Arkieve - The First Poem In The World Is; "i Want To Eat." - Tumblr Blog
Bartylily!! I've been wanting to draw them for soooo long... blame (thank) @foursaints for getting me into this godly ship
@/girlglimmer (x) // @/christmas-winter (x) // fireflies - suzanne siegel // “orange and blue” - sarah jarosz // beautiful night - momcilo simic // christmas eve - julia andreevna petrova // @/hunting-brother (x) // @/bluecapsicum (x) // suzanne siegel
i wanna break these bones 'til they're better (i wanna break them right)
jegulus all for the game AU | chapter 1
There is blood beneath Regulus Black’s fingernails, and he does not know who it belongs to. It is an unfortunate consequence of clawing his way through life, armed with only his Exy racquet and an unshakeable will to survive. No matter how many times he scrubs himself clean—sheds himself of bruised skin and the sins of his teammates—the Nest will always live within him. And he knows, as desperately as he does not want to admit, that a part of him will always live back there, too. Palmetto State University is not what he expected it to be. He realises, as he stares across at this bright and beautiful campus, that everything he thought he knew about this place was based on what he knew of the Foxes. It made sense in his head that a sorry excuse for a team would come from a sorry excuse for a school, but apparently the Foxes are a disaster all on their own. They are also, unfortunately, Regulus’ only hope.
hit me with your best shot
romance writer regulus & hitman james - 4.4k, referenced sexual content + deeply unserious but hopefully fun!
for @arsonfaerie <3 happy birthday, maggie!
Regulus Black loves romance. He loves reading it and he loves writing it and he would probably love experiencing it too. Unfortunately, that last one hasn't happened yet, but for now he's happy just imagining.
He likes the escape romance books provide. To retreat, even for a few hours, somewhere warm and safe. To provide that for other people.
Except, some people don't seem to appreciate his approach. He scrolls through Goodreads reviews with mounting horror and a sinking feeling. Dorcas, his literary agent, always tells him to pay it no mind, but Regulus can't help it. He minds a great deal.
He taps on a one-star review. Most reviews rate the book quite high, but the low ratings still sting.
"Stop that," Barty says, waving a fry in front of Regulus' face to get his attention.
"Stop what," Regulus replies flatly, eyes trained on the words unrealistic and unimaginative. A reviewer by the name of magswrite claims that "Regulus Black wouldn't know romance if it hit him in the face. And at this point, I think it should hit him in the face for the great disservice he does to the genre at large."
There's more, but before Regulus has the chance to read it and weep, Barty snatches his phone out of his hands. "Enough," he says, leaving no room for argument.
"Give it back." Regulus swipes for his phone but Barty manages to hold it out of reach, dropping it next to him on the red vinyl booth.
"Not until you get a fucking grip."
"They say I don't know a thing about romance," Regulus whines petulantly. He slumps in his seat and snatches a fry from Barty's plate, munching on it with a pout. "Just because I'm not the most experienced, doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about."
He grabs another fry, somewhat aggressive dipping it in the mayonnaise. He bites it in half and hovers the fry over the sauce again. "Can I double dip?" he asks.
Barty shoots him a dry look. "Regulus, I've licked your asshole. Yes, you can double dip in the fucking mayonnaise."
"So crass," Regulus sighs as he covers the rest of the fry in mayonnaise.
Regulus has never dated, but he's not completely inexperienced. Barty was happy to be his first and second and third and, well, they kind of lost count at some point. But they decided early on it wouldn't be more. Couldn't be more.
That's fine with Regulus. He's never been particularly interested in dating. That's not to say he's not interested in a relationship, but it's just that the prerequisite steps to get into one never quite worked out for him.
People don't like Regulus. He's too uptight, too closed off, and too hard to read. Never mind the fact that he writes books for a living.
Regulus is somewhat of a fortress. Except, there are no walls to be scaled or broken down. The only way to get inside, to get to know Regulus, is to be patient enough to be handed a key.
Only a few people have one of those keys. Barty, for one. Dorcas, his literary agent and friend, has another. His brother had one, but he left. Took the key with him. Regulus went to great lengths to change the locks.
