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James Potter never intended to get locked in a bloody broom cupboard with Regulus Black, of all people.
And yet—here he is. Hunched awkwardly, shoulders brushing against the other boy’s as they both try (and fail) not to make eye contact in a space no bigger than a coffin.
Regulus stands stiff beside him, arms crossed, jaw clenched. He glares at the door like it personally offended him.
“I will hex you into oblivion once we’re out of here,” he says flatly.
James snorts—because annoying Regulus has become something of a sport.
“That’s rich, coming from the one who stormed in here and slammed the door.”
“You were following me.”
“I was not. I was... walking in the same general direction. At a brisker pace. Behind you.”
“That’s literally the definition of following.”
“I prefer coincidentally adjacent.”
Regulus glares harder. “I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah, hard to miss,” James mutters. “Is now a bad time to tell you I’m claustrophobic?”
Regulus startles, turning to him. “Are you actually?”
He sounds a little worried, which is… honestly, kind of nice. Maybe he doesn’t totally hate James after all. Maybe this cupboard is doing something good for him. Sometimes, they do.
James grins. “Nah.”
“I will kill you.”
“Join the queue.”
Silence falls. The cupboard is too warm, too cramped. James can feel the tension rolling off Regulus like heat. His breathing is shallow, clipped. James frowns.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
“Yes,” Regulus hisses.
“You’re not. You’re shaking. What can I do? Just… let me help you.”
Regulus stiffens. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“Why do you care?!”
James shrugs. “I just do.”
Regulus doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t move away when James reaches out. Their fingers brush. Regulus flinches.
“God, here—just hold my hand. You don’t have to like me, alright? Just… don’t pass out and fall on me. That’d be embarrassing for both of us.”
“I will not hold your hand, Potter. And I will not pass out. I’m fine. I just don’t like being trapped in a broom cupboard with you of all people,” Regulus snaps. He’s mean. He’s so fucking mean.
“Fine,” James huffs, pulling back. He rattles the door again, but it’s no good—it’s enchanted shut. Locked until the timer runs out, probably. Some poor sod’s idea of a romantic prank: trap couples in a cupboard, see what happens. Brilliant. Bloody genius.
James slumps down against the wooden wall, trying to ignore the way his heart is thudding harder now. Because he’s locked in a cupboard with Sirius’s little brother, who (allegedly) hates his guts. And James… James unfortunately does not hate him. Quite the opposite. He finds him… interesting. Sharp. Beautiful. Which is not ideal. Being in a tiny space with your crush is a recipe for disaster.
He shifts. Regulus shifts. Now he’s sitting beside James, close—closer than close, because there’s nowhere else to go. A stray broom jabs James in the ribs, but he doesn’t move.
He kind of doesn’t want to.
It’s silent. Really silent. Too silent.
James wants to ask. Maybe it’s a bad idea, but at least… at least Regulus can’t flee this time. Can’t deflect. And James needs to know. Because he feels bad. He hates when people don’t like him—especially when it’s Regulus.
So he asks. Quiet. Careful.
“Why do you hate me that much? I mean… did I ever actually do something to you? Because I swear I’ve always tried to be nice to you and I—”
“Merlin, Potter,” Regulus groans, exasperated. “Just be quiet. We are not having a conversation in here. We’ll sit. In silence. Until we. Get. Let. Out. Now shut up.”
“…Okay,” James says softly.
And—fuck. His voice cracks a little. He prays Regulus didn’t notice. His lips tremble, his throat tightens. No. No, no, no. Not now. Not in front of him. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Regulus. That would be so fucking pathetic.
He takes a breath and closes his eyes. There's a lump in his throat, hard and hot. He swallows it down, but his eyes sting. His chest aches.
He doesn’t feel good.
He doesn’t feel good at all.
He feels—
“James?”
At the sound of his first name, James looks up.
Regulus sounds different. Concerned. Soft. Not mean, not mocking. Just… confused. Maybe a little thrown.
He’s looking right at James. And—oh. Oh. He’s realized it.
There’s real worry in his eyes. They’re a little wider than usual. Searching. Gentle.
James looks down, quick and sharp, hiding his face in his hands. Knees tucked up to his chest. He curls in on himself. And suddenly, none of this is funny anymore. The cupboard feels smaller now. Suffocating. And he doesn’t want Regulus to see this. But it’s too late.
