Chapter Text
How can I keep my soul in me, so that it doesn’t touch your soul? - (Love Song) Rainer Maria Rilke
── REGULUS ──
There is music playing in Regulus’s ears. The soft notes of La petite fille de la mer chime through his headphones as he sits at his dining room table, legs up and crossed in his chair. It’s not the most comfortable position to hold for a long time, but it’s his favorite.
He leans over his poetry journal, murmuring to himself as his pen glides across the smooth pages, translating every word. The room is lit only by a lamp and a candle that produces a faint flickering light. A light spring breeze makes its way through the open door of his condominium balcony. It had been unusually warm for an evening in April and Regulus had been doing nothing more than sit and write for hours.
His phone lights up next to his journal and he pauses, setting his pen down to pick it up. The name reads Sirius and Regulus rolls his eyes, knowing that all the peace he has been experiencing was about to be completely disrupted. He has every right to let the phone ring until it ends because the plan had been for his brother to pick up his manuscript and hand it over to a “friend who knows a publisher” hours ago, five hours ago to be exact.
“Don’t kill me, I’m on my way right now!”
That’s the first thing out of Sirius’s mouth when Regulus finally pauses his music and answers. He puts him on speaker and glares daggers at the screen.
“Where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting forever now!” Regulus complains, voice full of frustration.
“I had important business to attend to,” Sirius responds. Regulus can hear a horn beeping in the background and his brother hurling obscenities at the other driver.
“You were at band practice and had your phone off. Is that the business you’re speaking of?”
There’s a pause on the other end that tells Regulus he’s indeed correct.
“Okay, I’m sorry. We had a good flow going and after that I fell asleep. I just- just forgot. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Regulus checks the time in the upper corner of his phone and groans as it reads 1:05 am. He was not lasting another half hour. His manuscript was ready to go, printed out and placed inside a simple black three-ring binder on the table.
“I’m going to shower. You’re going to come up, grab the manuscript, then leave,” Regulus says, laying out the strict plan. Clearly, Sirius doesn’t know what’s going on and is probably still half asleep. Regulus, now beyond irritated, wants to get this entire ordeal over with. “Everything is on the table. Do you still have a key card?”
“Yup, still got the- Oh my fucking god, watch it!”
“I’m hanging up now,” Regulus says, ending the call before Sirius can speak again. The quiet that fills the room after he ends the call is bliss to his eardrums. He places the phone in his pocket as he sets his feet down on the wood flooring beneath him. A black fuzzy mass rubs itself along his leg and lets out a soft purr. Regulus looks down to see his cat, Atlas, and leans down to run a hand over her soft fur. He picks her up and lets out a chuckle when the purrs intensify.
“Don’t worry, I won’t torture you with a brother. One of us suffering is more than enough,” Regulus whispers before planting a gentle kiss on her furry head.
He lets her down, blows out the candle, and makes his way to his bedroom. He strips himself down to his boxers, grabs a towel from the bathroom closet, and proceeds to take a hot shower with his mind going over the poems he had been working on earlier. His last one is incomplete and he wants to finish it, but he probably wouldn’t be able to get to it until the following day. The number of papers he had to grade for the creative writing class he taught at the local community college had become an unavoidable pile on his desk.
Regulus ends his shower and finishes his nightly routine. He’s about to lie down when he hears the front door open and footsteps make their way inside.
“Reg, it’s just me!” Sirius shouts from the living room. Regulus wants to step out and strangle him for being so loud. Even during childhood, Sirius had lived on MAX volume and Regulus could never understand that because he had always been the opposite, soft-spoken despite a sharp mouth.
“Sirius! People are sleeping!” he hisses, loud enough from his room that Sirius can hear, but not loud enough to wake his neighbors. It was already 2 a.m and Regulus would die if he got a noise complaint.
“Why are you out of bed? Did you need to be tucked in?” Sirius teases, still oblivious to his own volume. Regulus can’t see him, but he can imagine the stupid smile Sirius usually gets on his face when he thinks he’s being funny. Regulus resists the urge to tell him to piss off.
He sighs instead and counts to five in his head. “Lock the door on your way out.”
He locates Atlas beside his nightstand and shuts the door to his room. He can hear Sirius laugh as he makes his way to his bed and gets in. He was ready for this eternity of a day to be over. He makes sure his two alarms are set even though he’d only be getting a few hours of sleep. He has an early 9 am class, a planning period, and then another class to teach at noon.
As he lies in bed, Regulus’s head swims with thoughts, mostly negative ones, but that was no surprise. Tonight, his brain focuses on his writing, and Regulus hates when his brain focuses too much on anything. He wonders if the publisher Sirius has in mind would accept his writing or if he’s doomed to be a failure forever.
Regulus rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. Okay, now that was dramatic.
This publisher would be the fourth that Regulus has sent his work to. It had been weeks now and he had given up on hearing back from the first three. He didn’t have high hopes for the publisher that Sirius knew through a friend. In fact, he didn’t know why he had even bothered to send his manuscript at all. He was growing tired of the whole process and his printer was starting to run out of ink. But despite his thoughts, it doesn’t take long for Regulus to drift off to sleep beside Atlas.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
It had been two days since Regulus had a moment to sit down and catch his breath. The weekend allowed much-needed respite and he could actually enjoy it this time because he had finally gotten to all those papers that needed grading, all 24 of them. Being an adjunct professor had its pros and its list of cons, such as being severely underpaid and overworked. It didn’t help that he had been procrastinating either.