"Hey." Barty nudges his foot under the table. He studies Regulus for a moment, always a little too observant for his own good. As if reading his mind, he says, "Maybe it's worth another try. Just put yourself out there, you'd be surprised what you'll find."
LOOKING FOR SOMEONE TO TAKE ME OUT
>> jfp_: Hey, I saw you’re looking for someone to take you out?
>> jfp_: I’m James, by the way.
>> rab_: Hi James! Yes! I just think it would be good for me…
>> jfp_: How do you want to go?
>>rab_: Do you mean where?
>>jfp_: Sure, that too.
>>rab_: I think dinner seems like a good place to start.
>>rab_: But if we want to be a little adventurous, I’ve always wanted to go skydiving…
>> jfp_: I can work with that. Friday, 7PM?
>>rab_: It’s a date!
He'd called Barty in a panic because what does one wear to a first date?
Sure, Regulus has written plenty of dates but he's never thought about what his characters are wearing. Which features they want to accentuate or hide. Which colors match their eyes and which ones wash them out.
Hess on his third outfit of the day and poses awkwardly in front of Barty, who simply shakes his head and sends him back to his closet to change.
"And where did you say you found this guy?" Barty asks as he sucks noisily on a lollipop.
"I didn't say.” Regulus’ voice is muffled as he rummages through his closet. He has an emerald green silk button-down, but he's worried that might be a bit much for a first date. He pops his head out to tell Barty, “Craigslist."
Barty's head whips towards Regulus so fast he worries he pulled something in his neck. "I'm sorry, what?" Barty manages, voice strained.
"I put up an ad on Craigslist."
"Why on God's green earth would you look for a date on Craigslist?"
"Why are you saying it like that?"
"Because it's Craigslist! Oh my God.” Barty squeezes his eyes shut like he's suddenly plagued with torturous visions. “He's probably a pervert. Or a serial killer."
"Well, what else was I supposed to do?"
"Use a dating app! Ask your friends to set you up! Go to a Barnes & Noble and look confused in the History section! Ask the barista out! Literally anything but putting up an ad on Craigslist!"
Regulus genuinely doesn't know how none of these things occurred to him. He's a romance writer, he can write a meet-cute in his sleep.
He's aware of the existence of dating apps, he's aware of the fact that his barista always doodles a little heart next to his name when he orders a drink to go, and he's probably not even above looking confused in a bookstore in the hopes that someone will approach him.
But still, knowing things in theory and doing them in practice are wildly different. It's the main reason he's even going on a date in the first place.
"How was I supposed to know?" He cries out, head in his hands.
"Common sense!”
Regulus whirls toward Barty, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. "Don't talk to me about common sense, Mr. Public Indecency Charges!"
"Those are actually more common than you'd think."
"Barty! What do I do?"
Barty heaves a deep, long-suffering sigh and pushes himself out of Regulus' desk chair. He takes a few steps towards Regulus, who thinks he might get an encouraging speech, something touching and inspiring and world changing.
But it's Barty, so he says, "Bring pepperspray," as he flops down on Regulus' bed. Regulus wrinkles his nose.
"Get off my bed. You're in your outside clothes."
"Why does that matter? It's not like you minded when Rosie and I fucked on your bed."
"You did what?” Regulus asks, incredulous. “When? Why? Is this some sort of psycho-sexual thing?"
"No, of course not,” Barty says like it's obvious, which it isn't. “It was just for Rosie's back. The couch was giving him trouble."
Every sentence out of Barty's mouth is worse than the last. Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose.
"You and Evan fucked on the couch? Wait, more importantly, did you wash the sheets after?"
"Of course not, it'd be weird to do laundry at someone else's place."
And maybe calling Barty for help wasn't such a bad idea after all. This date no longer feels like the worst thing that could possibly happen to him.
Really, how bad could it be?
Regulus is chronically early. He'll show up anywhere with several minutes to spare, usually the first person to arrive. So when he spots James Potter across the room as soon as he enters the restaurant, a pleasant little thrill runs through him.
He makes his way to the table, tucked away in the corner, a little secluded and offering the illusion of privacy in the bustling restaurant.
