a traumatic brain injury, but he wouldn’t have to go to the party, so can it really be that traumatic? Less so than this party, surely.

“Because that one went so well.” Honestly, Regulus is trying not to think about Mulciber’s birthday. Another party he had a terrible feeling about that James asked him to go to with people Regulus doesn’t know or like. If history repeats itself, this will shape up to be a real winner of a night.

“Well, at least it can’t end as badly as that did, right?” Sirius asks, and Regulus has to concede that he has a point. Regulus and James can’t kiss for the first time again and James can’t run away after. That traumatic experience is done, finite, finished, crossed off the checklist of ‘How Bad Can Regulus Black’s Life Get?’ This can’t possibly be worse than that. 

It can and it will. You know that. It can always get worse, and your life will always get worse because that’s what you deserve. 

Regulus’ nerves don’t fade throughout the drive with Sirius, through the walk in the woods, when they meet up with their friends, even with James’ steady presence at Regulus’ side. Maybe Regulus is panicking because he doesn’t know what people do at this kind of party. The birthday party was simple - you drink and you eat and you dance and you do whatever the birthday person says because it’s their birthday. What the fuck do you do at an end of exams party? Celebrate the end of exams? Regulus can do that in his bed, thank you very much.

Evidently, Regulus isn’t in the majority because the place is packed with his classmates. Most of them are congregated in the middle of the clearing, passing around drinks. Someone’s brought some random lawn games that people are fighting over, making teams that are much larger than they should be. There’s a bonfire in the corner, dangerously close to the trees, and it’s being guarded by some of the rugby lads Regulus wouldn’t normally trust three yards away from open flames. If something or someone doesn’t catch on fire by the end of the night, Regulus will be genuinely shocked. 

“Alright?” Sirius asks, gripping Regulus’ shoulder until he nods, then he turns to James. “Take care of him or I’ll kill you, yeah? I like you a lot. Don’t make me regret that.”

Regulus reaches to smack his brother, but James doesn’t even flinch at the threat. “I will,” He says firmly. A promise. Regulus tries to ignore the tingling warmth in his arms at the words and does a terrible job based on the disgusted face Sirius makes before he heads straight into the crowd. If there’s something Sirius loves more than parties, it’s a competition, and he’s not going to turn down the opportunity to kick someone’s arse in croquet. 

Since they were invited specifically, Regulus expects James to go find his friends. Instead, his hand finds Regulus’ lower back, fingertips just barely grazing his shirt - close enough for anyone important to know the intention but far enough away so as to not rouse suspicion from everyone else. “C’mon,” James says, voice low. “Let’s go somewhere we can be alone.”

“This is a party, James. The point isn’t to be alone.”

“I don’t care,” James states plainly, like it’s that simple and he isn’t plagued with societal expectations at all times. “You’re here because of me and you don’t like parties.”

“I’m here because I got invited.” Regulus can’t deny the second half of the sentence - it’s true. His skin is crawling even as they retreat further and further into the trees.

“Because of me. Besides, I’ve barely spent any time with you lately,” James pouts, finding a place that he deems far enough away from life. He lays down in the grass and holds out his arm for Regulus to follow.

How could he not? Regulus can count on one hand the amount of times they’ve been alone together in the last month. James has been understandably crippled with GCSEs. Regulus thought he had a year to go before all that work, but the end of Year 10 was a new level of hell all on its own - essays and exams and presentations and projects. Why can’t every class just have one final assignment? Why did Regulus have a test and a paper in nearly every subject? What happened to finding one thing and sticking with it? Who has time for all that shit, especially when you’re trying to balance family and friends and eating and sleeping? And, if you’re Regulus, add in your brain completely falling apart. He’s known his mental health is exacerbated when he’s overwhelmed, but it’s been so much worse lately. The voice never shuts off, and here he is tapping his fingers and counting, even as he curls into James’ side. 

One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four.

As of four hours ago, school is officially over. Regulus is on summer holiday and has nothing to cause him stress. Besides his family. And James. And his friends. And the heat. And waking up at the right time in the morning when he’s properly rested but hasn’t messed up the course of the entire day. And the trip to Paris. And his past.

No. Those are all manageable. It’s school that’s Regulus’ biggest stressor, and now that it’s over, the mental illness can recede to its usual, barely manageable level. He’ll wake up tomorrow on his first day of summer holiday and feel like a person again, like he can breathe, like he’s actually alive, like maybe everything is going to be okay-

“I’m going to come out to the boys tonight,” James says, and Regulus’ fingers pick up speed. 

You horrible person. Stuck worrying about your pathetic brain when James is next to you struggling with something real. You’re not counting fast enough. You’re hurting him. This is all your fault. 

One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four.

“Do you feel ready?” Regulus asks, sitting up on his elbows. Honestly, James’ fixation on coming out is making him nervous. Yes, obviously Regulus wants their relationship to be public, but not at the expense of James’ sanity. James, however, is obsessed with the idea, and considering that he keeps failing, Regulus suspects he isn’t ready yet. He doesn’t blame him - could never blame him, even now. Regulus never had to come out.

“I want to do it,” James says, ignoring Regulus’ question and making him more inclined to believe he knows the answer already. 

“There’s no rush. I’m fine with keeping us private for a while longer. More than fine,” Regulus says, so eager to take the pressure off James that he stumbles through his words. 

“No. You shouldn’t be ‘fine’ with any of this. I want to be out, and you already are. I’ll tell them tonight,” James says firmly, almost like he’s making a promise to himself. “I want this. I need to do this.”