Regulus considered himself a timely person. He didn’t like being late in social or academic aspects. In the past, he prided himself on submitting all his assignments on time. Now, he prided himself on getting grades back to his students in a timely manner. In recent years, many things had changed for him and there was really only one explanation for these changes and he knew exactly what it was.
Regulus is deeply and utterly depressed.
He can admit that he has never been the most cheerful and happy person, but this….this was something else. It started with his sleep. Going from a strict sleep schedule to sleeping for nearly the entire day over and over again has disrupted Regulus’s entire life. It was easy for him to lose track of days when they all bled into each other. The only reason he has any structure to his life currently was because he has a job that required him to be present for five days out of the week, but even then he still struggles to get up and show up.
That was just the surface of it all. Regulus was struggling in more ways than one and has grown to know true misery with his depression. He was both untreated and unmedicated, but didn’t think it was that bad. It would pass eventually- at least that’s what he kept telling himself. The mood swings, headaches, lack of appetite, and constant irritability have to go away someday, right? All these textbook symptoms of depression sucked to experience, but they were trivial in comparison to the thing that made him struggle the most, and that was the loss of interest in the things he loves.
Aside from practicing piano, reading, and writing, Regulus found very little pleasure in life. Out of all three, writing was Regulus’s entire world. He loves to write. He lives to write. He considers it an art and one of his most few and cherished pastimes. He’s written two novels so far, but until recently, neither had yet to see the light of day. He adored the feel of pen on paper, the way his thoughts poured out and became something real, something perceptible. When he had no way to express himself, when words became too much for his mind to hold- Regulus wrote.
This brings him to his current dilemma: Regulus can’t find his poetry journal anywhere. He turned his apartment upside down, searching for it with clothes strewn left and right from opened drawers, couches moved and cushions thrown in every direction imaginable. He’s on the verge of panicking when he takes a seat at his table and lays his head down on the cool wood. This was his life. This was his fate- to be utterly inconvenienced for the rest of eternity.
The journal has about a years worth of poems in it. He had picked it up at a craft store while getting supplies for his students. The black binding had drawn him in and the snake etched in gold thread on the cover had sealed the deal for him. The content he had written inside held a wide range of topics from his life, his emotions, his struggles, his views on passion, the world, and even love. Needless to say, his heart was in the pages of that journal and losing it would be a complete catastrophe.
A moment passes before Regulus lifts his head off the table and slams his hands down as a thought flashes in his mind. It was an absurd thought, a terrifying one to say the least but it was his one and final idea as to where his journal could be. He quickly gets up and searches for his phone, grabbing it off the living room coffee table and unlocking it. He heads straight to his contact list. It doesn’t take him long to scroll because he only has a few names in there so he finds who he is looking for fairly quickly
Fucking Sirius
The phone rings once, twice and then he picks up.
“Sirius, the night you came over to get the manuscript, did you grab anything else?” Regulus asks urgently.
“Well, hello to you too,” Sirius says, and Regulus grips his phone a little harder.
“Can you answer the question?!”
“No! Why?”
“I’m missing my poetry journal. It’s black and-”
“Oh, that! Of course! I grabbed everything on the table like you asked,” Sirius answers enthusiastically. Regulus lets out a sigh of relief and leans against the wall. The relief only lasts about half a second before he’s panicking again.
“Sirius, I said the manuscript is on the table, not to take everything there! You even took my pen because I can’t find that either.”
“It’s a nice pen and I’m just borrowing it.”
Regulus runs his palm over his face and groans. “Who did you give it to, Sirius?”
“Oh, I gave everything to James.”
James?
“James who?” Regulus asks as his visage twists into a confused look. He wracks his brain for a face, but he can’t think of anyone….unless.
“Potter?”
“Yeah, who else?”
Regulus’s heart sinks to the ground and he slides against the wall to meet it at his feet. “Sirius- I’m going to fucking strangle you.”
“Well, that’s not very brotherly of you.”
“With my bare hands!”
“What’s the big deal anyway?” Sirius asks. Regulus doesn’t have the time or the patience to answer that question because he’s about two seconds away from flipping tables and saying things he would later regret.
“I need it back, Sirius! Today!”
“Well, I can’t get it back today. I’m at work right now and have to give these kids and their parents a tour soon,” Sirius answers.
Regulus groans and lets his head fall to rest atop his knees. Sirius worked as a tour guide at an aquarium, the perfect job for someone who liked to talk nonstop. Regulus had forgotten that on Saturdays, Sirius works all day and wouldn’t get off until closing time at 10 pm. It was still fairly early in the morning and he knew his brother wasn’t going to do shit after clocking out.
“Sirius, I don’t think you understand. I need that book in my hands as soon as possible or I’m not going to make it,” Regulus says as he clutches his chest, the panic starting to feel a bit too heavy.
“Okay, okay, Reg, breathe. I’ll give you James’s number and you can grab it from him. He shouldn’t be doing much today because it’s the weekend. I’m sure he’d give it back to you- just hold on.”
