Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“ Juste... arrête ça!”

“Arrêter quoi? Qu'est-ce que tu vas faire?”

Regulus heaves out a sigh as he flips the next page of Pride and Prejudice. The couple sitting behind him have been arguing for what feels like hours, it’s probably only been five minutes but that doesn’t mean they’re not less annoying. And they’re French too, which means Regulus understands every word they say. He’s going to be honest, at the beginning, it was fun to eavesdrop on them and their problems, but they just wouldn’t stop.

Also, Regulus doesn't care enough to find out if the husband truly had an affair last year when they went to some gala. He gets up, grabs his bag, and looks around for another seat.

There are a few seats available on the train in the back row. Regulus hurriedly walks there and takes the seat, across from him there’s a man sitting, reading his book. They make one-second eye contact, talking with silence— ‘I know, they’re so loud.’ Regulus nods at him, just to acknowledge the shared feeling before turning his attention back to the book.

Well, until the wife decided she didn’t want to hear a word from her husband anymore, she quickly walked past them with him running behind her, following her to another carriage.

That’s when they make another eye contact— brown eyes bore into him. The man smiles, “Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?”

“No, I don’t speak French.”

“Oh. Well, neither can I. But I’m guessing it’s because he forgot to lock the house.”

Regulus hums, “Why?”

The man shrugs. “He just looks like the type to forget to lock the house.”

“He does,” Regulus agrees quietly, putting the book down on his lap. “Though, I must say you’re wrong. They argued because she just found out he had an affair.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh, shit.”

“Wait— So you do understand French?”

“I’m French.”

“Of course you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Regulus frowns, narrowing his eyes at the stranger.

He keeps smiling at Regulus, brown eyes flickering down, settling on the book Regulus sprawls on his lap. “It’s French.”

“Right,” Regulus murmurs, fingers idly tapping on the cover written in French.

“You also look French, you know.” He continues, his eyes trailing back to Regulus’ face. “Do French people actually drink coffee too small and own a beret?”

“I don’t own a beret.”

“But do you have a turtleneck?” God forbid, he moved here to get away from all that yelling in French, now Regulus’s sitting across from someone, talking to him about being French. And Regulus wouldn’t tell him, but he does own a lot of turtlenecks. “I mean— If you don’t have one, you should buy one. It’ll suit you. Beret and turtleneck and maybe dark jeans with a long coat. You’ll look perfect walking in Paris, holding a baguette.”

“What should I do next? Sitting in some café and judging a tourist like you?” Regulus snaps. Who does he think he is to talk to Regulus like that?

“Ah, yes. That's the French attitude I'm very familiar with.” He replies, his face full with amusement. It annoys Regulus how happy he is. “But for the record, I’m not a tourist. Besides, I’m not insulting you.” Regulus raises his eyebrow slightly. But the man doesn’t stop. He keeps talking somehow. “You’re French in the way French songs sound, you know. The kind of romantic songs, when you love someone so deeply you recognize their soul in every life. And like— a tragic song when you remember you could never be together with them in any life because their soul is made out of something you cannot understand.”

Regulus tilts his head, his lips curling up into a little smile. Oh, all those French attitudes are gone. If he wants to play, then Regulus will play with him. It’s not like he has better things to do here. “Is that so? I’m one of those songs where the singer whispers to you a bittersweet melody that you don’t understand the meaning of a single word?”

“Yes, and they’re the kind of songs that linger on the tip of your tongue, the ones where you find yourself humming along without noticing.” He leans forward, his glasses perched on his nose, it flickers with sunlight from the outside. “Where you don’t know the meaning of any words but you feel it from the way they carve in your mind.”

No one has ever said anything like that to him before, not even his exes. (Regulus couldn’t blame them, he didn’t feel anything or have any kind of special bond with them either.) Regulus doesn’t even know what to do at this point. Should he keep talking or just ignore him for the rest of this ride before it’s too late and things become irreparable?

The couple comes back before Regulus can offer an answer to the man, and to be honest, Regulus doesn’t think he knows what to say to that.

They’re still arguing with each other, at least they lower their voices now. When the couple walks past him to their seats, the man looks at Regulus again. And suddenly Regulus’ body goes limp and numb under those eyes. “Hey, do you want to go get some drinks?”

He doesn’t even think before answering, “Sure.”

So, Regulus follows some strange man he just met and had a nonsense conversation about being French with. There’s something inside him yelling at him to stop, but the warmth that held inside those gazes lures and guides him out of the maze. When they arrived at the lounge car, there’s only one table left in the corner. They order some drinks and chips to eat. And Regulus must add, he didn’t order any coffee, no, not today.

“Anyway, what were you reading?” The man asks as he bites down the chip.

“Pride and Prejudice.” Regulus rests his face on his hand, holding his gaze with him.

He lifts an eyebrow. “The romance classic?”

“I guess you could say that.” 

“How do you find it?”

“Rather boring,” Regulus takes a sip of his tea. The man looks baffled like he couldn’t believe what Regulus just said. “What?” He shrugs, trying to act unbothered even though the words come out a bit defensive.

“Boring? ” He repeats, unbelievably. “Why?”

“Apart from the fact that it’s just a bunch of people going to each other's houses,” Regulus starts, fiddling with the loose thread on his sleeve. “It just couldn’t make me believe in love. I only read it because my grandmother gave it to me, and the title does sound interesting. Pride and Prejudice. My grandmother— she has this idea of me finding love, and getting married, and having a family and I don’t know— dying surrounded by the people I love, probably.” Regulus shrugs, biting his lower lips. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I don’t think I will ever find that, and I will not seek it either. Love? That’s for lonely, miserable people who just decided that they don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Or maybe— maybe those are for the people who have too much to offer the world, that they decided they wanted to share with another person.” He says, the words stumble out in a rush. “I’ve never read that book, so I will not comment on that. But I do have friends who like this book. And your opinion is just— so different from theirs.” He swallows. Regulus notices the way his Adam’s apple moves. “I wonder why, is it because you believe love is some grand, dramatic declaration? Because sometimes it can be quiet and simple.”

“Or maybe I just don’t believe in love.” 

“Why not?”

“Because it isn’t real,” Regulus states.

“Would you change your mind if you fell in love?”

“I would’ve to fall in love first, wouldn't I?”

“Yes. But would you, if you ever fell in love?”

“I wouldn’t have an answer for that.” Regulus leans back on his chair, crossing his arms. He remembers the book the stranger has been reading at first and decides to change the topic to him instead. Regulus won’t tolerate letting the man taunt him for an answer he doesn’t even know. “And what about you? What were you reading?”

“Oh. Just a script from The Wizard of Oz.” The man scratches his cheek. He lets out a small laugh when Regulus raises an eyebrow curiously. “What? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. Just— why?”

“Well, I don’t have a meaningful intention on why I read it. Frankly, it’s really only because I wanted to.” He rambles, brown eyes gleaming and  shining. Regulus has never met someone who can be so inviting before. Like he’s the sinking ship in the deep ocean, cold and treacherous. Yet in some such way, he has the soft, gentle eyes that make all the danger melt into strong winds, and warming breezes. “And I’d like to imagine how the actors must have felt when they read this script for the first time, like how would they reacted if they knew then that this movie was going to be one of the best movies ever made, that people talk about it from all over the world and they will continue to talk about it hundreds of years from now. Or imagine being alive in 1939s, going to a theater on a random mundane Sunday morning not knowing that you’re going to witness the beginning of history.”

“That sounds meaningful to me.” Regulus tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. “So you're one of those people who are very into films?”

“I wouldn't call myself that,” He laughs, beautifully. “If you couldn't tell, I’m actually a bit scared of The Wizard of Oz movie.”

“Oh, trust me I could.”

“Hey!” He looks genuinely offended, and that’s so funny to Regulus— with his messy hair, big brown eyes, and mouth agape. Perhaps this train ride isn’t so bad after all.

“Is that why you read it instead?” Regulus asks again, because in some what way, he wants to know more.

The man nods, his eyes sparkling. “Yes. One of the few things I like to read, really.” He rubs the back of his head, suddenly seeming nervous. “So, are you going to Paris?”

“Yes, I live there, actually.”

“Oh. I’m getting off at Venice.” He looks away briefly, staring at the view of trees passing by. “What are you doing here in Italy anyway?”

“I’m here to visit my grandmother. She got tired of living in Paris and simply wanted to try living somewhere new, apparently.” Regulus sighs. He would never say anything to his parents, but Regulus also couldn’t deny that he is a little jealous of how his grandmother got to start living somewhere new. Somewhere else to make it home. And Regulus is still the only one left who got stuck with an ending he didn’t write himself. “My grandfather could never deny her, so here I am, riding a train back home.”

“How is your grandmother— I mean— Is she fine—?”

Regulus holds back a laugh as he watches the man in front of him struggling to find the right word to use. (Somehow so utterly adorable.) “Yes, she's fine.”

“Right. Good.” A big smile painted on his face, it's so bright, Regulus thinks he has never found someone smile so bright before. His fingers tapping on the table nervously. “Great. Does she love it here, in Italy?”

“Well, she did tell me she’s not going back to Paris anytime soon. So my guess is yes, she does.” Regulus lets out a quiet chuckle.

“I mean, who wouldn't fall in love with Italy, right?”

“You're Italian?”

“Oh no. I’m British. I’m from London.”

“Of course you are.”

“Oh wow. Of course I am, I’m a very proud citizen of the United Kingdom.” He grins even more broadly, as if he was made to smile.

Regulus clears his throat. Darting his eyes around before it burns into dust from looking at him. “So, are you going to Paris too?”

“No. I, unfortunately, already booked a flight for tomorrow back to London.”

“I’ve been to London before,” Regulus says, but he doesn't tell what happened in London— or how he lost his brother to that city. It’s something Regulus thinks he could never talk about it out loud. He probably couldn't say Sirius’ name without feeling like throwing up, let alone speak about how his brother left.

Regulus wants to hate him for it, he’s so badly wanted to hate Sirius for it. Regulus wants to travel to London, stalk him on every street until he finds Sirius, and maybe he will scream and yell and throw things around so he can let Sirius know that he’s so mad. That it’s truly hurt when he’s away. (Or when knowing he will forever be away.)

But Regulus couldn't, he knows he could never do that. 

No matter how hard he tries to despise Sirius, it just never works. Regulus doesn't want to believe it, he shouldn't love Sirius. But he just can’t stop. There’s no way of telling the little boy who’s still living in every corner of the fracture in his heart that he should hate his brother.

(Because Regulus was born into this world as Sirius’ little brother, he'll always be even when they’re world apart)

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Do you like it?”

“Oh, I hated it.” He laughs humourlessly.

“What? Are you— really?” He blinks in confusion, as if he hadn't heard the words right.

“Really.” Regulus nods in confirmation, silently enjoying how the man looks so speechless. “And I won’t tell you why.”

“Now, that's just not fair.”

Regulus shrugs lazily, “I couldn't care less. Besides, you haven't told me why you are in Italy, I already told mine.”

“Alright, fair enough.” He huffs a laugh. “Would you believe it if I was simply traveling around Europe?”

“You said you're not a tourist.” Regulus reminds him, his eyebrows furrowing in skepticism.

“Right, I did.” He mutters quietly, A small, nervous laugh slipped out before he could stop himself. “I was just visiting a friend, but I’ve been on the train for a week now. It’s a nice and strange feeling I’ve just discovered recently: riding on the train alone. you know what's fascinating about traveling around? You spend all this time trying to reach your destination, you get there, you look around, it's never exactly what you'd hoped, you head off somewhere else, and hope for something better.” 

“And do you find somewhere better?” Regulus asks before he can even process the words. It’s almost like the stranger has some kind of magic, and it starts to poison Regulus’ mind.

“No, not yet. I’m still looking for one.”

“I’m not much of a travel person. Though, I do understand what you mean,” Regulus mumbles. “I have only ever been to Italy, England, and France before. And all of them were just— visiting someone, studying, or going home. Same places, same towns, same houses, same people. But every time I got on the train alone, I couldn't stop thinking about somewhere else. Wondering about other passengers' lives, like why are they here and where they're going next and secretly hope that this train will bring me to the other destination, to somewhere I’ve never heard about before.”

“Sounds like if you stepped out of this train at Venice, it’ll change your life.”

“It does,” Regulus chuckles quietly.

“But— do you hate it though? Taking the same train, going to the same places every time.”

“I don’t. I actually quite like to think about everyone else’ lives. I just hope for something better, and perhaps that's my favorite part of traveling. Even when I always ended up in the same places every time.” Regulus murmurs. “It’s like writing a book, when you have this notion of a story so perfect. But when you try writing it, it turns out to be completely different and wrong. And then you get another idea, unsurprisingly, they’re not what you hoped it would be. Then, it’s all a loop, a never-ending cycle of dreams, when you wake up it slips farther away.”

“You write?” He leans forward slightly, his fingers running along the edge of the table.

“Yes,” Regulus gives him a small nod. “I study literature.”

“Do you like to write?”

“Yeah… but, I have this feeling about writing— it’s kind of an obsession.” He mutters. “When I try writing my feelings, putting them into words, they’re never quite right. It’s not what I wanted to say and express. My brother used to tell me it’s because I feel too big for this world, like the world is this planet.” Regulus holds his hands together to form a small circle. “And this is my feeling— they’re the size of Jupiter.” He makes a larger circle with his hands, painting an invisible picture in the air. “I think he sounded rather stupid, really.”

(But also, in Sirius’ defense, they were barely ten years old then)

“Yeah, I have to agree with that one.” The man chuckles softly. His eyes never left Regulus, not once.

“Right? I always think of writing as if it's music with too many instruments and too many beats and rhythms, and a melody so intricate no words could ever convey them. All we could do is try to replicate it, but they’re never the same.”

His eyes lit up, burning with something so familiar. Regulus thinks he knows what it is. A wide grin spreads across his face, it looks perfect on him somehow. “But that doesn’t mean it’s bad, right? To me, words and music work almost the same. I use words when I don’t know how to show it, and I use music when words are too overwhelming.”

“I guess when you put them together it becomes something better,” Regulus nods along, agreeing.

“Maybe something worth sacrificing your time just to feel it.”

“I know.” His voice softens, “you don’t have to understand it, you just have to feel it.”

“Do you write?” Regulus asks suddenly, the man leans back on his seat with a smile tugging on his lips, as if he’d already expected to be asked this question.

“Why don’t you take a guess?” He teases, brown eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Well, we talked about writing and music earlier,” Regulus says. “So, I’ll guess you’re a songwriter.”

“First of all, you brought the music part up,” He points a finger at Regulus, his tone playful. “Second, I’m not a songwriter. Not technically at least. But I’m in a band.”

“A band?”

“Yes, with my best friends.” His grin widens as he shifts slightly. He doesn’t have to tell but Regulus knows just by his smile that the man’s proud of himself and loves this band with his whole heart. (Sometimes Regulus wonders how it feels to be talked about so passionately and so proudly.) “And we have these nicknames: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoots, and Prongs.”

“Which one are you?” Regulus can feel a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It’s so stupid.

“I’m Prongs.” He says, puffing out his chest a little. “Listen, I know it sounds silly. But hey, picture this with me.” He leans closer, hands gesturing wildly. “One day— When we blew up and everyone in the world was talking about us, when they made a movie about each one of us. Or when they played our song for their kids. They’re going to say ‘Hey, my favourite one is Prongs.’ And it won’t sound so silly anymore.”

“It still sounds silly.” His lips twitch slightly as he bites back a laugh. It’s become harder each time the man smiles so brightly at him.

“Maybe, but we’ll be a famous silly band.”

Chuckling, Regulus takes a sip of his drink in an attempt to hide the smile on his face. It probably didn’t work, because the man quickly pointed it out. “You look good with a smile. Gorgeous, that’s the word.”

And that’s weird because why does he keep saying things that no one would ever say to him, to Regulus. Why would they? Regulus Black and smiles? It doesn't even look right forming in the same sentence. On the other hand, Regulus knows that everyone in this stranger’ life has told him he suits a smile. Because he totally does, he smiles and he laughs and he is beautiful.

Messy hair, brown eyes, sunkissed skin, handsome face, and he’s in a band, too. Oh, Regulus thinks he can listen to every single thing this man wants to say, even when it’s something stupid. He can watch him doing literally anything without getting bored. Every smile he makes and every smile he fakes, maybe even every breath he takes.

Clearing his thoughts, Regulus snaps back into reality. “Thank you.”

Regulus knows better than to go too far.

It’s silent for a beat before the man says something else, but Regulus doesn’t really listen. Not when he can feel his own cheeks getting hotter and the sound of his heartbeat is louder than anything.

“What do you play in the band?” Regulus blurts out, just to stop himself from wanting more. 

The man stops talking, mouth shut. Taken aback by the sudden question, but he quickly comes to his senses. “Oh, I’m the drummer.”

“Is it true that the drummer is always on the wrong beat because they’re too distracted by the singer’ arse?”

He lets out a disbelief, startle and laughs. Shaking his head, his eyes widened slightly. “Wrong beat? Never.” He replies, shrugging. “Distracted by the singer’ arse? Sometimes.”

“Really?” Regulus finds himself laughing softly.

“Well, it’s not my fault he always moves like that.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “He looks funny, that’s why. But he writes masterpieces and he’s my best mate so I’m afraid he can move his ass however he wants.” He smiles at the thought. His eyes are distant, somewhere far away, but his pupils dilate when the intensity of his gaze lay back onto Regulus. “Oh, can I tell you something?”

“What?” Regulus lifts an eyebrow, curiously.

“We’re in a band, right? I didn’t tell you yet but we’re still working on the first album. And I have this idea about love at first sight.” His face flushes, but only slightly. “I know it’s cliché and sappy and cheesy too. But picture this with me again. It’s late evening, you’re walking down the street to your home like every other day. But when you pass your favourite café, you look inside and your eyes meet with someone who you’ve never seen before but for some reason you just feel like you have known them for a lifetime. But the truth is you don’t even know them, yet the feeling of the world narrows down to that one person is true, it’s happened, it’s real.”

“So you want to write a song about some stranger you don’t know?” Regulus wrinkles his nose at the idea of it. The concept of love at first sight is impossible to Regulus. It isn’t true, it isn’t real, nor can it happen.

“I mean, technically, no.”

“No?”

“No. Because it’s not about the person, isn’t it? It’s about the feelings.” His voice rings in Regulus’ mind— thriving and thrilling. “Maybe it would be too complicated to describe in words, maybe I’ll use piano to capture the moment when I see their faces for the first time, and drums when I get home and get mad at myself because I didn’t have the guts to ask their name. And maybe a violin when I think about all the what ifs.”

“That’s tragic.”

“No, it’s not. It’s beautiful in the same way the shooting star is. It’s the kind of love that you’ll never know when to expect, it’s happening all so fast, the moment was fleeting, and it’ll probably be gone before you can make any wish.” Regulus wonders how people can see love as a thing so magical that got them talked about so excitedly. The man must have lived a life full of love, Regulus assumes. “But you’ll remember the light when it cut through the sky, how pretty it was. That’s the beauty of it.”

“You make love at first sight sound like it’s a miracle. What if they were just late for the bus so they had to wait in the café? Or what if they just happen to be on the same train as you?”

“Then, it’s a miracle I was on the same train too.”

“You're hopeless.” Regulus shakes his head, amused.

“Love is for hopeless people anyway.” Prongs says, tossing the words out like it means nothing.

“And why is that?”

“Because they’re the ones who needed it the most, aren’t they?” He replies, shrugging lazily. But the gleams in his eyes tell Regulus that this means something to him. “And they’re already hopeless, so what’s the risk of jumping into a cliff and trying to love someone? Hopeful people? They have hope and everything, too much pride and too much fear. But hopeless people? They’ve already lost everything, or never even had anything at all. Love is their only last hope. It’s like gambling.”

“If you’re lucky, you find someone who’s just as hopeless as you,” Regulus murmurs softly. “And if you’re not— well, what else do you have to lose?”

“Exactly.” He smiles, nodding and looking at Regulus as if he’s the only thing in this world that makes sense. “There’s bravery in hopelessness.”

“More like desperation.” Regulus snorts.

“That’s one way to view it,” He tilts his head, folding his arms. His expression’s thoughtful as he thinks about what Regulus said for a second before his gaze lights up again. “But when you are still dreaming of something you want. And try for it even if you don’t know if it will work, that takes courage... that’s bravery of its realest kind.”

“And what about when you’re just not trying anymore?”

“Doesn’t mean everything you did before is any less true.”

Regulus lets Prong’s voice run through his head and mind. He doesn’t say anything else, not that Regulus has anything to say after that anyway. The view outside seems endless, Regulus can see his own reflection on the window. Resting his chin on his hand and continuing to watch the fleeting scenery, They should be at Venice in about half an hour.

Because the reflection shows everything— and because Regulus’ eyes often found itselves landed on the stranger seated across from him. Prongs is still looking at Regulus even when he looks away. Regulus sees it on the window, it’s something subtle, almost unnoticeable but Regulus catches the gleam in it through the reflection. It’s beautiful, how his brown eyes shift and blend with the colour of everything they pass by. Like the whole world is packed inside those eyes.

Regulus likes when the train passes trees and his eyes go almost translucent, it melts with the light from the afternoon and it echoes an invitation that Regulus couldn't help but let himself answer and be drawn closer to those eyes.