What does he do now?
What does he do?
No, no, no. Here come the tears. Not sobbing, thankfully—just silent crying. But he’s shaking. He’s pretty sure he’s shaking.
“James?”
No response.
“James,” Regulus says again, more insistent now. Urgent. Still nothing.
“Fucking hell, James, will you just look at me?”
James doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. A quiet sob escapes him.
And then—hands. On his shoulders. Gently shaking him. Warm and real.
James hides his face even more, struggling to breathe in properly. Shaky. Ragged. Shit. Regulus definitely heard that.
“James. You’re scaring me,” Regulus says. And he sounds scared, too. “Are you actually claustrophobic? I can scream for help if you want—I’ll get someone, I swear—”
“No!” James gasps. “No, please don’t.” His voice trembles, tears threading through it. “I’m not claustrophobic. And I—” a hitched breath “—I don’t want anybody to find me like this. Bad enough that you see it.”
He still doesn’t move his hands from his face. But Regulus’s hands don’t leave his shoulders.
“Then what’s wrong?” Regulus asks, quiet now.
“Nothing.”
“Suuure. Nothing at all. Not like you’re crying your eyes out or anything…”
James doesn’t answer. Just tries to curl in on himself further—which isn’t really possible, unfortunately.
“Look,” Regulus starts again, and James kind of wishes he wouldn’t. “I know we’re not… friends or anything. I get why you don’t want to talk to me about… whatever this is. But I’m not cruel, okay? I know I can be mean to you—really mean. But…”
He hesitates.
“I won’t tell anyone about this. If you don’t want me to. And—” his voice drops, quieter now, almost awkward “—whatever you might think… I don’t like seeing you like this. Your happiness annoys me sometimes, sure. But anything else just… doesn’t suit you. If you need someone to talk to, I’m already here. Can’t exactly leave. And I promise—whatever happens in here? Stays in here.”
That gets James to look up.
Regulus looks… lost. A bit unsure of himself. Like he doesn’t know what to do with this version of James. Honestly? James doesn’t blame him. He’s not used to this either—crying, unraveling like this. It feels… wrong. And weird. But what Regulus said—that was… kind. Strangely kind. It makes something soften in James, and so… he gives in.
“It’s, um…” His voice is rough, breath still too fast, tears still falling. “It’s just… a lot right now,” he manages. Which is true enough.
“What is?” Regulus asks, gently this time.
Something in James snaps. Frustration, maybe. Hurt. He tries not to sound accusatory, but it still slips out.
“You are,” he says, voice cracking. “You are. Why do you hate me so much? It’s been bothering me for ages because I don’t— I don’t hate you at all, and I—”
A sob punches through his words.
“I try. I really try to be nice. And I just… I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong,” he says, voice breaking on the last word. “Why am I never fucking good enough?!”
And that’s it. He breaks.
He hides his face again, curling in on himself like he can disappear, and he cries. Really cries. Big, silent, gut-wrenching sobs.
Cries.
Cries.
Cries.
Cries.
Until—
Arms wrap around him.
Wait. Regulus’s arms?
James doesn’t even fight it. He just lets himself lean forward, lets his forehead rest against Regulus’s chest. He clutches at his shirt with trembling hands and holds on. Regulus holds him—steadily, silently—and James thinks he feels fingers in his hair, hears soft, soothing sounds he can’t quite make out.
It’s a little humiliating. And weirdly comforting. And kind of everything he needed.
He doesn’t know how long they sit like that. But eventually, the tears stop. His breathing slows. He takes a few deep, shuddery breaths.
He doesn’t want to let go.
But he does.
He pulls back, wipes his face with shaking hands, sniffles, and settles next to Regulus again. Close, but not touching.
He stares at the wall in front of them. Quiet. Exhausted.
“Wow, you look like shit.”
James actually lets out a small laugh. “Yeah… I feel like it too.” He pauses for a beat, then adds, “Sorry for snapping at you like that. It’s obviously not just you who made me feel like this. I’ve just been feeling kind of… off lately, and I guess everything kind of snapped just now.”