Regulus tries to do as told and breathe, but it’s really hard when his body is reacting as if he’s just been told he’s now on death row. James was one of Sirius’s best friends and that was the extent to what Regulus knew about him. He had only met James a few times throughout the years since he had moved to New York and it was always in passing. Sirius talked about James more than Regulus had ever seen him, but the times he did see him, Regulus always felt his stomach flip at the sight of the man.
It was embarrassing. How do you develop a crush on someone you’ve seen a total of about four times and never really talked to aside from a minuscule hello? Regulus despised this and despised James for it even more. It’s been three years since he had last seen him at one of Sirius’s parties, but Regulus remembers him vividly. James was a hard person to forget once you met him. He was mentioned in his poetry quite a few times. The only thing saving Regulus was that James was never mentioned by name. No one was ever mentioned by name in his poetry. Regulus shuts his eyes and leans his head back a little too fast, and hits it against the wall
“Regulus?” Sirius calls out. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Regulus responds with a grimace. “Fucking great.”
“Shit- I have to go, but I just sent you his number and he should answer because he just answered me. I’ll talk to you after I get off, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” Regulus mumbles before the call ends. He checks his messages and sure enough, Sirius had sent him the 10-digit number. Regulus stares at the number and takes another deep breath, willing his heart to calm down. How was he supposed to do this? What was he supposed to say?
Regulus clicks on the number and goes to his messages. His thumbs hover over the keyboard and he starts to type.
Hey, you have my shit. Please give it back.
Good?
No, he can’t start like that. He backspaces the entire message and is again staring at an empty text box.
This is Regulus. Please do not read my-
Ugh. Regulus backspaces it all again before trying one last time.
Regulus: Hello, this is Regulus Black. Sirius said you had my journal? Would it be possible for it to be returned today?
Regulus stares at the message and groans. Why the fuck did it sound so…so rigid? Whatever, he’s given up. He presses the send button and starts to bite at the nail on his thumb. He nearly passes out as the blue “typing…” dots appear on his screen almost immediately.
He was NOT expecting a response so quickly. It must have only been a few seconds, but those seconds stretched so long that Regulus felt the knot in his stomach twist tighter. He stands and starts to pace as the dots flash in and out. When the message comes through, Regulus bites down on his thumb so hard he flinches.
James: Hey, of course you can have it back. I can get it to you in a couple of hours. That cool?
A couple of hours? Regulus was expecting the reply to calm his nervous system down, but it did the exact opposite. He could get ready in two hours, right? Of course he could. He could definitely get dressed to see James Potter in two hours. No problem. None at all.
Regulus was going to throw up. He hovers his thumbs over the keyboard again and starts typing.
Regulus: Yeah, that works. Thanks.
James’s reply is immediate and Regulus realizes he needs to find a seat. He lands on his couch and reads the new message.
James: I think Sirius mentioned you live in Sunset Park, right? On the south?
James: I can bring it to you or we can meet somewhere.
Regulus takes one look around his apartment and decides that James bringing the journal to his home is out of the question. Besides, James didn’t know exactly where he lives and he doesn’t really want him knowing where he lives. That leaves only the second option: meeting somewhere.
Regulus: Let’s meet up.
The message delivers, but isn’t read right away like the others. A minute goes by and then another. Regulus wonders if he chose the wrong option, but how was that possible if James was the one who suggested both? Regulus is about to turn his phone off when another message finally comes through.
James: Does the Saturn Cafe work? at 11?
The Saturn cafe. Regulus had passed there a few times. It wasn’t far, but he wasn’t familiar with the place. But what did it matter? As long as he got his journal back and never spoke to James ever again, he was cool with meeting at the north pole if that’s what it took.
Regulus: Yeah, that works great. See you then.
James: See you :)
Regulus doesn’t respond after that. The smiley face throws him off.
It’s cute.
Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up
He doesn’t need his brain pulling this sort of shit on him now. He stands up from his seat and throws the phone on the couch after checking the time. He has to shower and get dressed now, but he can’t seem to move from the spot where he stands. He’s just stuck in disbelief. Finally, after another moment, Regulus rushes to his bathroom, stripping himself down on the way there. He takes the quickest but most thorough shower of his life and spends some time drying his hair. He completes the shortcut version of a skincare routine and brushes his teeth.
Then came the next beast to conquer- finding something to wear. The problem with finding something to wear was that Regulus had a lot of clothes, but most of it made him look like a professor all the time. His closet consisted of different variations of the same things, like sweater vests and button-ups. He wasn’t exactly sure what James was going to wear or what the atmosphere at Saturn cafè was, but -
Why are you overthinking this?
Regulus lets out a deep sigh before quickly grabbing some clothes from his closet. He throws on one of his button-ups, a sweater vest, and some black dress pants before slipping on some loafers. He has minimal time to accessorize with some rings and sprays himself down with something that smells good. He grabs his wallet and his sweater before petting Atlas and making his way out.
When Regulus arrives at the Saturn Cafè, it’s 10:57 am. His head spins as he grabs the handle of the door and lets himself in. The Saturn Cafè is breathtaking. It’s like stepping into a galaxy. There are decoy planets and stars that hang up on the ceiling and emit low ambient lighting, but not enough that you couldn’t see anything. Framed art of the constellations hung on the walls, and you could smell the coffee and fresh pastries as soon as you walk in. Light chatter and the sound of people typing away on their keyboards fill the space, all creating a serene atmosphere.