Something inside him shifted when those brown eyes turned to lock with Regulus’ through the reflection. Regulus can’t tell what it is, he couldn’t name the feeling either. But he also couldn't care to figure it out.

Time has passed. Another step closer to their destination, yet somehow Regulus feels like he’s not ready to let this go.

The dishes on the table are dirty now, they’ve been sitting in the lounge car for— honestly, Regulus lost track of time. Which he blames it on the man because, again, who does he think he is?

“My parents have always talked about the possibilities of me getting married with someone they pick for me,” Regulus murmurs quietly into the comfortable silence, catching Prongs’ attention. (What a silly name.) “But they never mention the possibility of me falling in love, not once. I think it might be because they never have been in love either, or they can’t picture me falling in love. I don’t know. Quite different from my grandmother, aren’t they?”

He only stares at Regulus for a minute, trying to find a good answer maybe.

“Do you want to?” He says something eventually, his tone so tender. Regulus almost gives in.

Regulus narrows his eyes. “I told you I don’t believe in love.”

“But do you want to?”

“I don’t know.” Regulus confesses. He doesn’t explain why, the man didn’t ask and Regulus doesn’t want him to.

It’s not their fault if they think Regulus is incapable of falling in love, he also believes the same. Love feels unreal and untouchable and out of reach. Regulus doesn’t know how love is supposed to feel, or the correct word is he forgets. Because he had it once, long ago.  

Regulus held love in his arms and he lost it by letting go of his hands.

He’s sure he will never get it back.

Besides, the one he shared with Sirius was only reserved for them and only them anyway. That heartbroken and awful kind of love belongs to them, it’s theirs. It was something special, the kind of love that exists because they are. Or were, at least.

Regulus still dreams of Sirius, of who they were, of the feeling that was true before. (Love isn’t easy, it’s probably never will be.) He’s pretty sure that Sirius loved him once, worse is he knows why Sirius stopped. (And loving hurt, it aches to his soul.) Still he dreams because dreaming is all Regulus has. (And still Regulus loves anyway.)

Does still dreaming of it make him brave or pathetic?

Both, perhaps.

“Well, do you have any hope?” Prongs asks, playful smile tugging on his lips.

A soft chuckle escaped him. “No.”

The train slowly comes to a halt, Regulus looks out of the window to see that they’ve arrived at Venice. “You get off at Venice, yes?”

“Yeah,” The man confirms, his voice heavy and flat as he heaves out a sigh. Despite all the disappointment in his eyes he still finds a way to smile at Regulus. “I wish we met earlier.”

“Me too.” Regulus nods, smiling softly. That’s all he could say.

The passengers begin to flood out of the train, Regulus watches Prongs standing up, looking nervous. “I guess this is a goodbye then. I really like talking to you.”

Regulus lets out a soft giggle. He repeats, “me too.”

And with one final goodbye and last glances, he left.

They’ll probably never meet again.

It’s for the best.

Or not.

Regulus sits there alone for two minutes before he comes back, standing before Regulus with his bag in his hand. He seems more relaxing and at ease now, like he just threw all the weight he carried away. This time he has a wide cheeky grin on his face, his brown eyes are shining.

“Hey,” He breathes out, hopefully.

“Hey,” Regulus replies, hopelessly.

“I’m back.”

“You’re back.”

“Will you listen to my stupid thoughts one more time, please?” Regulus smiles and nods at him, waiting for him to continue. “Okay. I want to keep talking to you. So— how about you get off this train at Venice with me. We can walk around all night, checking out the town. You’ve never been here before, right? And I know it sounds insane, because why would you want to spend a night with a stranger you just met on the train—”

“Yes, that’s dumb.” Regulus agrees. Watching him struggling to find the right words to use, it’s amusing. He’s so stupid and pretty, Regulus thinks.

“Yeah, it’s dumb.” He says, his gaze never left Regulus. “But picture this with me. When you arrive in Paris and then you think about all the ‘what ifs’; What if you get off the train at Venice? What if there’s a possibility that you will find something better here— or something you’ve always dreamt of? What if your only hope was Venice? What if you’ll find an unexpected shooting star tonight but you missed it because you’ve decided to go to Paris? What if you're able to compose a melody so perfect and a word that is full of your exact feelings? What if you win a gambling here? what if twenty years later, all you can hope for is to travel through time and set off here in Venice?”

Regulus pauses, allowing the words to sink in him slowly.

Does still dreaming of it make him brave or pathetic?

The answer would be, he doesn’t know. But chasing it would’ve meant bravery.

For the first time in his life, Regulus sees a small glimpse of hope.

The decision was made.

“I’ll get my bag.”

It’s for the best, and what else does he have to lose anyway?

Chapter Text

Venice looks like somewhere Regulus would only ever see in his dreams. But here he is, standing in front of the train station, staring at the place that doesn’t even feel real.

The air carries the faint scent of salt and water, Regulus pauses and closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

His parents are going to be mad when he gets back, nothing unusual. He just needs to make a call to tell them he’ll be late, might have to make up some lies to cover whatever his stupid heart led him to.

Oh, he’s going to die when he’s back in Paris.

And that means he needs to take whatever he could from here, for it will probably be his last few days breathing.

(That’s a bit dramatic, but he’s a Black after all.)

When Regulus’ eyes slowly flutter open, he glances at the man next to him and then suddenly, Regulus realizes that he’s in Venice. He’s really doing this. He isn’t living in his dreams, this is real life and Regulus’ body and soul are actually here and very real.

Venice isn’t some place he makes up in his head, and the stranger beside him isn’t made out of wonders and secrets. He’s not magic, but a human, someone who lives and breathes.

Going to a foreign country with a stranger you met on the train, sounds perfect for a horror movie. Regulus might not even be able to go back home at all. He’s probably going to get murdered and there’s nothing Regulus can do about it.

How could he be this stupid? How can he let himself down like this? Is this really something or does Regulus just want to believe it is something?

“Wait— I just realized. I don’t know your name yet,” Prongs says, distressed. His eyebrows furrow, looking at Regulus as if this is the end of the world problem. “And you don’t even know mine! I mean— my actual name.”

Regulus snickers, rolling his eyes at the potential killer. “Yeah, sure. Because I totally think that Prongs is your government name.”

“That’s— You know what? Never mind.” He smiles before holding his hand out. “My name is James. Though you can call me Prongs if you want.”

Hesitating, Regulus waits for a moment before reaching out and shaking his hand. “Regulus. And I won’t call you Prongs.”

His hand is big and warm. Regulus wants to snatch his other hand and hold them between his, just to see how it would feel. Would it feel like the safest place on earth, or so warm like he’s touching the sun?

He doesn’t let go, James does.

“Of course you won’t.” James smiles. “And your name is after the star?”

Regulus raises his eyebrows in surprise, because not many people know that his name is after the star. Most of the time, people just say something like oh that’s a weird name.

“Yes,” Regulus tilts his head. “You heard of that before?”

“Yes!” Prongs— or James, says. His eyes lit up, chuckling when his cheeks turned into soft pink. “I’m quite close to the star, actually.”

“You are?”

“Yep. My best mate.” James replies, looking like he’s trying his hardest to hold back a laugh. Which he fails. It has to be some inside joke with his so-called best friend, probably a stupid one.

Regulus snickers, rolling his eyes as he starts to walk towards the city. “As in how? You’re flying to the moon every night and having what? A heartfelt conversation with the stars?”

“Nail it.” James quickly follows him, his pace fast, trying to catch up with Regulus.

“What are you, five?” Regulus doesn’t stop or slow down, he doesn’t need to because James is already walking beside him again. He grips his bag tightly, holding on to make sure he wouldn’t lose or forget it.

“Close enough.” James lets out a small laugh. “But anyway, every star has their own stories, yes? A myth, I suppose. What is yours?”

“Not every star has a myth behind it, countless of them don’t even have a name. there’s probably a lot of them undiscovered too.” Regulus carefully steps down the stairs. There are people scattered everywhere, he tries to avoid the crowd as much as he can, waltzing straight to where there aren’t many people, but there’s some handful of pigeons toddling around.

“But does yours have one?” James coaxes. 

“Kind of. Regulus is the brightest star in the Leo constellation. Regulus doesn’t actually have its own myth, however, the Leo constellation is often linked with the Nemean Lion, from one of Heracles’ famous Twelve Labors. The lion could not be killed by any weapons— it was impossible to defeat,” Regulus muses, he has read about this since he was a child. Stole the book from the library, sneaked into Sirius’ room and climbed on his bed and slipped beneath the cover while Sirius held the flashlight, bright enough only for them to read. Regulus remembers like it was yesterday. “But Heracles, being Heracles, strangled the beast with his bare hands. The Lion was immortalized as the Leo constellation, and at the center of it is Regulus: The heart of the Lion.”

“The heart of the Lion, eh?” James hums. “That’s heroic.”

“Yeah,” He agrees softly, “People call Regulus the star ‘Little King’.”

“So a leader too?” James walks closer to him. (Regulus can literally feel the warmth radiate from him.) “I would brag about my name every time if mine had such a cool story behind it like this.”

Regulus scoffs. “Good for you because I despise it.”

“Woah, what?” James looks at him in disbelief, offended as if it was his own name. “Why not? I think it’s such a cool story.”

“The thing about brightest stars is that they don’t live long. They shine brightly, burn hastily and quickly they are gone. What is so brave about that? What is so— cool, what is so noble about being doomed from the start?” Regulus rambles. The words come out in a rush, because as soon as he starts, he can't stop. It keeps flowing down and down.

James was quiet for a moment, Regulus almost thought he was never going to speak again. But then, quietly, James speaks. “Didn’t the stars leave stardust when they were gone?”

“Well, yes.” Regulus frowns, trying to make sense of whatever James is going to say next.

“And we all have stardust inside of us.”

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“No, I’m not.” James laughs. “Okay, this is my attempt to be poetic. The stardust left behind isn’t just what remains— it’s proof that the star was here, that it mattered. Isn’t that the bravest thing of all?”

“How?” Regulus snickers.

His eyes are glowing as he elaborates with a broad smile on his face. “Part of us, there’s these little things inside, even the void we are made of. That’s what makes it noble, isn’t it? That despite being built from the same stardust, every one of us is different. Some shine for a long time, some shine so bright it’s hurt to look at. And then… there are some that never find their light at all. But we all left a mark— a legacy. A proof that we exist. That’s what makes you brave. To shine even when you know it won’t last forever.”

“I always wanted to build something that’s going to outlive me. Something that lasts forever.” Regulus confesses, mumbling to himself. At first he wasn’t quite sure the words ever left his mouth at all, but James did hear it. He didn’t expect James to, but of course he did.

“Do it, then,” James says firmly, looking at Regulus as if he truly believes in him. “But I believe you already did. Your words are your legacy, Regulus.”

Regulus.

Regulus. This was the first time James ever said his name. The way his mouth wrapped around those syllables feels so right. As if James just changed the meanings and stories of Regulus, like none of it mattered. Here, in Venice. His own story of Regulus Black started here when James said his name.

“Is that alright?” James asks worriedly when Regulus goes quiet.

Regulus nods stiffly. “It’s alright.”

James doesn’t say anything after that. They continue to walk into the town with silence, but it doesn’t suffocate Regulus. It’s almost comforting. Silence has always been his friend, but it never felt like this before. It’s a different kind, Regulus couldn’t point out why. But he can tell it by heart.

This. This, doesn’t try to rip his lungs apart and force a venomous breath into his body. This, makes him breathe out a breath of fresh air.

It was when they walked past the bridge that James started another conversation, his tone a little nervous. “So, what should we do first?”

“I don’t know.” Regulus chuckles. “This is my first time here, remember?”

“It’s my first too.” James grins, his eyes darting around, turning his head to find something for them to do. Regulus knows exactly when he has an idea because his face is literally brightening up as he points to the two guys leaning on the bridge railing. “Okay. I have an idea, let’s go ask them.”

Regulus doesn’t answer, he just gives James a little nod when James looks at him for a response and follows him side by side to the two guys.

“Hey. Hi.” James greets, his smile sits the same on his face. (A pretty face, by the way.)

“Hi,” One of the men echoes, glancing at the other man nervously.

“This is our first time in Venice,” James explains. “Do you have any recommendations about what to do?”

“Oh. Welcome to Venice.” The other man says, he must be the friendly one. (And he’s taller too.) Regulus could tell by only the smile on his face. James smiles the same. But his are much more blazing. Because James is like a fucking sun. It’s an overused metaphor, to describe something as bright as the sun. And as a writer himself, Regulus feels disappointed that he couldn’t think of any other word to describe it. But it’s just exactly the sun. James smiles brightly and it’s dazzling. Regulus would stare at the sun for hours, he’d let himself be blind if it meant to feel James burning on his skin. 

(He supposed it makes sense, how does one ever look away from the sun anyway?)

(No, not when Regulus is growing sunflowers inside his body.)

(And sunflowers are always facing toward the sun, right?)

“You should totally try a gondola.” He continues, shrugging carelessly. “You know, the Venice’ boat thing. They say every tourist has to try it.” 

“Or you can come to our play.” The shorter one chimes in, seems less tense now. “Here, take the brochure.”

James takes the brochure from him, Regulus peeks over to look at it as the strangers point to their characters. Instantly, he recognizes the play only by its wardrobe. It's a Romeo and Juliet play.

“He plays Romeo.” The taller one says, gesturing to his friend who’s suddenly shy again.

“You are?” It’s Regulus who asks, the words slipped out of his mouth before he even noticed. It’s entirely because he doesn’t even look like he works in theater. But you know what, now that Regulus has taken a better look at him, he understands. The man is handsome and he does look like a dreamer, someone who would spend day and night dreaming about the love of their life. And actors act. That’s literally their whole career. So who knows? Maybe today he can be a romantic and tomorrow he’ll play a pig.

Acting used to be Narcissa’ dream. Regulus remembers. They might be young but Regulus still recalls it. My whole life has been about acting, Narcissa said one day in the garden when they were picking flowers while Sirius and Bellatrix fought like children. (It was because they were. Regulus just thought of them as a grown-ups at that time.) Andromeda looked out for all of them, hands on her hips like a tired mum. Figure I’ll just use the best out of it.

Of course, Narcissa isn’t an actress— she’s nowhere near it. She’s now married and having her first child. But Narcissa never stopped acting.

Because she was right when she said her whole life is an act. 

She plays the role of a perfect daughter, a good wife, and a wonderful mother. She’s wearing a mask of a smile every time. But she isn’t acting at the theater or in front of the camera, she’s an actress in her own home. A place where she was supposed to be herself.

I don’t want to be an actress anymore, Regulus. She told him in a very, very gentle tone. As if Regulus was her child, trying to tuck him into bed after a long exhausting day. Or she was afraid he would be disappointed. Regulus wasn’t sure, he still isn’t sure now. I’ve grown up. And sometimes people change their dreams, that is all.

How fascinating, people can change their dreams when times have passed long enough. 

How devastating, people can change their dreams when times have passed long enough.

Because people change. They change and everyone changes and everything changes. Yet Regulus is still the same person he was ten years ago. Waiting and waiting and keep waiting for a dream he knows will never happen.

Does still dreaming of it make him brave or pathetic?

Regulus is still trying to figure that out.

“Yes. I know, it doesn't look like it, I know.” The Romeo guy says solemnly. “That’s what I told him,” He’s throwing his hands at the other guy now. “I said, what, me? I am? ”

“Yes, you are.” He tells the guy, equally solemn before turning his head to look at Regulus next. “Yes, he is.” His voice is much more joyful compared to what he said to the Romeo guy.

“I don’t know anything about Romeo except he died tragically,” James cuts in. “But you look like a Romeo.”

“You’re saying you think I look like I’d die tragically?” The man says, arching his eyebrow, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers on it while waiting for James’ answer.

And now James looks like he’s the one who wants to die tragically.

“Oh. Oh, no. You know that’s not what I meant.” James frowns, shaking his head. The words flow out of him in a rush, trying to defend himself. Regulus has to bite back a laugh. He’s so stupidly adorable.

The man gives him a quiet chuckle, waving his hands around. His expression says he’s so proud of himself. “I know. I was just messing with you.”

“Oh.” And now James looks defeated, tragically.

“He plays Peter,” Romeo tells them, head tilting towards his friend.

“Peter?” James repeats. “Who’s Peter?”

“I’m just Peter.” He replies, shrugging. James snickers at that. “If you want to know, just come watch us tonight.”

“We will,” James assures, reaching out to shake their hands. Just like he did with Regulus. (He wonders if they know James’ hand held Regulus’ before.) “We will definitely see you there.”

With some goodbyes exchanged, Regulus and James walk over the bridge, leaving them behind with a brochure in James’ pocket. 

“Ugh. I hate Romeo and Juliet.” Suddenly, James mutters, loud enough for Regulus to hear.

He whips his head, staring at James. Who is looking back at Regulus, unfazed.“You do?”

“Yes.” He replies without hesitation.

“Why?”

“How do you fall in love with someone so quickly just to die at the end?” James grumbles.

“I thought you liked the idea of love at first sight?”

“I do. But they die, Regulus. They died.”

Regulus. James said it in an exasperated way, but it’s still nice to hear nonetheless.

How would my name sound when you’re angry, or sad, or ecstatic. Regulus wonders. He needs to hear his name in every emotion, every way, every breath that James can make.

“That's romantic.”

“No, it's not. It's tragic.”

“It is. But couldn’t love be a tragedy? It's the best kind of romance.”

“The best kind of romance is when two lovers die at the end?”

“No. Jame,” Regulus laughs. James’ name left a sweet taste on his tongue. The honey-like sensation swirling around in his mouth. His lips feel like it’s sugarcoated, unable to say any other words now that he finally says James for the first time.

Oh, He just said James for the first time.

How did James feel when he said Regulus’ name for the first time? Did he feel like Regulus, when all those syllables wrapped around his lips? Did it taste sweet or bitter? Or was it choking him breathless, a lump in his throat he had to swallow in order to survive?

Regulus wants to hear it more. He wants James to feel what he feels.

“They don't have to be dead to make it a tragedy,” Regulus continues, despite the tightness in his throat. “Falling in love itself is simply a tragedy.”

James’ expression is skeptical. Regulus is sure he’s debating with himself whether he should say something or stay quiet and let Regulus win.

“To be in love is to be torn apart,” Regulus mutters when James still offers nothing. “You tore out a piece of yourself to another person, tore apart your heart in two and gave it to them, not knowing what they’ll do with it. It’s a fragile thing, you know, love. One wrong move and they will destroy itself. You were destined to bleed until your heart stopped beating. And you probably will never get back the piece of yourself that you gave away ever again. You always lose something when you’re in love, it’s inevitable.”

“And I thought you don’t believe in love,” James mumbles finally, his voice laced with amusement.

“I don’t.”

“Sounds to me like you are.” A beat. “I agree,” James says softly. “Love is a fragile thing, but it’s not always meant to be broken or torn apart. It can be a promise— a delicate one, meant to be cherished and nurtured.”

“Promises can always be broken.”

“Do you remember our promise?” Sirius asked him the day he found Regulus on the bathroom floor. “That I will always protect you— that we will go through all of this together.” Regulus even remembers the gleaming in his gray stormy eyes, it danced with shimmering light as if they were stars, stolen from the sky, glistening with the full moon. 

It’s so funny and weird that Regulus can remember the shining stars in his eyes, the certainty of his voice. Yet he can’t remember what he said back. Perhaps Regulus cried on his shoulder, maybe he simply nodded at him like a helpless child, or he said something back. He couldn’t remember, but one thing he is sure of, the only thing he knows by his heart and soul—  is that Sirius meant it by his heart and soul, too.

Regulus always thought that their promise was just a lie, wrapped in unrealistic expectations and unrealistic dreams. Regulus never told Sirius, but he could tell Sirius thought the same.

No one said anything. They let the wreath of promises floating around in the wind that they couldn’t catch but they could feel the existence of it, between their hearts and souls. Even if it melted, the meaning of the promise was real. Even if it’s just a recitation, the weight of those words is burdened in their bodies.

Until one day, Sirius proved that it had never existed.

“But that doesn’t mean believing in broken promises was a mistake. It’s part of living. And you have so much more to live for, Regulus.” Regulus. “I can promise you that.”

Regulus couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head.

“And have you noticed? Our initials are the same as Romeo and Juliet. R and J.” James teases, winking at Regulus.

“What are you suggesting?” Regulus snickers. Trying desperately not to blush at whatever he’s thinking of. “off ourselves tonight together?”

“God, no,” James responds. Wide eyes and loud sighs. “I don’t want us to be a tragedy, Regulus.”

Regulus.

He said it again. Regulus’ name slipped out from James’ lips so effortlessly. Was it as natural to him as breathing? Regulus doesn’t dare to ask.

“That’s unfortunate,” Regulus swallows harshly. “It would have been romantic.”

“Let’s not follow Romeo and Juliet’ path, shall we?” James offers, arching his eyebrow playfully. A teasing smile tugs at his lips. “I believe we have far greater— far more romantic things ahead of us.”

Regulus can only nod back.

“Alright, I think it’s time for 20 questions.” James announces, grinning wildly. They’re sitting on the back of the water bus, Regulus puts his bag on his lap. After reading the map of the city, James and Regulus couldn’t decide what they would do, so James suggested taking a bus around the city. If they find something interesting, just hop off. Regulus doesn’t know why he agreed, it just seems like the best plan they have for the moment.