It’s one of the frequent things James says these days that makes the hair on Regulus’ arms stand on end. Like he said, Regulus can’t really judge. He was never in this position. Well, he was and felt like absolute shit about it until someone took away his choice and outed him. Regulus lived with the massive secret driving his shoulders into the ground and had all but decided to stay in the dark forever because he couldn’t handle this. James is already stronger than he ever was. Still, there’s this urgency and panic in James that Regulus doesn’t remember feeling. Everyone is different, he knows that, but James’ fear seems almost… forced as if there’s pressure being put on him. Regulus isn’t sure if that pressure is internal or external, but who could possibly know that would be intimidating James? None of their friends would ever, nor would Alphard or James’ mum. Theo certainly could be considering he’s a wild card in Regulus’ mind, but he hasn’t known for long enough. Regulus hasn’t told anyone else, and he’s sure James hasn’t, so it must be internal, which is why he’s trying so hard to make sure that James knows he doesn’t care.

This is your fault. It’s you that’s making James feel pressured. You’re trying too hard. You’re not trying hard enough. You need to count more. You haven’t broken down your surroundings into four parts and repeated them four times yet. You got distracted by James and forgot your fours.

“Alright you lot, let’s burn some shit!” A voice calls, muffled through the trees and Regulus’ spiral, and the resounding cheers are just loud enough to tip Regulus over the edge into overstimulation. This is one of Regulus’ many problems. He can never catch himself before he crosses the line, and then there’s no coming back. Regulus is floating, the world coming to him in shards - James reaching into his bag to pull out a stack of papers, Regulus following him through the woods, trees that are crooked and old leaves that the winter somehow didn’t kill and grass that isn’t quite living yet and rocks the perfect size for stumbling over, the crowd of people that’s somehow multiplied by three since they arrived-

Three. Look again, surely it must have multiplied by four. There must be more people. Where are the rest of the people? There needs to be more. Three is unacceptable, it’s so close to four, it’s the first to lose, it’s just one away-

“Oi, Regulus, add your lot to the fire!” James is gone, and Mulciber is there, and his arm is around Regulus’ shoulder and his hand is grabbing his shirt and his fingers touch Regulus’ skin and he’s floating, floating, floating, floating. “Don’t you have anything to burn? Too much of a goody two shoes, are you? Perfect little schoolboy-”

He thinks you’re perfect. You’re a liar, Regulus. You act and you scam and you cheat and you lie. You’re so far from perfect. You’re bad, spoiled, wrong, broken- 

One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four-

----

This is the last time James goes to a fucking party. Mark his words, he’s done. James isn’t sure if he ever enjoyed them, per se. He likes the people and the food and celebrating something. The atmosphere and the parties themselves… not so much. It used to be the only way to see all of his friends at one time, which James should have realized was a red flag. They were too busy to come over and hang out, but the minute the label “party” is slapped onto a gathering, they’re suddenly free? James used to be one blind son of a bitch, that’s for sure.

Now, all he wants is to spend time with Regulus, and maybe some of their other friends too. James invited the lot, obviously, but they all have more sense than him. Lily actually laughed in his face when he asked her to come. Mary said she’d rather stick toothpicks up his fingernails. Peter didn’t even answer James because the question was so stupid he thought it was a joke. Barty and Evan are on their date. The only person who agreed is Sirius, but that’s because he’s a party addict. James hasn’t seen him since they arrived. 

“Come on, Potter, throw it in there!” Abbott yells, prodding him closer to the fire. This is the one part of the party James cares about. After all the literal blood, sweat, and tears that went into his revising, there’s nothing to show for it except exhaustion and pending exam results. James has a hard time comprehending things when there’s nothing physical to see. Exams are over, yes, but it’s not like the minute he closed his test booklet a neon sign lit up confirming that he’s finished. Watching these papers burn along with all the information that James doesn’t give a fuck about and has already forgotten is the best closure he’s going to get. James survived. He’s done. Let the notes turn to ash, and James’ summer can officially begin.

James knows it isn’t smart to burn everything. He’s still taking half these courses as A-levels, so the information will undoubtedly be important, but that’s a problem for future James. Current James wants everything gone, wants no part of school poisoning his bedroom over the holiday, wants to be free.

James tosses the paper in the flames, a thrill running through him as the edges begin to burn, burn, burn. More. Burn everything. Burn the whole world down.

Even after his notes wither away, nothing more than flakes of ash floating through the air, James feels nothing. There’s no joy, no peace. No sense of accomplishment. No turn of the page at the end of a chapter. Just his heart beating away in his chest, blood flowing to an empty cavern. Why? James is done. The term is over. Exams are complete, school doors are closed, and the notes are burned. There’s still something deep and unfilled inside of him. If finally finishing this term didn’t help, James fears he doesn’t know what will.

Perhaps it’s something deeper. This was objectively the best term of James’ life because he met Regulus, but it was also the most difficult. James realized that the friends he’s had all his life were never the best mates he thought they were, came face to face with his own failings with no way to rectify them, and discovered he’s bisexual. Bloody hell, he’s still in the closet. James is trying to close the door to a chapter in his life with his foot still lodged in it. In order to move on, James needs to make a decision. Is he stepping back or stepping forward? 

James doesn’t have to think for even a second about the answer.

“Hey, can I talk to you lot?” James asks, turning to the boys - his boys. At least, they used to be. After this, they may never be again. 

“Of course, mate. What’s up?” Avery asks.