Regulus looks around, trying to catch a glimpse of people’s faces, wondering if he would even be able to recognize James after all these years, but he sees no one who would’ve resembled the image of the man in his head. Regulus is about to check his phone when he feels a light tap on his shoulder.
The man stands confident and taller than Regulus. The warm brown eyes that rest behind golden and round framed glasses are the first thing to let Regulus know. The next to let him know is the man’s rich bronze skin and curly black hair that he wants nothing more than to run his finger through to see just how soft the cloud of curls really are. He smells good and wears a simple black t-shirt with a single gold chain around his neck, jeans and some crimson red converse. His right arm is covered in different tattoos, an entire sleeve of black ink art. It was impressive compared to the lone snake tattoo that Regulus had on his wrist. A backpack was slung over one of his shoulders and Regulus just knew that’s where his journal was.
James Potter
“Regulus?”
It’s the most beautiful his name has ever sounded coming out of someone’s mouth. Even his voice is smooth and alluring. Regulus had forgotten what he sounded like after all these years and the reminder had the same effect as a punch to the chest. He realizes he looks plain stupid just standing there and clears his throat, nodding to confirm his identity.
“Hi,” Regulus musters. He sounds barely there, voice faint and light. He hates it. He wishes he had a more commanding voice, but his heart is beating hard and he has much bigger things to worry about, like remembering how to breathe properly. The corners of James’s lips move to form a bright smile. You can see shiny white teeth when he does this and Regulus smiles back at him, albeit tight-lipped.
“It’s been ages, hasn’t it?” James asks and Regulus has enough sense back in his system to nod. There’s a hint of an accent when he talks, so Regulus lets out this breath he’s been holding, trying not to lose footing on solid, flat ground.
“Yeah, ages,” he repeats. There’s an awkward pause between them and he isn’t sure what else to say, so he says nothing. He feels sweaty, especially in his palms and hopes that James can’t tell how utterly nervous he is.
“Can I grab you something to drink? James asks.
Regulus is forever grateful that he’s the one speaking, but not grateful that it’s this particular question. He wants to say no. He wants James to just hand him his journal so he can run back home and never see the light of day again, only to come out at night as vampires do. But James looks at him in a manner that is so inviting and so sincere that he finds he doesn’t have it in him to say no.
“Uh, yeah, sure. I don’t mind,” Regulus answers quickly, finally able to form actual coherent sentences. His answer bothers him. He doesn’t want James paying for his drink, but it seems too late to say anything since he already agreed.
James’s smile grows wider. “Great! I love the drinks here and usually it’s not super busy on weekends.”
“Oh, you come here often then?” Regulus asks. He’s surprised with himself. He was actually responding and felt no longer on the verge of a life-threatening heart attack.
“Yeah, usually during the weekday before I have to head into work,” James answers.
Regulus wonders how many times he has passed the cafè with James inside. He never thought to stop by on his way to work, but he wasn’t that much of a coffee drinker to begin with. James gestures to the front counter and Regulus makes his way forward first with James following close beside him.
“This is my first time inside here,” Regulus admits and James turns to look at him a little wide-eyed.
“Then we have to get you something good, yeah?”
Regulus nods and takes a look at the menu overhead. There are so many options and everything is written in chalk on a blackboard. He’s grateful the handwriting is neat and big. They have a variety of options for drinks, mostly coffee, but there are options for juice and smoothies as well.
“See anything you like?” James asks.
“Uh, a smoothie sounds good, but I don’t know which kind to get,” Regulus says.
“I’ve got you,” James reassures brightly. “Allergic to anything?”
Regulus shakes his head, but finds it kinda endearing that James cares if he dies or not from an allergic reaction to fruit.
“Then their Peach Bliss is really good, but so is the Parisian Sunset. That one is mango and strawberry.” James explains.
Both sounded good, but Regulus thinks the Parisian is ironic. “The Parisian Sunset, please.”
“You’re gonna love it!” James says enthusiastically.
Regulus watches him order a latte and the smoothie from the barista and pay. They then move to the side so the next person can order while they wait.
“So-” James starts.
Oh no.
Regulus really, really did not want to get into small talk. He was going to start ripping his hair out. He needs this to be over with already and he hadn’t even gotten his shit back. Regulus despises small talk. He finds it completely pointless and would rather stand in silence, but the few times he had been around James he noticed he was as much of a talker as Sirius.
“How have you been these past few years?” James asks. “I think the last time I saw you was Sirius’s party two- no, three years ago? You just stopped coming.”
I’ve been wallowing in depression for the last few years
“I’ve been good. Just around.” Regulus replies. “Wasn’t much of a party goer to begin with.”
The only interesting part was seeing you
He thinks it’s the perfect reply, not too long and not too short, but before Regulus can ask how James has been in return the barista calls his name. James grabs both drinks before Regulus can even reach for his own and swivels his head around to find a table. He heads towards an empty one with two seats and Regulus follows.
“I hope this is okay?” James asks.