“Hey,” Regulus cuts in gently, “it’s fine. Don’t apologize. I get it. And honestly… I know I haven’t exactly been nice to you. I should be the one apologizing. So, uh—sorry. For making you feel like you’re not good enough. You are. You really are.”
James huffs out a humorless breath. “You still hate me, though. So I can’t really be that good, can I?”
Regulus bumps his shoulder against James’s, and James glances up at him.
“Hey,” Regulus says again, softly this time. “I don’t hate you. Not really…”
James looks at him and lets out a surprised laugh. Regulus’s brows furrow.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, sounding almost offended.
“Reg, you don’t have to lie to me just to make me feel better. That’s sweet, but it’s not gonna help anything—”
“Why the fuck would I lie to you if I hated you?” Regulus snaps, cutting him off. “If I really hated you, I definitely wouldn’t have just done what I did.”
Oh. Okay. That’s… fair.
“Yeah, um,” James says, a little dazed now, “so why did you do all that?”
Regulus is quiet for a second. He stares at the door, scrubs his hands over his face, and exhales.
“I don’t hate you,” he says finally. “I actually think you’re… kind. Kind of annoyingly kind. But…” He falters for a moment. “I hate the person who took my brother away from me. And that just so happens to be you.”
Oh.
That… makes sense. And also, weirdly, doesn’t. Because James didn’t take Sirius from Regulus. Sirius made that choice. And Regulus got Sirius back after all. Still, James thinks he gets what Regulus is trying to say.
“Oh,” he says quietly.
“Yeah,” Regulus murmurs. “I know it’s not your fault. That he left. I know that. It’s not really rational. But I have to blame someone. And I can’t blame Sirius for leaving that house. I can’t even blame him for leaving me. And I don’t want to blame myself. So…” He gives James a small, sad smile. “I blame you.”
James doesn’t say anything. He just listens.
“You know what’s even more shitty?” Regulus goes on. “I like you. Well—maybe not like, exactly. But I definitely don’t hate you. You’re good. You’re kind. You’re there for my brother, and I’m… actually really grateful for that. Which makes it worse. Because it just makes you harder to hate.”
James stares at him, floored. That was… a lot. But somehow, it all makes sense. And the fact that Regulus doesn’t really hate him—yeah. That helps. A lot.
And now James is determined.
“Regulus,” he says, carefully, “why do you have to blame anyone at all? I mean… you could just not. Maybe no one’s really at fault except your parents. Sirius didn’t leave because of you, and he didn’t leave because of me. He left because of them. Blame them. But not anyone else.”
“You’re just saying that to make me stop hating you.”
“No, I’m saying it because it’s true,” James says firmly. “It’s not my fault. Sirius couldn’t stand being in that house. Neither could you. You got out too you know? Eventually, he would’ve left no matter what. He told me he’d rather be homeless than stay with your parents. So yeah—he would’ve gone anyway. The only part I played was that he had somewhere to go.”
James looks at him then, straight into his eyes, and says quietly, “And isn’t that a good thing?”
Regulus just stares back. His face unreadable.
It’s true. Regulus left too. Last year. To live with his uncle Alphard. James’s parents offered to take him in too but Regulus declined. He did visit them sometimes though. To talk to Sirius and fix his relationship with him. And they did fix it. They’re back to being brothers again so why would Regulus still be mad at James when he got his brother back?
They’re really close in the cupboard.
The air feels heavy now—but not in the suffocating way it did earlier. No, this is different. Charged. Expectant. James realizes, with startling clarity, that he doesn’t want to leave just yet. Not when something is finally shifting between them.
They’re quiet, still. Just looking at each other in the dim light filtering through the cracks of the cupboard door. Regulus’s eyes are stupidly pretty up close—gray like storm clouds caught in sunlight, sharp and searching, flicking between James’s own like he’s trying to read him.
James swallows. His heart is beating louder than it should. Maybe it’s the silence. Maybe it’s Regulus’s hand still brushing his knee. Or maybe it’s because for the first time, they’re not arguing. They’re just… here. Together.
James figures he should probably shut up and let the moment sit.
But he’s James Potter, so—fuck it.
“Not to interrupt this charming silence,” he murmurs, voice soft but teasing, “but your eyes are really pretty up close.”
Regulus groans, eyes rolling. “I cannot believe you. Really, James? Merlin—shut up.”
