MesserMoon

Making regulus laugh is new. Good new. Really good new. It feels like scoring a goal in a quidditch match. Like scoring the winning goal.

James has started sleeping better, which is ridiculous considering how much less time he’s spending in bed. But it helps, for some reason, talking to Regulus. There’s something…steadying, about the other boy. Now when he closes his eyes, the darkness is full of stars.

James blinks, rubs his eyes, blinks again. But no. No it’s really happening. Regulus Black is going to flirt his way into winning this quidditch match.

It takes a moment for James to realize what he’s saying. “Maybe,” he answers finally, “but I’m looking now.”

In retrospect, he should have seen it coming. He didn’t. But he should have.

The first thought he has, when Regulus pushes forward, pressing their mouths together, half-crawling into James’s lap, is that he’s so warm. His mouth. His hands. For a boy who walks around like he’s made of stone, Regulus touches like the sun.

you’re right, my life has been easy, I know that. But I’ve seen enough to understand that good things are rare. And you’re,” he looks at him, trying to lay all the thoughts he can’t articulate bare in the space between them. “You’re good Reg.”

“Being sick doesn’t make you a good person.”

“Being sick doesn’t make you a good person.”

“I’m not a hero Reg.”

But the younger boy only smiles, quiet and sad. “See, I think you might be though. Sometimes James, you shine so fucking bright I—I feel like I’m going to burn up.”

There are moments in which Regulus’s earnestness is overwhelming—because it comes out of nowhere.

I’m too—I think too much, and about the wrong things, in the wrong ways. And I always say things I shouldn't because I don't realize that I shouldn't until it's too late. And I’m afraid of…like…everyone.”