Regulus hates water. Everyone knows that. But it’s not so scary here at this moment. He’s not sure why, it could have been the comfort of James’ presence that vanishes the tainted memories of his mind.

Regulus glances at him, shifting to lean on the railing as the wind threading through his hair. “20 questions?”

“Have you ever played before?” James asks.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s a game,” James explains slowly. “One player has to think of anything, person, place or thing. And keep it in their heads. Other players have to guess what they’re thinking of. But they only have 20 questions to ask. And we can answer only with yes or no.”

Regulus nods slowly, processing the rules. It’s a simple game. He’s sure he can manage to play for three rounds before getting bored, at least. “Alright…”

“Okay. Do you want to start first?”

“No, you.”

“Sure.” James relaxes, his arm resting on Regulus’ seat, just behind his head. Just behind Regulus’ head. Is he mental? James doesn’t realize anything, it's probably just a casual thing to him. He must have done this with everyone, because he’s James. Regulus might only know him for hours, but he can tell it. His heart is beating faster than he ever knew, it’s throbbing inside his chest. Still, James doesn’t notice anything. Good. “I have the word now,” He announces cheerfully, gesturing his hand at Regulus. “Your turn.”

Regulus thinks for a second. “Is it a person?”

James laughs, nodding. “Yes.”

“Is it… a woman?”

James’ eyes crinkle. “No.”

“So a man?” James nods.

“Is he still alive?”

“Yes.”

“Is he… famous?”

“Yes!” James barkes, his voice full of enthusiasm and excitement. His arm is closer to Regulus now, just within reach. If he lays his head on it, would James notice and pull away immediately? Or would he let him stay? “You’re good at this.”

“Thanks,” Regulus shrugs, feeling his cheeks getting hotter. “Is he… a drummer?”

“No.” James shakes his head, still smiling at Regulus. Completely unaware of the feelings that tangled with all Regulus’ bones, twisting to his core.

“No?” Regulus grimaces. “A singer then?”

James nods this time, brown eyes flashing. “Yes.”

“Is he British?” Regulus asks, arching his eyebrow. 

“Yes,” James laughs breathlessly, looking at Regulus as if he said something funny.

(Sirius used to say Regulus was fun. A little bundle of joy. Maybe he was lying then, too.)

“I don’t think I know any British singers.” Regulus states.

“Maybe,” James says. The tips of his fingers touching Regulus’ hair. “But you definitely heard of him before.”

Regulus crosses his arms, unimpressed. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Just guess,” James shrugs. “Ask more questions.”

“No. I won’t guess. I’ll answer now.” Regulus grumbles. “It’s Queen Elizabeth.” He guesses, of course.

James throws his head back and laughs. Loudly. The laughter comes out of him so effortlessly. How does he do that? How can he laugh in such an effortless way, like joy is the only thing he has ever known? What is it like inside his head— where laughter can come so easily?

Can I carve my way inside you and explore just to know you more? Regulus thinks. What do you look like from the inside, will you ever let me?

No. That sounds crazy. Regulus is not a freak, he is not. Why would he think of something like that? Of course, James wouldn’t. If he said that out loud James would definitely get scared and run off. And then what would Regulus do in Venice alone?

James is still laughing, catching his breath and wiping his tears. It’s not a funny joke, it wasn’t even supposed to be a joke. Regulus was telling the truth when he said he doesn’t know any singer from Britain. Because he fucking despise that country, especially London. 

Sirius lives there, he’s definitely living there. Regulus can tell it. And he does not want to know anything about it. Even though he usually has an urge to book a flight, flies there and yells at Sirius. But no. He would never do that. Regulus just hopes wherever Sirius is, (in London or any other place) he’s having a great life. But no. Regulus doesn’t want to hear anything from him, anything about it, anything at all.

Fuck London and Fuck the British.

They can keep Sirius. Regulus doesn’t want anything from him anymore.

(That’s a lie.)

(And he knows it too.)

“Oh, Regulus.” James manages to say, though it’s a little breathless. “Out of anyone you could answer.”

“I told you I don’t know anyone.” Regulus grumbles,  hugging his bag tightly. “Can you just tell me the answer?”

“Fine, fine. Only because you asked nicely.” James teases, his voice playing. “It’s David Bowie.”

“Who?”

James looks baffled, his smile drops. Staring at Regulus in disbelief. “What? Did you just ask who David Bowie is?”

Regulus frowns. Not understanding what is the big deal about this. “Well, yes.”

“Regulus!” He says Regulus’ name a little louder this time. His heart almost burst into dust. “You don’t know David Bowie? The David Bowie?”

“No. Why would I?” Regulus rolls his eyes. “I’m not British, James.”

“You don’t have to be British to know him!” James exclaims, throwing his hands around in exasperation. “He’s a legend! A living one! How do you— Have you even heard his songs? The one that goes—” James barely waits for an answer. He takes a breath, his eyes bright and burning with passion. “‘Cause love’s such an old-fashioned word. And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night.” Regulus doesn’t even realize he started laughing and smiling until he catches James grinning as he sings. The next verse tumbles out in a mix of lyrics and laughter. “And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.”

And oh. James is singing. He’s singing at Regulus. He isn’t singing for Regulus. But that still doesn’t change the fact that his eyes are on Regulus. This is something. It’s not a serenade, but James is still singing. And Regulus is listening.

He might not be a singer or an expert on music of any kind, but he can tell James has a beautiful voice.

Would you ever write songs about us, Regulus wants to ask. And release it. Singing them to the whole world, but only we know it was about us. You’re singing to them, but you’re so full of hope, you were wishing I was listening somewhere. From the radios, recordings, televisions, or in the crowd there with you. That melody you composed conveys our story, it told our night. But only you and I know.

“This is our last dance.” James sings, his voice becomes soft and lingering. His arms nearly dropped on Regulus. So, so close.

They never even danced together before. Regulus isn’t the type to dance— never has been. It feels strange to let his body flow through the rhythm and surrender to the beat, like he’s giving up on his own body.

“Why do you move like that, Regulus?” The Regulus wasn’t soft like James’. It was harsh and painful, as if it aches her just by saying it. “I’ve never taught you to do that.”

“Just leave him alone.” A voice chimed in, sharp and familiar. Regulus remembered it all too well. The annoyance in his tone and the way he uttered the words like a blade, cutting through her throat and edging with irritation he didn’t try to hide.

“No, I will not. Not until you stopped corrupting your brother.” She retorted back in an instant. As sharp and as unyielding.

There was a lot of yelling, breaking dishes, and glistening tears. He remembers it all. 

He can still hear it in every broken piece of him, after all these years. The past never truly left, it doesn’t get better either. You’ll only get used to it.

“Have you really never heard of that before, Regulus?” A new voice rings, this one is much softer. Regulus sees James still smiling and looking at him, his hair messy as always. Such a breathtaking sight. How can someone look so beautiful in such a simple, ordinary way?

Regulus shakes his head. “No. Never.”

“This is a crime against humanity,” James announces. “I will make sure you have heard his song, Regulus. Be prepared.”

Regulus giggles. (He fucking giggled. ) “I mean— I think I have heard the name before.”

“Yeah?” James arches an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Regulus sinks farther, deeper into the seat, aware of James’ arms resting just behind his head, skins almost brushing. “My brother played his songs, if I wasn’t mistaken. I believe it’s that David Bowie guy.”

“Really?” James asks instead.

“Yeah.”  Regulus swallows the lump in his throat down, trying so desperately hard not to choke. Because the brother he mentioned isn’t his anymore.

“That’s cool,” James says. “I’ve always wanted a sibling.”

“Do you have one?” Regulus chews on his lips.

“Yes,” James replies without a hesitation. “They’re not blood-related. But who cares about that, right? They’re the brothers I chose. And I don’t think that makes my love any less important.”

“I guess so.” Regulus giggles again. Again.

“Anyway, it's your turn now.” James hand gestures to Regulus.

“Alright,” He tries to think of something and decides to choose the first thing that pops up in his mind. “Okay.”

“So... is it a person?” James starts.

“No.”

“Is it a thing?”

“No.”

“A place, then.”

“Well, that’s the only category left,” Regulus chuckles. “But yes, it is a place.”

“Is it Paris?”

“What?” Regulus barks, probably the loudest he ever uttered. Because what the fuck. It is Paris. And James guessed it right with three questions. Three. Questions.

“Am I correct?” James asks, smirking. “By that reaction, I will say yes indeed I am.”

“How did you—” Regulus is at a loss of words, his mouth clamping shut, not knowing what to say. He hates when people see right through him— not many people can do that.

James shrugs. “I was just guessing, and I have been told I’m good at this game.”

“I don’t want to play this game anymore.” Regulus mumbles, crossing his arms.

James holds his hands up in mock surrender, a teasing grin playing on his lips. “Sure. We can do anything else you want. So, tell me— what do you want to do?”

“Just sitting in silence.”

“We can do that.”

They managed to sit in a peaceful silence for five minutes before James spoke up again. “Do you want to play Q&A?”

Regulus raises his eyebrows accusingly. Although James remains unfazed.

“We take turns asking each other questions about anything.” James explains slowly. “But you have to be honest. Answer the truth.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Well, since we’re stuck here together—”

“Stuck?” Regulus lets out an unbelievable laugh. “You’re the one who wanted me here.”

“Wants.” James corrects, unwavering. “I want you here,” Regulus feels like dying. He wonders, what is this feeling— curling inside his chest, tickling all over his body, spreading under his skin? “And I want to know you.”

Regulus can only stare at him in silence and surprise. “Okay.” He agrees quietly. It’s hard to say something when you feel like your throat is bleeding. But he managed to croak the word out. That was all that mattered.

“Do you want to be first this time?” James asks. Regulus shakes his head, he refuses to say anything, especially when he knows the words aren't going to come out properly. “Alright. Tell me about your first love.”

The thing about James is he likes to surprise Regulus. Because he didn’t expect that question. Regulus thought he was going to ask about his brother, since he always wanted one. Or Regulus’ taste in music. Who asks a stranger about their first love?

But then again, maybe they aren’t strangers anymore. They know each other’s names, their nationalities, where they lived— little details that slowly wove them together.

(Then what are they?)

(Is there any word in this world that can explain this kind of relationship?)

“My first love?” Regulus repeats. “Why do you assume I have been in love before?”

“A person who never fell in love before would never know how much it can hurt.” James replies, shrugging. “You speak like you know it so well.”

The truth is, Regulus was talking about Sirius. All the miserable, pathetic things he said— they were all about Sirius. Because he hadn’t experienced any love that wasn’t Sirius’.

He knows how much it hurts. He can feel it in his vitals. But those aren’t the same James’s asking him about. That means all the sorrows stay hidden, buried deep beneath his broken bones.he doesn’t— and he will not talk about it.

He did think he was in love once, a long time ago. Only to realize it wasn’t. It wasn’t even close. “My first boyfriend…” James’ eyes sparkling as Regulus spoke. He’s listening to every word, every single one. “Was my best friend.”

“Oh.” James says. Regulus suddenly glances at his arms, closer than ever. James quickly draws it back. A pink brush creeps up on his face. “Was it…?”

Regulus nods, and couldn't help but miss James’ warmth close to him. “Bad. We were together for a year or two. And we were teenagers, reckless and wild and lonely.” A pause. “It wasn’t until we tried something different to realize that we weren’t in love. We’re just miserable and lonely.” 

The bus stops, and more people are getting in.

“What is something different?” James asks, looking so interested for some reason.

“You have to ask another question.” Regulus smirks, tilting his head slightly. “I believe it’s my turn now.”

“The floor is yours,” James says, gesturing grandly, a playful glint in his eyes.

If James decided to ask him about his first love, it makes sense Regulus would want to ask the same question back. But why would he? Regulus does not want to know about James’ first love, he doesn’t care about that. All he wants to know is, “How was your latest love?” A beat. And then, something pops up in his head, calling him stupid. Regulus doesn’t even know if James is single. Is he talking to a married man, spending a night with someone’ fiance in Italy out of all places? 

“My latest love?” James repeats, lips curling up slightly. “Why would you assume I have ever been in love before?”

Regulus scoffs. “Don’t even.”

James laughs. “Okay, okay. My last girlfriend—” girlfriend. “Was one of my closest friends too.” James pauses, he lowers his eyes, boring onto his lap. He looks almost shameful, but Regulus knows it’s something else. Perhaps it’s sadness, or simply the feeling of missing someone’ presence. James had a girlfriend. A girl. The word left a sting— he isn’t quite sure why. He feels disappointed, for no reason. James continues, his voice lower and quieter, completely unaware of the confusion and the frustration inside Regulus’ chest. “You said you weren’t really in love with your boyfriend,” He said boyfriend like it was normal, like he knew how to make the sting sweeter, like Regulus had a chance. “Me and her were different. We were actually in love. We had our future plan out... we had everything. But love is a fragile thing,” He chuckles, it sounds lifeless. So unfamiliar, James’ laughter normally left people with warm kisses on their hearts. “We fell in love, and then we were simply… fell out of love.”

Regulus nods, urging him to continue.

“It was just that. And then we ended things. We’re still good friends, I couldn’t ask anymore from her. I still love her, just not in the way I used to.” James says. His eyes lose their brightness, the messy hair is still there, and his smile is small. But at the very least, he’s still smiling at Regulus.

His hand is on the middle seat between them. Regulus reaches out to touch him with his own hand hopelessly.

A single brush, the start of many.

Chapter Text

When the bus stops, James takes Regulus’ hand and basically jumps off the bus. His gaze straight forward, he must have spotted something for them to do. Regulus’ mind couldn’t think properly, not when James’ hand is holding his once again. He doesn’t even know what he has done to Regulus, does he?

James doesn’t let go, not even when they come to halt, standing in front of a record store. It’s a small shop, there’s not one single person in it except for the cashier who’s busy cleaning the shelves and dancing to the music, clearly enjoying his free time alone.

“C’mon, let’s go inside.” James says, his voice no longer lingering with sadness but full of joy once more. “I’m about to introduce you to The David Bowie.”

Regulus lets him lead the way.

They stroll inside the store, James’ hand holding his, guiding him to follow every step. He looks around, and Regulus just knows Sirius must have loved this place. His room was like this, full with posters of people Regulus doesn’t know and a bunch of records lying around on the floor. Messy, but at least it was his. Regulus can remember which record Sirius had as he takes a look around the store. Because ever since Sirius left, his room was untouched. Mother refused to clean it, that might be her way of coping, pretending Sirius was still there. Or she just left them like that, lying on the ground, so one day Sirius can come back home and find all his things. (Or perhaps she was so scared she would lose every single piece of her son that is left behind.) Even though they all know Sirius is never coming back. She knows, father knows, Regulus knows. They just cling to some hope, if they had any of it left, that they will see Sirius once more. 

(Regulus is glad Sirius never comes back. Though a little part of him would always miss his big brother forever.)

James stops at a record bin, letting go of Regulus’ hand. (What a shame.) He searches for something in the box, his eyes lit up as he picks up a record. “There he is, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust.” James proudly presents the album to Regulus, holding it up with a broad smile as if he was a child showing his drawing to adults. “His best album ever.”

“Your favourite?” Regulus asks, taking the record from James to suspect it closely. Sirius had this one, he hung it up on his wall, displayed the vinyl, and proudly showed everyone that stepped into his room.  He was so fond of it. Even though Regulus doesn’t really understand why it holds such a special place in Sirius’ heart. Sometimes Regulus would hear a muffled sound through the thin wall of their house. And sometimes, Regulus would catch Sirius letting himself sing along softly.

(And the whole time, Regulus would noticed the faintest, little glimpse of his eyes, shining just a bit brighter than usual, distantly staring into the record.)

(As if he was looking at something he couldn’t dare to hope for.)

(A dream, big and beautiful.)

“Nah, not my favourite.” James sighs. “It’s my best friend’ favourite.”

“Starman,”   Regulus murmurs the track name softly, his fingers softly trailing along the printed words. Sirius loved this one. When walking down the hall, passing Sirius’ room, through the night when the breeze was cold and eerily still. Sirius would hum along the lyrics. He doesn’t realize he utters it out loud until James’ voice chimes in his mind, bringing Regulus back to the present.

“Starman?” James smiles. “You’re right. His favourite track is Starman.”

“Isn’t everyone else’?” The cashier chimes in. He doesn’t even look at them as he speaks.

“Excuse me,” James says, offended. He’s still smiling though. “I admit it’s a masterpiece, but it is not my favourite.”

“What's yours?” Regulus asks before the worker can reply. James should be talking to Regulus. Not him.

James doesn’t answer immediately. He searches for something more, fumbling over that box and pulling out another record with a bigger smile this time. 

Regulus doesn’t recognize this one.

“Now, Regulus. This is “Heroes”, my all time favourite David Bowie’ album.” He announces while the cashier scoffs, mumbling something like ‘another popular one’. James ignores him this time. “Let’s go to the listening booth.”

They make their way to the room, shutting the door gently. All the sounds from outside are gone now, as if James and Regulus are the only things that exist in this world. There’s only the sound of James taking out the vinyl and putting it on the player in the room, so quiet Regulus is afraid he can hear his own heartbeats. Even more scary if James can hear it too.

He takes a quick glance at James’ who’s still working on the record. His brown eyes focus, his hair is messier from all the wind outside while they were on the water bus. His shirt clings to his body in the right places, his dimples can be seen even when he isn’t smiling.

When James turns to look at Regulus, he quickly flickers his gaze down to the record, which is where James’ hands are. Oh. His hands are big. Regulus noticed that since the first time he ever held them, they're big. He couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel if those hands were roaming around his body, stroking his hair, blushing his face, resting on his thighs.

That’s too far.

Regulus needs to stop thinking. He is not going to sleep with James. No. Not going to happen.

Don’t ruin this, Regulus.

Only wanting is allowed. Wanting was enough.

“Regulus,”

But the way he says Regulus’ name is so sweet. So easy and fitting, he makes it sound so simple, to breathe out Regulus’ name like it was nothing hard and unfamiliar.

“Yeah?” Regulus whispers, because that’s all he could do. Tilting his head slightly to get a better look at James.

James grins, his eyes sparkling with pride and excitement. “Are you ready to hear the best song you will ever heard?”

Regulus snorts. “I doubt that.”

James puts on the music, the vinyl rolling around the record player, melodies flowing out.

I, I will be king. And you, you will be queen.

The room is small, it could probably fit only three people. Regulus is squish next to James. Their arms are brushing, Regulus can feel the heat of James’ skin. He takes another glance at James, he’s shaking his head to the rhythm and mouthing the words silently. His eyes bore at the vinyl.

We can be heroes, just for one day.

As if James can sense Regulus staring at him, he shifts, leaning a bit too close to Regulus. His gaze flickers to him, which Regulus has to try not to freak out and look away. He’s trying to look at anything but James.

‘Cause we’re lovers, and that is a fact.

It’s burning. James is still staring at Regulus. He can feel it. Without his consent, his heart is beating too fast. Regulus is definitely blinking a little too much. James must have noticed it, because Regulus heard him chuckle.

We could steal time, just for one day.

James stops staring at him. Regulus knows that because he takes a glimpse of James. He couldn’t help himself, he just does that automatically. James is surely a wizard, putting a spell on him. So Regulus could never look away.

Though nothing, nothing will keep us together.

Regulus turns his gaze away, looking at the cashier at the front. Who’s now busy writing something down in his book. James is looking at him again. Regulus lets out a nervous laugh, smiling slightly. He can see James’ reflection on the glass door. He must’ve not noticed this one. Regulus sees James looking at him, like he’s something precious and lovely. As if Regulus were more interesting than the music playing.

Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever.

Regulus starts shaking his head to the beat. James giggles, his arm still touching Regulus’. When Regulus sees that James doesn’t look at him anymore, he turns his head around to take a glance at James once more. Only to be met by the same brown eyes boring into him.

Then we could be heroes, just for one day.

For a split second, Regulus thought he was going to die. They both quickly looked away. His cheeks are burning from embarrassment. Regulus couldn’t even hear the music anymore, when all his mind could see was James.

Maybe we’re lying, then you better not stay.

James’ face stayed on his mind. Linger there. He doesn’t take another glimpse of James, though he could still feel the burning sensation on his arm, where they’re still touching. He closes his eyes, and all Regulus can see is James. With his stupid smile, crooked glasses, bright brown eyes, lovely dimples, and messy hair. James stays.

But we could be safer, just for one day.

Regulus couldn’t tell if James is looking at him right now. But if he did, he’d definitely notice that Regulus’ face is a shade darker than it should be.

Just for one day.

“I’ve never really liked poetry.” James announces suddenly.

After the music ends, they walk out of the store, barely looking and touching each other. As if they were forbidden by the world. It was awkward and awful. And the cashier gave them a big sigh when James and Regulus walked out the store empty handed, mumbling about how much he hated his job.

When they walked past the bookstore, Regulus suggested that they should go inside. He doesn’t even know why, he just did. At least it helped alleviate the tensions between them.

“What do you mean?” Regulus asks, still doesn’t look at James, his eyes scanning the book in his hands.

“I mean that I have never really liked poetry.” James repeats, he’s walking around, hovering near Regulus.

“Why not?” Regulus asks, voice barely above whispering. He hopes it wasn’t trembling.

James shrugs. “I just don’t.” A pause. “Wait. That comes out wrong. I think I don’t like them because I’m suck at poetry.”

That makes Regulus look up, to see James smiling at him. “You?”

“Yeah. Me.”