James smirks, the kind of cocky and daring smile that’s gotten him into more trouble than he can count. “Make me.”
There’s a flicker of something dangerous in Regulus’s eyes now. A spark. A dare.
“You’re insufferable.”
“You’re obsessed with me.”
“In what delusional world—”
James doesn’t let him finish.
He leans forward—too fast, too impulsive, heart racing—and presses his mouth to Regulus’s.
For a heartbeat, everything stops.
It’s rash and reckless and so very James, and for a split second, he’s ready to pull back and apologize, already bracing for the slap or hex or furious glare—
But none of that happens.
Because Regulus kisses him back.
It’s hesitant for only a breath, then it's all heat and desperation, like everything unspoken between them has snapped, lit a fuse. Regulus grabs the front of James’s shirt and pulls him in, kisses him like he’s been holding it back for too long. James gasps against his lips, a half-laugh escaping him before Regulus swallows it whole.
And Merlin—Regulus kisses like he’s trying to win something. It’s all sharp teeth and dragging lips, a little messy, a little breathless, and James thinks he might actually die from how good it feels.
When Regulus fists a hand in his hair and tugs, James moans—helplessly, embarrassingly—and lets him in. Regulus’s tongue slides against his, and James meets him eagerly, greedy for more, for everything.
He clutches at Regulus like he’s not quite real, like he might vanish if James doesn’t hold on tight enough. It’s overwhelming in the best way.
They nearly knock over the broomstick wedged between them. Neither of them care.
Time stops mattering.
It’s not until a click echoes through the silence—the unmistakable sound of the lock unlatching—that they jolt apart. Both of them are breathing hard, faces flushed, eyes wide.
Regulus stares at him like he’s just remembered where they are. Like he’s trying to piece everything together again.
“We never speak of this again,” he says, voice firm and a little too fast.
James can’t answer. Can barely think.
“We never speak of this again. Do you hear me?”
James just grins. Slow. Shameless. And entirely unrepentant.
“You can keep saying that, love,” he says, voice low and wrecked from kissing. “Won’t stop me from doing it again. You’re an amazing kisser.”
Regulus gives him a look that’s somewhere between a glare and absolute panic—then promptly turns on his heel and leaves the cupboard.
James leans his head back against the wall, a stunned smile spreading across his face.
Well, that escalated quickly.
---
AFTERMATH – Regulus POV
He walks fast.
No—flees. Like he’s being chased. Because maybe he is. Not by James. James stayed back in the cupboard, probably grinning like a smug idiot, proud of himself for being kissed by a Black. But Regulus isn’t worried about James. He’s running from the part of himself that wanted it.
He makes it to an empty corridor near the astronomy tower before he stops. His heart is pounding like he just outran a pack of dementors. His hands are shaking. His mouth still tingles.
Merlin.
What the fuck just happened?
He sits down heavily on the floor, back against the cold stone wall, and drops his head into his hands. His whole face is on fire. He can still feel James—his hands, his lips, his stupid breathless laugh against his cheek.
Regulus lets out a strangled sound.
This is bad.
This is so bad.
Because it wasn’t just a kiss. It wasn’t even just a good kiss. It was… soft. Hot. Real. There was feeling behind it. And worse—he didn’t want it to stop.
He kissed James Potter and then let himself feel safe for a minute. He was held. He was seen. And for someone like Regulus, someone who keeps every crack stitched shut—that is dangerous.
“I’m such an idiot,” he whispers to no one.
And then there’s the other problem. The worst one.
He liked it.
Not just the kissing. The everything. The talking. The honesty. The warmth in James’s voice when he called him love like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Regulus had cracked open in that cupboard. He told him things he’s never told anyone. And James didn’t laugh. Didn’t throw it back in his face. He just… was there. Kissed him. Regulus told him he was good enough. And James made Regulus believe that he was…worthy of this. Whatever this is.
And Regulus? He believed him.
That's the terrifying part.
He drags his fingers through his hair and leans his head back against the wall. He should Obliviate him. No, better—himself. Wipe the whole damn thing. Pretend it never happened. Go back to hating him. To safe, easy disdain.