Three pairs of eyes - waiting, waiting, waiting. For something that James knows and they do not. For something that James doesn’t know if he’s capable of giving. He wasn’t ready yesterday, so how could it change overnight? He’s still not ready - plain and simple. But will he ever be? Just because he knows something has to change doesn’t make it easy, doesn’t make the words come easier. But that doesn’t mean he can’t try. “Er… I… I wanted to tell you-”

Eyes, eyes, eyes - waiting, anticipating, time ticking. Is James ever going to be ready? What if he’s waiting for a day that won’t come? What if he’s waiting forever? What if that’s just an excuse? What if the real reason isn’t because James wants to be properly prepared before going public? What if Lucius is right? What if James has no intentions of coming out? What if, in his eagerness to prove Lucius wrong, all James is doing is proving him right? What if James and Lucius are the same, deep down? What if James is no better than Lucius bloody Malfoy-

“Ooh, a secret? Go on, Potter, share it with the class!” Mulciber claps him on the back and James jolts forward, Abbott reaching out a hand to steady him. James should have known better. Of course Mulciber, the last person he wants to know about his sexuality, is going to show up when he’s trying to come out. The bastard has a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, particularly any place where James is. Do they have magnets secretly pulling them together or does the world just hate James that much? 

Why did James think a bloody fucking party was a good time to come out to his friends? There are dozens of people here, any of whom could overhear, especially because James doesn’t have control of his volume when he’s nervous. People talk, but they listen more, especially when it’s a conversation they’re not involved in. 

By some stroke of luck (James’ first of the evening), Mulciber isn’t alone. He has his arm around Regulus, whose eyes are wide and vacant, but the minute they land on James, they narrow and darken.  He steps out from Mulciber’s arm and pushes Mulciber back, away from James. “He doesn’t want to talk to you! Piss off and leave him alone!” Regulus is yelling, and James can’t remember how he got here, or where here is exactly.

“Woah, woah! Black, I thought we were mates-” Mulciber starts, hands thrown up in mock surrender, but Avery steps between them. He must lead Mulciber away, but James doesn’t see. He blinks, then he blinks again, and the whole world is a spinning tunnel.

He almost heard me. The worst possible person to know I’m bisexual almost heard me. The whole school would have known. The whole world would have known.

Lucius was right. James isn’t ready to come out - not even close.

Lucius. Was. Right. 

Lucis was right. Lucius was right. Lucius was right. Lucius was right Lucius was right Lucius was right Lucius was right Lucius was right. LuciuswasrightLuciuswasrightLuciuswasrightLuciuswasrightLuciuswasrightLuciuswasright-

“James, are you alright?” It’s Abbott asking him. Or maybe it’s Bones. It might be both of them. Or neither. He can see their faces floating in and out of his vision. They haven’t been this close in a very long time. Is this even happening? Why are the boys here? James doesn’t remember where he is. It’s loud, it’s really loud, inside his head and outside.

LuciuswasrightLuciuswasrightLuciuswasrightLuciuswasrightLuciuswasrightLuciuswasright-

“I’ve got him. I’m taking him home.” That’s Regulus. James doesn’t have to see him to know his voice, know the heat of his body next to him, know the way his fingers curl into the back of James’ shirt. James doesn’t know where he is or what’s happening, but Regulus is there, so he’s safe. Regulus won’t let anything happen to him. Regulus won’t let him go.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? Regulus will never let you go even though he should. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve failed to come out - that’s how many it’s been. You’re never going to. Lucius was right. You’re stringing Regulus along. He deserves so much more than you.

“Sirius!” Regulus yells, head to the sky, praying to the heavens, calling to the stars, and it’s so loud that James doesn’t know how Sirius could possibly hear him, but then he’s there, appearing out of the crowd, big brother finding little brother, one shout away. He grabs James’ other arm, and James falls into him, away from Regulus. James failed. He doesn’t deserve Regulus right now. 

Regulus.

James was supposed to take care of him. Sirius told James to watch Regulus, but he didn’t, and now it’s James getting practically carried away. “I’m sorry,” James tries to say - first into Sirius’ neck, then he leans back to Regulus, just to apologize, but he’s so warm that James can’t make himself pull away. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.” James doesn’t know if he’s speaking nor who he’s speaking to - Sirius, Regulus, the universe. He tilts his head up to the sky and apologizes to it too. Why? James doesn’t know. 

He just feels like he has to apologize to the entire world right now.

----

This is going to be perfect. Barty’s made sure of it. After his friends were completely zero help on the date ideas front, Barty had to tackle the planning by himself. Which, if you’re Barty, means consulting every form of social media possible because he’s incapable of making decisions or coming up with ideas by himself. He made it to the sixth page of Google before giving up. Seriously. The sixth page. Barty’s never made it past the third before. He figured that, after four or five pages, you just access the dark web, but he was willing to risk it for Evan. Risk what, Barty’s unsure of. What does the dark web contain? Do you go to jail the second you click into it or something? Barty’s always been curious, but he doesn’t know who to ask. It’s not like you can Google it. That would probably get him on a list by the government. It seems to be one of those if you know you know situations, and Barty does not, in fact, know, so it appears he’s out of luck. Maybe in his next life, because this one is shaping up to be pretty fucking great right now.

Even after all that research, Barty landed on the traditional first date - dinner and a movie. It’s classic for a reason, right? Barty wouldn’t know. He’s never been on a real date before. Neither has his friends, so in hindsight, maybe that’s why they were so useless. Actually, fuck that. Regulus certainly has been on dates with James. The little shit. The next time Regulus asks for help, Barty isn’t going to answer. Serves the prick right. Fucking pain in Barty’s arse.

Tonight is going to be perfect. It has to be. Barty fucked up the first part of their relationship, so now everything has to be Disney movie happily ever after level perfection.

