Regulus sat in the back of the van as if the seat might reject him if he moved too much; spine straight, shoulders locked, his right wrist swallowed by a clumsy, temporary cast that made his hand feel like it no longer belonged to him. The fabric of his sleeve scratched against it every time he breathed.
His phone buzzed again.
He didn’t look.
He already knew what it would be—firelight flickering across laughing faces, Barty shouting into the camera, Evan already half drunk, singing something obscene and off-key. Sirius would have chimed in to the chat by now, probably something sarcastic. Remus would follow, warm and steady, smoothing it over.
Next time, Reg.
There wasn’t going to be a next time.
Not this season.
He muted the chat without opening it and let the phone fall against his thigh. The silence that followed was worse.
Outside, the bonfire roared on with voices carrying across the dark, bright and careless and alive. It might as well have been another world.
A sharp knock struck the side of the van.
Regulus flinched.
He dragged his sleeve across his face quickly, wiping at his eyes before the second knock could come.
“What?” he snapped, voice cutting sharp like he intended.
The door slid open despite it.
Cold air slipped in first—then James, ducking his head as he climbed inside, the parking lot lights catching in his curls like a halo he hadn’t earned.
“Go away,” Regulus said immediately, turning toward the front of the van as if that ended the conversation.
It didn’t.
James shut the door behind him with a dull thud, sealing them back into the quiet.
“You look miserable,” he said.
Regulus let out a humorless breath. “Brilliant deduction. Now fuck off.”
James didn’t leave.
He crossed the narrow space and sat opposite instead, elbows braced on his knees, as if he had every intention of staying.
“You’re allowed to be upset, you know.”
The word hit wrong.
Regulus turned on him, something hot and brittle snapping into place.
“Upset?” he echoed. “This isn’t just upset. This is my season over.” His voice sharpened, each word landing harder than the last. “My rating will tank. My sponsorship probably goes with it. Everything I’ve worked for—” He broke off, jabbing his cast with his good hand, the dull impact sending a jolt up his arm. “—gone. One slip.”
He laughed, short and ugly.
“So yes, Potter. I’m upset.”
James didn’t look away.
“You’re still Regulus Black,” he said quietly. “One fracture doesn’t erase that.”
For a moment, Regulus held his gaze.
Something flickered—then vanished just as quickly.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
There was no edge to it this time. Just… tired.
James hesitated.
“Because I didn’t want you sitting in here alone.”
Regulus let out a sharp laugh that bordered on a crack.
“Didn’t want me to be alone?” he said, and now the anger came rushing back, fast and violent. “That’s rich. That’s really rich, coming from you.”
He pointed at him, hand shaking despite himself.
“You took advantage of me and then disappeared.”
James flinched.
“I didn’t—”
“You fucked me,” Regulus said over him, the words spilling now, uncontrollable. “You took me out to dinner, you looked at me like—like I mattered. Like I was worth something.”
His breath hitched, and he hated it.
“And the second I believed it,” he went on, quieter now, more dangerous for it, “the second I let you in, you ran. Like I was nothing.”
James dragged a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt tangling together.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you—”
“But you did,” Regulus cut in, voice dropping low, sharp enough to draw blood. “You ripped me open, Potter, and then left me bleeding on the sand.”
The silence that followed pressed in tight around them.
Outside, someone whooped near the fire. A burst of laughter rose and fell.
Inside the van, it felt like the air had gone thin.
James swallowed.
“I thought it was a mistake,” he said finally. “Because I didn’t know how to handle… this.” He gestured vaguely between them, like the space itself was the problem. “You terrify me, Regulus.”
A bitter laugh tore out of Regulus.
“Oh, fuck off. Don’t make me your excuse. You were a coward. That’s all.”
James’ jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Didn't fight.
That made it worse.
“You were a coward!” Regulus snapped, leaning forward, chest tight, voice breaking under the weight of it. “You used me and left me like I was nothing—told me I was some fucking mistake!”
James opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Because there wasn’t anything he could say that would fix it.
“Say something,” Regulus demanded, and now the anger was cracking apart, something softer and more fragile showing through. “Go on. Tell me again how it was all a mistake. How I’m the mistake.”
His lip trembled.
He tried to stop it.
He couldn’t.
The tears came anyway, hot and sudden, sliding down before he could turn away fast enough.
“Hey—hey…” James’ anger vanished like it had never been there. He moved without thinking, dropping down onto the floor in front of him, hands hovering uncertainly in the space between them. “Don’t—don’t cry, please. Reg—”
“Fuck you,” Regulus choked, clutching his injured wrist tight against his chest like it might hold him together.
“I’m sorry,” James said, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have done this to me.”
The words landed soft, but they hurt more than anything he’d said before.
James reached out anyway, slow, careful, brushing his thumb along Regulus’ cheek to catch a tear.
“Hey… don’t cry, love, I—”
Regulus recoiled like he’d been burned, shoving his hand away.
“Don’t touch me!” His voice cracked completely. “Don’t call me that...”
James froze.
Guilt settled deep in his chest, heavy and immovable.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter now. “Christ, Reg… I’m so fucking sorry.”
“A lot of good that does,” Regulus muttered, breath uneven, eyes bright with hurt.
He turned away then, shoulders shaking, voice smaller when it came again.
“Just… leave.”
A pause.
“I’m gonna… go home.”
The words barely held together.
James stood slowly, like any sudden movement might make things worse.
He stepped out of the van.
But he didn’t leave right away.
He stood there, back to the open door, fists clenched at his sides.
“For what it’s worth…” he said, voice low, roughened by something he couldn’t quite control. “I know I fucked up.”
A beat.
“So I can’t blame you for hating me.”
Another.
“But I am sorry.”
He waited.
Just long enough to realize there wasn’t going to be an answer.
Then he walked away...
His footsteps faded into the night, swallowed by the noise of the fire and the distance.
Gone.
Inside the van, the silence settled heavy and absolute.
Regulus didn’t move for a long time.
Then, with unsteady hands, he reached forward and pulled the door shut.
The click echoed louder than it should have.
He dragged himself into the driver’s seat, movements clumsy with one good hand. The keys slipped once before he caught them, breath catching with it.
He shoved them into the ignition.
Turned.
The engine sputtered.
Failed.
He tried again.
Nothing.
A small, broken sound escaped him before he could stop it.
Regulus let his forehead fall against the steering wheel, the cast knocking awkwardly against it as he curled in on himself.
And then... he sagged.
Completely.
Like something inside him had finally given way.
His chest rose and fell in uneven pulls, eyes burning, throat tight, all the sharp edges worn down into something dull and aching.
For once, there was nothing left in him to fight with.
