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Regulus should’ve said something.
James kept saying it was nothing, that he was reading too much into everything but he saw the signs. He just didn’t trust himself enough to think he was right, he didn’t want to be right. He couldn’t be right. He wouldn’t let himself.
James dropped out of school during his third semester with practically no notice. He was doing alright in his classes, at least from what Regulus knew. He wasn’t failing out, and even if he was he still had time to make it right. Whenever someone asked about it James pushed it aside and said he lost his passion. He wanted to take another road, so of course everyone let him. They weren’t going to force him into a life he didn’t want. He got a job shortly after working at a diner just down the road. He didn’t need it, he had plenty of money from his parents but he wanted to keep himself busy. Needed a way to fill the day. He worked long hours, pulling doubles as much as he could. He came home smelling of shitty food that no amount of showers could get out and then went in the next day and did it again. No matter how shitty the days got he hardly complained. He always dropped the conversation when it got to him, switching it around to talk about Regulus instead. He’d ask about his classes and how all his friends were. Every time Regulus gave up asking about him before the conversation was over. He never tried hard enough to get in his head.
He quit that job a few months back. No one really batted an eye this time. James got a reputation of being flighty always changing his mind for what he wanted. Regulus was the only one to ask him about it. “I don’t want to do it for the rest of my life,” James had said. Then they moved on. It’s a fine enough answer, Regulus didn’t have any other follow-up questions. They never talked about it again.
Those last months James spent them running. He’d run down different trails behind his apartment building. Going miles out just to have to come back. Regulus would find him exhausted by the end of it, lying in bed by the time he finished with his classes and he’d do the same thing the next day. Sometimes he’d go driving instead until he ran out of gas. Would have to trek to the nearest gas station on foot to get enough to drive home with. He was rowdy. He needed to get out and do something. Regulus asked him if he planned on finding another job and he’d always shrug and move on. There wasn’t a definite plan. There was never a definite plan, but Regulus always asked about their future anyway.
“I just want to be with you,” James always said. “I go wherever you go.”
Regulus let himself be pampered with his lips on his skin. He let James trick him with a smile and romance that he never asked himself why that is. He never asked why James never thought of a future. Why he quit everything he started or run so far until his legs gave out. He never asked. He saw the signs. He knew they meant something but he never did anything about it.
Four months after James quit his job, a year after he dropped out of school, Regulus found him on his bathroom floor, an empty bottle of pills sitting on the counter and a blade in his hand. He skipped his last class, he had this feeling in his gut that something was wrong the entire day he couldn’t drop it. He should’ve gotten there. He shouldn’t have left at all. He was there that morning. He left before James even woke up. Regulus remembers the night before in vivid detail. He’s not sure he’ll ever forget it.
James was more tired than usual, he said he went on an extra long run and Regulus believed him. They were sitting on the couch in the living room watching whatever was on the TV. It was a show Regulus hadn’t ever heard of before but he had three exams that day and couldn’t be bothered to change it. James was quiet, laying his head on Regulus’ lap and he slowly blinked at the screen. It was a normal night. Regulus didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
“Hey, Reg?” James called out for him, his voice distant, like he was already gone.
“Yeah?” Regulus combed through his hair, pulling apart the creases on his forehead.
“I love you.”
Regulus felt it in his chest, it felt like the end of something but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t do anything, he never does anything. “I love you too,” he said because it was true. It is true. He didn’t know what else to do, or what else to say. He let James turn back to the show and go to bed without another word. He let it happen. He didn’t stop it.
Two years before James killed himself he cried to Regulus and told him he wanted to die. Regulus believed him. He held him and told him he didn’t want him to go. He kept him in his sights for weeks after. Six months after James told him he wanted to stay alive, and Regulus believed him then too. He wasn’t naive to think it was over but he thought they made it to the other side. He thought it would be okay. He thought it would be fine so he didn’t see the signs, he didn’t let himself. He didn’t want to admit that James wasn’t better. That despite all of it he still wanted to die.
Regulus knew what was happening and he did nothing to stop it. He saw the signs and he didn’t say the words. He should’ve begged him to stay when he had the chance. He should’ve barred the door.