“You must be Regulus,” the man says when Regulus stops in front of his table. Their table. His voice is pleasant. Low and smooth.
"You're... handsome," Regulus says. Not at all the first thing one should say to a perfect stranger on a date, but well, James is handsome.
He has the messiest head of hair Regulus has ever seen, but it doesn't make him look disheveled. Instead, he looks charming and inviting.
His glasses would make anyone else look severe, but on James, they just draw attention to his beautiful eyes. Dark and deep.
When he stands to greet Regulus, Regulus notices that he’s wearing a black turtleneck tucked in smart black trousers and shiny black loafers.
"Why do you sound surprised?" He asks, head tilted to the side as he sizes Regulus up. He fidgets under James' gaze, hoping that nervous sweats won't show through the green silk shirt he's wearing.
"My friend thought you'd be a pervert. Or a serial killer,” Regulus offers with a shrug. The comment makes the corner of James' mouth quirk up in a not-quite-smile.
James has a nice mouth, Regulus decides. In the back of his mind, he runs through descriptions he might use in his books. Like he's on the verge of telling a joke, already enjoying the laughter he'll incite. Like he's got a secret tucked away and is just about to confide you in.
"Oh, I'd never be a serial killer,” James jokes as he pulls out Regulus' chair for him. “I'm a hitman."
It startles a laugh out of Regulus. He covers his mouth with his hand, as if to keep the sound from escaping but it spills out anyway. James smiles a milimeter wider at the sound, and it feels like a personal victory to Regulus.
He drops down into his chair and glances at James when he moves to sit again. At the way his trousers tighten around his thighs with the movement.
"Mh, a much more honorable profession,” he replies, eyes shifting back up to James' face.
James winks at him. "My thoughts exactly.”
“I wanted to say thank you,” Regulus starts. He shifts in his seat, suddenly nervous. “I know it was rather… unconventional to post an ad like that on Craigslist. I honestly don't know what I was thinking, I just kind of panicked.”
James waves his hand, as if physically batting the comment away.
“Don’t even worry about it. Stranger things have happened. I've actually never taken anyone out like this before.”
The statement makes something flutter in Regulus' stomach. For a moment he thinks it's hunger, but then he realizes it's the ripple of butterfly wings.
“Oh?” He asks, trying for casual. He's not sure he succeeds.
“Yeah, it's usually not as fancy. Less pomp, you know?”
“Well, I feel honored.” And he does. A flush crawls up his throat and settles on his cheeks. He hopes James can't see it in the low light of the restaurant, but Regulus suspects that James is a very observant person.
They order and chat and drink and Regulus, to his own surprise, is having a great time. James makes him laugh and asks questions, but also doesn't push.
When the food arrives, Regulus takes a quick second to send a text in the group chat he has with his friends.
>> reg: So far, so good! Very handsome and NOT a serial killer👍
He sees that a few of them read the message right away and the three dots that pop up indicate that someone is typing, but he tucks his phone away again before he can see who or what, attention on James again.
He smiles as he looks at the food, but the white powder sprinkled on top makes him frown.
He glances at James, who looks at him expectantly, as if eager to see Regulus take that first bite. He must really love the food here, Regulus thinks.
With another quick smile at James, he turns in his seat so he can flag down a waiter. “Hi, I'm so sorry but this seems to have… parmesan on it? I'm lactose intolerant…”
“Oh, I see! Terribly sorry about that, sir. I'll get you a new one right away.”
“Whew,” he tells James, “crisis averted.”
James hums, but he seems a little confused.
“I'm lactose intolerant,” Regulus clarifies. “It's very not-sexy so I won't go into detail, but nothing good happens when I eat cheese and such.”
“Ah,” James says.
“Please eat!” Regulus says with a gesture towards James' own plate. “I wouldn't want your food to get cold.”
“Nonsense, I'll wait.” And the simple gesture makes butterfly wings flutter even quicker. He takes a sip of wine in an attempt to drown them.
The rest of the meal passes smoothly, no more food-related incidents. Regulus keeps a a watchful eye on all the food he eats, not wanting to have to cut the date short because of a stomach emergency.
