Chapter Text
Now
. Alphard Black was a man of eccentric existence.
He lived as something of an outcast among the Blacks and resided in the city of Dijon, near Paris, alongside his best friend and caretaker, Pandora Evans, and Ace, his cat. He had nearly eighty years of history and some thirty-three books written in his name; everything suggested that Alphard was, in fact, Dracula in disguise to this day. No one expected it, yet everyone was prepared for the death of the old rebellious uncle.
It was three in the morning; Sirius only found out at five, through a frantic Andromeda, who was concerned about who would take Ace, given that her daughter, Nymphadora, was a rather peculiar creature around animals.
Everyone knew what was written in his will; everyone knew what they were meant to do; everyone had been prepared to lose Alphard since the man had turned sixty. And yet, a Black had always had a flair for the dramatic—Walburga’s elder brother chose to die exactly one year after his sister, Walburga Black, and then demanded that all of his nephews attend his funeral. Which was quite the request.
It had been four bloody years since Sirius had seen the rest of his family, and nearly five since he had exchanged so much as a single message with his brother, ever since the little brat had left them.
James had been thinking about it every second: if Alphard had demanded everyone’s presence, Regulus would be there too—and he would finally see his ex-boyfriend five years after he had left him.
It happened on a Thursday, Regulus got a call in the morning, locked himself away for the afternoon and broke up with James at dinner before disappearing out the door and never hearing back.
James could start to think how painful it was, how much he begged him to explain, how many times he mentioned Sirius as he despaired. But he was fine, he knew Regulus Black had a reason for everything he did. It was for the best, James repeated every day, it wasn't going to work.
Regulus Black had always been in love with James Potter. At 11 when they first saw each other, at 16 when they kissed, at 18 when they moved in together for university. Even at 21 when he left him. James knew he loved him and Regulus knew he was loved back.
Forgivably so.
It was almost a universal truth. They had always been in love with each other, full stop. No one would even give an opening to think anything other than that the personification of soul mates were the two of them.
He was so sure that even when Regulus left him all he had left was pain, because there was no room for hate or anger from someone he was sure did everything he did out of love.
But it still hurt so much.
James stood for exactly seven minutes watching the exposed bricks of the formidable building taken over by flowers and climbing plants, before he stopped listening to Narcissa Black's grumbling about the horrible pearl her uncle had left for her and entered the house through the back, a large glass door caged in green metal that led into the kitchen.
He stood there, distractedly drying the dishes. The dark curls falling over his forehead, his brow furrowed as if he was concentrating or thinking about something, all compressed into a nostalgic beauty, a beauty like a lost memory that you remember and want to live again.
"James," Regulus puffs out, his beautiful green eyes going wide and everything becomes almost automatic, the plate in his hand falls and crashes to the floor causing a loud noise that despite echoing through the kitchen, doesn't seem to wake them up.
Until half a second later, when Regulus seems to wake up and crouches down to gather the shards. James watches his delicate, trembling hands as he gathers the pieces of porcelain. He moves quickly to help him, though that might have been bad, as Regulus backs away and slams his hand into one of the shards. Red blood staining his pale complexion on the inside of his palm.
Everything seems kind of chaotic from the moment Regulus takes a deep breath trying to catch his breath and stands up, hurriedly, as if he doesn't know what to do next.
"Hey, look at me," James calls out and the eyes he's dreamed of for years turn to him, two glowing spheres that once summed up his entire world. "Breathe, you're okay. You're okay."
Regulus closed his eyes, pulling in air and letting it out. Calmly, James moved closer, pulling a folded blue cloth over the counter, his fingers wrapped around the thin wrist, pressing the fabric against the open cut.
His body trembled at the contact, he couldn't deny it. Years without seeing each other and now Regulus was there, so desperate to see him that the only part of James' heart that was still beating was beating dangerously slower. He was afraid.
James kept his hand pressed down, but he couldn't help but move even closer and Regulus didn't deny the contact, giving in against James' chest in a need for contact that they both had.
