It's too hot for the jumper he's wearing. He keeps pulling at it, fabric itchy against his sweaty skin, making it impossible to ignore. He'd take it off but he needs something with sleeves. There's already an annoying voice in his head saying it's not enough, that somehow people will know. That his sleeve will ride up. That it'll bleed through the fabric. Slither down his arm.
"Blimey you look miserable," Evan is leaning against the pillar next to him, waiting for the train to arrive. He's got a bag of candied popcorn in his hands that he insists on eating by throwing pieces in the air and catching them with his mouth. He keeps looking over at the group of fourth year girls to the left of them to see if they're watching—they are not.
"I thought that was my role," Regulus says dryly, eyes lazily scanning the platform. "I'm the miserable one, you're the optimist."
"What does that make Barty?"
"You figure out what Barty is you let me know."
Evan laughs. His laugh is all nose—it makes him sound like a perpetual twelve year old.
"Honestly, I can't believe you came back. If I were you I'd be so fucking out of here."
His mother had tried to stop him, but eventually he'd managed to convince her that there was still some value in his education, even if it was just because it kept him closer to Dumbledore. Behind enemy lines, collecting information, etcetera, etcetera.
"Surprisingly enough," he says eventually. "I do like being educated."
Evan snorts. "That's why you're so miserable."
Regulus can't help the smirk that pulls at his mouth. "Probably."
"I'm telling you Reg, the less you know the better life is."
"Ah, the Evan Rosier life motto. When in doubt, be a fucking idiot."
They both laugh now, catching the attention of the aforementioned fourth year girls. Regulus imagines it's because of the noise and not some suddenly materializing desire, but Evan appears to be of a different opinion.
"Hey, hold this will you?" he smacks his popcorn into the middle of Regulus's chest.
"Merlin Evan, leave it."
But it's no use, his friend is already walking away, an overly exaggerated swagger in his step. Regulus rolls his eyes, leaning back against the pillar and glaring down at the popcorn in his hands. It's an unappealing blue colour that Regulus can't quite believe is edible.
His arm twinges. He's pretty sure it's just in his head. Or at least that's what he tells himself. Just like he tells himself that nothing is trapped under his skin. Nothing is squirming below the surface. Trying to get out. However much it might feel like it. He curls and flexes his fingers like that will help. Trying to think about something else.
"Hey."
The word is soft and quiet and still makes Regulus jump. Still makes him drop Evan's disgusting popcorn on the floor. Still makes his pulse race.
He turns around to find James behind him, sheepish smile on his face, eyes bright. Don't look at me like that, Regulus wants to tell him, you don't know what I've done.
He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He'd meant to be more prepared than this, meant to wrap himself in an armour of apathy and distain. He hadn't expected James to just walk up to him and—but of course, he should have. It's so like him.
He's been quiet for too long and he can see the worry start to crease James's brow. He should let it. He should turn around and walk away. He's usually better at this. At being an asshole.