The restaurant is within walking distance of Barty’s house, which is good because he can’t imagine how embarrassing it would be to ask for a ride to a date from his parents. Not that his father would give him a ride anywhere, even if it was to A&E. His mum would in a heartbeat, but Barty hasn’t told her about the date with Evan yet. He doesn’t want to get her hopes up, because as much as Barty refuses to entertain the possibility, there is a chance this all goes south. It would crush his mum to think they were in a relationship only to find out they’re not. Barty’s waiting to tell her until he’s sure things will work out. His father is another story entirely.

Barty’s never officially come out to his father, and he’s not sure he ever will. He’s never been outwardly homophobic, but Barty’s seen the way he looks at two men holding hands in public or switches the TV channel when there are two girls on screen. He already hates his son, so why add fuel to the fire? He’s away on work trips enough that Barty doesn’t feel like he’s hiding, but when (or maybe he should be saying if so he doesn’t jinx anything) he starts dating Evan, will that change? Barty isn’t going to hide Evan or their relationship. Honestly, he doesn’t give a flying fuck what his father, or anyone for that matter, thinks of him. It’s just not fair to Evan. If his father knows Evan as his son’s boyfriend, he’s going to hate him. Evan could be a clone of his father, and the man would still hate him. Barty could have introduced them beforehand when he could know Evan as only a friend, but he didn’t want to subject Evan to his horrible father. He doesn’t regret that - he could never regret protecting Evan - it’s just cemented his fate in stone.

Barty’s jumping ahead of himself. He needs to focus on the date first, not spiralling about the merits of his boyfriend never coming to his house or having his father hate him automatically. He’s always like that - living in the future instead of in the present. It causes Barty to miss a lot of shit that should be obvious, which he realizes as Evan comes around the corner on a bike.

The restaurant is close to Barty’s, but not Evan’s, and Barty didn’t even think about that. Fuck. He’s already off to a terrible start. “I’m sorry, I should have chosen something closer to you.”

“No, it’s fine. I like riding around anyway,” Evan says, swinging his leg over the side of his bike and locking it to a telephone pole. The Regulus that exists in the back of Barty’s mind is ranting and raving about how unattractive dismounting a bike is. Barty would be inclined to agree with him usually, but they’re talking about Evan here. He couldn’t do anything not sexy if he tried.

Regulus argues against that, citing what he just saw. Barty doesn’t know who Regulus thinks he’s kidding because if James were on a bike, his knees would probably give out on sight.

Regulus doesn’t have a rebuttal to that. Ha. Barty loves being right - even if it’s only in an argument in his head. 

Oh, fuck, is that normal? Do other people have versions of their best friends chilling in their minds? Regulus is usually the voice of Barty's conscience, but he’s such an opinionated fucker that he pipes up at random times, like when bikes enter the picture. Barty is fully aware that the voice is fake and not Regulus, so it’s not like he had schizophrenia, right?

Buggering fuck, does Barty have schizophrenia?

He turns to ask Evan, who is standing hesitantly on the sidewalk and messing with his hands. This is their perfect first date, and Barty’s spent the entire beginning talking to himself and wondering if he has a new mental illness he needs to add to the bingo card. He’s mucking this all up once again. 

“Sorry, let’s go,” Barty says, holding out his hand for Evan to take, but then withdrawing it. Are they at the hand-holding stage yet? Barty doesn’t want to make Evan uncomfortable. This should all be on Evan’s terms, so he’ll follow his lead.

Which is… awkward. 

The restaurant has two sets of doors to get inside. Barty holds the first open for Evan, then Evan holds the second for Barty. The hostess leads them to their table and both boys go for the same seat, offer it to the other, refuse, and eventually wind up sitting next to each other on the same side of the booth, blushing and silent.

Barty put so much thought into planning, but he never thought to research talking points. What do you discuss on a date? Future plans? Intentions? Jobs? They’re teenagers. The only future they’re thinking of is what they’ll eat for breakfast the next morning. Family? Friends? Hobbies and passions? They already know that stuff. What do people who were friends first talk about on dates? Why didn’t Barty think about this? He’s awful. If he weren’t so upset, he’d be laughing at himself. Regulus certainly would be. Oh, recounting this date to him and Peter is going to be dreadful. Maybe Barty will just disappear off the face of the Earth instead. Life would be so much easier if the Earth was actually flat and he could just… jump off, but then where would he go? Outer space? Would gravity bring him right back?

“The, erm, weather is lovely tonight,” Evan says, attempting to break the tension. Bloody hell, this date is so bad he’s talking about the weather. Barty is a failure.

“Yes, the breeze is quite… nice. Breezy,” Barty says, sitting on his hands so he doesn’t slap himself. Evan nods, focusing back on the table, evidently not finding anything worth replying to in Barty’s answer, which he doesn’t blame him for. It’s Barty’s turn to start a conversation, and honestly, he’s about as lost as Evan is. 

So they just sit.

In silence.

Not even looking at each other.

The waiter comes to take their drink order. Barty has no idea what he buys, but there are two glasses on the table a few minutes later. Someone at another table laughs. Barty would give just about anything right now to hear Evan laugh. Hell, at this point, he’d even take crying. Something has to be better than nothing. Barty can work with something. He can’t work with nothing, can’t shape in between his palms, can’t twist the empty air into something meaningful, something that isn’t sticking to the roof of his mouth like tar-

“I’m, just, I’m gonna go,” Evan says, standing up, and for the first time, Barty’s grateful that they’re sitting next to each other because he can grab onto Evan’s wrist before he can jump back onto that bike and ride off into the hills. 