“The one who said I’m pretty like a french song,” Regulus says without thinking. What kind of a monster possessed him to mention that? “You, suck at poetry?”

James blushes, darting his eyes away. “Yes I am. Trust me, I have attempted it many times before. Just not for me, I guess.”

“Tell me.” Regulus demands, staring at James.

“About what?”

“About your poetry.” He says, putting the book back on the shelf. Turning his attention to James, all James’. “Read them to me.”

A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. “I don’t remember any of them.”

“Well, write one then.”

“It’s not easy, Regulus.” James breathes out, he looks absolutely defeated.

“I promise I won’t mock you.” Regulus tries not to smile, but the corner of his lips still curl up anyway.

“Maybe another time,” James promises. “Not now. Not when all I could think of right now is you.”

Respectfully, what the fuck?

“I need to get you out of my head first,” James continues. “If I try writing it down now, it would be just you. And I don’t think you would want to hear bad poetry about you.”

Of course, he would.

“Of course, I would.” Regulus says, hopelessly.

“Of course, you would,” James heaves out a sigh, although his eyes are smiling at Regulus. “Can I at least get some time to make it decent first?”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding jerkily. “Fine.” Anything James wants to do, really.

James smiles. “Alright.”

An awkward silence settles between them. Neither knows what to say.

Regulus has something— a lot of things, he wants to ask. But it's easier to let them stay as unspoken thoughts, fleeting and weightless, existing only in his mind. Safe, where only he knows them.

Is it better to speak or to die?

Does still dreaming of it make me brave or pathetic? Regulus wants to ask, speak it out loud so someone could answer him and let him die in peace. Regulus wishes Sirius was here, with him. Is that not pathetic, to cling on to the ghost of someone who’s very much still alive?

James seems lost in his thoughts, probably trying to figure out how to write good poetry. (The thing is Regulus believes he absolutely can make a great poetry.)

“Oh. Look, it’s Shakespear.” He plucks up a dust-covered book from the shelf. The worn cover  and the torn edges is a proof of how long it has been sitting untouched. He holds the book up, turns around to show it to Regulus with a playful grin on his face. “Romeo and Juliet.”

Regulus wrinkles his nose. “Do you want to read it?”

“God, no.” James chuckles. “Just funny seeing his name. Is he like— The David Bowie of literature?”

Regulus lets out a startle laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “What? No. I don’t know. I have never thought about that before.”

“You should.” James mumbles softly.

“Well. Shakespeare invented a lot of words. Did David Bowie create any?” Regulus asks.

“Um— not that I know of.” James says thoughtfully. “But Shakepeare created his own words?”

“Yeah,” Regulus murmurs. “Like dwindle, lonely, uncomfortable, kissing. ”

James’ lovely brown eyes wilden, his jaw dropping. A quick bark of laughter burst from his throat. “Okay. You’re kidding. What the fuck? He invented kissing and lonely?”

“He invented a lot more of them.” Regulus couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction. “He was the original of a man who has a way with words.”

“Maybe he has too many ways with words.” James mumbles thoughtfully. “What kind of a genius do you have to be to invent a word? Or did he just have too much time and nothing to do, is that why he created lonely? Because he knew exactly how lonely felt.”

“I don’t know,” Regulus laughs, watching as James flips through the pages. “Or maybe he was just crazy.”

“That would make sense,” James muses, putting the book down where he picked it up. “A mentally stable person wouldn’t write Romeo and Juliet.”

“They write better things.” Regulus agrees, nodding along.

“Like what?” James lifts his eyebrows. He tilts his head slightly, a smile tugging at his lips like he’s trying to fight not to smile. Regulus finds it adorable.

Regulus hums, “A suicide note.” He answers with a flat tone, straight forward and unbothered. James freezes, taken aback. His mouth opens then closes, searching for the word that refuses to come out. Regulus chuckles quietly, he quickly adds with a shrug. “I was joking. Obviously.”

Regulus Black. Making a joke. God, James would never know what he had done to him.

“A mentally stable person wouldn’t be able to write a good story.” Regulus tells when James continues to stare at him in alarm. “You need some shitty childhood trauma or the worst life experiences. They make good writers.”

James watches him carefully. “And you?”

“What?”

“Are you good at writing?”

“I hope so.” Regulus avoids the question, his voice light and almost indifferent. He wouldn’t tell James how much it affects, and shaped who Regulus is by growing in a house that never felt like home. How the tickling sensation still lingers on his skin. How the echoes of cries and the smell of dried blood never truly leaves. How he’s still dreaming of someone who’s gone, out of reach. 

(Regulus hated Sirius.)

(And Regulus needed Sirius, he will always need his big brother.)

James speaks again, this time it's quieter and so much more tender. “I disagree. You know, you don’t have to live in hell to be a good writer. A heart is the only thing you need to be a good writer.”

“A heart?” Regulus snorts. How funny that sentence sounds coming out of someone who said they wouldn’t be a great poet.

“Yes, a heart.” James repeats firmly. “To be great at something, you have to love it first.”

“That sounds poetic to me, James.” Regulus teases, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“You think?” 

“Yeah, I do.” Regulus murmurs softly. He reaches out to pick up another book. This one is familiar, Regulus believes he memorized all of the poems. “Speaking of poetry. Do you know Emily Dickinson?”

“Emily Dickinson? That’s a familiar name.” James mumbles, brows furrowed in a tight knot. Then, his whole face lights up. “Oh! I think we studied about her in school.”

Regulus nods proudly and approvingly, showing James the book he’s holding. “This one includes her letter to her lover.” 

“A love letter?” James muses.

“Yes. Love letters.” Regulus confirms, flipping the pages. Trailing his fingers along the letter he has read many times before, the one that left him mesmerized. “ I chose this single star. From out the wide night’s numbers — Sue — forevermore! ” Regulus reads softly. The nostalgia of the  sleepless nights he spent reciting it in awe washes over him. “One of my favourites.”

James takes a step closer to Regulus, leaning over to take a peek at the book. He can feel James’ breathing. This— this feeling should be illegal. The tickles of James’ breathing against his skin and the waves of blood that scream inside Regulus— yelling at him to get closer. Regulus tries so hard, so desperately to resist it. But the sharp pain only grows louder and louder. “I should read more poems. So I could write a better one for you.” Regulus stifles a laugh and a cry of pain. “Not funny, Regulus.” James scolds, even though he’s smiling.

“You think you can write a better poem than The Emily Dickinson?” Regulus mocks.

“No,” James’s shaking his head. “I only need to write a better one for you. That’s the difference. She wrote for her lover, I’ll write for you, Regulus. The poem that belongs to you. It will have your name written on it.”

Oh.

“Or I could write a song about us.” James mumbles. He’s still close to Regulus. “I should, actually.”

“What would it be about?” Regulus asks.

“Us.” James replies, laughing at him.

“I know that.” Regulus grimaces. “And you know what I meant.”

James shrugs, looking away. “I don’t know what you mean, Regulus. It will be about us, that’s that.”

“So you’ll write a song about us?”

James grins. “Already have a draft in my head.”

The sky deepens into the darker shade of amber as the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Regulus walks down the street with James by his side. Most of the shops are starting to close now, flipping their open signs and rolling the shutters down. Yet, the city still remains alive.

On the canals, gondolas drift lazily through the water, filled with tourists snapping pictures and locals making their way home. The evening air is thick with the scent of the river, the chatter of conversations, laughter echoing in the distance and gentle sound of water lapping the stones.

The sound of the waves is music to his ears, it feels so strangely peaceful now that there’ fewer people. The city is quieter, calmer.

Regulus can hear their footsteps against the cobblestone. They walk unhurriedly and steadily. Regulus almost believes if he halts in place, never takes another step forward, then the world would stop moving with him. Although Regulus might have to mourn the loss of sunrises if that happens, but would it really matter if everything stops and James is right beside him forever?

“Hi,” A voice interrupts. He looks up at the same time with Jame. Two women sitting on the edge of the walkway, both smiling warmly at them. In their hands, they hold pieces of papers and pens. “Would you like some poem and portrait, the only one in this world, we made just for you?”

“What?” James and Regulus ask in unison.

The short haired woman chuckles, holding up a paper. “I'll write you a poem,” She tilts her head to the woman beside her. “And she’ll draw you a portrait. We come in set.”

“For free?” James asks, curiously.

“Nothing is free in this world, my boy.” She replies playfully, calling him her boy as if she’s ten years older than him. But guessing by her looks, she’s probably their age. Both of the women are. “You two seem like a lovely couple,” Oh. “For both of you, we’ll give a special price. Just five euros. What do you say? No one has ever gotten it this cheap before, are you interested?” 

James glances at Regulus for an answer, he only shrugs in reply. Unable to say anything from the fear that it would come out trembling, Regulus could only hope that he wasn't blushing so badly, so noticeable. (You two seem like a lovely couple.) So James turns to the women with a grin on his beautiful face. “Sure.”

James doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t even try to deny it. He just lets the woman assume they are a lovely couple, in their honeymoon together at Venice. 

Does that not bother him? Regulus wonders, does that make something inside his chest ache in an impossible form of vice and vain— The one that screams and scratches his brain, perches in the dark and preaches in broad daylight— ‘Be careful of what you’re gambling for.’

Regulus swallows and pretends it’s nothing. They follow the instructions, James and Regulus sit on the bench while the women work on the poem and portrait. She keeps telling them not to move, to look at the left, to shift closer to each other. The next thing Regulus knows, their hands are touching again. James must have noticed it too, because he hooks their pinky fingers together.

Regulus tries his hardest not to scream.

After some time, the women announce they’re both finished with their work. The short haired woman takes the portrait from her friend, she strolls over to the bench and gives it to them while James pays her. 

“Thank you. We hope you have a wonderful time in Venice.” She says with a tight smile before walking away hurriedly without glancing back, one hand in her pocket and another hand grabbing her friend’ arm. Their steps are fast and firm.

James shouts “No, thank you.” to them. He grimaces when none of the women even give them a wave or a goodbye.

Regulus has a really bad feeling about this.

He takes in the sight of the papers, and oh, the portrait is beautiful. Regulus thinks it captures their features well, but not perfectly.

James looks lovely, though not as lovely as the real James. Nothing in this world could ever capture the beauty of his smile. The women didn’t notice his dimples, the way it deepens when he laughs. They missed James’ soft smile lines that were made from years of laughter etched into his skin. They had not traced the delicate crinkles at the corners of his eyes whenever he grinned, nor had they drawn the soothing warmth James held within his gazes.

The portrait is lovely— but it lacks the spark of life James has.

They had not truly seen him like Regulus did.

Regulus doesn’t mention or point out any of the flaws to James, not when he’s looking at the portrait with a lingering smile. Instead, Regulus flicks his gaze to the poem in James’ hand.

It only takes five seconds before Regulus bursts out laughing. He could feel James staring at him, not understanding what was going on.

“Regulus?” James calls, his voice small, uncertain.

Regulus wipes his tears, struggling to catch his breath between laughter. “Oh, James.” He wheezes. “It’s such a— beautiful and niche poem, is it not?”

James turns his attention back to the papers, reading it softly.

There is a glorious City in the Sea.

The Sea is in the broad, the narrow streets,

Ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed

Clings to the marble of her palaces.

“Yeah… I agree, it’s a nice poem.” James says finally. His voice lace with doubt and confusion he’s unable to hide, Regulus couldn’t help but laugh at him. “But why are you laughing?”

“Oh, James. ” Regulus chuckles. “Because you just paid for a Samuel Roger ’ poem.” James looks at him funny with a hint of bewilderment. Regulus suppresses the laughter, trying his best to explain. “She gave you a famous poem, James. It was written by Samuel Roger, not her.” Regulus shrugs as James seems to understand what is happening. God, he’s adorable. Regulus can tell exactly when the realization draws to him. His eyes widened and his mouth agape as if he couldn’t believe he let this happen. “He was an English poet,” Regulus adds. “Italy, a poem.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

James chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should have known.”

“We should.” Regulus agrees softly.

“I can’t think properly when you’re with me, you know.” James says. “My thought process was; you love poetry, so let’s get you the poem. Because why wouldn’t I give you a poem?”

Regulus arches his brow accusingly. “So you’re blaming this on me?”

James’ face falls, losing all its brightness and the cheeky smiles. “What?” James shakes his head rapidly as Regulus stares him down with his hands on his hips. “That’s not— no— I didn’t mean it like that, Regulus.”

(That Regulus was a little breathless.)

Regulus shakes his head, showing all the fake disappointments.

“I meant— I couldn’t stop thinking of you even when you’re with me,” James breathes out in one swift breath. “And I only want more of you.”

Regulus folds his arms over his chest, avoiding the loud essence in James’ eyes.  He mumbles, barely audible. “I want a poem from you, not from anyone else.”

James sighs, grinning at him. “Trust me, I’m trying.” He glances at the portrait, tilting his head slightly as if he’s trying to scrutinize the sketch. “At least this looks nice.” His gaze flickers to Regulus, “You are lovely, both in drawing and in real life.”

Regulus’ face is burning. He can feel the rush of heat on his cheeks, looking at anywhere but James. “You look good too.” He mutters.

“Not as much as you,” James says, tossing the words out like it means nothing. “Anyway, do you want to try the gondola with me?”

Regulus shakes his head. 

“Alright,” James nods slowly. “So what should we do next?”

Regulus exhales shakily. He takes a glance around the street. The water is calm— there’s not many boats passing by, and not a single person in sight. 

Only them. James and Regulus, tucked away in a quiet corner of Venice where nobody knows who they are. There’s no heavy expectations, no histories pressing down on their shoulders— just the two of them and the silence that embraces them in a warm hug, the hushed whisper of the water against the stone, and the fading light of the evening.

“Just… sit here for a while?” Regulus offers. He wants to stay in the serenity of the world when it slows down for them to exist together a little bit longer.

“Okay,” James agress. “I’d like that.”

And just like it usually is, they manage to sit in silence for a few minutes before James decides he should say something. (Not that Regulus minds.)

“I don’t think the gondola is worth it anyway,” James announces suddenly, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of the bench.

Regulus chuckles. “No?”

“Nah,” James sighs. “It’s just a boat— a fancy one.”

“In a fancy city.” Regulus adds.

“In a fancy city,” James echoes softly. “They’re like… a double-decker bus in London, I suppose.”

Regulus laughs at the silly comparison. “I think I would have loved to sit on the bus.”

James turns to him with a grin, his glasses flickering with the streetlamps. “Yeah?”

Regulus nods, looking at his brown eyes— how it shines under the soft glow of the city’ night lights. “Yeah.”

“And not the gondola?”

“No,” Regulus shakes his head, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “The difference is, I’m not scared of a car crash. But drowning…. I believe it’s my biggest fear. The water bus was fine… but the gondola is too scary— too risky.” James doesn’t interrupt, just listens, paying attention to every word Regulus says.

“I almost died once.” Regulus continues, his voice light. “We were playing in the pool. I was only seven. Got pushed by my cousin— she was scared, didn’t expect me to die. But I almost did.” Regulus laughs, sharp and dry.  “I think I traumatized her.”

“No. I think she traumatized you.” James murmurs, watching him carefully.

“Doesn’t matter,” Regulus sighs, tightening his grip on the fabric. “In the end we both end up traumatized anyway.”

James huffs a quiet laugh, though there’s something unsettling in his expression. “You had quite a childhood, didn't you?”

“I had quite a life, actually.” Regulus forces his lips to curl up in a tight smile, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “What about you? Any idea how you want to die?”

James hums thoughtfully. “I kind of want to get hit by a double-decker bus with someone.”

Regulus blinks. “ The Smiths reference?”

James grins. “I can’t believe you know The Smiths but not David Bowie .” He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief while Regulus shrugs in response. “Do you even know who Queen is?”

“Yeah,” Regulus replies instantly.

James chuckles, his eyes a little wild. “You are so interesting, Regulus.”

He needs to fight not to scream. “So I’ve been told.”

Truth is, Regulus has never been told he’s interesting before.

No, that was Sirius, the one who can easily draw all attention to himself without trying.

Regulus was the overlooked one, the quiet one. He hid behind Sirius’ back, melted away with the shadow. People didn’t really pay attention to him.

(Sirius was the star, and Regulus was— there.)

“And what about when I'm not here, Reggie?” Sirius had asked once, after Regulus refused to talk with anyone in the party their parents were the host. He shifted, pulling the cover over his head to hide from Sirius’ disappointed gaze. “What would you do? You can’t let me talk to everyone just because you don’t want to.”

“But you promised you would stay with me forever.” Regulus had mumbled back, hoping his voice wasn’t trembling. He heard Sirius sighed— long and heavy, he almost shed a tear because of it. But then Sirius didn’t say anything else. The silence stretched, it had become uncomfortable and heavy. Out of curiosity, Regulus slowly poked his head out of the blanket just to see what was Sirius doing. He was met with a loud Boo! instead. Regulus might have gasped a little, because Sirius was laughing a little too hard.

“Sirius!”

“I’m sorry, Reggie.” Sirius tried to hold back his laughter, and of course he failed. His shoulder shook as he wheezed breathlessly from amusement. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry— it’s just that you look funny.”  

Regulus wasn’t laughing, he pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and glare at his brother. Sirius finally noticed. He stopped, the laughter faded away, he reached out to take Regulus hand in his— wrapping their fingers together. “I know what I said, okay? I promised to stay with you forever. But that doesn’t mean you have to rely on me forever too.” He smiled. It was gentle and serious. “So I need you to promise me too, alright? Promise me, no matter what happens, whether I’ll be here with you or not. You have to live. By yourself or with someone else, I don’t care. Don’t let them destroy you, Regulus.” He leaned in, squeezing Regulus’ hand just to make sure he was still listening.  “Promise?”

“Fine. I promise.”

(Regulus didn’t know it then, but Sirius’ voice was heavy with the burden too large he had to carry at such young age— for both of them.)

He was a liar. They both were.

SIrius doesn’t stay. And Regulus is tired of living.

(At that time, Regulus didn’t realize the importance of the promise, he had nodded and agreed with something he didn’t truly understand.)

Regulus had tried his hardest to keep the promise. It was the only thing Sirius left for him. Yet, he still failed. Which is not surprising, because Sirius was the reason he wanted to be alive in the first place. Now that Sirius isn’t here, life has been hollow and dull.

(It had been for a long time.)

At least Regulus is still alive, breathing, and living. Even though it doesn’t feel like it, but he is alive. Even if there might be some days when the weight of existence was crushing him down. Even if there’s relentless nights he lay awake, wondering to himself is this what Sirius meant by living?

But at the very least, he is alive.

You are so interesting, Regulus.

If James sees him for what he truly is, will James still think that? Regulus doubts that.

What if I told you all the miserable things I’ve done, Regulus thinks. What if I told you that I’m not who you think I am, would you think less of me? When I whisper to you all my darkest secrets and wildest dreams, would you believe that I am nothing but a human who wants nothing more than to be known?

Is it better to speak or to die?

Regulus would rather die than telling James every thought that has consumed his mind.

James is laughing, and Regulus wants nothing more than to kiss him.

Oh. Regulus wants to kiss James.

He’s desperately wanting and needing to know what James’ lips would feel on his. When their breath tangles and their bodies melt, when nothing matters except them.

He wants to kiss James when the rest of the world shatters into pieces. He wants to kiss James until the ground beneath his feet cracks and pulls them off to the chaos together.

“You know,” James murmurs, his voice low. Regulus has to snap himself back into the present, where James is sitting next to him. (And not kissing Regulus.) “It was quite lonely to be an only child.” Regulus doesn’t reply, he keeps his gaze on James and swallows down the urge to grab his neck and pull him into a kiss. He’s afraid if he says anything back it would come out wobbly and hopeless. “I played alone in the garden, throwing the ball and trying to catch it by myself. I somehow always ended up tripping over.” Regulus gives him a small laugh, that is all he could manage. So James knows Regulus is listening. “Always wonder what it would be to grow up with someone to play with.”

“It was wonderful, and it sucked.” Regulus grumbles, rubbing his temple.

James chuckles. “Everyone told me that.”

“And they’re correct.”

“Maybe,” James shrugs, his gaze fixed on the rippling water. “But I still would have loved to have siblings.” He sighs, his voice quiet and wistful, lingering with a nostalgia for a memory that was never real. “What about you, Regulus?”

“What about me?”

“Would you change anything?” James asks. “About your childhood. If you could choose, would you wish to be an only child?”

“No,” The reply came out in an instant. Regulus doesn’t even have to think about it. The answer has always been tattooed in every corner of his beating heart. “Never.”

“Never?”

“I would still want a brother,” Regulus mumbles, his fingers curling around the fabric of his sleeve. “I think I will always want one. Couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.”

James nods, understanding. “I know. I feel the same about my best mates. Wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.” 

“You did say they’re your brothers.” Regulus gives him a small smile.

“They are,” James grins. All cheeky and chaotic. “The best of brothers anyone could ever dream of.”

Regulus has a dream too. 

Though it could never happen, Regulus couldn’t help but hope and want and pray for it.

(It might never happen, but Regulus is willing to wait for it.)

The best brother anyone could ever dream of.

Truly.

Chapter Text

The sky is dark when the night time has finally arrived, the soft glow of the stars casting its silver lights upon the water. Full moon is hanging up high, wrapped around in the quiet hush of an endless black horizon. The time they have continues to pass, slipping through their fingers. Each second brings them closer to the inevitable goodbye. Tomorrow the clock will be ticking toward the end. Regulus tries not to think about it, they’re still on the edge of the night. Even though the time left is shorter and shorter every breath he takes, Regulus tries to take most of it.

