The Day the Music Died | Jegulus, Wolfstar

The Stray

You look so tired, unhappy.
Bring down the government,
They don't, they don't speak for us.
I'll take a quiet life,
A handshake of carbon monoxide.
And no alarms and no surprises.
Silent, silent.

Regulus did as he was told and climbed up the stairs after leaving his plate on the sink —he knew the house elf would've done it anyway, but he felt guilty about it nonetheless—, he felt way less energetic than he was a few hours ago, playing with James' broomstick.

He entered the boy's room; it was joyfully decorated with the colours scarlet and gold imprinted in every spot of it, he had banners, posters of famous quidditch teams, and lots of gadgets and useless trinkets in his various shelves. His bed was a twin size, big enough to fit at least three persons, the bedsheets were also red, Regulus wondered how his eyes weren't strained yet, green was a much more elegant colour, more subtle, it could fit right in with much darker colours. He cringed when he realized he'd pretty much summarized his entire personality. Always avoiding being the centre of attention, he liked to go unnoticed, but he was —accidentally, of course— inadvertently following his family's orders, and eventually that backfired on him. And there he was, with a dark, horrifying tattoo on his forearm, in James Potter's house, like a stray dog, whom no one wanted, because he betrayed both sides, in one single night.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, James emerged from the dark hall, wearing nothing more than a towel around his hip, his hair was dripping wet, but still fluffy, and he had no glasses on. Oh, if he knew what it awakened on him. He had a perfect, tan body, he was still young, but his muscles were well-defined, he had a few moles on his waist, and a few on his collar bones, he paced the room, clearly, he didn't see Regulus in it, or worse, he didn't mind.

"Ahem," he coughed, to reveal his presence, James gave a small jump, clutching the towel.

"Merlin, Reg! Didn't see ya' there," then he chuckled, looking at his direction. "Can't say I see you any clearer now, can you get my glasses? I forgot them in the bathroom."

"Of course," nodded Regulus, and he got up, trying to act oblivious to the fact that he'd seen him nearly naked, and he didn't despise the look of it, which was even more frightening.

He searched the foggy tiled room for James' glasses, doing it very slowly, so he'd have time to dress, and he finally found the thin, golden specs, he grabbed them with infinite carefulness and brought them back to James' room, he peeped before going in, and he noticed him sliding on his boxers, he tried really, really hard not to look, but the desire was too big.

Gross. He felt like the greasy Snape peeking like that. Thankfully, he didn't see anything of the... 'front view', if he had, he'd probably regret it the rest of his miserable life, and couldn't bear to look at him in the eye. And so when James finished, he walked in and gave the tan boy his glasses, who thanked him with a blissful smile.

"I don't know 'bout you, but I'm all stuffed and ready to sleep," he yawned, stretching his arms and torso, now covered with a grey shirt and green striped pants.

Regulus nodded, he felt awkward all of a sudden.

"I'm quite tired, too. Should I sleep in the guest's room?" He hated being so dependent of someone, he couldn't remember the last time he had to ask for a place to sleep, probably because he never did.

James waved him off with his hand as he tucked himself on the left side of his massive bed.

"Nonsense. You'll sleep with me, reckon the room is sort of scary without me guarding it," he giggled at his own joke and patted the empty side beside him. "Come on then, unless you rather fancy sleeping on the rug."

Regulus' body gave a shiver and he slowly, more than intended, walked next to James, and awkwardly got inside the blanket, the young Potter's body heat was unusually warm, he could feel him inches away. James stretched his hand to the wall behind the head of the bed and turned the light off, above them, the ceiling started to develop shiny little dots, which were multiplying rather rapidly.

The younger Black gave an audible sigh and lowered his body, so the blanket could cover his lips.

"It's awesome, innit?" mumbled James. "Mum enchanted it, so it mimics the sky above. Sometimes there are no stars, today they're unusually bright... must've sensed mister star-boy's presence and decided to give their best," he snorted.

Regulus decided to ignore the last phrase for his own good.

"Is it the same charm of Hogwarts ceiling?" He knew it wasn't.

"Nah, really advanced magic, that is. I had trouble sleeping, when I was a little twat, y'know? That's why she did it."

"I didn't. I thought you hated astronomy."

He heard James shuffle under the sheets, he sensed him getting closer.

"I do, but I don't hate stars. I just have no need to understand something so complex and beautiful, it sort of takes away the magic of it all, ironically. When I was a kid, I believed they were tiny light bugs who got stuck there for flying too high."

Regulus snorted, he didn't think James realized how charming his words were, so simple yet so soothing, — that was him, really.

  "I know, I was rather thick, back then," he, apparently, took it the other way.

  "Not at all," Regulus quickly added. "I think it's one of the most beautiful representation of the stars I've ever heard, — it doesn't excuse your denseness on the subject, though, I hope you know that," he finished his sentence rather nastily, he was aware, but he couldn't break character, James couldn't suspect of him.

  "Don't trip, I'm aware. It's my own choice to be a complete ignorant about it."

Regulus sighed.

  "J'aimerais que tu saches, à quel point je t'aime, James," he mumbled throatily.

  "What does that mean? I know you said my name, but I'm completely lost about everything else."

  "Nothing important," he smiled.

  "You're full of secrets, dear Reggie," James muttered, with a hoarse voice.

Regulus groaned in response, more high-pitched than he intended, and he finally relaxed his body, the air wholly deceased in his lungs, to be filled once again with the subtle cinnamon scent of James' room. He got closer. The younger Black rolled to his side, just to meet James' face, again, he didn't have his glasses on, he took them off to sleep, he presumed. Oh, he was beautiful.

When his eyes locked with Regulus', he had no other choice than to break his promise of not falling in love again.

"You look like a painting, Reg," whispered James, genuine adoration plastered in every inch of his face.

"Is that a good thing?" Regulus knitted his eyebrows together, a subtle smile curling his lips.

"Definitely."

He was close at hand now, why was he getting so close?

He felt his breath, it smelled sweet.

James raised a hand to his cheek, and with a hurried smile, he kissed him.

***