He hasn’t stepped foot in the apartment since, he hasn’t been able to. It’s been cleaned, at least the bathroom anyway. There are no traces of the horror that occurred, but he couldn’t be reminded of everything that once was. He wasn’t sure how, but the lease is up in a week and he has to pack everything away. He thought about upping it but he wasn’t sure how long that could go on for. It could last forever. He could be paying off this place until he dies, and force whoever’s left to do it after him. Dust could collect in the hall, and spiders climb on the walls. James wouldn’t want that, so Regulus has to go in. He has to see it. Sirius told him he’d go with him but he didn’t let him. He said he could handle it. He knows he can’t but the idea of someone else touching what James once did brings bile to rise in his throat. He can’t. So he stands in the hallway right outside the door, the key swinging between his fingers.
He almost thinks James will be on the other side of it. Sitting on the couch calling out wondering where he’s been. This is the longest he’s gone without being inside the apartment since he entered it for the first time. His chest hurts. It hasn’t stopped since it happened.
He slides the key into the door and lets it creak open. The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. James always had to have some kind of music playing, even when he slept. He’d put it on a speaker that connected to every room, he was always so proud of it. He’d show anyone who walked in for the first time, explaining how exactly he did it. Regulus has heard it so many times at this point, that he could repeat it by memory if asked, but he wants to hear it again anyway. He wants to watch James get all giddy jumping through the house excitingly talking about the music following him wherever he goes. There’s nothing playing now and Regulus can’t bring himself to put anything on. He closes the door, dragging the boxes to sit in the entryway. Red Converse are sprawled out right by the door, James wasn’t ever seen without them. He’d been wearing them since he was sixteen. Three years doesn’t seem like that much time looking back now. He never put them back properly whenever he came in and Regulus would always nag him on it. Straightening them out on the rack. Now he doesn’t want to move them. He wants to keep them exactly where they are, with the tangled laces.
“I’m home,” he mumbles, and he hears his voice echo through the room. It’s probably just in his head but he swears he hears it back. He can hear James reply too. He can hear his footsteps running to greet him. Regulus waits. He’s waiting for a long time before he picks himself up and stumbles into the kitchen.
There are dirty dishes all crammed in the sink, stacked on top of each other practically falling over. James never liked having dishes in the sink, he always washed them right after using them. Regulus noticed the last few times how full it was but he kept forgetting to wash them for him. He didn’t view it as anything but a lack of time.
He finds the keys next, sitting on the edge of the counter, a Spiderman Lego figure keychain dangling off the side. Regulus always teased him for having it but James stood his ground every single time. Hesitantly Regulus takes it in his hands, running his fingers across the plastic. He still thinks it’s stupid but he wants to put it on his own keys now instead. He wants to keep it in his pocket and show everyone who passes by. He wants to put it on a chain around his neck he doesn’t care. He wants James with him, and this is all he has left. He bites the inside of his cheek as he blinks and puts the keys back down. He turns back out. Fine. Not the kitchen. He’ll start somewhere else.
The living room isn’t any better. He stands in front of the bookshelf for far too long. James was never one to read much, but he did buy a lot of books. Remus always had recommendations and James went through these periods where he thought he’d actually read them. So he’d buy them and put them on the shelf only to never open the front cover. Regulus is the only one who actually even read any of them. Leaving annotations for James if he ever picked it up himself. Now he never will. He’ll never read the words Regulus left just for him through smudged ink and stupid doodles in the margins. James was supposed to read them. He was supposed to smile and call Regulus to explain everything he was saying. He was supposed to kiss him when he got home and talk about what he just read. They didn’t do any of it. They can’t do any of it.
There’s a little cat figurine perched on one of the books. It’s tacky but James bought it anyway. He’s always wanted a cat, since he was little but his dad was allergic so he couldn’t ever get one. When he moved out on his own he always talked about it. Everyone knew he wanted one. He’d research and put together all this information trying to get Regulus to give in. Regulus always told him once he finished school they could get one together. He’s not sure why he wanted to wait now, all his excuses seem so stupid. James didn’t let it go he kept asking, and Regulus kept turning him down. A few months before he died James stopped bringing it up, and Regulus was almost going to give in. He thought it was a game. He didn’t think it was this.
He creeps back until he’s in the bedroom. Fairy lights are draped over the bed, James always loved them. He thought it was warm. He’d decorate the whole apartment with them if Regulus let him. He should’ve let him. He should’ve let him put them wherever he wanted to. He should’ve given him a cat too. Ten of them. However many he wanted. Regulus walks over to his side of the bed and finds a rock on the bedside table. Anyone else would think it was nothing but Regulus knows. James liked collecting things. Anything he could he would. Rocks are one of them. Whenever there was a special occasion he’d pick one out and put it in a jar. He remembers what each other them are from. Would spend hours explaining them all to Regulus even if he’s already heard it all before. This one was from their first date. Regulus remembers watching James bend down and grab one in the spot where they had their first kiss. He pocketed it with a smile and kissed him again, kept it on his bedside table for good luck, he said.