James insists on dessert, so they split a lemon sherbet between them, one of the few lactose-free options on the menu. James seems vaguely disappointed that they don't get the tiramisu, but the sherbet is so good, Regulus doubts James minds for long.
“I have a surprise,” James says once they've paid.
Regulus wasn't sure what the proper first-date-bill-etiquette was, but before he could worry about it, James had slipped the waiter his card and took care of it.
The butterflies returned with a vengeance.
“Oh?” Regulus asks, interested piqued. “Do tell.”
James' laugh is warm and easy. “Well it wouldn't be much of a surprise then, would it?” The flickering lamp on the parking lot casts James in a warm yellow glow, accentuating his nose and his jaw. He looks like an angel in disguise.
James drives them to the city center, he'd even opened the car door for Regulus. He thought that was just a romance trope, not an actual thing people did. He's pleased to be proven wrong.
He watches the city lights flash by as they get closer to their destination. Their destination that is still a mystery to Regulus, by the way. He recognizes some places they pass but James' doesn't slow. Not until they're at the big, blocky building that has an arcade, a cinema, a laser tag arena, and an adventure park, whatever that is.
“Couldn't take you skydiving at 10 p.m.,” James starts as he helps Regulus out of the car, “but I figured ziplining might also do the trick.”
Regulus gasps, touched.
Apparently, you can zipline off the roof of this particular building and land on the next one where they have a beautiful rooftop bar.
The two of them pay for the harness and the gear, listen carefully to the instructions provided by the slightly bored attendant. Her blonde hair is choppily cut, the edges dyed pink as if she did it over her own bathroom sink.
James and Regulus take turns helping the other suit up. James' hands are warm and big, holding onto Regulus' waist to stabilize him as he steps into the harness. James fiddles with the back clasps for a second before declaring that Regulus is all set.
Regulus then does the same for James, securing the clasps and making sure all the straps are pulled taut and tight. And maybe he steals a look or two at James' ass, but the harness does wonderful things for him and Regulus is a simple man.
They talk easily as they wait for their turn, the to girls in front of them jittery and nervous. It occurs to Regulus that he should probably also feel jittery and nervous right now, but James makes him feel so at ease.
He's about to tell James as much when the attendant calls out, “WAIT!”
The urgency in her voice startles Regulus away from the ledge. She hurries over, tugging on her lip piercing in a worried fashion as she unclips Regulus' harness. “Oh my God,” she breathes. “The wire is fraying!”
“What does that mean?” Regulus asks, eyebrows pinching together in concern.
“That means this thing could've ended really badly, holy shit. I'm so glad I caught it. I'm sorry sir, I have no idea how this harness made it through our inspection. I assure you that we prioritize out clientele’s safety above all else. If you want to cancel your reservation for tonight, I absolutely understand. You'll get a refund of course—”
“Oh, well, I don't think that'll be necessary! Maybe we can still do the zipline. That is, if you still want to?” He turns to face James, directing his question at him.
James has his arms crossed in front of his chest, an impressive frown on his face as he looks at the faulty harness.
Regulus steps in closer to him, lowering his voice. “Hey, it's not your fault. She caught it in time and I'm completely fine. I'd still really like to do this, but if you're uncomfortable…”
James snaps out of his annoyance when Regulus touches his hand to James' chest. “No, let's do it,” he says, that easy smile returning. As long as James is with him, Regulus thinks he's as safe as can be.
The zipline is exhilarating. A thrill shoots through Regulus as he flies through the night sky, city lights blurring around him in a neon dream. James is flying next to him, arms stretched wide.
Regulus copies him and for a brief moments their fingertips touch, sending a fresh thrill down Regulus’ spine.
They land on the rooftop bar windswept and energized, a restless hum under his skin. He understands thrill-seekers now. That rush of adrenaline is unlike anything he's felt before. Although he wonders if the feeling is caused by the zipline or by James.
And he understand, now, what that reviewer meant about Regulus not knowing romance. He never knew it could feel like this. So thrilling and exhilarating yet comfortable and safe. James awakens in him emotions he didn't think he had and he is suddenly grateful to Goodreads reviewer magswrite for forcing him out of his books and into the real world.