Because when the sun rises, Regulus would never get to see James again.

And that’s fine. It’s fine. Totally fine.

The air is thick with unspoken silence— Regulus still finds it comforting. After a while, James decides to ask. “Do you want to go somewhere else? ”

So now they’re walking without a destination, just wandering around the streets.

James hasn’t said anything since, he wonders if James got bored spending time with him already.

And that’s fine. It’s fine. Totally fine.

He understands if James gets tired of Regulus, most people do. Regulus is tired of himself too. It’s a mutual feeling— something that he has learned to accept in a hard way.

But oh, that does hurt. Even when he’s already expecting it. Yet, it’s stings, just a bit, a little cut in his vessel, pressing hard enough to remind him he’s still bleeding— still feels.

Stay longer with me, at least for a little bit.

There’s the sound of children’ laughter echoing through the night, a faint glow of lanterns and festive lights in colorful colours, a sweet smell carried by the cool breeze.

“Do you want to go check that out?” James asks, head tilting toward the lively scene.

“Sure.” Regulus replies with a shrug, because why not? He’s already here. And the sweet scent of candies is pulling him in. It’s inevitable, Regulus is gone the moment he smells them.

The walk there was not longer than three minutes, a brief moment and they'd already arrived. To Regulus’ surprise, the fair is rather small— very small. The stall shops are decorated with neon signs and fairy lights, while the children are running around with cotton candies clutching in their hands. 

The crowd is thinner than Regulus has expected. Several small rides whirring in the background— they’re meant for children. The largest one among them is the carousel in the center. Though not towering or grand in any kind, but here in the corner of Venice, it still feels like the greatest thing ever. Painted horses spinning slowly under the strings of fairy lights, soft rows of laughter bursts from the circle.

“I didn’t know they had this.” James says, he sounds excited as if he’s a little kid. His eyes glisten in the same way the children’ are. Is that not the most beautiful thing in the world?

“Well, We did not know a lot of things, James.” Regulus chuckles. “We did not plan for any of this.”

“Right.” James grins at him before taking Regulus’ hand and dragging him along with a gentle but firm tug. The night air is chilly, but James is so warm. He’s so warm against Regulus’ skin. Almost feels like he’s touching a bonfire in the winter’ night. Regulus would slip the tip of his finger in first, just enough to test the waves of the fire. And then, he would jump in and get burned, engulfed in the heat and let them embrace him. As long as it’s Jame’s keeping him safe and secure from the cold. “Let’s get something to eat.”

They ended up buying the cotton candy, one for each. Despite James having been the one who was leading the way, it was Regulus’ sudden mention of wanting to try the cotton candy, and James immediately went straight to the shop.

Regulus has always liked sweets. Not many people know that— Sirius is one of them. He’s the very few people in Regulus’ life that know so many things about him. Even the one that Regulus wished to keep it a secret, Sirius will always, somehow, find out eventually.

It had bothered Regulus at that time, how he could never keep anything from his brother. But now that he lost it, Regulus has finally understood the privilege of having someone who knows everything about you— and wants to know everything about you.

Because it was love. The purest form of them all.

(Does he still remember? After all those years he’d secretly bought a ton of chocolate for Regulus. Has he already forgotten about that? Would he ever forget that— forget everything he has ever known about Regulus?)

(Would he be sad if he did forget? Or would he sigh in relief that the weight of the past has finally gone, far away from him, that he doesn’t have to worry about what Regulus likes anymore?)

Now James knows it too.

“Didn’t know you were a sweet tooth,” He teases, a playful smile tug at his lips

“I’m not.” He grumbles as he takes a bite.

“Yeah, whatever.” James laughs. “Do you usually get cotton candy every time you go to a funfair? Or an amusement park?”

“I’ve never been to any of them before.” Regulus answers flatly.

“What?” James gasps, his eyes wide. God, Regulus loves when he makes that look. It’s stupid, Regulus wants to kiss him so bad. “You have never, once in your life, been to a fair?”

“No,” Regulus chuckles, shaking his head softly. Regulus wants to kiss the idiocy out of James. “No, James. My parents are not exactly the kind to bring their children fun and joy.”

“Well, that’s horrible.” James murmurs. Regulus could only hum in agreement. “You have to try it then,”

“Try what?”

James points to the carousel, it’s just in time to begin the next round. The line waiting for the ride isn’t really long, maybe only a five minute wait.

As soon as Regulus gives him a small nod, James immediately grabs Regulus’ hand and runs. His pace’s fast and hurried. Regulus’ furrows his eyebrows when James skips past the line and jumps right in the carousel.

What the fuck is happening?  

He could hear loud voices yelling at them in complaints. But it’s all a background noise to Regulus, because his heart is beating in the rhythm that sings please, take me with you, wherever you go. Never let go of my hand again. Let’s go to the place where no one knows it exists, somewhere only we know.

His heart calls, James, James, James.

James shouts something that sounds like. “Sorry, I’ll pay you extra money for this!” Regulus isn’t sure, not when his mind is crowded by the warmth in James’ eyes.

James gestures for Regulus to sit down on the horse while James takes the other one beside him. 

Regulus did what he was told, one hand clutching firmly around the pole. The other grip tightly in James’ hold.

When James almost lets go of Regulus’ hand, he tightens his hold. Seems to get the unspoken message, James doesn’t try to let go again, he just smiles and keeps holding Regulus’ hand.

At one point, James climbs down from the horse and stands in front of Regulus. One hand gripping the pole and the other still wrapped around with Regulus’ own. He sways a little, letting out a nervous laugh. His face blushing slightly, Regulus couldn’t help but wonder how he would feel holding James’ face in his hand. Would it feel like he’s holding the entire world?

James’ eyes are glistening and dazzling. The fairy lights shine on his eyes, every time they go round and round, James’ eyes continue to suck all the colours inside. Regulus stares into his eyes, the reflection of himself is there, glistening and dazzling in James’ gaze. He has a soft smile on his face, he doesn’t even realize he’s smiling. Regulus’ hair is the messiest ever, it's all out of place. Mother would cry if she saw him like this. Carefree and alive.

Is that how you see me? Regulus wants to ask. Is that who I am through the reflection of your gaze and the wonders of your mind?

James lets go of the pole before quickly pulling out a piece of paper, he instantly holding on to the pole for balance again.

James swallows. “Would you like to hear the poem that you inspired me”

And Regulus laughs, he’s laughing, smiling, and keeps laughing and nods frantically, whispering the same word over and over again. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“But don’t expect too much,” James grins. “I’m suck at poetry.” 

Regulus nods. He’s sure he will like anything James would give him, really.

“The world stops, time still

As you whisper, soft and shrill

You breathe a melody, on the air

A fleeting touch, so unaware 

I’ve been praying, a sacred song 

A beat too fast, A heart too strong

With every breath, I feel you here

With every breath, I want you near

A distant echo, calling our names 

The sun will rise, always the same

Tomorrow, we won’t be here 

But when stars collide, our souls stirs 

Telling our story, from distant blur.”

James reads it so tenderly, as if the words were truly a sacred song, a plea he whispers and holds so gently in the palm of his hands. Regulus watches him, his throat tight. He doesn’t know what to say, Regulus doesn’t even know if there’s anything to say at all. So he just sits there, staring at the reflection of himself in James’ gaze— steady and unwavering.

James swallows again. “I warned you before, I’m not a poet.”

“I think it’s lovely, James.” Regulus manages a smile, his voice barely audible.

“Thank you,” James breathes out. “You don’t have to like it though— I mean you don’t have to lie to me—”

“James,” Regulus says, more firmly this time to get James’ attention. All on him. “You wrote this with your heart. You wrote it for me. That’s all that matters. It’s great because you did it. And I love that.”

James looks uncomfortable, his eyes darting everywhere but Regulus. James looks like he doesn’t believe anything Regulus just said.

“You wrote it when I was in the bathroom?” Regulus murmurs.

James nods, slowly. “Yeah.”

“Thank you.” Regulus gives him a small smile, with an honest tone. He wants James to know he truly, really, loves it. It doesn’t matter if it was poorly written, (which it isn’t) or rhyme the wrong word, or doesn’t even have meaning at all. Regulus simply likes it because it is James who wrote it. James, who thinks he absolutely sucks at poetry but still decided to write one for Regulus. It takes heart and courage: it’s bravery. Even though it doesn’t look like it, even if it’s the smallest and simplest form, it’s still bravery. “Thank you, James. I mean it.”

James gives him a small laugh. “I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s lovely.” He repeats, because James deserves to hear it again.

“You think?”

“Yes,” Regulus chuckles. A beat. “You are lovely.”

James’ hand tightens, his knuckles are white. He shakes his head softly, his hair bouncing slightly. “No,” James whispers, so quiet and gentle, as if he’s telling Regulus a secret of this universe. “You are the lovely one, Regulus.”

James ended up paying thrice the price of the ride, because he felt so guilty about it. When Regulus asked ‘Why did you just jump right in then? Why not go to the line?’ James simply answered, ‘I just didn’t think of anything else but you at that moment.’ He says it as if it means nothing, just a word without any sense. But that made Regulus want to scream his lungs out.

They’re strolling around the city again. The night air crisps against his skin, but it’s not unbearable when James’s so close to him. The heat of James’ skin radiates and wraps Regulus in a warm embrace under the dark sky.

“Are you afraid of heights?” James asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet night. 

Regulus shakes his head, arching an eyebrow. “No. Why?” 

James grins, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Then you should try riding a ferris wheel once, I would love to take you to.” He pauses, heaving out a long sigh. “But they don’t have it here.”

“Why do you think I’ll like it?” Regulus blinks. “A boring ride, sitting in the box for ten minutes with nothing to do?”

“Well. There’s plenty of things to do, actually.” James says, his nose is a little red from the cold. A playful smile paints on his face. “You could always enjoy the view from the top. It’ll make you feel like you’re on top of the world, where no one can see you. Only you exist in that moment. One of the best feelings ever, I promise you that.” 

Regulus hums in response, kicking a small stone when he walks past it, watching as it skitters along the cobblestone. “Maybe you should write that down for your song.”

“You’d like to hear a song about a man feeling like he’s on top of the world?” James laughs, bumping his shoulder against Regulus’. It’s effortless— that must have been what James is thinking— casual.  

The strange, unusual emotions are swelling inside him. Casual. It is what they are, is it not? It’s just one night of talking and wandering around the city, surely James must have thought this is casual to him.

What about Regulus then?

Regulus swallows as he tries to focus on James’ words. “That sounds a bit too obnoxious.”

“Definitely,” Regulus forces a chuckle. “But it’ll make a good song.”

James shrugs, tilting his head as if he’s thinking about it. “Who knows. Maybe you’ll hear that song next month.”

“That is another promise.” Regulus points out, narrowing his eyes. “You’ll write it.”

“Who knows.” James repeats, laughing loudly before he speeds up his pace, leaving Regulus trailing a couple of steps behind him. 

They walk past buildings, footsteps echoing through the silence of the night. Eventually they find themselves stopping on a small bridge tucked in the quiet corner of the city. Below them, The ocean glistens, dancing with the moonbeam and starry night in the sky.

Regulus braces himself against the railing, fingers curling around the cool metal as he takes in a deep breath to remember what Venice feels like.

James props his elbow on the railing. His gaze staring into the darkness. “Did you have fun today?” He asks softly.

I have fun being with you.

“Of course,” Regulus says instead. 

“Do you remember what we talked about on the train?”

“Which one?” Regulus chuckles. They had talked a lot on the train. Now that he thinks about it— Regulus doesn't really understand why he talked with James in the first place. Perhaps it’s the magic in his eyes and the enchantment in his voice that pull Regulus into him.

“You know, the one about heading off somewhere else, and hoping for something better.” James reminds him. “Did Venice actually change your life?”

No, but you might have.

“I think so…” He mumbles. Since he met James on that train, his thoughts had been occupied only with James. He hasn’t gotten any moment to think about anyone else’ life— not when he was walking down the street, passing by strangers. Because all he could think of right now is what will happen to his life after tonight, when he’s not with James anymore. “What about you?”

James only nods, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t want this night to end.” Regulus confesses quietly into the silence. 

James turns to look at him. His expressions convey nothing. Nothing at all. The golden glow of streetlights casts a soft halo around James’ face, his glasses reflecting tiny pinpricks of light.

“We better make the best out of it then,” James murmurs as he takes a tentative step toward Regulus.

“What should we do next?” Regulus asks quietly, almost hesitant.

James doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he bites his lips nervously, his eyes gleaming beneath the moonlight with something Regulus couldn’t touch— flickering all over him. His glasses sit slightly crooked on his nose. His cheeks flush a soft pink shade, making him look like a painting in the museum.

James doesn’t even seem to notice that he takes another step to Regulus. Regulus can feel James’ breathing on his skin again. And he so badly wants to consume it all. He wants so badly, terribly. 

(But wanting was enough, he always reminded himself.)

(But then again—)

Regulus can’t just live not knowing how it feels to kiss James.

“I can’t just live not knowing how it feels to kiss you.”

Oh. Oh, he spoke it out loud.

The words hang in the air between them—thick and uncomfortable and so fragile.

James’ breath hitches, his eyes widen, pupils blow. He takes a step back— barely a full step, but Regulus feels the weight of the distance that draws them apart. Speechless, James’ lips parted, he’s trying to say something but no words come out.

Regulus wants to die.

Did he just ruin this?

Did he make a wrong move of gambling?

It’s a special thing they shared tonight, so fragile, one wrong word ruined everything. 

“You want to kiss me?” James croaks, slowly and low.

Regulus wants nothing more than the ground to open and sink him whole, or to run away from whatever this is. But he can’t do that. No matter how much he prays, the ground stays solid. Regulus doesn’t even have the courage to turn around and run. His legs could give up at any moment. And in the end, Regulus would have fallen down on his knees anyway. 

He wants to say, no.

But all he could do was nod.

Regulus closes his eyes, pretending this is all just a silhouette, a fragment of his imagination, a dream in the back of his mind. But it only makes everything become more real, so real— too real. Regulus can feel a soft, burning touch on his cheek that sends a shiver down his spine.

He slowly flutters his eyes open. And James is there, closer than ever, with his hand on Regulus’ cheek, fingers tracing over his skin— caressing him so tenderly, like Regulus is something precious. Like he is worthy of James’ kindness and his gentle— so generous heart.

Regulus doesn’t move, he doesn’t even dare to breathe. He thought James would call him weird or all those kind of things, but instead he whispers. “Can I kiss you, Regulus?”

Regulus.

His name slipped out of James’ lips— soft and tender, yet laced with hunger at the same time. How he managed to make Regulus’ name sound so right, he could never understand. Because all that is on Regulus’ mind right now are James’ gaze boring into him, he might have seen Regulus’ soul if he kept doing that. His breathing is faster now, uneven, and his hand is still cradling Regulus’ cheek.

He’s waiting.

He’s waiting for his permission to kiss Regulus.

James wants to kiss Regulus.

And Regulus whispers, desperately and hopelessly, “Please,”

Before he knows it, Regulus can feel James’ lips on his. 

It’s a simple kiss, just the pressing of their mouths together, but the pressure is there, Regulus can sense them burning to his very soul and his entire being.

James’ lips are soft— impossibly soft, and sweet, just like how he imagined it would be. If not sweeter.

After a short moment, James pulls back but stays close enough for Regulus to hear his hitched breathing, warm and unsteady in the space between them.

Wanting was enough, but would it be that bad if Regulus wants it more?

Only for this one time, just once. Regulus wants.

He reaches to grab James' hair, pulling him in again. Regulus thinks he heard a little yelp, but it swallowed down when their lips met together once again, this time with much more pressure, more urgency. Nothing would have been able to pull them apart, their lips seal and their breathing are intertwined as one.

Regulus feels the exact moment James relaxes, melting into the kiss. His hands settle firmly on Regulus’ waist, gripping and pulling him closer and closer, as if he wants to fuse them together— to blend their souls into a blurry fog that shines through the first morning sun in the winter.

James’ lips are still soft and sweet, except this time they burn, hot and desperate. It’s messy and unrestrained. James pulls back, gasping for breath, only to crash into Regulus again.

He’s not sure if someone walks past, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Not when he’s being kissed by James. 

Regulus parts his lips just enough for James to slip his tongue inside. At first he was hesitant, tasting the water with utmost gentleness before Regulus responds with a small tug on his hair and then James deepens the kiss, devouring him like he’s starving, like Regulus is the water when he was lost in desserts for days. 

Regulus doesn’t want him to stop.

When they finally pull back, James’ hands are still lingering on Regulus’ waist, his touch grounding. Regulus’ fingers curl around James’ hair softly, his hair is more tousled than it has ever been, his pupils blown wide, his lips red and swollen. There’s this biggest— stupidest grin on his face, a mix of excitement and mischievous. So bright, so utterly stupid.

“Hi,” James chuckles, his breath tingling on Regulus’ skin.

“Hi,” Regulus whispers, lowering his hands to loops around James’ neck. “You look like you’ve been kissed.” 

“Oh,” He fakes a mocking gasp, his voice light and teasing with a confident smile. “Do I?”

“Yeah, you are.” Regulus snorts.

“Well, you’re right.” He says. “And it’s the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

They walked past a restaurant when James suggested going inside to grab something to eat. Now, they’re sitting in the booth, facing each other while waiting for their food to arrive.

Regulus still can’t believe he kissed James. He just kissed James, a guy Regulus barely knew. And yet, all he can think about is to kiss him again. (And again.)

Tomorrow, he has to go back home, and he  probably will never see James again. But Regulus believes James’ voice will always haunt him for the rest of his life— taunting him with what they could have been, singing the song about tonight. And Regulus will listen. He’ll buy James’ album, a record player— or anything, just to hear him again.

He’ll sit in his room, listening on repeat, all while his parents shout at him to burn it down. 

And still, Regulus will listen.

Now that he thinks about it, Regulus should have made a call and told them he would be late— blame it on a delayed train or something. They will be mad when he gets home, but he’s used to it so it’s nothing he couldn’t handle. What he couldn’t handle is how James is looking at him right now. Like Regulus is the centre of everything.

And Regulus should have got out and called his parents, but the thought of his best friend couldn’t leave his mind. Like most people do, they told their friends about news things that were happening in their lives. Well, Regulus doesn’t have that many friends like most people do. He has a few, and he has the one he wants to talk to the most at this moment.

Regulus huffs at the thought, it’s really stupid. But he wants to do it anyway. He makes his hand a shape of a phone, bringing it to his ear. “I’m going to call my best friend,” He announces, eyes locked on James. “You pick up the phone.”

James looks confused, but he plays along nonetheless. “Alright,” He says hesitantly.

“Okay.” Regulus swallows. “Hey, Pandora.”

“Hi, Regulus.” James says, a soft laugh escapes his lips. 

Regulus takes a steady breath, “I’m sorry, Pandora. I probably couldn’t go to lunch anymore. I’m still in Italy.”

“What?” James fakes a gasp. “How are you still there?”

“Well, you see.” Regulus tilts his head, pressing the hand-phone closer to his ear. Trying his best to suppress a smile. “I met a guy on the train and he convinced me to get off at Venice with him.”

“Are you crazy?” James gasps again. Pandora would probably do the same— no,  she would definitely done the same thing. Because frankly, Regulus is crazy.

“I’m not sure, maybe?” Regulus chuckles.

“Not a maybe,” James nods, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re one hundred percent crazy. Are you out of your mind?”

“It was his fault,” Regulus smiles, “Mostly, anyway.”

“How was that his fault? What’s he like? Regulus, tell me about the guy you met. What kind of a person he has to be that made you jump out of the train with him?”

Regulus couldn’t help but snicker, because, sure, James would want to know what Regulus thinks of him. “He’s cute,” Regulus starts, his voice low and quiet. “And handsome, and he’s lovely. He’s in a band too. And he’s tall… and sweet.”

“So you like him?”

“I don’t know,” Regulus laughs, shaking his head. “His name’s James, by the way. I’ve never met a good James before.”

James grins wildly. “Maybe he’s one of the good James, Regulus.”

“Are you telling me I should date him?”

“What? No— no.” James shakes his head frantically. “I wouldn’t. I’m just saying. He sounds nice, too. I think he would make a great boyfriend, who knows.”

Regulus snorts. “Right. I think so too.” He lowers his voice, almost whispering a secret. “And it would be nice to get to kiss him again.”

“You kissed him?”

“Oh, yes. We kissed.” Regulus chuckles. “He was so sweet too. I thought he would get tired of me. But he kept holding my hands and talking to me. He kept kissing me,” A pause. “And I like to feel his eyes on me when I look away.”

James nods, his face flushed, his gaze unwavering. “He couldn’t take his eyes away from you, Regulus. “You’re breathtaking.”

“You think so?” Regulus could only mumble.

“Yeah, I think so.” James agrees softly. His smile lines visible— what a beautiful thing to have.

“Anyway,” Regulus murmurs. “It’s the best night I’ve ever had.” Regulus doesn’t wait for James to answer, he puts his hand down on the table, gesturing to James. “Your turn now.”

James hums, his lips curling up in amusement as he mimics Regulus, picking up the imaginary phone. He clears his throat before speaking, “Hey, Pads.”