It feels so much heavier in Regulus' hands than he remembers it being. It sits in his chest. He’s swallowed his heart. He’s not sure what else he’s supposed to do. He’s not sure how to pack this all away. His gaze falls on the closed bathroom door. He knows what’s behind it but he’s not sure he can look. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough he tastes blood. He sets the rock back down before standing. As he stays on the other side of the door he thinks about finding James there. He thinks he’ll see him again now. Lying on the floor, washed away. The handle turns with ease and opens without a sound. It’s empty, of course, it is. There’s nothing on the floor, not even a stain. Regulus stands in the doorway for a long time, unable to pass through. When he does he notices the clothes still sitting in the washer. James hated leaving the clothes there overnight. He hated folding them in the first place but having to do it in the morning annoyed him to no end. He didn’t really mind the wrinkles but Regulus always told him about them anyway.
They used to fold the laundry together especially when it got so late that all James wanted to do was sleep. They’d squeeze into the small bathroom and stand with their shoulders touching as they put them in the basket. It wasn’t a favorite task, they hated doing it, but it was theirs. It was a routine they’ll never pick up again. Regulus would do anything to fold laundry with James again, and that gentle ache will never truly go away. They were supposed to move in together down the line. They could’ve now. Regulus was over here all the time anyway, he’s not sure why he kept delaying it. He always thought he had all the time in the world, that’s the thing, but no one has any time. It’s all just a crash landing till the end. You wait and you wait and you wait. You wait for the right moment. You wait until it all seems right. Until you’re done with school. Until you’ve quit your shitty job. Until you’ve moved out of the apartment you’ve always hated. Until you feel okay enough to actually get out of bed in the morning without thinking it’ll be easier for you just to die. You wait. And You wait. And you wait. But it’s never enough. None of it’s enough. Regulus should’ve done it sooner. He thought he had more time.
When he turns this time he ends up facing the mirror. It’s not a very big one, he can barely see his shoulders. James always complained about not having a full-length one in the apartment. He always said he was going to pick one up at the store the next time he went but he never did. Regulus should’ve done it for him.
Regulus hasn’t really looked at himself since it happened. He hasn’t been able to. There’s not much to see anyway. He’s not sure who he is anymore. His under-eye circles are worse than they’ve ever been and his hair is too long. It’s battling with Sirius’ now. He was due for a cut even before it happened, but he hasn’t been able to get it done. James used to cut his hair for him. He’s not sure how it started exactly, and what conversation led to it. All he knows is one night they were sitting in this exact bathroom and James had scissors in his hand. Regulus was always particular about his hair and no hairdresser could ever get it right. James knew what he wanted, and even though he never cut hair before he actually managed to do it. Every time he cut it, it was exactly like Regulus imagined it would be. Ducking down to the lower cabinet Regulus finds the haircutting scissors James bought. He always thought it was fancy when he used them. Smiling whenever he got them out.
Regulus looks himself in the mirror again. He doesn’t know what to do. He hasn’t known what to do in months. Not since it happened. He grabs a chunk of his hair. He knows he won’t be able to do it like James would. His hands aren’t gentle enough. He cuts it a few inches above his shoulders. Shorter than he’s ever had it before. He doesn’t stop at that. He goes around his entire head doing the same. Not paying attention to measurements or making sure he’s got it completely right. It doesn’t matter. None of it does.
He stares in the mirror now dropping the scissors in the sink and looking at himself and he still feels nothing. He’s not sure he’ll ever feel anything again. He walks back out into the bedroom, crawling into James' side of the bed. It still smells like him after all this time, or maybe it’s delusion. Regulus isn’t sure. He wraps the blankets around him until he’s drowning in them. His chest hurts too much to feel his back itch.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the pillow, and he wishes someone was here to hear it. He looks into the open bathroom, his hair sitting on the floor exactly where James was lying. “Stay.” He murmurs, knowing he’s too late, but he has to say it anyway. Maybe James’ ghost will hear him, he’ll creep around to the other side of the bed and let him lay his head inside his chest. “Jamie…” his voice breaks inside his chest, and there’s not much else to say after that.