Regulus nods and places his sweater on the back of the black metal chair before taking a seat. James sets down the drinks and his backpack before he takes a seat as well. Regulus watches as he leans back in his chair before shifting in his own under James’s gaze. He sighs, letting his shoulders drop.
“Ask what you want to ask so we can get this over with,” Regulus grumbles.
He watches the smile on James’s face widen to a grin and he just knows his life might as well be over. James is incredibly good looking. It was distracting. It made him angry, and the warm contradictory feeling that spread through him was not welcome.
“So, you write?” James asks.
“Clearly,” Regulus says, trying his best not to sound snappy. It doesn’t work.
“I didn’t know you write,” James continues.
“You don’t know anything. We don’t know each other.”
“Hmm, valid point,” James admits. Regulus wants so badly to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t. The less emotion he showed, the better. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to walk out of this alive if he kept his cool and -
“It was good, y’know. You’re very talented.”
He tenses at the idea of James reading his work. There had been a small part of him that had hoped he hadn’t even glanced at the pages of both his manuscript and journal, but clearly that hope was squandered.
But the compliment…
There’s a heat spreading through Regulus’s entire body and he can feel a blush creeping up his face.
“Can I have my stuff back now?” Regulus asks with a visible scowl.
James seems unaffected. “Sure. I don’t see why not.”
He unzips his backpack and reaches in. Regulus can see it much closer now, noticing the variety of Spiderman pins on it. He pulls out Regulus’s journal and hands it over. He takes it and inspects the journal closely. Everything seems to be intact so he lets out a small sigh of relief.
James lets out a laugh. “Were you expecting it to be torn to pieces?”
Regulus ignores him and places the journal on the table next to his melting smoothie.
“They were beautiful,” James continues. “The poems.”
Regulus doesn’t know what to say. He was never good at accepting compliments, especially on his writing. He looks at James as if he has two heads.
“You- you probably have never read poetry before. How would you know if it’s beautiful or not?”
James raises an eyebrow and leans in a little. “You assume I don’t read?”
“You’re friends with Sirius. Of course you don’t read.”
This gets his second laugh out of James- not that Regulus was counting.
“Contrary to your beliefs, Regulus, I do read. I know beautiful poetry when I see it. Besides, usually the art reflects the writer, doesn’t it?”
Regulus is stunned. He opens his mouth to speak and closes it back up again. Had James just called him beautiful? No, he was either hallucinating or had heard him wrong or something- anything else.
“You seem shocked by this information,” James says, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm. Regulus feels like he’s being inspected under a microscope as James continues to look at him through earthy brown eyes. Regulus clears his throat as he feels his heartbeat in his ears.
“I just wasn’t expecting…thank you, I guess,” he responds shyly. He reaches and takes a straw from the holder on the table, ripping off the paper and putting it in the smoothie. He takes a sip and is surprised by how good it tastes. The mango overpowered the strawberry, but he didn’t mind at all.
“Is it good?” James asks.
“It’s okay,” Regulus answers honestly. He takes another sip before he pulls back.
“Oh, that reminds me-,” James reaches into his backpack again and pulls out a black binder- his manuscript. “Sirius told me to look over it, and I did.”
“Are you a literary agent?” Regulus asks. Why would James even read it?
“No, but my friend Remus is, and my mother is the publisher you were probably told about, but I was curious.”
“I’ve met Remus once,” Regulus explains. “But Sirius didn’t mention much of anything to me, just that he had a friend who knew a publisher. I was assuming it would’ve been him, but clearly it was not. ”
James flashes him another smile before handing him the manuscript. Regulus opens it up to a random page and the first thing he notices is red writing all over the page. It’s notes. Regulus flips to another page and there’s even more, along with some doodle art.
“I left some notes in there for you- some readers’ perspective,” James says.
“I don’t need your perspective. I never asked for it,” Regulus says, continuing to flip through the pages. There wasn’t a single margin left untouched. James really had read the whole thing and notated it too. Regulus knows that accepting criticism is something he needs to work on, but he’s never really had anyone he knows read his work before, so forgive him if he’s a little sensitive about it.
“Sirius had mentioned that you usually don’t let people read anything you write. Every good writer considers a reader’s opinion at some point. Remus told me that. It doesn’t mean you have to change anything, but it’s good to get an outside view, you know?”
Regulus flips to a random page and reads one of the notes on the side. There’s an arrow pointing to a paragraph where one of his characters, Sylas, saves the day by solving a long-winded mystery of a missing person that turns into a murder. That’s just the beginning of the story, though, because when one puzzle is solved, another begins.
Sylas…such a badass. I feel personally represented.
Regulus lets out a snort of laughter at the comment. The arrogance is astounding. He looks up at James and notices that he’s smiling too, and immediately wipes the smile off his own face. He closes the manuscript and sets it down under the journal.
“Thank you for returning everything.”
“So, is there a sequel?” James asks.
Regulus eyes him closely. “Why? You want to read more?”
James shrugs. “Kinda want to know more about your characters and you ended the story on a major cliffhanger. I think it’s only fair that the readers want more.”
“What do you want to know?” Regulus asks.
“Why is Sylas a dick most of the time? He’s the main character. Don’t you want him to be a little more likable?”
Regulus gives a disingenuous smile. “He’s inspired by you.”
James scoffs. “Bullshit. You said it yourself; we hardly know each other.”