He giggles helplessly into James' shoulder, the turtleneck soft under his cheek and the scent of fresh laundry filling his nostrils.
“That was…” but he doesn't finish his sentence, simply gazes up at James. He leans in, just the slightest bit, breath coming a little quicker. His eyes flutter shut and he hears the way James’ breath stutters.
Before their lips can connect, James jerks away. “Sorry!” He says loudly, not quite a yell but a near thing.
Regulus tries to ignore the sting. It's not weird to not kiss on the first date, he reasons. Maybe James needs more time.
Regulus takes a step back, removing himself from James' personal space. He tries to muster a reassuring smile, but it feels watery and thin, like he could burst into tears at any moment.
It's fine, he tells himself. Don't be a baby.
He feels a little unsteady now that he has removed himself from James' orbit and he mutters an excuse about needing to use the bathroom.
He calls Barty, who picks up on the second ring. “What?” He asks, breathless.
“Barty? Why are you out of breath?”
“Busy,” is all he says in return.
“Yeah, sorry, I… My date is going well but I tried to kiss him and he—”
A loud moan cuts him off mid-sentence.
“Are you having sex right now?” Regulus cries out. He ignores the pointed cough coming from one of the stalls.
Barty grunts in affirmation.
“Oh my God!” Regulus closes his eyes and is met with the mental image of Barty and Evan. He immediately opens them again. “Why did you pick up?”
“Case of emergency.”
Regulus can’t even find it in himself to feel touched at the sentiment. While it is kind of sweet, it is also deeply unhelpful right now. “I swear to all that is holy, if you are in my bed…”
“Don't be ridiculous,” Barty pants as if a few hours ago he didn't admit to having done that exact thing.
Regulus doesn't bother with a response. He simply hangs up the phone and shoves it into his pocket with perhaps a bit more gusto than strictly necessary.
He glances at himself in the mirror, taking a quick second to fix his hair. The windswept and messy look works for James, but Regulus feels like it makes him look more boyish and disorganized than charming and ruffled.
He makes his way back to James, who has managed to secure them a table on the edge of the crowd. It’s nice, being a little secluded from the rest. This way they can talk properly, something that Regulus usually dreads about dates but actually really liked when it comes to James.
“You strike me as an Old Fashioned guy,” James says when Regulus is in earshot. He gestures at the drink on the table. He's holding a drink of his own, a Martini.
“Very James Bond of you,” he remarks. James lifts his glass in salute. “And you're not wrong, I am an Old Fashioned guy." Regulus shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a sudden spike of nerves in his gut. "But I think I've had enough excitement for tonight… I should probably stick with water.”
On the one hand, Regulus really does think he’s had enough excitement for the time being, a faint buzz under his skin still from the zipline and from the almost-kiss. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to risk crossing the line between pleasantly tipsy and embarrassingly tipsy. He doesn’t think he can bear making a fool of himself in front of James. Again.
His lips tingle with the phantom feeling of James’ on them.
Regulus winces at the open disappointment on James' face. It kind of feels like a capital crime to upset James, his eyes wide and earnest behind his glasses.
“I'm sorry—” Regulus starts, but James interrupts him with a bright, “Don't be!”
Relief courses through Regulus’ veins, reassured by James’ smile. With a warm hand at the small of his back, they make their way towards the bar, where Regulus orders some water. The bartender looks a little confused to see James back again so soon, but hands Regulus his water before hurrying off to the other side to the bar and serve the people there.
They linger at the bar, not in any rush to get back to their table, to separate. Regulus leans in close so he can talk to James without having to shout over the music that’s playing.
“Have you been here before?” He asks. He tries not to inhale James’ laundry-clean scent, worried it’ll completely shatter his inhibitions. He feels more drunk off of James’ presence than he could from any drink.
James tilts his head to speak directly into Regulus’ ear. Regulus shivers when James’ lips brush against his skin. “No, this was a first. I don’t like going places with familiar people. It makes this whole thing more complicated.”
“That’s fair,” Regulus acquiesces. He can’t imagine being on a date and running into people he knows. He figures it worsens the inherent awkwardness of a first date.
