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Summary: For Christmas one year, James Potter gives Regulus Black a small coin affixed to a necklace so they can communicate. At seventeen, as water fills his lungs, in a cave filled with inferi, Regulus reaches for it.
Regulus gasped against Jamesβs lips, the sudden kiss washing over him in a blazing rush. James kissed him like it mattered. Like if he could just push in close enough, bite Regulusβs lip hard enough, then maybe he could transfer whatever words he always swallowed down. Regulus never really knew what the intensity meant, I love you or I hate you.
Donβt hate me. Donβt hate me.
Regulus wanted to scream. He wanted to beg James to spit it out, to simply tell Regulus whatever he was really thinking. At the same time, Regulus wasnβt sure he could handle it. If James Potter ever hated him, Regulus thought heβd be sick with it. He thought heβd never get out of bed again.
So, Regulus didnβt ask, heβd never ask.
Relationships: Regulus/James
Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence
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My Thoughts: βHappy birthday.β
Regulus frowned at Jamesβs words, the entire conversation was bound to give him whiplash with the blurry amount of emotion and topics tangling between them. βWhat?β
βItβs morning, itβs Wednesday now, itβs your birthday.β
βOkayβ¦β James swallowed. βSo happy birthday.β
Regulus met his eyes and a million things seemed to pass between them in that moment. There were so many things Regulus needed to say. He didnβt.
Neither of them spoke and the tension pulled taut between them. James exhaled, it snapped, and he was moving forward grabbing Regulusβs face in his hands.
His fingers were warm, and he smelled the same as ever. Warm, like home. He needed to change his clothes because he also smelled a bit like blood, but Regulus didnβt even care.
βStay,β James whispered, just for Regulus, with no care for their audience. βStay this time. I love you. I was probably made to love you. Stay.β
Regulusβs coin was warm against his skin, a soft presence, full of years of love. Heated by the intensity, the secret smile James would wear every time he pressed his lips to it.
The future was murky. Regulus didnβt know what was going to happen or how he was alive. He hadnβt planned to be, but here he was. Maybe none of them would survive the war. Maybe Regulus had lived today to die another not long from now. Or maybe, theyβd all live to be eighty and the sun would shine every day.
Regulusβs skin was cold, but James was warm.
βOkay,β Regulus said, and for the moment, that was enough.
FAVOURITE PART! ATE UP! MY HEART! Actually teared up a little ngl!
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
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