But he can’t. Because for the first time in a long time… he doesn’t want to. He also doesn’t need to. Uncle Alphard is not like his parents. He wouldn’t mind. He actually rather likes James. So why should he go back to hating James? He got Sirius back, like James said. He doesn’t need to hide anymore. He doesn’t live in that house anymore. He could just…let go.
Regulus closes his eyes.
He doesn’t know what this means. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do. But he knows one thing:
He’s in trouble.
Big, stupid, heart-pounding trouble.
---
NEXT MORNING – Great Hall
James is trying to act normal.
He’s failing miserably.
His toast is untouched, he keeps stirring his tea without drinking it, and his eyes keep drifting toward the Slytherin table like they’ve got magnets built into them.
Sirius elbows him, hard.
“Mate, either eat your damn toast or go make out with my brother again. You’re making everyone uncomfortable.”
James chokes. “Sirius!”
“What? I’m being supportive.”
“You’re being a menace.”
“You snogged Regulus Black in a broom cupboard. I think you lost the right to accuse anyone of anything ever again.”
James groans and drops his face onto the table.
Of course he told Sirius everything. Well, not everything. Not about him breaking down and stuff. But about the kissing. Sirius reacted surprisingly good. He doesn’t mind apparently. He said that there’s nothing better than his brother and best friend being together. He couldn’t imagine anyone better for James or for Regulus. They’re the two best people in his life.
James thought it was really really sweet. Sirius really manages to surprise him all the time.
He has to talk to Regulus. Properly. No more cupboard drama. No more vague angst. He’s going to ask him out like a gentleman. Maybe. If his heart doesn’t explode first. Because James wants to date him. He really does. And Regulus? Well, he might act like that didn’t mean anything. But…his lips certainly don’t.
---
Later – Corridor Near the Library
Regulus is leaning against the wall, reading. Of course he is. He looks annoyingly perfect, like nothing ever affects him. No sign that they kissed the life out of each other yesterday. No sign that he held James in his arms while James cried his stupid heart out.
James stops a few feet away, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. He tries to casually lean on the wall. Misses. Nearly falls.
Regulus looks up. Raises an eyebrow.
“Are you having a stroke?”
“No!” James blurts. “I mean. Not that I know of. I mean—no. I’m fine. Good. Great actually. Hi.”
Regulus blinks slowly. “Potter.”
Okay. Last name only. Not a good sign. James presses on.
“So, um. About yesterday—”
“No need to talk about it,” Regulus interrupts smoothly. “Didn’t happen, remember? Ancient Black tradition. Cupboard kisses don’t count.”
James stares at him.
“Did you just make that up?”
Regulus shrugs. “Might’ve. Might not’ve.”
James groans. “Regulus.”
That gets his attention. The name. It always does. He looks up properly now, meets James’s eyes, something unreadable flickering there.
James takes a deep breath.
“Okay. So. Right. I know we agreed not to talk about it but I’m breaking that rule. Sorry. No I’m not. I mean. Ugh. Okay—what I’m trying to say is…”
He inhales, fists clenched at his sides, cheeks flaming.
“Would you. Maybe. Like. Go on a date with me? Like… a real one. Not a trauma cupboard date. A regular one. With… food. And drinks. And hopefully more kissing that doesn’t involve broom closets.”
Silence.
Absolute, ringing silence.
Regulus stares at him like he’s just suggested they get married and flee the country.
James is sweating.
Oh no. He’s going to get rejected.
Then Regulus speaks.
“…You’re serious?”
“Er. No, that’s your brother. I’m James.”
Regulus exhales sharply. “I hate you.”
James grins. “You kissed me.”
“That was a mistake.”
“You pulled my hair.”
“I was disoriented!”
“You moaned.”
“I will hex you.”
James takes a step closer, smiling with false confidence. “So… is that a no?”
Regulus stares at him for a moment too long. Then sighs, like the weight of the entire universe has just dropped on his shoulders.
“Fine. One date.”
Oh my god
Oh my god
Merlin, yes!!!
James lights up like a Christmas tree. “Wait—really?!”
“One. Date.” Regulus holds up a finger. “Don’t make me regret this.”
James is grinning so hard his face hurts. “Too late, love. You’re doomed.”
Regulus turns away before James can see the way his mouth quirks up.
But James sees it anyway.
---
The First Date (Or: James Potter’s Slow Emotional Implosion)
It starts off… well. Intentionally.