He's glad he didn't have to share James with anyone else just yet, happy to remain in their bubble a while longer.
They pass time at the bar, venturing back to their table eventually to enjoy the view. It really is rather beautiful, but Regulus finds that his eyes wander to James more often than not. To the way his hair falls over his forehead and the way his muscles strain in his shirt and the way his Adam’s apple shifts when he takes a sip of his Martini.
No amount of water can drown the butterflies that flutter wildly in his stomach.
James offers to drive Regulus home. The car ride is nice, spent talking idly as music spills from the radio. When they arrive at Regulus’ apartment building, James hesitates.
“I'm sorry tonight was a bit of a bust,” he says eventually.
Regulus isn’t sure what James means. Yeah, maybe the cheese on his pasta was a bit of a bummer and the fact that he nearly went on the zipline with a faulty harness and then there was also the double rejection of James not wanting a kiss and Regulus not wanting a drink, but if he overlooks all those things, the date was… Pretty perfect.
And Regulus thinks it’s a good sign that he enjoyed himself as much as he did despite the minor issues they ran into. He’s quick to reassure James, turning in his seat so he can face him.
“Not at all! I had such a good time, James.” He leans over so he can touch his hand to James’, as if to physically convey his sincerity. “I promise.”
James clenches his jaw, a tension in his shoulders that Regulus desperately wants to work away. His hand shifts to fully grab James’. He intertwines their fingers.
“Still… I'll do better next time.” James cuts him a glance. “If you'll let me, that is.”
And Regulus has no choice but to kiss him for it. He doesn’t try to kiss him on the lips, he’s more than happy to let James indicate when he’s ready for that, if at all. Instead, he leans in slowly, giving James ample time to move away. He doesn’t. Regulus places a gentle kiss on James’ cheek. When he pulls away, he sees a faint dusting of pink there. A rosy blush.
He exits the car as gracefully as possible, which is a tall order considering the fact that James drives a Jeep, but the promise of next time carries him all the way to his front door as though on a cloud.
Regulus opens his front door with a flush on his cheeks and toes off his shoes with a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. He boots up his laptop, the blank document staring back at him.
He thinks of James, with his messy hair and his warm smile and his big hands.
He takes a deep breath. And he starts typing: Dominic Coin loves romance. He loves reading it and he loves writing it and he would probably love experiencing it too. Unfortunately, that last one hasn't happened yet, but for now he's happy just imagining. That is until…
i've started reading all for the game and wdym they're literally 5 FEET.... i'm gonna keep reading to see if this changes
Doctor | @jegulus-microfic | word count: 1011 | cw: mentions of death & terminal illness
“Go fish.”
Regulus stares him down, a particularly indignant look settled in his face. James shrugs and nods towards the pile of cards on the overbed table.
“Liar,” Regulus retorts, he grabs a card anyway. Great. Another useless one.
“Defamation.” James tuts, a pleased smile on his smug face. Regulus rolls his eyes. James looks through his cards and sighs, bored. “Do you have a seven?”
Of course Regulus has a seven, but he hates James right now, so he tells him to go fish.
“You know,” James squints his eyes, “it’s rather distasteful to lie to the dying.”
Regulus freezes. “I–I wasn’t–” James delights in his panicked state, leaning back against his pillow, exhaling laughter from his nose.
“You’re an asshole.” Regulus clutches his set of cards, the edges digging into his fingers. He looks down at the bed sheets crumpled under the weight of his bent leg. James thought sitting on the chair beside him was too formal, and who was he to deny him?
“You’re not...” He can’t get himself to finish the sentence. “It’s your turn,” he says instead.
“I am, though,” James says, unwilling to let the conversation slide. “Dying, that is.”
Regulus doesn’t know what to say. James has this strange look on his face, like he’s looking for something.
He wasn’t supposed to be here today. Or any other day, really. He’s visited James with Sirius a handful of times, each time with the peculiar feeling of gravel in his stomach and the urge to retch.
There is a curated schedule around James to make sure he is never alone, and it has worked impeccably until it didn’t and Regulus was called in as backup to keep James company for a few hours.