This isn’t the something Barty wanted, but he wasn’t very specific in his thoughts, so maybe that’s his fault. Peter is always on about manifesting and how your thoughts become your reality or some shit like that. Barty usually stops listening when he starts talking like that because it’s a bunch of barmy nonsense, but what if it’s not? It’s a sliver of a lifeline, but Barty will cling to even the thinnest of fraying ropes if it means saving this date. I am going to fix this. Evan won’t leave. “No, please, don’t go. I’m really sorry, Ev, I don’t know why this is going so badly. I tried to ask Regulus and Peter for advice and they were no help at all, so I spent hours researching date ideas. I landed on dinner and a movie because it’s classic so surely I can’t muck it up, but it looks like I did somehow, and maybe it’s lame to say but I don’t know how, so if you could, like, tell me what I’m doing wrong so I can fix it, I would appreciate it. I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m asking for one, and maybe that makes me selfish, and maybe it’s even more selfish that I don’t care. I really like you, and I wanted this date to be perfect for you, so tell me what I can do and I’ll do it. I’ll jump on this table and start acting like a monkey if that’s what would make you happy.” Evan snorts, and the noise is enough to get Barty to look at him. Evan’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth like he’s trying not to laugh. “Is that what you want? Because I swear I’ll do it-”

This time, it’s Evan’s turn to catch Barty’s wrist as he leans forward, fully prepared to climb onto the table even though it has plates and their mystery drinks on it. “No, Barty, for fuck’s sake, please don’t do that.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” Barty asks, and he’s begging with no remorse. Tell me how I can fix myself to be who you want me to be.

“God, Barty, I don’t know!” Evan says, sitting back down and putting his head in his hands. “It isn’t all you. This date is a two-way street, and I’m not exactly pulling my weight either. I feel weird too. Like, I don’t know the right things to say or what questions to ask. I’ve never been on a proper date before. I’ve seen them on TV, obviously, so I’ve got a general idea about how this shit works, but I can’t ask you that kind of stuff because I already know the answers.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Barty admits. Evan picks up his head, his cheeks glistening with tears. The tar in Barty’s mouth grows thicker, spreading down the back of his throat into his chest. He reaches forward and wipes Evan’s tears away with his thumbs, unable to bear knowing he helped put them there. “I don’t think either of us are very good at this. I should have forced Regulus to give me pointers.”

Evan finally laughs, his face crinkling under Barty’s fingers, and the tar disappears. After all this time, Barty can finally take a real breath. It’s funny - how you only realize you weren’t breathing properly when you start again. Everyone talks about how you need air to live, yet he hasn’t taken a full breath in a quarter of an hour and he’s still alive. It turns out all Barty needs to live is Evan’s laugh. “We tried the whole serious date thing and that didn’t work, so why don’t we forget all that and just talk like we normally do? I mean, we’re still us, and we’re still friends. We can just act like we’re at lunch at school.”

God, Evan’s so bloody clever. Barty wants to kiss him, but that’s not something they normally do as friends, and certainly not during lunch hour. No, that time is reserved for talking about…

About…

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Ev, you can wallop my arse for this and I deserve it, but I can’t remember what we usually talk about.” The two boys stare at each other for a second, then two, and dissolve into laughter much too loud for the establishment they’re in. 

Evan shakes his head, unable to comprehend how moronic they both are. “I can’t either. Christ, it’s like my brain completely leaves my head when I’m with you. I can’t think properly. I feel like we mostly just complain about school, but there’s no school to complain about anymore….”

The entire basis of their friendship can’t be bitching and moaning about school. Barty won’t accept that, but he doesn’t know what to do about it either. Evan might be his first… Evan, but it’s not his first friendship. He has Regulus and Peter. What do they talk about? They bitch and moan about each other, they bitch and moan about their families, they bitch and moan about themselves, they bitch and moan about strangers. Quite frankly, they just like to bitch and moan. Clearly, this is what Barty bases his friendships on. “Well, we could complain about other things. I don’t know about you, but I’ve plenty of personal grievances to air out.”

“This has already been negative enough, so why don’t we… not add to it. How about we just ask each other questions? Like what do you not know about me but wish you did?”

It’s the typical first date “so tell me about yourself” prompt but with a twist, their twist. Evan is more than just clever, he’s a goddamn genius. “Well, since you asked.” Barty has a lot he’s always wondered about Evan - there’s just never a good time to ask. “What’s your biggest fear? What’s the most memorable dream you’ve ever had? What do you believe happens after we die? What’s your flavour of choice in Neopolitan ice cream?” Barty has hundreds of questions bouncing around his skull like ping-pong balls, but those are the big ones. He doesn’t want to overwhelm Evan. “Oh, and what is your favourite colour?”

Anyone else would expect questions like the latter - basic information that they might have missed, simple preferences that are ultimately meaningless. Not Barty. He doesn’t care about that shit. He already knows Evan’s likes and dislikes, dreams and goals, personality, childhood memories, role models, and passions. Has he ever directly asked about those things? No. But people give parts of themselves away in every conversation - you just have to listen. 

Barty knows their relationship is going to be okay when Evan doesn’t even blink before answering. “My biggest fear is ending up alone in the end. I’ve grown to be alright with momentary loneliness, but only because I know it’s only temporary. I think it would kill me if I went through all this just to go out with no one. The most memorable dream I’ve ever had is the first one I remember. As a kid, I was scared shitless of the big bad wolf from that fairytale about the three little pigs, which apparently manifested in my nightmares because I dreamed that he ate me at my primary school playground while all my family and friends watched. Shit traumatised me, and I still hate that bloody wolf. I’m not sure what happens after we die, to be honest. I don’t think it’s nothing - like the minute we stop breathing we just cease to exist. I grew up Catholic so I learned about traditional heaven and hell. I’d like to believe there isn’t a hell because I’d probably be going to it according to most religious people, but I like the idea of heaven. Being able to see everyone you love that you’ve lost and getting to live the rest of eternity with them - it’s a nice thought, isn’t it? And my favourite flavour in Neapolitan is strawberry.”