“Changes nothing.”
James chuckles, eyes shining with something Regulus can’t describe. He wasn’t dismayed by Regulus in the slightest and that troubled him.
“A sequel would be cool,” James continues. “I think a lot of people would like it.”
“I was planning on it, but I haven’t started it yet. I’m still developing a plot,” Regulus answers. He had a solid idea of what he wanted to write, but had been so busy trying to perfect this current manuscript that he had been neglecting the second book quite a bit. Regulus watches James perk up at this information.
“Well, go on then,” James encourages. Regulus hesitates. He had been preparing to leave soon, but this opening to talk about his story to someone who actually wanted to listen was enticing. The only other person Regulus had tried to explain aspects of his story to was his friend Barty, but Barty had the attention span of a tablet kid and so it never really worked out.
“Well…” Regulus hesitates. “I’m sure you remember the details of the murder, but I was planning something more grand.”
“Really?” James asks, leaning in even more with a lazy, charming smile on full display. “Like what?”
Regulus feels his blush come in for a second wave. He starts talking slowly, unleashing all of his thoughts on his story. He goes over his plot without giving any major spoilers, you know, just in case James actually wants to read the sequel. He goes on about the characters, delving into their history, their likes and dislikes. At some point, he even starts going on about what writing meant to him and how long he’d been doing it. James listens attentively the whole time. He never takes his eyes off of Regulus and asks questions here and there with that smile never leaving his lips.
Regulus is wrapping up one of his thoughts when he happens to catch a glimpse of the time on a clock hanging on the wall. He is immediately mortified. Fuck, has he really been talking for nearly an hour and a half? Why was Potter still listening to him? It’s as if he snaps out of a trance. He starts to gather his things quickly and stands up.
“Uhh, I forgot to refill my cat’s food bowl this morning. I have to go now,” he says. The way James looks at him lets him know he hadn’t convinced either of them.
“Hmm, okay,” James says simply. Regulus lets out a sigh of relief. He couldn’t wait to get home, pretend this whole thing never happened in the first place and never see James’s face ever again.
“Goodbye,” Regulus says before making his way to the door.
“See you later.”
── JAMES ──
Film and photography meant a lot to James. He felt so much passion for it that he had gotten his Bachelor’s in Fine Arts at the New York Film Academy before getting his Master’s of Fine Arts in graphic design. His current trailer project was just a precursor to the bigger project he had been working on for nearly a year. It was a short film on his friends and exactly what it means to be queer in today’s age. The trailer was going to be shown at his place tomorrow afternoon during a small gathering. He had so far invited his friends, his film crew and whoever their friends were. Right now, he should be working on editing his footage, but he could barely focus.
James remembered when Sirius first introduced him to Regulus. He had mentioned Regulus here and there throughout their friendship, stating first that Regulus used he/they pronouns and wasn’t much of a people person. James didn’t have a clue what Regulus looked like until they met. At that point, James had no choice but to give him his full attention.
Regulus had striking grey eyes that reminded him of the dark warning clouds that would appear before a storm and light freckles that covered rosy cheeks. He was quiet, somewhat timid, but held his head up as if daring anyone to mess with him. His presence was commanding even when he stuck to the corners of the room, trying his hardest not to interact with anyone. He immediately left a lasting impression on James.
He hadn’t known who the manuscript and journal belonged to until the moment Sirius put them in his hands and told him. He hadn’t known Regulus much at all, but after reading both works, he was seeing him in a completely new light. Regulus’s manuscript was well paced and well written. James had never considered himself a big reader, but he was glued to the pages of the mystery novel. He had a lot of things to say and notes to make, so he left them in the margins with red ink.
When James got to the poetry, he had high expectations after reading the manuscript. He was not left disappointed. The journal was black with a snake on the cover. When he first received it, he traced the gold thread of the snake with his finger before opening it. The handwriting was clear, neat, and in cursive. The words were written in smooth black ink that sometimes bled through the light tan paper.
I spill more red than I am willing to give, but I find it is my hands that are occupied and heavy with the weight of the weapon - R.A.B
The melancholy, anger, desperation, happiness, love, and even hate that filled the pages had James’s emotions twisting in ways he had never felt before.
A raw wound, that is what I’ve become. Perhaps as punishment for not being more than I am now - R.A.B
He spent hours reading through it all and hours more thinking about it. He always thought poetry was pretty cool and a necessary form of expression, but had never taken the time to really delve into it- that is until now.
So, when James got that text message from Sirius asking if he was available to meet with Regulus, he hadn’t known exactly what to think, but yes was his immediate answer. James was intrigued and had been since the day he and Regulus had spoken a word to each other. If this was his chance to get to know him a little more, then he was going to make it happen.
It only took a short time for Regulus’s message to come through. He wanted his journal back. James should’ve seen it coming. The journal felt too personal and he wondered why Regulus was willing to share something one would consider so private. It had been a mistake.
Now, hours after their meet-up, James was still thinking about him. He knew he was in trouble since the day he had met Regulus, but after this, he knew he was completely screwed. He wanted to see him again and watch him flush under his gaze. He wanted him to snap at him whenever he said something that made him a little defensive. He wanted to invite him over to his trailer screening, but hadn’t had a chance to when they had met. He doesn’t want to scare him off. He wants to give Regulus time to get used to him and to relax a little bit. James had gotten him to do that and he couldn’t move on from it.
