James Sirius knew it was foolish, falling in love with his blue-haired best friend, who also happened to be seven whole years older than him. It was the type of situation that would only end up hurting James in the end, he knew that better than anyone.
But he just couldn’t help it.
It was impossible for him not to fall in love Teddy—especially with the way Teddy acted around him. The way Teddy spoke to him. The way Teddy touched him. The way Teddy smiled at him. The way Teddy looked at him.
Teddy treated James like he was the most important person on the entire earth.
And James drank it up like honey.
Everything about Teddy was so addicting to him. There wasn’t a single thing about the scrawny little punk that James didn’t wholeheartedly love and adore.
The way Teddy always laughed —a little too hard— when James would be the one to tell him a cheesy joke.
How Teddy would always match his eye color to his outfit and make sure to ask James’ opinion on it before leaving the house.
The way Teddy’s nose would scrunch up whenever James would be applying his blush and eyeliner for him, muttering a “Hold still, Ted” as he held the cap between his teeth.
How Teddy’s arms felt draped loosely over James as he leaned over to show the boy how to play a certain piano chord correctly.
The way Teddy would struggle to stay awake throughout an entire movie —no matter the time of day— and always ended up falling asleep on James’ shoulder.
How Teddy would use any spare minute of his free time to teach James more new tricks to do on his broom so that he could impress his friends.
The way Teddy would stick out his lip —and beg and plead— until James finally caved in and played with or braided his hair, Teddy smiling smugly at the tiny victory.
How everytime Teddy was upset, the first person he would go to would be James, and he would bury his face into his chest and cry until he felt better.
The way Teddy would interrupt James’ reading by running into his room and playing air guitar while singing at the top of his lungs.
How Teddy made a chocolate cupcake for James’ birthday every single year —refusing help from anyone else in the house— and ended up burning it each and every time.
The way Teddy ruffled a hand through James’ messy brown hair every time he walked past him, flashing him a cheeky closed eye grin as he did so.
How Teddy was always there, no matter what.
It wasn’t James’ fault that he fell in love with Teddy. It was the cruel fault of the universe for having put someone so exceptionally perfect into his life, then expecting him not to be affected by it.
It was James’ fault, however, that Teddy happened to find out about these feelings.
Teddy shouldn’t have been sneaking around in James’ room, sure, but James was the one that had forgotten to put the old, tattered brown shoebox back in its hiding place under his bed.
That exact brown shoebox was the very gateway to the most extreme form of embarrassment that James Sirius had ever had the displeasure of facing throughout his entire sixteen years of life.
It was the shoebox full of his love letters, all of which were —very blatantly— addressed to Teddy.
He had just celebrated his birthday a week prior and he was more than thrilled to be lounging at home during his summer break from Hogwarts. He and Teddy had been basically inseparable since the beginning of summer —not that that was anything new— and James was genuinely very happy.
That is, until he came back up to his room from having grabbed a plate of cookies in the kitchen, only to find Teddy —sitting on the edge of James’ bed, a brown shoebox in his lap, and pink slips of paper in his hands— with furrowed brows and his lip tucked between his teeth.
Teddy hadn’t heard James come in at first. In fact, he didn’t even know he had entered the room until the sound of glass shattering pierced through the air, James having dropped his plate full of cookies due to the sudden trembling of his hands.
A small piece of James was hoping —praying— to whatever gods above that maybe Teddy hadn’t really read any of the letters at all. But from the wide eyed, red faced look that Teddy gave him upon getting caught, what little hope James had flickering inside him was immediately distinguished.
He felt sick, nauseous, and insanely lightheaded as he bolted out of the door, making a beeline for the bathroom. A singe of pain surged up from the bottom of his foot as he realized he had stepped on a shard of the broken plate during his hasty escape, but he didn’t dare pause to check it.