Barty is the one who asked these questions. He knew Evan would answer them, yet he never thought past that point, because here they are. Evan’s stopped talking, and Barty has no idea how to respond. He’s never been very good at that - reacting in the right way. People often get pissed off with him due to his lack of a reaction, but isn’t overreacting bad too? How do you middle-of-the-road react? Mid-react? Is it just some social cue normal people are born with but Barty missed? Evan’s answers were vulnerable, and Barty thinks there’s nothing more vulnerable than being vulnerable in return. It’s the best and least condescending way he can think of to thank Evan for answering. “My biggest fear is losing someone I love. I’ve never had anyone close to me die, so I don’t know what it’s like. I can’t imagine my life without any of the people I love and I don’t want to. I don’t remember my dreams, which usually makes me feel left out, but it also means I don’t have nightmares of my childhood villains swallowing me, so I can’t complain because I was scared shitless of Ursula and I’d probably need intensive therapy to come back from that. I think about what happens when we die more than a healthy person should, probably because I’ve wanted to die for so much of my life, and I haven’t come up with much. People talk about energy being transformed but I’m not sure I believe in that. I don’t think my essence or whatever the fuck just floats around. That creeps me out. I hope there’s some sort of afterlife. Maybe it’s like a choose-your-own-adventure type of thing up there and heaven is what you want it to be. Reincarnation could also be pretty cool. I don’t know if I’d ever choose to live a whole life again because this is kind of shitty, and there’s a huge possibility I’d get dealt an even worse hand, but if I could come back as some kind of animal, I’d be interested in that. Anyway. Your turn to ask me questions now. Oh, and my favourite flavour is chocolate,” Barty finishes, almost forgetting to answer his last question. In hindsight, it really doesn’t fit with the rest of them, but Barty’s been wondering. Favourite ice cream flavour is a stale and overused question because people can pull out some wild name that some specialty shop sells in the Swiss Alps and Barty’s sure as hell never been to the fucking Swiss Alps, so how would he know if Golden Crinkle Swirl is good or not? Neapolitan is simple. Everyone knows it, and you can tell a lot from their answer. For example, Regulus’ favourite is vanilla. That tells Barty that he’s lame as fuck. 

Evan leans forward, unblinking. “Wait, so do you not have dreams at all, or can you just not remember them? Do you wake up and know you just dreamed something and just forget it instantly?”

Barty leans forward too, both of them so close due to their idiotic seating arrangement that their foreheads are practically touching, and dives headfirst into the world of Evan’s brain.

They talk for so long that they miss their movie. Neither of them even noticed the time until the waiter not so subtly gave them their check three times and cleared their table. Barty’s not fussed about the movie. He was never quite keen on the cinema anyway - just did it to be classic, but as they’ve established, fuck classic. Who was Barty kidding? In no world can Barty and Evan ever be anything even adjacent to traditional. They spent their entire evening eating Yorkshire pudding and cocktail sausages while debating the merits of space travel and the odds of aliens existing (they both agree the latter statistic is very high). Others would probably count that as a terrible date. Even with nothing to compare it to, Barty’s confident it’s the best first date he’ll ever go on. He doesn’t want to end, which is why he suggests, “We could choose another film to see?” even though the last thing he wants to do is sit next to Evan without being able to talk.

Evan’s nose wrinkles, evidently thinking the same thing. “Arcade?” He asks, the light from the street lamp dancing in his eyes, and it’s mesmerizing. He’s mesmerizing. 

“Arcade,” Barty agrees. He steps toward Evan, who’s already reaching for Barty, grabbing his hand, pulling him toward his bike. Barty goes willingly, like water, unable to imagine a situation where he wouldn’t go to Evan, with Evan, wherever Evan goes. Barty jumps onto the handlebars and the entire bike flips over, sending him sprawling to the cobblestones. He’ll pick gravel out of his knees tomorrow, but right now, Evan is laughing and helping him to his feet, so pain doesn’t exist, only Evan’s smile and hands. Evan sits, steadying the bike so Barty can get on, not letting go of his hand until he moves it to Barty’s waist. He kicks off, and they’re wobbling and swerving more than a driver drunk off their arse, but their laughter fills the night, and nothing else matters. Barty never really learned how to ride a bike. His father reluctantly taught him when he was young at his mum’s insistence, but didn’t realize that Barty would lose the skills if they weren’t kept sharp, and the man never voluntarily spent quality time with his son. He’s only ever ridden a tiny child’s bike, so he’s not sure how a real one should feel, but this feels like flying. Barty’s laughs turn to whoops, and he stretches his arms out wide, the entire world fitting right there against his chest. He tips his head back, back, back until all he can see are the stars and Evan’s curls, and at that moment, they’re one and the same.

----

James hasn’t spoken in nearly an hour. He spent the entire ride home switching between frantic apologies and babbling nonsense - then the even more stomach-churning silence. Regulus never realized just how much James talked until he stopped. He’s always saying something whether it makes sense or not - everything between simply narrating what he sees to reciting Shakespeare because of fucking course James knows Shakespeare. Now, he’s simply sitting on Regulus’ bed, eyes open but unseeing. If he didn’t know better, Regulus would think James is sleeping with his eyes open, but the fists clenched into tight balls at his sides tell Regulus all he needs to know.

