Arkieve - The First Poem In The World Is; "i Want To Eat."

[this freedom isn’t free]

plotting out my fic and accidentally made jegulus insane and i can't reverse it they're stuck like that

a growing pet peeve of mine is when i see a jegulus edit and it has the most scrumptious quotes and i'm like i NEED this fic in my life. except... it hasn't been tagged or credited and that's a totally normal thing to do, i guess.

@jegulus-microfic | july 11 - essential | wc 519

“I think I’m a bad person.” James looks at his hands, fingers knitted together, untangling, pinching the skin of his palms, tangling together again. Red spots, white knuckles.

The silence stretches on for too long. He doesn’t dare look up when he tries again. The silence should be answer enough anyway. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“James...”

“Do you?”

Regulus sighs, a small disturbance of the windless night. James wishes he could feel it. The air is too still, holding him too tight. Motionless.

“You do...” James answers for Regulus. Of course he does. If James thinks it, Regulus must too.

“You should talk to the others again.”

“I don’t know how.” It hurts. It also doesn’t feel like anything. Just a hole in his chest, quietness like the darkness around him. “I don’t know how to be a person right now. I don’t know how to be around them.” He’s failing them all. He’s supposed to be there with them, supposed to be a good friend, but he’s not even being a good person right now. Barely a person at all.

“They won’t mind, you know they won’t. They don’t expect you to always be the perfect friend, sometimes it’s enough to just be there. It’s what you tell Sirius all the time.”

“It’s different for me. It doesn’t count when it’s me.”

A quiet laugh from Regulus. “Still so self absorbed that you think the same rules don’t apply to you?”

It’s for James to be silent. He doesn’t want to think about it.

When Regulus breaks the silence again all traces of his humour are gone. “You need to get out of this, James. You need to talk to someone.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“I don’t count.”

James flinches. “Don’t say that.”

“James.” His voice is gentle. “You know I don’t count.”

James shakes his head vehemently. He doesn’t want to hear it. Doesn’t believe it. Refuses to believe it. It’s the one essential thing he’s ignored for ... he doesn’t think about it.

“Ignoring it won’t change it.”

“I don’t care.”

Silence.

“I don’t care,” James repeats desperately.

More silence, until finally, “I do think you’re a bad person.” It’s a whisper. The quiet movement of words through the air. This time James thinks he can feel it, a coldness caressing his bare skin, biting on his bones. “You’re hurting them.”

“I’m trying not to, I’m trying.”

“That’s how you’re hurting them.” James thinks he can hear Regulus move away from him. He still refuses to look up. “You need to talk to them.”

“Regulus...”

“You need to talk to someone who’s not me.”

“Don’t do this to me, please.” He tries not to look up, tries to keep his eyes on his hands where he doesn’t have to see the way Regulus looks right now.

“James,” Regulus says, and this time James knows he can feel it. It moves the night, strong enough it tears the air out of his lungs. A finality. “You need to stop talking to yourself.”

When he looks up the wind slowly pushes a cloud over the stars.

Burnt | @jegulus-microfic | word count: 716

James bites into a particularly persistent lump with the texture of onion and suppresses a shudder. 

“Did you put onions in this?” he asks, still chewing. Never stopping his chewing. The persistent chewing saves him from having to swallow.

Regulus frowns from his seat at the table. “Why would I put onions in pancakes?”

James wants to gag but opts for a deep breath, disguising it as a hum of contentment. “No reason.” More chewing. Oh god, it’s all mushy in his mouth, like the pancakes have reverted back to batter. “This is nice.”

Regulus squints. “Then swallow.” There’s a pause. “Swallow, James.”

James grabs the pitcher of water and fills his glass, ashamed that he has to resort to a technique he hasn’t used since middle school. He takes a deep breath, brings the glass to his lips, and washes the pancakes down. It takes the entire contents of the glass to ensure the food stays down, but he does it and he breathes out like he’s faced death and survived. His triumph is quickly trampled by Regulus’ puzzled stare.

“I love it. So much,” James says finally, blinking away tears. “In fact, I love it so much I’m gonna take it with me to the bathroom while I go about my business. If we end up with a clogging problem, it is one hundred percent me and not this…” James can’t call it pancakes; it’s not fair. It's an abuse of the name and legacy of pancakes.

“You hate it.” Regulus states simply, refusing to entertain James’ nonsense.

“No,” James tries to amend. “You took time out of your day to make me breakfast. I’m blessed.”

Regulus crosses his arms and huffs. “You’re fucking ungrateful, is what you are.”

James reels back in his chair, mouth agape in affronted shock. “Ungrateful? For not baring my neck for your ax?”

“Oh, that’s dramatic!”

James makes a motion towards the pile of pancakes plated between them. “Go on then. Have at it.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, and grabs a particularly crispy pancake with burnt edges, and bites into it raw. He chews, keeps chewing, and then chews some more, all the while maintaining determined eye contact with James.

James bites into his lip to stop himself from laughing. “Swallow.” 

Regulus stops chewing, and then comes the most painful swallow James has ever witnessed. Regulus sits unmoving, looking almost frozen aside from the occasional eye twitch.

James grows worried after a few minutes of silence, Regulus refusing to let up. “Reg?”

Regulus gives another dry swallow before opening his mouth, voice hoarse and parched. “Water,” is all he says, before James fills his glass. He downs the whole thing in one go, then hangs his head, refusing to meet James’ gaze. He should, though, because James has nothing but adoration for him despite the pancakes– stockholm syndrome and all that.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he breaks the silence with an affectionate smile branded on his lips. “I thought you were mad at me.”

Regulus finally looks up. “Why would I be mad at you?”

James gestures towards the pancakes, and Regulus gives a heavy sigh. “I made you pancakes because I love you, asshole.” He bites his lips, contemplating. “If anything, I’m happy with you.”

James’ heart soars. This is why he was ready to poison himself and clog their pipes. “If this is what you do when you’re happy with me, then I’m in danger.” He chuckles. When Regulus gets up to move, he throws his head back in laughter.

James grabs onto him, pulling him down onto his lap; Regulus goes with little to no resistance. “I’m joking,” he placates, burying his face in the crook of Regulus’ neck. Regulus squirms before going pliant. “You’re cute.”

“No, I’m not.” Regulus says, cutely. “I’m trying here.”

“I know,” James hums, tightening his hold with the sudden overwhelming love he feels for the man in his lap. “There’s no way but up from here. You’ll be putting all the professional chefs to shame in no time.”

Regulus scoffs. “I know.”

“We’ll start small, though. Let’s start with learning how to boil water first—ow!” Regulus is out of his lap and across the apartment, and James is too busy rubbing his arm and laughing to go after him.