So with his film footage on his laptop forgotten about and his phone in hand, James considers sending a text to see if he made it back okay. Before he can do that, his phone dings with a notification. He sits up in bed and presses on the message.
Regulus: Did I forget my sweater?
Regulus had indeed forgotten his sweater. James was staring at it right now, black and piled up at the edge of his bed.
James: You did. I got it though. Was just about to text you.
Regulus: Can I have it back?
James could do two things right now. He could easily give Regulus a straight answer OR he could tease a little bit, get on the others’ nerves before eventually saying what he wanted to hear. He chooses the second option.
James: I mean you could, buuuut
Regulus: But what, James.
James chuckles to himself. He can tell that Regulus is already irritated. He bites his bottom lip and starts typing again, plan clear in his mind.
James: Come to my movie night/film screening.
Regulus: And why would I do that?
James: Oh, so you don’t want to see your sweater again?
Regulus: Are you bribing me with my own things??
James: Yes. Problem?
Regulus: I should block you.
James grins.
James: You can. But how are you ever gonna get your stuff back?
He doesn’t get a reply for a few minutes. His leg is shaking a lot and he keeps running his hand through his hair. Maybe he took it too far. What if he really had blocked him? He goes to place his phone down and grab his laptop to get his mind off it all when the screen lights up again.
Regulus: Where?
Holy shit. He hadn’t expected him to actually cave. James scrambles to type out his address and hits send before Regulus changes his mind. He types another message with ease and sends that too.
James: Starts tomorrow at 8pm. You can bring a friend.
James: You can come get your sweater tomorrow morning if you want. Saturn Cafe at 11am.
Regulus doesn’t reply for the rest of the night, but James has a feeling he’ll be seeing him anyway.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
The next day they meet at the same cafè. Regulus walks in at exactly 10:55am and takes a seat at the table James had chosen. He gives Regulus a quick once over, letting his eyes take in all of them. He was wearing something similar to yesterday, just grey pants and a different colored sweater vest- royal blue. It complemented his eyes nicely. His hair was a little damp and he smelled of vanilla sandalwood, letting James know that he had probably showered recently.
“So, we meet again,” James greets with a warm smile.
Regulus scoffs and crosses his arms. “Not by choice.”
“Mmh, you had a choice and still chose to come,” James says. “How are you?”
Regulus looks at him as if he’s bored, but James knows better.
“Do we really have to do this, James?” Regulus asks, looking completely over everything.
James likes the way his name sounds coming out of his mouth, with a slight accent and full of malice. It doesn’t deter him. In fact, it makes him want to push more of Regulus’s buttons. So yes, they did have to do this.
“It would definitely help you get your sweater back faster,” James responds. He slides a smoothie in front of Regulus, the Parisian Sunset, and watches him take a deep breath before pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
“I’m fine. And you?”
James smiles at him. “Oh, me? I’m great. Just cruising through life and taking things day by day.”
Regulus is glaring at him and it takes everything in James not to laugh and really make him angry. Regulus is about to open his mouth and probably spit something mean at James, but James beats him to talking.
“Write anything new?”
“I - no, I haven’t. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since I last saw you.”
Good.
James bites his lip, trying to determine how far he should push Regulus today. He wants him to loosen up again, to speak to him openly and freely, but he had tall walls around him held together by brick and cement. It would take some time to chip away at. James wasn’t exactly sure why he was doing this, only that the urge was there.
“Any plans today?”
“Christ- what’s with the interrogation?” Regulus asks, irritation on full display.
“I want to understand you better, that’s all,” James answers truthfully. In all honesty, he’s unsure if Regulus will open up again and give him the chance to see the side of him he saw yesterday. He watches Regulus’s face morph into a confused look.
“You don’t need to understand me better,” Regulus says. “This isn’t a date.”
James speaks before he fully processes what he’s saying- a terrible habit of his.
“Would it be such a bad thing if it were?”
Regulus slips. His facade vanishes for half a second before returning to a vacant and neutral expression. The only issue is that James doesn’t miss it.
“What- what are you on about?” Regulus stammers, a light pink dusting his cheeks.
James can’t help the smirk that makes its way onto his lips. He isn’t going to let this slide, not in the slightest. He cocks his head to the side a little and watches as Regulus shifts nervously in his seat.
“I said, would it be such a bad thing if this were a date?”
“You’re not my type,” Regulus says with a little too much haste.
A million things are flying through James’s brain right now and none of them are probably good for Regulus’s sanity. He decides to go for it- deal with whatever trouble it might bring later.
“Well, you’re my type. Talented, intelligent,” James goes on while holding eye contact. “Pretty.”
The blush has reached the tips of Regulus’s ears that peek out from his hair. His brows are furrowed and the slight pout on his lips is driving James insane.
“I don’t-”
“Too bad I’m not your type though,” James says with a dramatic sigh of disappointment. “Really unfortunate.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Regulus huffs, grabbing the drink in front of him. He sips, looking everywhere but at James before setting it back down. He wipes the cup’s condensation off his hand and onto a napkin. “I don’t have time for this.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
Regulus blinks at him, seemingly realizing that James isn’t kidding. James himself? Oh, he’s having a great time. He can only begin to wonder what’s going through the other’s mind right now.