If he’s being completely honest, Regulus has no idea what to do. He’s used to being the person who needs comfort. Sirius doesn’t talk to him about his problems, Peter doesn’t talk to anyone about his problems, and Barty…

Regulus needs to stop trying to compare his friendship with Barty to any semblance of normal human interactions. When Barty’s upset, Regulus usually either teases him if it’s something small, or if it’s something major, Regulus just talks about his problems. To anyone else, it would look like the boys are belittling and one-upping each other, but to them, knowing that the other relates and has experienced something similar is the biggest comfort of all. Regulus doubts James would like that. Besides, what would he say?

Well, I never had to pluck up the balls to come out because I got outed. That was a terrible experience, 0/5 stars, would not recommend to a friend. Anyway, my current crisis is that I think my boyfriend should leave me because I’m just bringing pain and suffering to him. You would know what he feels like, because you are my boyfriend, and we are having cyclical crises. 

Yeah, that would go over well.  

What does James normally do to calm down? Talk to Regulus, but Regulus doesn’t think he’s able to hold a one-way conversation right now, or ever. James is the kind of person who could talk at a brick wall for hours, but Regulus needs feedback to keep a conversation going. If no one answers him, then he gets too much in his own head, and the last thing James needs right now is for Regulus to start having a breakdown too. He also plays rugby, which is out of the question for obvious reasons. If Regulus threw the ball at James right now, it would just bounce off his forehead and roll under the bed. He likes taking Padfoot for walks, but since Padfoot isn’t here right now and Sirius practically had to carry James earlier, that’s another strike. 

In the end, Regulus decides to put Mean Girls on his laptop, balancing the screen on their knees. Usually when they attempt this, James is so wiggly the computer slips off their legs and onto the floor during the best part of the movie. Today, Regulus is the one squirming.

He doesn’t even know what exactly happened at the party. When they got separated, Regulus somehow ended up with Mulciber, which solidified his mental spiral but turned out to be James’ saving grace. When Mulciber and Regulus made their way over to him, James was so pale he looked like he’d been in hospital for a week. It was enough to snap Regulus out of his own mental spiral and back into reality, but not quickly enough to save James. He’s never quick enough. All of his promises to protect James, and he went nonverbal in the woods surrounded by everyone he knows because Regulus pushed himself too far. How is that anywhere adjacent to protecting James? Regulus is failing at the most important role of his life. 

I tried to warn you and you didn’t listen. This is what you get. You’re bad, spoiled, wrong, broken.

Regulus needs to tap his fingers, but one of his arms is currently trapped under James. He can’t just do it on his free hand. One is a bad number - it’s odd. Two isn’t Regulus’ favourite number either, but he’s grown to accept it. At least two is even. One needs to double itself to become even, and that’s very wrong. Nothing good can come from one, just as nothing good will come from inaction, so Regulus settles for blinking instead, even if it makes his head throb. 

One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four.

“Cady’s a bloody bitch.” Of all the things Regulus was expecting James to say first, making fun of a character was not one of them. “She’s the real villain. Regina deserved better.” It’s a stance he developed after hearing Remus rant about his hatred for her. Regulus has too much going on in his life to have any passionate feelings toward fictional people - he can hardly handle real people. He’s not sure how Remus does either, but Remus is nothing less than passionate about everything. Even for someone as genuinely apathetic as Regulus, it’s impossible to listen to one of Remus’ patented rants and not believe every word. They should all be grateful he has no interest in politics because Remus could easily become a dictator and take over the entire world with one passionate speech - he’s simply that compelling.

“Should have been her that got hit by the bus instead. Maybe up it an ante and have it kill her,” Regulus replies, and James snorts before growing quiet again. “How are you feeling?” He doesn’t want to push James to talk about things before he’s ready, but Regulus also doesn’t want him to slip away again. 

“I dunno,” James replies simply. “I don’t really know what happened. It’s all a blur.”

“What do you remember?” Regulus asks carefully. There’s a balance between not babying James but also not startling him that Regulus doesn’t know how to achieve. 

“We were at the party. I lost you and was panicking, but then I ran into my mates. I wanted to come out to them, and I tried.” He turns to Regulus - the same eyes that were blank minutes ago now brimming with fear. “Reg, you’ve gotta believe me, I really tried. I just couldn’t make the words come out.”

“Breathe, James. I’m not mad at you. I just want to know what happened so I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Regulus wishes that James wasn’t so apologetic all the time. It’s almost always about something insignificant, and yet James turns into a little child begging their parents not to hate them for a mistake. There’s no way Effie trained that response into him, nor James’ father from what Regulus has heard, so where did James learn this? The rugby team? His “friends”? In the end, it’s not like it matters - Regulus wants to tear them limb from limb no matter who they are.

James takes a breath so deep his chest shakes. “Mulciber overheard me and asked what my secret was. I panicked. I’m having a hard enough time telling my mates. I’m certainly not ready for him to know about me yet. That’s where you came in,” He says, smiling dopily at Regulus, still not entirely there. “My night in shining armor.” There’s a bite to his voice, a bite to this whole conversation.

He hates you. He finally saw through you. Your time ran out.

“More like in a sweaty flannel,” Regulus says, but the joke falls on deaf ears. Bad, spoiled, wrong, broken. “You were obviously upset. No decent person would continue to push anyone when there’s something visibly wrong, never mind someone they claim to be their friend.”

“Mulciber’s not my friend. He hasn’t been in a long time. The others though…” James sighs, taking Regulus’ hand so he can play with his fraying cuff. “I want to give them another chance. I want them to know me - know all of me.”

“They were worried about you. Abbott caught you when you started to stumble, and almost hesitated when I took you. Bones asked if I needed any help getting you back to the truck. Avery called you a few times and then messaged me when you weren’t responding. I told him you were safe. For what it’s worth, they really care about you.”