James plans everything to the letter. He picks the perfect spot near the lake, right where the trees open up to a view of the water, the sky, the whole blooming romance of it all. There's a gingham blanket, chocolate-dipped strawberries, a tiny enchanted radio that plays soft music, and a backup plan in case it rains.
It still goes horribly.
The sky turns on them in minutes. A grey sheet of clouds, a warning crack of thunder, and then it pours. Not a gentle drizzle — an aggressive, skin-soaking downpour that blasts through the trees like the heavens are laughing at him.
James tries to salvage it with a hasty shielding charm. It fizzles. Regulus is drenched. James is drenched. The strawberries float off in a tragic little swirl, and the Butterbeer bottle bursts from a failed drying charm.
He wants to die. Right there. Drown in the puddle forming under his arse.
They relocate under the Quidditch stands, dripping, shivering, James’s wand clutched in a white-knuckled grip like he could still fix this if he just tried harder.
Regulus sits beside him in silence, water dripping from his eyelashes, wrapped awkwardly in James’s outer robe.
Fuck. James is fucking this up already. Regulus really said yes and this is the best James can give him?!
James groans. “This is a nightmare.”
Regulus hums noncommittally. “It’s… memorable.”
“I’m serious. This is the worst date in the history of dating. It’s not even a date, it’s a punishment. I wanted this to be—” He breaks off, dragging a hand through his rain-matted hair. “God, I just wanted it to be perfect.”
Regulus tilts his head. “Why?”
James hesitates. Then, softly: “Because I don’t want you to regret saying yes.”
There. He’s said it. The big pathetic truth. It makes his stomach twist, like he’s just peeled off all his skin and laid it out in the open.
Regulus blinks at him. “James…”
“I know it’s dumb,” James says quickly, rushing to fill the silence. “But I’ve liked you for so long and I know you could have anyone—anyone better—and I didn’t want this to be just… something you tried and gave up on, you know?”
He looks at Regulus now, eyes wide, heart pounding. Fuck, he thinks. Fuck, I’m scaring him off.
Regulus’s expression is unreadable. Not annoyed. Not pitying. Just… thoughtful.
Then, quietly: “I’m not here for a perfect date. I’m here for you.”
James stares. His breath catches. Regulus said that? Regulus Black? Wow.
Regulus continues, slower now, choosing every word like he’s not used to saying them aloud: “Even when you're a mess. Especially when you're a mess. Because you're trying. And that’s... kind of irresistible.”
James is stunned.
And that’s when James realizes Regulus is looking at James’s mouth.
And James is looking at his.
And this time — no cupboard, no accidental explosion of feelings, no panic — just this quiet, damp little space, and two boys who should not feel this soft about each other but absolutely do —
Regulus leans in first. Slowly. Hesitant.
His lips barely brush James’s at first, featherlight, just a question.
James answers it by tilting forward and closing the space completely.
The kiss is slow. Careful. So careful, like they’re both terrified it’ll break if they go too fast. Regulus’s lips are cool from the rain, but his mouth is warm, and his hand lifts gently to the side of James’s neck, fingers brushing under the curl of damp hair there.
James feels like he’s falling.
Not like tripping or crashing — but that fluttery, weightless drop when you realize you want to fall. That every part of you wants this. Has wanted this. For ages. And what’s even better? Regulus obviously wants it too. Even after this disaster of a date.
He cups Regulus’s jaw, thumb brushing the edge of his cheekbone. Regulus sighs against his lips, a sound so soft it sends shivers down James’s spine.
He’s kissing me, James thinks, like an idiot. He’s actually kissing me and not hexing me and I think I’m going to pass out.
When they finally pull back — barely, just enough to breathe — Regulus looks at him like the sky isn’t falling at all.
James whispers, “I think I might be in serious trouble.”
Regulus arches an eyebrow. “Trouble?”
“For liking you this much.”
A pause. Then Regulus smiles, impossibly soft and small, and says, “That’s the kind of trouble I can live with.”
James smiles and they’re back to kissing.
Safe to say, the date is turning out to be the best date ever. Rain can be fun too. As well as broom cupboards. James and Regulus somehow manage to make the best out of it. Or maybe they just don’t care about anything else except for…being with each other.