James rested his chin on his head, smelling the dark curls that still had the same lavender scent as five years ago. A hug of years that seemed to last so little compared to what they really needed.
"Do you have a first aid box?" James asked in a husky whisper, feeling Regulus' head move up and down in an affirmative motion.
Regret for asking took over his face as Regulus walked away in quiet steps, opening one of the doors of the green kitchen cupboards and taking out a small white box. James thought about helping him, but Regulus seemed a little averse to it as he was blocking his view of the bandages as he swabbed gauze across his left hand and taped it with adhesive tape.
The silence was deafening as Regulus turned around again, small tears wetting his freckled face, but his eyes were hard and cold again. A shiver went through James as he reviewed the last expression he had seen on Regulus' face so many years before.
"You... Oh James, what-," His voice gave way and he clenched his wrists, trying to control himself. "What are you doing here?"
Here, with him? Or here in France? James avoided asking the question, it was the same damn answer.
'To be with you, to breathe the same air, to accept anything you want to give me.
"Sirius didn't want to come alone."
Remus was here too, Sirius didn't need James right now, but he couldn't let the opportunity to maybe find Regulus go to waste.
"Sirius," Regulus swallowed dryly, his hard expression breaking for half a second. "Is he here?"
"He's with Narcissa and Remus in the garden," Regulus' chest rose and fell so slowly that James wondered if he was holding his breath.
There was that too, James was reacquainting himself with the boy who had left him years ago. But Regulus was also reacquainting himself with his brother, the one person who had kept him alive for years and the brother he also left behind.
After leaving, Regulus never called and never took calls from Sirius or James, or even Remus. They only knew about Regulus continuing to breathe, about his transition, his job and even relationships as they received updates from Narcissa.
"He's fine."
"He doesn't want to talk to you."
"No matter what, forgive him."
"He changed his middle name to Arcturus, at least it's not Orion."
"Arcturus?" James asked, suddenly remembering, bringing Regulus' attention back to him.
"My old middle name didn't quite fit with the new me," He blinked several times, ducking his head to avoid James' gaze.
"I guess that was you all along, wasn't it?" James shoved his hands in his pockets, reconstructing himself on the counter.
"Who told you?" Regulus asked, carefully.
"I think I always knew," James pulled the gold wedding ring off his finger, inside his pocket. He didn't want Regulus to see it, not now, it was too many things to process.
Regulus let out a mocking laugh.
"I wish you had told me."
James shook his head, "You knew too."
Regulus frowned and shrugged, he knew that, he always knew.
"Is that why you left?" James swallowed that growing feeling in his chest, planted five years ago and growing like a plague over him all these years.
That question, that damned question that had bothered James for years. If it was, he would understand, if Regulus no longer loved him, he would understand, if Regulus was afraid, James would understand, because that was who he was. He just needed an answer, a reason to understand.
Regulus grimaced and then his mouth pressed into a hard line.
"Am I in the way?" They both turned to the voice coming from the garden entrance to the kitchen, where Remus was leaning against the doorway, looking so unperturbed, but his expression on Regulus seemed to say that he was trying to rescue James from something.
He probably was, but it wasn't James.
"Lupin!" Regulus gave a half smile that didn't really reach his eyes. "Rest assured, I don't swallow your friends until after three in the morning."
Remus blinked, his expression softening as his brother-in-law approached him, stopping on the threshold and looking aside, the two exchanged a recognisable glance before Regulus turned to James, speaking to them both.
"I think I'd better talk to my brother before the funeral turns into a family drama," James nodded, watching with regret as Regulus disappeared beyond the glass doors.
"He looks nice," Remus muttered, leaning his arm against the wood of the door and giving James that look that went through him, that always knew what everyone was feeling, that always knew more than everyone else.
"Não comece, por favor."
"Cuidado," Remus advertiu, coçando o queixo e a barba por fazer.
"Esse olhar é de alguém que não desistiu."