Regulus has to stifle a laugh, raising an eyebrow at James. “Pads. Really?”

“It’s from Padfoots.” James explains with a grin.

“That’s such a silly name.”

“I know, a stranger on a train told me before.” James says, smirking. “Anyway, Pads, are you there?” James gets back to the (silly) game.

“I’m here,” Regulus replies. He tries to embody the so-called Padfoots. Regulus has no idea what he’s actually like, so he simply lowers his voice, attempts to sound tough, he even puffs his chest out a little. “What do you need, Prongs? ”

James snorts at him. (That’s the whole point— Regulus wants to hear his laugh again, and he succeeds.) “I don’t need anything. Just want to tell you about an incredible thing that happened to me today.”

“Oh, really?” Regulus narrows his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“So… I met someone on the train to Venice,” James says, a grin tugging at his lips. “Someone incredible. I think you would have loved him.”

Regulus rolls his eyes playfully, playing along. “What’s so incredible about him? Why would I even love him?” 

“Because I want you to,” James fakes a retort.

Regulus shakes his head slightly, biting back a smile. “That’s stupid.”

James shrugs. “Who cares if it’s stupid? We had all these meaningless conversations, random pointless things. But I’ve never wanted to talk about meaningless things to anyone like this before…” His voice softened, “Like he makes nothing become everything, Pads.”

“What does that mean?” Regulus asks curiously. Not as Padfoots— but as Regulus. He wants to know what James thinks, he wants to hear what James says, he wants to believe what James believes.

“It means, I think I would love to have meaningless conversations with him for the rest of my life.” James says, and Regulus has to act like he’s not bursting from the inside. 

Regulus doesn’t believe in love at first sight— he doesn’t even believe in love. It all seems unreal, untouchable, out of reach. Maybe it is real. Maybe love really does exist, but it just is not made for Regulus, never for Regulus. It has always been a fantasy that writers dream about. But in this moment, with James, a glimpse of it seems to shine through, signalling to Regulus that it’s real, and it’s right here in James. Not too far, never too out of reach. All Regulus had to do was reach out and grab it.

Can I do that? Regulus wants to ask, whispering into James’ ear. Can I take you, and the love inside you, and everything you have to offer me? I want to carve my way into you. I want you here and near. I want to feel the curves of your body, the heat of your beating heart, the weight of your soul, the knowledge of your mind. I want to hold it all in the palm of my hand and never let it go. Never. Will you let me?

“Would you let him,” Regulus whispers, slowly. “To stay longer than one night. To be with you as long as you’re alive.”

James’ lovely brown eyes staring right into Regulus. “I would let him haunt me in every way possible. So yes, If he wanted to.”

“What if he wanted to?”

“Then he has nothing to be afraid of.” James’ smile spread across his face. “Because I wanted him to.”

Does still dreaming of it make him brave or pathetic?

Regulus doesn’t answer him. James doesn’t bother to ask him either.

He wishes Sirius was here, he would have known what to do. Sirius always knows what to do.

Oh, how Regulus longs for his embrace. He wants nothing more than his big brother to hold him close, to tuck him safely at his side, whispering soft reassurances. Telling him it was alright to do what he wants. But then, was it not Sirius that made Regulus feel this way in the first place? If Sirius had loved Regulus the way he wanted him to, he wouldn’t be this pathetic unlovable man if Sirius is here and still loving him.

“Tell me more about your band.” Regulus demands, changing the topic. He needs to clear his thoughts. A nice way to do it is to listen to James talk about anything, even if it’s stupid.

James gives him a small nod. His eyes always lit up when he got to talk about his friends. (Would you ever talk about me like that?) “We met in high school in London. One of my mates —Wormtail— he’s actually my childhood best friend. But… we started forming a band together in high school because that was when we met the other two.”

Regulus wishes Sirius was here, he would have loved James. Regulus wishes anyone was here, really. Pandora, Barty, Dorcas, Evan, even Narcissa or Andromeda. Maybe Bellatrix too, she would at least understand how he feels right now. Perhaps all their advice couldn’t help Regulus, perhaps it's shitty advice. But Regulus wouldn’t feel so alone if they were here. He wouldn’t feel so helpless in this situation.

(Does he fall in love too easily?)

(Is it even love, or Regulus is simply mistaken for love?)

“Padfoots and Moony,” James continues to rant about his band. “They were the missing pieces we never even realized we were missing. I used to wonder where they have been hiding all this time,” James laughs fondly. “The world threw them to us. And in that moment, we’ve never felt so perfect and so possible before.”

Regulus rests his chin on his hand, listening to every word James says and notices every move James makes, pretending he doesn’t want to kiss him just to shut him up— stealing those words right off his lips. To have that pretty mouth whispering his name instead of others.

“And now, years after years, they’re still the best people I’ve ever met.” James says. Then softer, quieter, he adds. “That includes you, Regulus.”

“Me?” Regulus snorts, though his heart stumbles over itself at James’ words.

“Yes, you,” James replies firmly. “I wish you knew how much of a possible you meant to me.”

“I don’t even understand what that means.” 

“Well, you don’t have to understand it,” James says, taking Regulus’ hand that was resting on the table. The warmth surrounded him, maybe this is what he meant by the possible thing. Because with James’ hand around Regulus’, holding him tight. Regulus feels like the edge of the sky is near, it’s not out of reach. Like he could touch the cloud. Like time stops, freezing everyone in the world except them. “You only have to feel it.”

James kisses his hand, and Regulus feels.

Chapter Text

Andromeda used to tell him that he needed to dance more. Regulus always thought that she sounded like Sirius whenever she said that.

You’ve been sulking for too long, Regulus. She would say. Let’s go to this club with me. We can have some fun together. 

And everytime, Regulus would never go with her. He made up some excuses, he doesn’t really know why he bothered doing that because Andromeda sees right through him all the time. She never gets mad, just seems disappointed. 

Regulus doesn't even know how she has time for clubbing since she’s a mother now.

He still remembers her wedding day, how she looked at her husband like he’s the reason why she’s alive in the first place. He never understood why she chose him, he even asked her once. She simply answered. When you know, you know, Regulus. I don’t think you get to choose who you’ll love. When the right time comes, the right person will stumble into your life. Maybe in the most ridiculous way possible. She paused to laugh. I didn’t choose to love Ted. I just love him because love is a complicated thing. And I simply followed its lead.

Andromeda told him the truth, that’s what Regulus is sure of. Her eyes didn’t lie— it was steady and unwavering. She has always been like that, always believing in herself and being truthful. Not in the same way as Sirius, who was loud and defiant, all fire and rebellious. Andromeda was quiet and believing. And now both of them have found their own ways of living. 

Which Regulus is truly happy for them. He just couldn’t help but wonder, when will it be his turn?

But what if this is his turn?

What if this is what Regulus needed?

Regulus glances at James, who walks beside him, still rambling about nonsense things, nothing particularly meaningful yet it's important because it is James who’s saying it.

Wanting was enough, Regulus reminds himself. But god, he wants James more than anything.

Is this what Andromeda meant when she said when you know, you know? Because Regulus wants to know. He wants it to scream in his face, to make it clear if this is it or not. 

“Do you want to dance?” James asks suddenly, nodding towards the club ahead of them.

“I don’t dance,” Regulus replies, crossing his arms.

James looks baffled again. Gods, he’s so dumb— Regulus needs to kiss him more. “What do you mean you don’t dance?”

Regulus just shrugs. “I mean I don’t dance.”

“You are unbelievable.” James announces solemnly. Then, with a determined glint, he reaches for Regulus’ hand. “Come with me, I’ll teach you how to dance.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I promise you’ll love it.” James says. So Regulus has no choice but to give in and follow James’ lead. James wouldn’t lie, not to him, especially not about this. (And perhaps it’s because Regulus wants to dance with James.)

When they stepped inside, Regulus was immediately blinded by all the flashing lights. And the music is so loud, it’s deafening. He has never been to a club before, sure, he has been to a party. But clubbing? Not on his list, never on his list. It’s just James who has a special talent of making everything more interesting for Regulus when he’s there with him.

James is something else. His words work like magic on Regulus. Whatever he says, Regulus believes.

With all those blinding lights in the club, all Regulus could see was James. The centre of his attention, the focus of his mind and the heart of his soul. 

This looks like a dream. Regulus thinks. A place so unreal, with the man beside him who made out of pure chaos. Yet he feels like the only real thing here.

James orders drinks for them, he assures he’ll pay for Regulus. And who is Regulus to reject him?

After a while, Regulus feels James’ hand on him again. The warmth spreads through him like soft kisses trailing along his body. His mind is a little foggy, must have been from the alcohol. But the feeling of James’ skin against his is real, it’s there, it’s right here, it’s screaming to Regulus— Touch me more, hard and rough, cut off my skin and break my bones and take my heart. It’s all yours to take. I’m all yours.

Regulus probably shouldn’t drink. Because no way James’ skin is saying that. Skin can’t talk. Can they?

He thinks he hears someone calling his name, Regulus and Regulus, repeatedly. It’s soft like a feather, a fleeting touch, lingering like a last breath of freedom.

James leads them to the dance floor, people are scattered all over it. Normally, Regulus would have run away, but James is here with their hands intertwined, so suddenly everything feels possible to Regulus. 

Tonight, I wanna give it all to you.

In the darkness, there's so much I wanna do.

Regulus never heard of the song before, but James for sure has. He mouths along the lyrics softly, his head bobbing to the rhythm and his body moving instinctively with the beat. Suddenly, Regulus wonders what James would look like on stage, dancing and singing for the whole world to see. He looks like he was born to be the center of the universe, he has a magic that can draw everyone’ eyes to him. And Regulus, hopelessly, has already caught in his orbit.

James says something, his hands moving in a flurry of gestures. Regulus doesn’t understand what he’s trying to say. He raises an eyebrow, wrinkling his nose in confusion. James continues to make that unreadable gesture, throwing his arms around before he finally gives up with a dramatic sigh when he realizes that Regulus wouldn’t understand the message anyway. James leans in closer, his face flushes from the alcohol, his breath hot. “Dance with me,” He orders, whispers to Regulus, his breath tingling in Regulus’s ear. A shiver runs down Regulus’ spine as he speaks so.

“I told you I don’t know how to dance.” Regulus protests, leaning closer into James’ space.

“And I told you I don’t know how to write poetry,” James argues, resting his hands on Regulus’ hip, holding him close. 

“Yes, but that’s you.” Regulus shakes his head, frowning. “I’m not you.”

“No, you’re not.” James agrees. His hands gently guide Regulus, making his hip sway a little. Regulus frowns deeper, yet James still smiles at him. “You’re Regulus. And that’s much better.”

“No—”

“No talking back,” James says with a smirk. “See, you look good— gorgeous, actually.”

“I look stupid.” Regulus mumbles. But he doesn’t argue further, because with the little time they have left, Regulus would like to spend all of it with James. With James’ hands on his hip, with James’ body heat burning through him, with James, all James.

Regulus does think this is pathetic, he knows this is pathetic. Especially for someone who swore they don’t believe in love. Maybe it’s not love yet, but this could be the start of it. The first chapter of a romance novel— better than any classics, because in this one Regulus was in it and he feels it.

Feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild.

And tonight, we're gonna make it all come true.

Slowy, Regulus moves along the beat, allowing himself a moment of freedom before it all slips through his fingers.

Just dance, Sirius used to say. Let your body listen to the music. It's as simple as that.

So Regulus follows. Years after years, even when Sirius’s gone, Regulus still believes him. A word from the past, A drunken lesson given in their dim light kitchen. Sirius only shrugged when Regulus asked how he danced like that— like it was the easiest thing in the world. (It probably was for him.) 

He relaxes, the tension on his shoulder feels lighter when he’s with James. James might be magic, maybe he’s something unreal that comes into existence because he’s the one Regulus has always prayed for. And God took pity on him, maybe it was that.

Their fates could have been written to be intertwined, tying into a loop no one can untie when they met on the train. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence, it could be destiny.

Now, Regulus sounds like James. How could he ever think one day he will think destiny is real?

Yet, here. In James’ hold, beneath the blinding lights, drown under the loud music. James changes Regulus’ belief. 

No, it isn’t love. It’s the beginning of something better than love could be.

Regulus moves his hands to wrap around James’ neck, bringing him closer and closer. James’ breath hitches when Regulus circles his thumbs at the back of his neck. His cheeks flush pink, from alcohol or Regulus, he isn’t sure. But he knows what he hopes it is. 

And James grins, broadly and lovely. His smile’s big and warm and welcoming, as if it’s whispering Regulus’s name, begging him to feel the touch of his lips, silently pleading— Put your lips on mine. Do it without a care in anyone else’ eyes. They don’t exist here, not between you and me. It’s us and our light touches. And my prayer to feel you again and forever.

James doesn’t actually say that. Regulus must have imagined it in his head. Because those lovely lips of James’ are whispering something else. They’re singing to him. “I was made for lovin' you, baby. You were made for lovin' me.”

Regulus feels his face burning, the searing heat spreading all around his entire body. He wants to fall down on his knees, to cry and to scream. Because Regulus’ soul is singing back to James, it's not a love song, it’s a sorrowful melody, raw and aching. A desperate plea for mercy. 

Regulus wants to crawl inside James, to touch him from the inside, to know the colour of his mind. Regulus wants to pull him in and crash their lips in the middle of some club in Venice. He wants to make the dream become reality. He wants to be something more than pathetic. 

Regulus wants and he wants and he wants it all.

He wants James, all of him.

(Don’t let them destroy you, Regulus.)

Regulus wants and he takes it.

He grips tightly onto James’ neck and pulls him in with one swift movement. Their lips crash together again, and in that instant, Regulus thinks this must be the feeling of coming home after years of drowning in an empty ocean.

Suddenly, his fields of dreams are engulfed in fire, smoke rises— painting the sky in a suffocating gray. The fire burning below the sun, there's a storm coming their way, but none of them care about it. Not when they both are melting into each other's existence. When nothing matters except for the kiss that seals them together in the middle of chaos.

James is definitely made for him. And Regulus knows he was made for loving James.

Sacrifice yourself for his sins, a voice orders. For you were made to bear his every doings.

Yes, Regulus whispers to the back of his mind. Tell me what to do. I’ll be the martyr for him.

“You’re the unbelievable one.” Regulus whispers-yelling instead. He couldn’t help but let out a row of giggles as James dances in front of him— dances with him. 

“I can’t hear you,” James says right into Regulus’ ear. He has a shit eating grin on his face, oh, he’s definitely heard that.

Regulus shakes his head softly. Truly, unbelievable.

“Where did you learn those moves?” James asks, practically yelling. 

“I was just following your lead.” Regulus replies, copying another James’ moves. He flashes a big smile that somehow doesn’t feel weird on his face anymore to James. For the first time since forever, Regulus feels like this smile actually belongs to him. Not just some painting that was cut and pasted on his face, it’s real and it’s free.

Regulus isn’t sure when he had stopped acting, but it was James who made him feel real and possible. And nothing else matters when James returns back the smile.

Warm and kind. That’s James.

James’ hands roam around Regulus’ hip and waist, tracing every curve slowly, deliberately. Teasingly, he slips a finger beneath the hem of his shirt, Regulus tries not to quiver at the touch of him. His voice is rough and needy, “I need to kiss you again.”

And Regulus obeys, he gives in and surrenders— following every single one of James’ wants and needs. Without a hesitation, he presses their lips against each other again, with much more force than before. Fierce and desperate. James' mouth parted slightly. He doesn’t have to say it, Regulus knows what he wants. I want your tongue in mine, I need them to dance between us. 

So he gives James what he wants.

He shoves his tongue inside James’ mouth, trying to memorize every shape of his lips and the sweetness that lingers. He bites on James’ lower lips, and James lets him.

They’re both breathless when they finally pull apart. His heart throbs in his chest— loud and clear. Regulus suddenly remembers he’s still in the middle of the dance floor when James drops his head on Regulus’ shoulder, catching his breath.  

Regulus blinks, dazed, as he glances around the room. No one pays attention to them. The world didn’t stop when Regulus kissed James. Everyone around them dances and sings, all lost in their own worlds.

People have their own lives, and Regulus doesn’t matter in their story. People have their own lives, and most of them Regulus isn’t in it. 

(Regulus is just an ordinary man with a boring life who suddenly stumbles into James’. He’s probably a stranger that James will tell their stories to his kids one day. Just that.)

So why care what anyone would think?

Regulus slips out of James’ hold, he takes a few steps back with a strange glint in his eyes. James watches him curiously, but he doesn’t say anything.

Then, as the beat floats in the air, Regulus moves— throwing his arms up, sways his body, bobbing his head with the rhythm and lets himself feel what it is to dance without a care of anyone else’ eyes. Just like Sirius.

He ignores the rest of the world and the people in it.

Regulus only feels.

James’s laughing at him. Regulus doesn’t mind it, instead he finds himself smiling and wanting more.

James’ laugh loudly and contagiously. Everytime he laughs, Regulus does the same. It spills out of him— He lets out a sound he doesn’t even know he is capable of making. The moment James’ step into his life, laughter doesn’t sound strange and out of place anymore. It became something new entirely. It’s the sound that was produced and traveled along his body, shaking his ribs, and making his cheeks hurt in the best way. 

James’ laugh traveled the world and it found Regulus on the train to Venice.

There’s no word in this world that can explain the feelings he’s experiencing right now. It’s something niche, the kind of feelings that exist in the first place because James and Regulus help building it since they exchanged their first word.

“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?”

A voice from the memory rings. Regulus only knows James for half a day, but he would invent a word only for them. Something Shakespear could never think of. A word that’s stronger than love with Regulus and James’ hearts beating in it.

He wants James to hear it, he wants James to touch his heart and feel how much it adores him.

And I can't get enough of you, baby.

Can you get enough of me?

“Tell me your deepest, darkest secret.” James says as lines up his shot and throws the dart to the board. It lands on the double ring, far from bullseye. He groans in frustration, dragging a hand through his hair.

Regulus chuckles, walking over and takes James’ place. He holds the dart and tries his best at aiming. They’re in a better state of mind now that the effect of alcohol has worn down a bit. “My deepest, darkest secret?”

“Yes.” James confirms as Regulus finally throws the dart. It hits the triple ring with a loud thud. “I want to know more about you.”

“You sure you want to know my worst?” Regulus teases. He grabs a new dart in the box and hands it to James.

“Absolutely,” James says firmly. He takes the dart, his fingers brushing with Regulus' hand. The touch linger, only for a fleeting moment. “Tell me everything.”

Regulus crosses his arms, leaning on the wall behind. His gaze never left James as he steps forwards in the place and gets into position. James shifts slightly, he aims, squinting his eyes, focusing on the game.

“I have thought about killing someone before.” Regulus admits at the exact same time the dart flies to the board. That’s another fifteen points for James. 

James only stares at him in silence, his expression conveying nothing. Regulus couldn’t tell what he’s thinking. His eyes are intense, burning into Regulus’ soul— like James wants to see him inside and out. Regulus shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, though all he can feel is the aches in his chest. If James wasn’t scared of him, he might be now. “You asked and you received.”

James simply ignores him.

He doesn’t even know Regulus’ heart is beating too fast than it should be, he has no idea how crushing his impact is to Regulus, how much agony James has put him through just by talking about something. But it was not James’ fault, Regulus knows that. 

James stays quiet, he silently grabs another dart and holds it out to Regulus, standing in front of him. Only a foot away. He needs James to be closer, just one step closer. “Who?” He asks eventually as Regulus eyes the dart warily, hesitating to take it. His voice doesn’t waver, not even the slightest. Instead, Regulus finds it dull and plain. Too simple.

“One of my relatives,” He confesses, barely audible. Lower his head to the floor, stare down at the sight of his own shoes— now dirty from all the mud— because Regulus gets scared of what he will find if he looks at James. Regulus reaches out to take the dart, holding it loosely between his fingers. He can’t take a step forward, his entire body frozen to the ground, his muscles still, his breath almost choked him alive. He feels like a helpless child James’ heavy gaze, unable to move or even feel anything at all.

“Why?” James asks. No, Regulus thinks, he’s demanding it. James wants the truth. And for some reasons, Regulus gives him. 

(Perhaps it was James’ fault after all.)

(To make him weak, believing— as if James is the only logical thing in this asinine world.)

Regulus sighs, his shoulders tense. He exhales sharply, still avoiding eye contact with James, staring at the dart in his hand, twisting it unthinkingly. “It was the first time I saw my mother cry,” 

Regulus remembers it all too well. The surprise and shock took him aback, Regulus didn’t know what he should feel or do then. He still isn’t sure if he did the right thing. 

The anger was like a shadow, consuming every crack of his bones and blinding his head with its sharp blade, slitting through his skin— making blood drop out of him, pooling around his foot on the ground. Leaving trails of red everywhere he goes.

Sure, Regulus doesn’t like his mother, but Regulus is still that helpless child who can’t help but love her. 

Maybe it’s a curse— something that passes down from his mother’ blood. They share the same shade of red, anyway. It’s his mother’ blood that runs in his body, it’s a part of her heart that gives him life. It’s her eye; dark gray, edge with a bright blue that stares back at him every day.

Even if it’s a curse, then Regulus is willing to live through the melancholy of it nonetheless. 