James shakes his head. “I don’t remember any of that. After Mulciber showed up, all I can see are little pieces. I know you and Sirius helped me back here. I can see snapshots of that, but like I was hovering above myself. How does that make any sense? How could I be above myself? I can’t leave my own body.”

“It sounds like you dissociated,” Regulus says softly. “It used to happen to me all the time when I was younger. It scared me.” Until I realized that I liked feeling so disconnected from the world and started dissociating on purpose. He doesn’t say the last part of the sentence, not wanting to worry James any more than he already is. 

“Mm,” He mumbles, fingers pausing as they pull on the loose threads of Regulus’ sleeve. Regulus blinks, and then James is burrowing into him - arms locked around his back and head tucked into his chest. Regulus freezes, surprised, but then softens into James, rolling onto his side so he can properly hold him. James sniffles, and Regulus wonders if his skin can muffle the sound of his heart breaking. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Regulus. I’m trying so hard.”

It’s something that Regulus has been thinking for a long time, since the beginning, since James was so eager to come out. He’s tried to tell James that there’s no rush, but he’s clearly not understanding that, so it’s time for Regulus to spell it out, plain and simple. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

“I’m too tired to understand what you’re trying to insinuate,” James grumbles, and Regulus can feel him scowling through his shirt. Despite it all, it makes Regulus laugh.

See, I’m not destroying him. He’s still James. 

“I’m trying to tell you that you need to take a few steps back, Jamie. Coming out is a big thing, even when you’re fairly certain people will take it well. You got a bad reaction from your cousin, which I’m sure didn’t help. You’re putting all this pressure on yourself, and maybe your body is trying to tell you that you’re not ready.”

“I should be though,” James says, still through a pout. “It’s been ages since I figured out I’m bi. I’ve already come out to people. I should be ready.”

“And yet you’re not. You can’t rush this. You’ll be ready when you’re ready. Maybe it’s best to take a break. Don’t say that you’re going to come out to your friends at any parties. Just let it happen when it happens. You should  be able to enjoy your summer and the Paris trip without trying to carve out the perfect blocks of time to come out.”

“I hate that. You deserve someone who shows how much they care about you to the world.” James is so insistent that it reminds Regulus of when he’s fighting with himself in his head, but once again, who is James battling? It isn’t Regulus, nor any of his friends. Who else knows about James’ sexuality? No one. It’s impossible for anyone to know. They’ve been too careful so something precisely like this doesn’t happen - James gets pressured to come out before he’s ready. So it must be James himself that’s putting up a fight. 

“But you already do that. I’d much rather someone care about me when no one else is around than have them fake it to others. I’ve told you I don’t care if we go fully public. You’re all that I want. As long as I have you, I truly don’t give a fuck. Do I want to hide forever? Of course not. But we don’t need to think about forever right now. You only figured your sexuality out a few months ago. You’re sixteen, James. It might feel like a long time, but it’s not. We’ve got the rest of our lives to be public. I want it to be a good experience for you, and with the way you're pushing yourself right now, it’s not going to be.” James bites his lip, still unconvinced, and Regulus resorts to the low blow. “Please, James. My experience was shit, and I don’t want both of us to have miserable memories of coming out. I can’t have that. You’ve got a choice, so use it. Wait until you actually feel ready, not until you think you should feel ready.”

James tucks himself into Regulus again, only somehow managing to get even closer this time. There isn’t one place where their bodies aren’t meeting, and it feels so incredibly right. Stay here forever. Never move away from me so I can protect you. “Maybe you’re right,” James finally admits, and Regulus’ fingers tighten in his shirt. “I just really want this.”

“I do too,” Regulus agrees. How could he not? “But we’ll have plenty of time for that.”

James hums noncommittally, going so still and silent that Regulus thinks he’s fallen asleep for a moment, but then in true James Potter fashion, he springs up, his whole face alight in a cocky grin. “You called me Jamie.”

Regulus’ cheeks immediately burn hot. Fuck. Did that slip out? Usually, Regulus has iron-clad control over what he says, but did his guard slip that far down while he was trying to comfort James? Ever since James started calling him Reg, Regulus has been thinking of nicknames for him. He knows some people named James often go by Jim or Jimmy, but neither of those fits his James. Effie calls him Jamesie, which is the kind of nickname only a mother could get away with. Regulus doesn’t know when he came up with Jamie, but it’s turned into a term of endearment in his mind, certainly not something to ever be said out loud. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” James replies, smile growing impossibly wider. “I specifically recall you saying Jamie.”

“You’re deaf,” Regulus says, looking up at his ceiling, the picture of innocence. “And delusional.”

“Mm, sure, whatever you say, Reg,” James says, stretching his arms behind his head. “It was cute. I like it.”

Can his bed open up into a portal and suck Regulus through it? He doesn’t even care where it leads. Anything is better than here. “Stop. I’m embarrassed,” Regulus says, clapping his hands over his face. He can’t look at James right now or he might spontaneously combust. 

James kisses the back of Regulus’ hands. Left, then right. One, two. Two. Regulus suppresses a shudder, kissing his own palms twice. Three, four. There, now it’s balanced. “Will you call me that more often? No one but my mum has ever had a nickname for me before. Well, besides Theo, but he just mocks my mum’s.”

How can Regulus resist that? James was the first person outside of his family to give Regulus a nickname, and even though it’s stupid, it makes Regulus feel special. Someone cares enough about him to twist his name into something new. It’s meaningful, especially for those who have felt a little less loved than everyone else. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then why are you embarrassed?” Regulus doesn’t have to physically see James’ face to picture his shit-eating grin in his mind. It’s infuriating. It makes him blush even deeper. He would do anything to keep James that happy all the time.

“Oh, fuck right off.”