july 9: cemetery | jegulus microfic | word count: 416
James had always heard about how empty cemeteries felt.
Yet as he passed through the seemingly endless rows of gravestones, he could only think about how crowded it felt.
Everywhere, on all sides, he was surrounded by people that had once breathed and laughed and loved, who were now six feet under, their ghosts left to wander aimlessly trying anything to feel again.
He didn’t even have to look up to know he was at the right place when his feet stopped walking. His heart would never stop trying to claw its way back to the man he’d given it to so many years ago.
James carefully wiped away the debris that was starting to gather on the grave, and smiled fondly, imagining that it wasn’t the grave, it was the body, and that it wasn’t debris, it was the curl that always fell in front of his eyes.
He sat down, facing the plaque, and retrieved the book he’d left on his last visit and replaced it with a new one. He always made sure Regulus would have a new book to read.
“Moony picked this one out,” he whispered even though they were alone. “He said it’s a good little mystery, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out before they do.” A smile tugged at the corners of his lips again, thinking about all the times Regulus had complained to James about how dimwitted the characters were for not seeing what he thought was obvious. The memory of the adorable his eyebrows would tug together and his slight disapproving frown brought an uncomfortable lump to James’ throat.
He cleared it and replaced the flowers that were sitting beside the stone. He’d filled the new one with baby’s breath and marigolds. From the old bouquet, he took a small, nearly crumbling rose and tucked it under the cover of the book to press it.
Regulus loved pressing flowers.
James did this routine every Thursday without fail, because even though Regulus himself would never breathe or laugh or love again, his memory would be kept alive from the touch he left on James.
If someone broke James’ body open, they would see the broken ribs that failed to keep all his aching love contained and they would see the touch of Regulus etched on every part of his body. They would see love and they would see life, but not his own. They would see Regulus and not James because when Regulus died so did James.