There’s something unsettling about seeing your mother—whose heart is carved from cruelty— cried. It slipped down her cheeks, her sharp gray eyes shining with unshed tears. Regulus didn’t know she was even capable of such a thing. He swallows, hand still wrapped tightly around the dart. “I felt… like I discovered a new emotion. I wanted to destroy everything and kill everyone. I know I shouldn’t be,”

“But?” James asks when Regulus stays quiet. His voice doesn’t waver. Not even the slightest.

He flickers his gaze down to the floor, refusing to meet those kind and warm eyes. “But there’s nothing I could do.” He admits, his voice sounds so hollow. It’s as if Regulus is five years old again, hiding beneath Sirius’ duvet cover, scared of everything. “I didn’t kill anyone, of course.” He adds quickly, the words rushes out of him.

Regulus wonders if James thinks it was a mistake to talk to him in the first place?

Does he think he shouldn’t have gotten off the train with Regulus? Does he want to run away, far away from Regulus now that James knows who he really is?

That reflection image of me was false, Regulus wants to tell James. You were blinded by all the light, I am not who you thought of me. It was lying to you and so was I. And I let you believe it. But I still want you, that is true. That’s the only truth I have.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” James says slowly. Like he’s the one afraid Regulus would run away. “I did ask you to tell me your darkest secret.” He chuckles, even though his eyes don’t have the same spark. Regulus doesn’t understand what’s so funny about it. “And I thought you don’t like your parents?”

“I don’t.” Regulus confirms, shaking his head slowly. “It’s complicated. I don’t understand it either.”

“Humans are always never to understand,” James  continues, his tone is light and casual. “One emotion holds too much power over us. It’s something unexplainable.” He pauses, Regulus looks up to meet with a small smile on his face. “But I know you hate that word since you’re a writer, so you probably think that it’s your job to explain and describe everything.” James tilts his head, his smile wry. “To make sense of the senseless.”

Regulus lets out a snort at James’ attempt to light up the situation. “It’s impossible to make sense of things sometimes.”

“I know,” James nods. “To this day I still couldn’t understand why I chose drums instead of guitars.” He gives Regulus a big grin. “People never really look at the drummers, you know. Their attention is always solely for the one in the front.”

“I would watch you from the back.” Regulus mumbles, quiet and unsure.

“I know you would.” James says before tilting his head toward the dart board. “Your turn now.”

Regulus arches an eyebrow. 

James bites his lips. But he still manages to smile at him. “We’ll discuss more of that when we’re more sober.”

Regulus can only shake his head softly. Unbelievable. 

And for some senseless, unexplainable things, James doesn’t leave. He stays. Right here. Breathing in the same room as Regulus. 

James doesn’t leave.

So, Regulus steps forward, shifting on his feet to find the best position, balancing his stance. He imagines a line to the board, feeling the weight of the dart in his hand. Regulus makes sure not to grip the dart too tight, but the comfortable grip instead. Slowly and steadily, he fully extends his arm and wrist, lining the dart exactly how he pictured before. Then, when things feel perfect and natural, he throws the dart.

It flies right into the middle.

James whistles, clapping as he flashes a cheeky grin for Regulus.

“Why don’t you tell me your deepest, darkest secret too?” Regulus asks as he shifts to switch places with James.

James chuckles, shaking his head softly. “Mine deepest secret? It’s not really that dark. I don’t think it would interest you.”

“Everything about you interests me.” Regulus blurts out the words without thinking. He clamps his mouth shut, afraid he would make the situation even worse.

James pauses for a second, hesitating before he says something in barely audible tone— almost floating away with the silence. “I got someone kicked out of the school.”

And Regulus genuinely didn’t expect that. 

Regulus isn’t sure if he made any choked noise or how his face looks right now. But he tries his best to not show the surprise, so James wouldn’t feel bad. He coughs and raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“Yeah,” James lets out a nervous laugh, his shoulders tense, rubbing the back of his neck. “You heard that right.”

“How?”

“We were like... rivals, probably.” James says slowly, his pitch high and shaky. Trying to find the right words to use. “I hated him. He hated me. I bullied him. He tried telling the headmaster. But I got him kicked out instead.”

Regulus keeps quiet. Listening to everything James tells. As long as James would let him.

When James notices that Regulus wouldn’t say anything, he continues awkwardly. A smile plants on his face, but the corners of his eyes are not crinkling, his smiles line barely there. James chuckles, it comes out hollow. “I was a dickhead. I know.”

“Seems like nothing compares to mine,” Regulus shrugs, even though he feels like all his muscles have burned and ready to burst out if he moves again. “I did say I want to kill people after all.”

Then, James adds.“I didn’t mention the part where I put him upside down.”

Regulus stops whatever he was going to say and stares at James and his sudden confession. He crosses his arms, frowning, because Regulus isn’t as good as Narcissa at hiding behind a fake performance. Especially with James.

The soothing of James’ presence and his gentle smiles makes Regulus believe that he is himself.

“I Hung him up on the tree.”

“Oh.”

“Do you hate me now?” James asks suddenly, tilting his head as he looks at Regulus with his brown eyes— glistening with something Regulus isn’t sure of.

“Do you hate me after I told you I wanted to kill people?” Regulus asks instead.

James only shakes his head, slow and deliberate.

“Then why do you think I would hate you?”

“Well. You see, Regulus.” He starts. “Yours is thought that you never actually did. Mine is an action. It happened. I did it. You didn’t.”

Regulus frowns deeper. “Why did you do it though?”

“Because I hate him.” James shrugs, admitting it directly. “And because I was an arsehole.”

“Aren’t all humans?”

James sighs, looking like he’s about to fall on the ground.

“Do you think he deserved it?” Regulus keeps on asking curiously.

“Absolutely. He was an arsehole too.” He answers immediately without a second thought.

“Then I think he deserved it too.”

God. What the fuck is he thinking? Regulus couldn’t make up his mind. He doesn’t know why he said what he said. It doesn’t even make any sense. Regulus doesn’t know him— the guy James hung him upside down. But Regulus also doesn’t know James, not really. (Though he would loved to know him more.) 

Nothing makes any sense. It really is impossible to make sense of senseless. Something is better left unexplained.

It must be the alcohol.

Regulus decides he's going to blame everything on the alcohol. Whatever stupid things he did tonight, it is not his fault nor his responsibility. It’s the alcohol, and the way his body and mind give up, surrender to the temptation of tender touches and fleeting kisses.

“I don’t think it works like that.” James murmurs, his lips curl up. He sounds uncertain but his voice is laced with a soft sigh.

“If I want it to work like this, then it will.” Regulus states firmly. “Now, will you take your turn or not?” He gestures his head toward the dartboard where James has been ignoring for minutes.

James snorts. “Fine. Sorry. I was busy staring at you.”

“Not an excuse.” Regulus couldn’t help but chuckles. He can feel the warmth on his entire body. James might not think anything about what he just said, but Regulus knows for sure that this will stick with him for another few days, weeks, years. Who knows how long?

He stares at James silently, watching him carefully aiming with determination. “Tell me more about your latest love.”

James throws the dart before turning to look at him in surprise, there’s a smile in the corner of his lips. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything.”

Anything. I just want to know everything about you. Regulus thinks. I want to know how you feel when you’re in love. Or how you feel when that love is broken and gone. I want to make sure you’ll never have to feel that way again.

James hums thoughtfully. “I fancied her years before we actually got together. For almost five years.”

“Five?” Regulus might have gasped a little. “That’s a long time.”

“I know,” James laughs, nodding along. “I have planned our wedding since the first time I met her, actually.”

“Of course you do.” Regulus murmurs softly.

James arches an eyebrow, amused. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He shifts to stand next to Regulus, leaning against the wall. “Anyway, as you know. We didn’t work out. No matter how long I stay in love with her. In the end, if it wasn’t right, then it wasn’t.” James murmurs. “Like you said, love is a fragile thing. I feel like I held her in the wrong way. And that broke us both.”

“Is that how you feel— broken?” Regulus mumbles.

“No,” James shakes his head, his eyes boring into the wall. He sounds distant, as if he isn’t really here with Regulus but lost in the trenches of his mind and memories. “I don’t think that’s the correct word. I felt… lost. I think. Everywhere was dark without her. And I was left alone in the darkness, where no one could reach me. I was lost there for a long time. And I also lost a piece of myself— like I wasn’t me.”

Regulus listens, noting every single movement James makes and the slightest change in his tone.

“But… eventually I found my way out.” He says finally. “I wasn’t going to be lost forever.”

Regulus hums. “Is that why you’re on a train? To travel around. Your hope was to find some way out.”

“And I found it.” James adds softly. When Regulus doesn’t say anything else, he asks. “What about you?”

“I still cling to my hope,” Regulus murmurs. “It’s impossible. My hope for it is never going to happen. It’s out of reach.”

“What do you mean?”

“That my dreams are nothing but just a dream.” He sighs, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. “It can’t be anything more than that.”

Regulus thinks about Sirius. 

He thinks about Sirius constantly.

His dream is to yell at Sirius, to tell him how much he hates Sirius. To tell him how much misery Sirius had put him through. To tell him how much he needed him here. To say he misses him more than anything.

Does still dreaming of it make him brave or pathetic? 

“Does still dreaming of it make me brave or pathetic?” Regulus asks without a second thought. It’s the first time Regulus said that out loud after James put the thought into his head. He wants an answer now. Or else he’ll scream and die right here.

James’ facial expression is skeptical. It’s almost like this is the most confusing question he had ever been asked. It’s really out of the blue, it slipped out of Regulus’ mouth before he even noticed he had uttered it out loud.

Regulus shrugs, for some reason. This is awkward, he thinks. His gaze landed everywhere but James. It’s becoming too embarrassing to see how James is looking at him right now.

(Is he even still looking at Regulus?)

(Or he finally sees the real him and decides that this is not the person he wants to be with anymore?)

“I don’t understand,” James says slowly. Very slowly. He takes time to pronounce every syllable carefully. Regulus’ gaze burns into the floor. He doesn’t dare to look up, hearing the uncertainty in James’ voice was bad enough, Regulus doesn’t need to see another person looking at him with disappointment— It’s too familiar.

Then, Regulus notices how James paces toward Regulus to stand closer to him with steady steps.

And Regulus still wants James closer.

More than this. He wants to beg. Take my soul and blend ours together. Let us become more than this.

“What are you dreaming of?” James asks. 

Sharp, cold blade lines up perfectly with the vein. Every letter from James’ word has changed its shape, forming into a familiar vulgar gash— all fierce and fiery. Crimson blood falling down from his neck, along his bones and limbs, coiled up around his wrecked heart but refusing to pass in. Instead it twists and twirls, rising through his throat, pileup in his mouth. 

Regulus wants to ask, and his mind bleeds an endless stream of taunting voices. Regulus asked, and his lips bled a soundless cry in agony. 

He wants to answer, but the blood already seals his lips together. Unable to utter a single word.

But James’ voice, his sweet voice. So gentle and patient. It was almost like James uses the tips of his fingers, gently pulling his lips apart. And then his fingers move down Regulus’ clotted throat, making their way to grasp the throbbing heart out of his hollow chest. Tenderly crushing it in front of his eyes.

So Regulus peels his lips open, slowly and quietly. He whispers, although his mouth is covered in red blood. “My brother.”

He answered, finally. 

The answer was simple and short. It’s a single word with so many meanings and memories.

(Brother, my first love who taught me it was all right to let your breath sync with someone else.)

(Brother, my worst heartbreak. Who told me it was all right to cling to the pain and let someone else gently hold onto it for you.)

(Brother, my most hated word and my most beloved one.)

( Brothers, even when we’re worlds apart.)

“Your brother?” James echoes softly, his tone thoughtful. Regulus wonders if James is disgusted by the blood on his fingers. “What about him?”

“I miss him.” Regulus confesses. The words came out trembling and scared. Regulus feels like he’s confessing his sins to the whole world to see. He has to lean back against the wall so he won’t fall apart on his knees and break down. “After all these years… I tried to prevent my mind from calling his name. But he never leaves… I never wanted him to leave.”

Regulus gazes up to see James staring at him. His brown eyes, kind, and lovely brown eyes. He doesn’t demand an answer, he doesn’t rush Regulus to say anything at all. His brown eyes just stay on Regulus, telling him— Take your time, I’m not leaving. Take all the time you need, I’ll wait for you.

“He appears in my dreams too, as if haunting me when I’m awake isn’t enough. Fucking obnoxious.” Regulus scoffs because Sirius can never let him know peace. (Even when he’s not here.) “You said when you tried for something you dreamt of, even when you don’t know how it will end. That’s bravery.” Regulus says, noticing James tilts his head, trying to recall the moment. “But what if I only dream of it, but don’t want to try at all. Is that brave or pathetic?”

James doesn’t answer immediately. He flickers his gaze all over Regulus’ face. As if he try to read and understand everything that was left unsaid. As if he knows there’s more buried inside of him, and James wants to see it. He hums and takes a careful step back. And when he answers, it comes out soft and soothing. “Neither.”

Regulus raises his eyebrows, frowning. His entire body has gone cold. “That’s your answer?”

James smiles, small but this time his eyes crinkle a little. “Yes.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?” He chuckles.

“No. That’s not an answer.”

“It is,” James shrugs. “You just don’t like my answer.”

Regulus crosses his arms, wrinkling his nose. “Yes. I don’t like it because that’s not an answer.”

“Yes, it is.” James mimics his frown. Regulus really wants to slap his cheeks and kiss him after. “You miss your brother. And you dream of him. That doesn’t make you pathetic, it doesn’t define you as a coward. It only means you’re human.”

Regulus’ breath hitches. Suddenly everything comes to halt, as well as his beating heart in James’ hand. “Even when I know he will only ever stay in my dreams?”

“Even when you know he will only ever stay in your dreams.” James replies, soft and sweet. “I think,” he starts slowly. “Sometimes it’s like that. Nothing has only a good side. Dreams aren’t just these— bright and shiny things that make you want to take a step forward. Sometimes it’s things you can’t let go. Dreams can be dull and painful. And your only choice is to carry them, hold them, and live with them. And maybe one day we will figure out what to do with it, where to bury them.”

Regulus still dreams of Sirius, of who they were, of the feeling that was true before. (It’s dark and dull.) He’s pretty sure that Sirius loved him once, worse is he knows why Sirius stopped. (And dreaming hurts, it aches to his soul.) Still he loves because love is all Regulus has. (And still Regulus dreams.)

And for now, he will gladly live with it. He has always been.

Chapter Text

“That’s Sirius,” Regulus announces, pointing to the brightest star in the sky as he lays comfortably on the grass in the middle of some park in Venice. James’ eyes follow his fingers to the sky, his head resting on his arm.

It’s nice to change some scenery, they’ve been walking around buildings and bridges for so long. All they could see was people walking around and gentle waves crashing down their feet. Now they’ve found a garden, full with green leaves and vivid flowers. Sweet fragrances of flowers carry through the night air, delicately wrapped around them.

James’s lying beside him, his gaze is still up on the sky, following where Regulus has pointed. From the corner of his eyes, Regulus can see a small smile tugging on James’ lips. “Yeah… that’s definitely Sirius.”

Regulus turns his head to face James, the grass tickles his cheeks lightly. “What are you smiling about?”

James turns to look at Regulus. His brown eyes gleaming beneath the stars, his glasses hanging a bit slightly off from his face when James presses his cheeks to the grass. “Nothing.” But he chuckles softly.

“You’re lying,” Regulus frowns. “And now you’re laughing too.”

James keeps on laughing, so Regulus couldn’t help but follow him and giggle along. 

(James laughs like his entire existence is made out of something pure.)

(Like he never once faced the cruelty of this world.)

“Sorry,” James says, he’s still laughing. But at least he tries to control it now. “It’s just— Sirius is my favourite star, actually.”

“Oh, really?” Regulus raises an eyebrow.

“Really.” James nods firmly, giving Regulus a chaste grin.

“Why?” Regulus asks. He’s not sure why he wants to know, he suppose he was just trying to keep the conversation going. And James talks about stars like he knows their stories and touches them before. 

Will he ever talk about Regulus like that?

When tonight passed and when Regulus became just a star— far from James. Will James keep talking about him or will he forget that Regulus was ever here once? 

(He wouldn’t be surprised if James forgets, Regulus is not the brightest star after all.)

“I think Sirius just shined his way into my heart,” James chuckles. His eyes are bright and alive, his smiles wilden as he talks.

Regulus shouldn’t be envious. 

He really shouldn’t.

But oh, does he understand that feeling too. For he has experienced it before.

He knows James isn’t talking about Sirius Sirius. As in Sirius Black, Regulus’ brother. (Or ex brother, he never knew what to say.) But yes, his Sirius shined his way through Regulus’ heart and soul too. And when he left, Regulus’ heart had been shattered ever since. His soul is losing its life, longing for the source of its brightness. Regulus’ life will never find his guiding light again. It has been dark and lonely.

“He’s the brightest star in the sky,” Regulus blurts out suddenly, catching James off guard. Regulus doesn’t even know why he keeps talking when it hurts down to every marrow of his bones. But it’s Sirius— someone Regulus knows James would have loved if he ever got to know him. It’s Sirius, and it’s the name that wounds deep into his flesh. It’s also Sirius, the one that has been and forever remains inside Regulus’ nightmares. “Did you know that?”

James smiles softly. “I know.”

“Such an obnoxious git,” Regulus snarls, ignoring the lump in his throat and the ache of his heart. “Had to make his presence known at every possible moment.”

James cackles loudly. If this is not the sound that Regulus has always been looking for then Regulus doesn’t know what it is. “You know what, I agree with you.”

“I know. You should be.” Regulus mumbles, suppressing a smile while James continues to let out a row of laughter and rolls his eyes playfully. 

“And what about your favourite?”

“I don’t have a favourite.” Regulus replies.

“No way.”

“Yes way. I really don’t have any favourite.”

James props on to his elbow, his lovely brown eyes glisten as he stares at Regulus like he’s trying to drown him. “Choose one then,” James suggests, with an earnestness that makes Regulus let out a disbelief laughter.

“Like right now?”

He nods, grinning wildly. “Yes. Right now.”

Regulus flickers his gaze up to the sky. At the edge of his vision, Regulus can see James’ eyes on him, again and again. Almost feel like it never left. (And Regulus doesn’t want it to.)

Sirius shines brightly in the sky, making his presence known to everyone.

Regulus tries his hardest to think about his favourite star. He really doesn’t have one, especially his own. Then, a name appears in his mind, and in that moment it feels right the most.

“Procyon, probably.” He murmurs into the silence after a long pause.

“Procyon?” James echoes thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of that before.”

“It’s a dog star, just like Sirius, but this one is called ‘Little dog star’ .” Regulus explains as he points at the star. It’s not as bright as Sirius, but Procyon is still visible. “There,” He mumbles softly, waiting for James’ gaze to follow his finger. “Up above Sirius from the left, that’s Procyon.”

“Oh.” James gives a small smile. “I see it. It’s beautiful.”

“I know.” Regulus couldn’t help but laugh. “Procyon is the brightest star of the Canis Minor, the Lesser Dog, while Sirius is the brightest star of the Canis Major, the Greater Dog.”

Regulus always has a habit of talking nonstop about the things he’s passionate about. (According to Dorcas, who kindly informed him that on a random Monday morning) He never really noticed it. But now that he’s with James, Regulus does notice that he wants to talk more. About stars, mythologies, books, or whatever nonsense conversations he comes up with.

It’s just James who has a calming presence that lures Regulus out of the dark cliff.

“I didn’t know there’s another dog constellation.” James responds. 

“They both are Orion’ hunting dogs,” Regulus adds softly. He knows the story by heart. He has read it millions of times before. (And if Regulus has the courage, he would dare to say he lives in it.)

James hums. “And why did you choose Procyon as your favourite?”

Regulus blinks. He knows James would ask— that he would want to know why. Regulus has the answer, but he isn’t sure if he’s ever going to be able to say it. For what felt like eternity, Regulus swallows, trying to find the right words and has the courage for once. The words start forming in his throat, it rises up and cuts through his tongue. “It’s just that they are both Orion’ hunting dogs… they are both the brightest stars in their constellations. They have so many things in common, yet so different at the same time.” He says finally, even when Regulus feels like his throat is bleeding. The words come out slow and painful, but at least it wasn’t drowned in blood. “Procyon will always be in the shadow of Sirius, it could never outshine him.”

“So you think it’s unfair that the Lesser dog gets less attention?” 

Regulus shakes his head slowly. “People would think that. But no one ever thinks, maybe, maybe Procyon is happy to be in Sirius’ shadow.” James doesn’t say anything else, so Regulus decides to continue. “And even though they appear close in the sky, they are still separated by a vast distance.” Regulus casts his eyes downward as he picks the grass. His heart is too heavy to be sitting in his chest. It wants to crawl out to James. “Perhaps Procyon doesn’t wish to outshine Sirius, maybe his desire is to be closer to him. That is all.”

James’s quiet. The deafening silence almost makes his ears bleed. Steadily and soothingly, James’s breathing in a rhythm. In and out, in and out, slowly and firmly.

Then, he speaks. “You talk about stars as if they’re real people.”

“I do?” Regulus asks, because he doesn’t know what else to say. What was he supposed to say when James sees right through him anyway. 

“Yes, you do.” James exhales softly. 

“I didn’t notice,” Regulus murmurs. “But even if Procyon is a real person, I believe he would have said the same.”

James lets out a snort as he leans in a bit closer to Regulus. “Well, do you want to know what I believe?”