James had barely acknowledged his existence when he walked in–escorted by a nurse because he forgot where James was staying–his energy already depleted for the day. He did peek through an eye and say, “You’re not my doctor.”
Regulus shook his head and dropped his bag on the floor and sat down beside him. “No, I’m your executioner.”
That earned him a lazy smile, though. James was still too tired to open his eyes. “Finally.”
A warm breeze blows in through the open window, and James shivers. Regulus moves to close the window, but James grabs him by the wrist to stop him, spindly fingers wrapping around him. It takes everything in him not to flinch because James is cold. He’s so cold, and Regulus thinks of the sun and all the times James was compared to it and thinks, ‘this isn’t right.’
As if he can read his mind, James lets go and cradles his hands in his lap. “Leave it. I like the sun.”
Regulus nods and sits down. It feels more awkward now, sitting so close. “Do you want me to get you an extra blanket?”
James scoffs, then inhales sharply, looking up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly.
Regulus can spot the telltale signs of a crying spell, but James never cries. For as long as he’s known him; James has been synonymous with happy, cheerful, and, again, the sun–always the fucking sun. There were instances when Regulus would be on the receiving end of one of James’ signature smiles, or an accidental touch and he’d think; yeah, alright, he is a bit like the sun. So overwhelming that Regulus feared that he’d burn.
He didn’t look like the sun now, though. He looked small, hollowed and drained.
He was dying.
“I’m dying,” James repeats with a shuddering breath.
You’re not dying, the words pile up on Regulus’ tongue, but quickly fizzle out when he catches a defiant glint in James’ eye. It’s right there behind the facade of mirth and playfulness that usually earns him one of those coveted jelly cups from the nurses. Hidden behind the tight coil of his smile. Maybe it didn’t surface just now; perhaps it has been there for a while now, making a home in James.
It was clear as day: James was angry. How long has he been angry?
It’s a stupid thing to wonder. Of course he was angry; he was dying. One day, he was a normal kid; the next, he broke a leg and came back with a cast and a diagnosis, and it all went downhill from there.
There is a fracture there, across the veneer of bravery and acceptance; a break in his act and he looks vulnerable. Broken. Pleading. Angry. He wants Regulus to ask him. To break the flimsy filter in their conversation and be real with him.
When James dies by summer’s end, and everyone who ever knew and loved him gathers, they’ll tell their stories through tears coated with tender laughter and they’ll all settle on the same thing: James was brave through it all. Regulus will remember this moment, will let himself be haunted and weighed down by the guilt and know that no, James wasn’t brave. Not always. Not really.
He’ll shake the feeling that James died as he lived; for others. He didn’t make a fuss, didn’t add to the obvious discomfort and tragedy that came with death. Instead, he fluffed the pillows and dusted off the sheets to make his departure as clean and comfortable as possible for his loved ones.
Except for one moment, the evening when he reached out for the first time–and to Regulus of all people. Regulus should’ve said something.
Regulus should say something.
Open his cage. Let him cry. Let him scream. Let him rage. Hold him. Hold him. Hold him. Tell him it’s unfair, and he shouldn’t go softly.
“Go fish,” he says instead, and he gets this sinking feeling in his stomach
“Hmm?” James blinks, eyes glassy.
Regulus looks down, caressing the seven he does have with his thumb. “It’s your turn, James.”
James looks at him, long and hard, and Regulus faces him head on. James doesn’t find what he’s looking for and frowns. He swallows and nods. Regulus wants to throw up.
“Right,” he reaches for a card.
Maybe in another life, things would be different.
i serve you sleepy eepy reg and hottie jame(s)
im so funny guys😭🙏
the jegulus tag is a nice place to hang if you can ignore the randos screaming at you for being a fascist, nazi sympathiser. very cool art and headcanons, very neat.
writing an au where regulus is an escaped prince who ditched his heavily televised wedding and james is the broke uni student who runs into him and hides him just so i can write a scene where james drags regulus to a park and forces him to watch him do tricks on his skateboard for several hours
admire folks who reblog posts which contradict eachother. exactly! keep em guessing