“What do you want to know?” Regulus asks after a moment.
“Movie. Favorite one.” James says. He sounds a little demanding, but it isn’t on purpose. This was a critical question for him. He found that answers to “What’s your favorite movie?” say a lot about a person.
“The Descent, 2005,” Regulus answers after taking a moment to think.
“Why?” James asks, digging a little deeper.
“It’s a horror movie that isn’t corny, even its sequels,” Regulus explains. “It’s not just jump scares, and it’s actually exciting to watch. Sarah Carte is also an ultimate final girl.”
Not bad. Not bad.
James isn’t mad at that answer at all, in fact, he completely agrees with Regulus. The first Descent movie was iconic in the movie industry, and he had it sitting in his film collection at home. He goes back to it frequently when he needs a nostalgic early 2000’s horror to turn to.
“Moonlight 2016,” James says. “My favorite movie.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen it before,” Regulus admits.
“One of the best coming of age movies ever made. It’s not just the acting. It’s the way they produced the whole thing: the lighting, the color grading, the music, everything. It’s a visual masterpiece.”
Regulus nods. “I’ll have to give it a try. Sounds worthwhile.”
This gets the ball rolling and they start to speak more, jumping from topic to topic. James is leading the conversation, but Regulus is keeping up and even asking his own questions, which James happily answers. They keep it surface level for the most part, but sometimes James asks a question that gently pushes on that surface. Regulus pushes back when he does this, either deflecting or turning the question back at James. Still, James learns a lot about him.
He learns that Regulus’s favorite color is green, that he teaches creative writing at a local college, hates peanut butter, is the parent of a black cat named Atlas, and moved from France like his brother. In return, James tells him that his favorite color is red, that he partially owns a graphic design company, has no pets but prefers cats, and likes to bake because he used to with his mom back in Haiti. Regulus seems most shocked about James owning part of a company with his father, stating that he didn’t “dress the part.”
“Anything else you’d like to be nosy about?” Regulus asks.
“A hobby you do, something outside of writing.”
“Piano,” Regulus answers without missing a beat. “I’ve been doing it since I was five.”
James is getting through and slowly Regulus’s ice seems to be melting. “So you’re a musical prodigy. Should’ve known.”
“I’m not, but you’re clearly into film,” Regulus says. “What’s the screening today about? You never explained.”
“You’ll find out when you show up,” James says with a smile.
“Who says I’m showing up?”
“Well, you showed up here.” James reminds him and Regulus rolls his eyes.
“If you don’t like the movie or trailer screening, I’ll leave you alone,” James says. Of course, he doesn’t like the idea because he thinks Regulus is pretty cool despite being a bit standoffish, but it seems like a fair deal.
“And if I do like it?” Regulus asks.
James doesn’t know what he’s doing, but everything coming out of his mouth feels like the right thing to say. Every neuron in his brain was chanting Regulus’s name. He’s not thinking about the consequences of his actions right now, only that Regulus is breathtaking in this ambient lighting. His hair has dried a little into wispy black curls that frame his face and fall right above his eyes. His lashes are long and he has a habit of batting them. James doesn’t think it’s on purpose, but it still has him struggling to form a thought.
“Then I get to take you out on a date - a real one,” James says.
Regulus blinks at him as if processing what he’s saying before letting out a scoff. “Why on earth would you want a date with me?”
“You’re interesting,” James answers. “I like interesting.”
Regulus doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “We need to go out on a date for this?”
“Yeah, that’s usually what dates are for,” James says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Will you need a ride?”
“No, I don’t need a ride. I don’t think you know what you’re asking me,” Regulus says. His eyes leave James and shift down to his hands, where he chips away at the black nail polish on his fingernails. He looks nervous again, like he had when they first met yesterday and James didn’t want him feeling like that.
“Regulus,” James calls out softly to get his attention. Gray eyes find his own as he gives a reassuring look. “I know what I’m asking.”
Regulus just looks at James as if waiting for him to say that this was all a joke, but it wasn’t a joke. James was as serious as serious gets.
“Whatever,” Regulus mumbles with another blush overshadowing his non-caring demeanor.
Later that afternoon, James is setting his house up for the screening. He’s putting out the food while sneaking bites here and there of chips in his hands. He has everything ready: the projector, the food and what else? There was still something he was missing. Anxious and trying his best to concentrate, he felt as if in the same dilemma he had been in that morning. Regulus was the only thing he could think about and it was bad for his productivity.
Earlier, he had given Regulus his sweater back when it was time for them to part. James held onto the sweater before Regulus could completely take it.
“See you tonight then?”
Regulus had just given him this sarcastic smile and left without saying anything else. James had no idea if he was actually going to show up, but he was really hoping he would. Any opportunity to see him, he wanted to take. He hears his bell ring and pops one last chip in his mouth, heading to the front door to invite whoever it was inside.
James wonders if it’s Regulus, because so far Regulus had yet to be late to anything. But when he opens the door it isn’t who he thinks it is. When he opens the door is when it really hits James- all the trouble he had gotten himself into. The consequence of his actions that he had tried hard to push out of his mind earlier was staring straight at him.
It was his best friend.
Sirius Black.