The corner of his lips curls up a little. “What is it?”

“I believe,” He starts, slowly and deliberately. “Procyon is a fool.”

Regulus’ smile falters slightly. He raises his eyebrows in surprise. James is never predictable, is he? Always making everything better with that mischievous smile and his lovely eyes with a playful glint. “A fool?”

Regulus knows James isn’t talking about him but, God, if it doesn’t hurt.

“Yes.” James states, his eyes steady. “Procyon is a fool for not once thinking, perhaps Sirius’ all desires are the same.”

Regulus stills, time stops. His chest grew so tight, he almost thought his heart stopped beating. He doesn’t know what to say, or what to even think. He just hears James’ voice all over his mind all over and over, flooding the train of his thoughts. 

“Procyon spent all these times assuming that the distance between them is only his to feel.” James continues. “He doesn’t think that maybe Sirius is also spending all his time trying to chase the void that holds them apart too.” James exhales softly. “Is that not a tragedy you talked about? To spend your whole existence convinced you’ll never be enough, when all the while, you were everything.”

“You talk about them as if you believe they’re real people too.” Regulus croaks out, a tingle rushes across his skin. 

His head hurts. There’s too many things James’s trying to say, Regulus cannot keep it all in himself— it’s too much. He knows James has no idea about Regulus’ past and how it haunts him after all this time. He knows that. But if James believes that… when he learns more of Regulus, deep down to the hidden truth buried inside his broken ribs, will James think of Regulus the same?

Is Regulus really a fool?

Is he really a fool for simply wanting Sirius to shine for him in the darkest nights?

James chuckles. The sound is sweeter than morning dews. Regulus thinks he would have followed this sound to the very end. “And do you want to know what else I believe?”

“What?” Regulus whispers, so quietly even he wasn’t sure if the word had ever left his lips at all.

“I believe… we should kiss like real people do.” James announces, nodding and grinning broadly. His cheeks flush pink, painted all around his dimples that deepened as he smiles. The stars shine above his head and his messy— messy hair.

Regulus couldn’t help but chuckles. “What does that even mean?”

“It means we should kiss,” James replies, his warmth brushing against Regulus. “Like when you think ‘I love you’, and you kiss. Then you say ‘I love you’, and you kiss. And we kiss because we don’t need to think or say anything at all. Like real people do.”

Regulus laughs, loudly and carelessly. Because this is utterly nonsense and ridiculous. But Regulus is nonsense and ridiculous. So he wouldn’t mind being senseless with James. Never, with James.

When Regulus doesn’t say anything but gives James a smile, James must have taken it as a yes. He leans over and presses a soft kiss on Regulus’ lips. It touches like a feather made out of dust and dreams. Regulus can feel a smile on James’ lips pressing against his own. 

James leans back, looking down at Regulus with his brown eyes shining brighter than any stars. The touch lingers on Regulus’ lips— he still wants more.

He wants and he needs every part of James, everything that James has to offer to him. With that, Regulus pushes James on his back and climbs on top of him. James’ eyes widen, his mouth agape but quickly changes into that stupid big grin. “Oh?”

Regulus doesn’t bother to answer him. He pours all the I want you. I want to be with you. into the kiss. He whispers nothing and everythings that was left unsaid. And he kisses James, because he doesn’t need to think or say anything at all.

There’s a theory, a myth about people, which Regulus always found it hard to like. It was never his favourite myth. 

Plato’ theory was that humans were originally created with four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. But then Zeus, a coward he is, decided to split humans into two separate parts. That made each one of humans have matching halves they are condemned to search for their whole lives.

Regulus thinks it’s bullshit.

But then he met James. And Regulus never felt so completed after all his life. Even though Regulus knows he doesn’t need to tear apart his soul to give it to James because he already had it in the first place. 

Regulus believes they are made out of the same stardust. That he and James share a part of their hearts, it’s beating in the same rhythm.

We’re meant to be. Regulus thinks, and he kisses.

James’ hand comes to grip his hair while the other is holding Regulus’ face, caressing his cheek gently. He leans into the heat of James’ touch, inevitably.

He used to feel so cold all the time, but now James’ heat is familiar. Regulus knows that they just met, and he’s definitely crazy for believing he can get used to James’ heating touches for the rest of his life.

James really is the sun. Regulus wouldn’t mind getting burned all fall into ocean depths of endless death if it’s meant to be burned by James.

Breaking apart, James’ finger slowly, deliberately runs over Regulus’ lips while they both try to catch their breath.

(Regulus always thought people were exaggerating when they wrote a fictional character running out of breath after kissing, because that’s impossible.)

(But somehow he’s experiencing the impossible with James.)

“Je te veux,” Regulus breathes out, hopelessly. “Je veux plus de toi.”

James’ lips curl into a smile. (Even his eyes smile.) “Now, you know that’s not fair.”

“Je fais?” Regulus tilts his head teasingly. The corner of his lips twitches. James’ sweet taste is still lingering over his lips.

“So unfair.” James giggles, his brown eyes still at Regulus. He can see the reflection of himself on James’ glasses. Nobody would have believed the person James sees is Regulus Black, not even Regulus Black himself. But here he is, smiling so wildly. Looking like he has fallen in love. “Translate, please?”

“Non.”

“I understand that one.” James grumbles. “What do you mean ‘non’ ? When having a conversation, it is polite to say something in a language both parties understand.”

Regulus couldn’t help but laugh, he falls down beside James and just laughs until tears start forming in his eyes. Regulus is sure he has never laughed so hard until he shed a tear of joy before.

(The closest time was when Sirius fell out of bed while he was trying to catch Regulus.)

(It was his own stupidity, reall.)

“What did you say?” James grimaces. Regulus needs to kiss that frown away.

“I’m not telling you.” Regulus says instead, wiping his tears as he tries not to pull James in for another kiss.

“It’s not even funny, Regulus.” James’ frown deepens, yet the corner of his lips curls up a bit. The Regulus came out a bit breathlessly, too.

“It is to me.” Regulus grins. “And you’re smiling.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Fine. I am smiling.” James says, indeed smiling. So bright and beautiful.  “You really won’t tell me what you said?”

Regulus snorts, plopping up on his elbow as he keeps his gaze on James, taking in all of him. “Maybe another time.”

What other time do they have?

Regulus is sure James must have thought the same, it is all written on his face. Just then, Regulus realizes. This is their only night together, first and last and no more.

James’ face softens. “Promise?” He murmurs.

Instantly, almost instinctively, Regulus reaches out and takes James’ hand, hooking their pinky fingers together loosely. “Promise.” He murmurs back, slowly bringing James’ hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss on where their fingers join as one.

Promises can always be broken. But they can last forever if he holds onto them close enough.

Regulus intends to.

He will gather their droppings vows in the palm of his hands and shield them away from every storm that passes by.

This morning they will be apart, body and soul. But never the lasting memory and promise. That stays. A proof that they exist in the same universe, it’s real, it’s true, and it happened.

Regulus always wants to leave something behind. A mark that he exists once. A legacy for people to remember him by. Because don't all writers want that?

He believes the stardust that he and James shared in their throbbing hearts can be their legacy forever.

One more kiss on James’ knuckles, and two more kisses on James wrist. His skin’s soft beneath Regulus’ lips. Almost feels like Regulus’s kissing a silhouette, unreal and terrifying.

He kisses the palm of James’ hand, exactly where James would be holding the weight of their souls together. If he would like to. Regulus gently pulls James’ hand away from his mouth and rests it on his chest. Hoping and wondering if James can feel how much his heart feels so large right now.

Do you hear my heart calling your name? Regulus thinks. Do you feel how it beats under your hand?

“Oh,” Regulus breathes out, a sudden thought creeping up into his mind. “We forgot to go to the Romeo and Juliet play.”

“Oh,” James’ eyes wilden slightly. “Oh, right. We forgot.” He frowns. “I promised that guy I will go to his play.”

Regulus chuckles. “Well, I’m pretty sure the play is already over.”

“I feel so bad.” James cries, drawing his hand back and pinches his nose, Regulus already misses the warthm. “I was really excited to go, you know.”

“Really?” Regulus smiles. “Even though you hate Romeo and Juliet?”

“Sometimes you have to try something you hate,” James says. “Could’ve been the best thing ever. But you wouldn’t know if you didn’t try it first.”

Regulus hums thoughtfully. He’s sure he can try something new. Something he never once thought of, a thing that seems impossible. Maybe he could escape, and be free. Somewhere else, with James. “Does it matter?” Regulus says finally. “I think what we have is better than Romeo and Juliet anyway.”

James chuckles. “You know what? You’re right.” He climbs on top of Regulus suddenly, his eyes flushing with mischief. Regulus lets out a startling sound, he would have felt embarrassed by that later. But now that James is on top of him— prettier than any stars, eyes shine brighter than the sun, cheeks flush more than sunset. “This, right here,” James murmurs as he trails his fingers along Regulus’ jaw, sending a wave of butterflies to bite him cruelly. “Is better than everything.”

“Everything is a big word to use.” Regulus manages, his voice wobbles slightly.

“But the right word to describe you.” James replies instantly.

Regulus swallows as James’ fingers travel along his curves, his cheekbones, his nose, and he stops on Regulus’ slightly parted lips. 

James’ touch doesn’t feel like fire to ignite his heart anymore. His fingers travel along Regulus’ curves, to his cheekbones, his nose, and he stops on Regulus’ slightly parted lips. Although this time his touch has yet to burn or worsen the flame that had ignited Regulus’ heart.

It’s cold. Chilling, even. Regulus can barely feel it. This is not like any other time Regulus has touched James before, he has only been so warm. But this time, as the tip of his finger presses on Regulus’ lips, it’s carrying a storm of cold air and winter snow, biting on his skin. That makes Regulus gone rigid, frozen in place. 

The glasses sit crooked on James’ nose— must have been from their kisses. 

James doesn’t have to say anything, or asks for permission. All he had to do was lean down and make Regulus feel whole again. 

And Regulus doesn’t need to say what he wants James to do, because he already knows.

The kiss is cold. Almost like Regulus is kissing a frost. Or perhaps this is the far side of the sun, where everything is buried in rivers and hails. But the prayers are still burning on his lips. James, James, James. That’s all Regulus could say.

Regulus has never hated mornings more than he does today.

Mornings mean another day of sleepless nights.

Mornings mean another day of waking up to the emptiness of Sirius’ room.

Mornings mean the cries of a grieving heart to the person who is alive.

Morning means his time with James has reached its end.

Bag on his shoulders, hands gripping tightly to James’, because Regulus is afraid he would lose everything single thing he didn’t hold onto close enough.

But no matter how hard he clings to James, the sunlight that shines on James’ face is real. A reminder that they have to go separate ways.

At least he gets to keep the memories.

“So…” James starts, unsure. “This is it then?”

Regulus stares at the train station before him. He has just left this place yesterday, not knowing it will change his life. Now he is here again, with his life already changed and ruined— all happened in one day. He takes one last glance at the city of Venice behind him. Just a small glimpse, only to remember it all. Regulus swallows, “Yes,” he says, equally unsure as James. “This is it.”

And then Regulus takes a step toward the train station with James by his side.

They stroll past everything, get Regulus a ticket, not long after they’re already arrived at the platform, waiting for the train to come. Regulus adjusts his bag on his shoulders, James’ hand is not in his anymore, they’re busy searching his bag and the pocket in his shirt. 

James pulls out pieces of papers, and Regulus instantly recognizes them. He looks at the papers sadly before he hands one of them to Regulus. “You can keep the portrait. I’ll keep the poem.”

Regulus arches his eyebrow. “Why do I get the portrait?”

“So you can remember me,” James shrugs, his cheeks flush pink. “And so you can write about me.”

“And why would I write about you?” Regulus teases.

“Because I know you will.” James answers so confidently. Practically shoving the portrait into Regulus’ hands. “And I think I’d like to be alive in your words.”

“You’re assuming I won’t forget you.” Regulus notes, his voice cracking slightly.

“Will you?” James asks in a small, uncertain tone. That doesn’t sound right to Regulus, James shouldn’t have felt like this.

“No,” Regulus swallows, trying his best to control the shake in his voice. “No, I don’t think I can.”

“I don’t want you to,” forgets me, was left unsaid. But Regulus understands him anyway.

He has always thought one day is a long— suffocation time. It’s almost unbearable to endure twenty four hours, everything just feels so endless, stretching out further with a wild desolation. 

But now the clock has ticks to the end without Regulus even realizing it.

It’s so unfair that he has not gotten all of James yet. It’s Incomplete, feeling like he has not lived.

Regulus looks down at the portrait. They’re sitting beside each other, James’ hair is messy as always. The portrait looks exactly like James, although nothing compares to the real James in front of him.

There’s nothing in this world that can capture the gleams in James’ eyes and the comfort of his presence. Not this portrait nor Regulus’ words.

Slowly, he points to the poem James’s holding. “Mind explaining why you keep the poem?”

James glances down at the paper in his hand, clutching it a little tighter. “So I can use it in one of my songs. To keep you forever in my music.”

“Oh,” Regulus doesn’t know what to say, so he just stares at James, taking in every detail. His heart skips a beat, air was stolen from his lungs, his breath uneven, all because of how certain and mournful James sounded.

(One day, Regulus is going to hear a song about himself with a lyric so familiar)

(But he will hear it at the same time with the rest of the world, as if he doesn’t live and breathes in the song)

(Shouldn’t he be the one who heard it first?)

James smiles, though it’s not quite reach his eyes like before. “Don’t I get a kiss before goodbye?”

Regulus chuckles. “Come here,”

And James does. Dropping his bag on the ground and walks straight to Regulus’ arms. James’ lips are on his, pressing against him once again. Even if it feels like it has never left. 

Breathlessly, Regulus whispers. “I’ll miss this,”

“What, me?”

“Yes, you.”

When the train arrives, both of them know it’s time to let go.

Regulus reminds himself repeatedly, wanting was enough, wanting was enough, wanting was enough.

The train stop. People are getting on the train. But Regulus is still wrapped around in James’ arms. He doesn’t make any moves to let go of James. Not when Regulus knows— when he steps on the train, James will become only a faint memory, a ghost lingering in his head, a shadow lurking beneath his bones, and another dream he failed to grasp yet again.

Regulus never holds onto things hard enough. They’ll always leave. Or perhaps Regulus is the one letting them go.

“Regulus,” James calls. This might be the last Regulus he ever heard from James.

Will you ever say my name again? Regulus wonders. When you look at the sky in the darkest times and you catch a glimpse of me, will my name taste bitter on your tongue?

“It’s time to go.” James says. Regulus almost shatters. 

He doesn’t want to go.

He doesn’t want James to let him go.

Still, he hesitantly pulls away from James’ warmth. Such a pity, Regulus is getting used to the warmth, now he won’t be able to get so close to the sun again. “Right,” Regulus swallows down the lump in his throat, tightening his grip on the bag. “I have to go.”

“You have to,” James replies, his eyes flickering to the floor for a split second before looking at Regulus again. He grins, big, broadly grin. “I— goodbye, Regulus.”

Turns out this is the last time the word Regulus slipped out of James’ mouth. It sounds unfamiliar, as if this isn’t his name. It’s all wrong, this is all wrong. Regulus’ name has always been easy fitting for James to say. No. He never said it like that before. Like it hurt him just to say it.

“Goodbye, James.” Regulus says instead. James’ name doesn’t taste so sweet anymore. It tastes like a dusty cloud of smoke that will pour down a storm in his mouth. Regulus hates it. 

With that. With one last kiss, last exchanged words, last single glances. Regulus turns around and doesn’t look back, not once.

If Regulus looks back, the image of James would be blurry and unfocused. Regulus doesn’t want his last memory of James to be that. He will not have it. He wants it to be clear, to remember all of James.

Besides, if Regulus had looked back, he was afraid he would run right back into James’ arms and never leave again.

Soon enough, James is out of his sight. He's missing his other half already. James was the man some god split their souls into two and cursed them to find the other half on their own. (Regulus found and lost it in twenty four hours)

He chooses to sit next to the window. Pulling out the same book he read when he first met James and trying not to think about anything else.

(He fails, miserably.)

Regulus tries to read, he really did. But the words are out of place and flowing around. As if it’s forming into a new word that just exists right here and now because Regulus’ mind couldn’t handle the thought of never seeing James again.

He can’t fucking read.

Regulus sighs and gives up. He simply decides to stare blankly at the pages but doesn’t read any of them. He just stares and stares, hoping it can make him escape reality.

Regulus gives up again. It feels too much staring at the words, he shoves the book back in his bag and changes to stare out of the window instead. Even though it doesn’t help at all.

There’s people scattered all over the carriage, Regulus wonders if they think about how pathetic he is. Do they know he’s drowning in misery right now?

Only a few more minutes and the train will leave. Regulus will too.

Regulus isn’t sure how long time has passed. He’s lost in his world, staring out of the window. But when he did come back to his senses was when Regulus notices someone sitting down next to him, and his body and soul are so familiar with. It felt weird without the presence of it.

Regulus turns around immediately. And he’s there, he’s right there. James is here, right beside Regulus again.

“Hey,” James breathes, hopelessly.

“Hey,” Regulus replies, hopefully. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.” James confirms, swallowing so loudly. A confirmation that he isn’t some fragment of Regulus’ imagination. “Please, listen to me one more time?”

Regulus chuckles. “Go on,”

“I don’t care if it’s too fast. I will say it. I gave you a piece of myself— when we met on that train. I already tore apart my heart unknowingly and gave it to you. And I don’t care if you will give it back. I just have to tell you that I did— that I like you—” James rambles, the words keep stumbling out of his mouth. “And I would really like to love you, Regulus. If you would give me a chance.”

And that, Regulus doesn’t even know what to say. Because oh my fucking god.

“I’ll beg to— god of time,”

“Chronos.”

“I’ll beg Chronos just to have you with me for one more minute,” James says. “I’ll be the martyr for your sins— I’ll be whatever, and do anything. Just— please.”

James is in front of him. And that’s all it takes for Regulus to be whole again. 

“I promise— I’m good at loving— I’m so full of love I can barely eat. I’ll keep you alive,” James rambles. “And I will love you with every piece of me left.”

(Love? That’s for lonely, miserable people who just decided that they don’t want to be alone anymore.)

(And Regulus so badly, longingly, wants nothing more than to be miserable with James.)

Regulus shakes his head, smiling. There’s a sound, signaling the train has to leave. James’ face crumbles, his mouth agape. “I’m not making you— or forcing you to take it—”

“I know, James.” Regulus assures him softly. “Let’s go outside?”

“Outside?” James frowns. “You mean—”

“Yes, James.” Regulus repeats firmly. “Take me outside, would you?”

So James grins and grabs his hands, practically running to get out. The air fresh in his lungs brightens Regulus up. Or he would agree that it's actually James’ presence.

“Regulus.”

As soon as they stop. Regulus wastes no time. He’s done waiting, Regulus is going to make something his for once. He grabs James’ face and kisses him, hard and rough.

Regulus’ lips have been so cold without James’ to warm him up.

James melts into the kiss like he made out of a thin rusting shade of sunlight, showering Regulus with the warm embrace that’s left behind a trail of black shadows.

James is here. In his arms. He belongs here. Regulus just knows.

His brown eyes shine like a bright light from the stars. Regulus loves seeing the reflection of himself in James’ eyes. Some kind of reminder that he exists.

There’s someone calling his name repeatedly. Regulus takes a long time to recognize that it’s James who’s calling him.

“Regulus?”

“Yeah?”

“Were you listening to me?” James chuckles.

“I can listen to you for the rest of my life.” Regulus says. He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud. The words just make their way out of his mind to James, because it belongs to James.

“Oh really?” James tilts his head, a smug smile on his face. “You weren’t even listening to me now.”

“I am now.”

James hums. “Sure, sure.” He takes Regulus’ hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles slowly. “Are you not leaving?”

“No,” Regulus replies softly, eyes following every move of James’ lips. “You’re better than any I can dream of. I’m not letting this go.”

James chuckles as he presses a lazy kiss on Regulus’ palm. “Is this what you really want?”

(Wanting was enough.)

(Until it wasn’t anymore.)

“Yes,” Regulus breathes out. “You.”

James looks at him with his big eyes, Regulus feels like he could die right there. He admits, voice low and desperate. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to get to know all of you.”

Regulus is pretty sure he is all red, because his face is so embarrassingly hot. “Are you going to take me to London with you?”

“Do you want to go with me?”

“I’ll go anywhere with you.”

James rests his cheek on Regulus’ palm. “Then let’s go back to London with me,”

Regulus laughs, despite everything. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll go to London with you.”

Perhaps he can give London another chance.

With the last warning, the train starts moving. Regulus is left here, with the person he doesn’t dare to hope for. With him, breath intertwines, at the edge of time, when nothing is out of reach and everything is possible. 

A flash image of his parents flooded his head again. Father is going to be really mad. Mother would be so sad, but she would act like it meant nothing to her. Bellatrix probably wouldn’t understand. But at least Narcissa will. And maybe Androme will be proud of him for once.

And Sirius, oh, his guiding light, his brightest star. Wherever Sirius is, Regulus only hopes he still knows how much Regulus had loved him, and he loves, and he will continue to love.

Regulus really wishes Sirius would be proud. Because Regulus is.

For the first time in his life, Regulus knows what he wants to do. And he’s chasing it. Regulus deserves this, to do something he wants.

The decision was made.

What else does he have to lose anyway?