He could hear the heavy footsteps following quickly after him —and the faint shouting, too— though it was muffled from the pounding of his heartbeat ringing in his eardrums. As soon as he made it to the bathroom, he shut the door and pushed his foot up against it, turning the lock just in time to be greeted by a chorus of loud banging.
“Jamie! Jamie, open up!” Teddy shouted from the other side, hands bashing against the wood.
James couldn’t answer due to him falling to his knees in front of the toilet and emptying out the contents of what was —most likely— his breakfast from earlier. He didn’t stop hurling until there was absolutely nothing left, his forehead drenched in sweat as he panted to catch his breath.
“Open the door, Jamie! Come on, it’s me. Just open the door, we can talk this out!” Teddy blurted, his hard knocks not missing a beat.
“Go away,” James answered back weakly, his voice strained.
Rivers were trailing down his cheeks now, dripping into the corners of his cracked lips. As the sobs wracked through his body, he pulled his knees up firm against his chest, fingers digging deep into his upper arms as he tried to calm himself down. A small pool of blood started forming under his right foot from the cut, which only caused his blood pressure to spike even more as he glanced down at it.
It had been a while since he had experienced a panic attack that was this bad. It had actually been almost a full year, in fact.
Normally, the only thing that would successfully calm him down was if Teddy cupped his face firmly in his hands and whispered countless soothing words to him as he forced him to maintain eye contact. Teddy would always constantly switch the color of his irises —sometimes even making them swirl— in order to make James’ attention focus on anything else but the initial cause of the attack.
But this time, Teddy was the cause of it.
And now James was having to calm himself back down all on his own.
And his chest hurt so bad.
And all he could think of was the sight of Teddy.
Brown shoebox sitting in his lap.
Pink slips of paper in his hands.
Reading each and every one of James’ sinful and foolish desires.
And the thought of Teddy being absolutely disgusted with James for even daring to think about him in even the slightest bit of a romantic way plagued James’ poor mind.
And the world felt like it was spinning.
And the only thing keeping him rooted was the pain from his nails digging into his skin and the sound of Teddy’s worried screams.
It felt like it went on for hours.
But that’s because it did.
Ginny finally came home from training four hours later to find a shaking and stressed Teddy, tear tracks tattooing his flushed cheeks as he hysterically explained what had happened and how he had tried to use a spell to unlock the bathroom door but that he couldn’t even think straight enough to use it and James had been quiet for a long time now and he was so bloody worried that he had done something while locked in there by himself and he couldn’t break into the bathroom to check on him and his mind was reaming with the worst possibilities and—
Ginny cut him off with a hug, giving his torso a quick squeeze before pulling back and asking which bathroom James had locked himself in. Teddy shakily informed her it was the guest bathroom on the second floor, and the two of them raced up the stairs to see what could be done.
Of course, Ginny was able to cast the spell perfectly on her first try —it was a spell she had learned in her first year at Hogwarts after all— and the pair both let out the greatest sigh of relief when the door creaked open to reveal a sleeping James, seemingly unharmed apart from the gash on the bottom of his foot.
Ginny crouched down beside him, pressing a hand to his forehead gently before brushing away some of the hair in his eyes.
Teddy recognized that helpless and drained look of James’ unconscious body instantly. It was a look only he was exceptionally familiar with. He had seen it quite often —more often than he would like— whenever he would cradle James after he had tired himself out from an attack, immediately falling asleep against Teddy’s chest. Teddy was always the one there to make everything better.
But this time, that wasn’t the case.
“It’s all my fault,” Teddy whispered, his voice raw, “This is all my fault.”
“Teddy, honey, no,” Ginny shook her head, standing up to place a hand on Teddy’s flushed cheek. “It was an accident. You didn’t know what was going to be in that box.”
“It doesn’t matter what was in the fucking box,” he breathed, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have been snooping through his stuff anyways. If I hadn’t, then he wouldn’t have caught me, and then he wouldn’t have had a panic attack without anyone here to—”
“Teddy,” Ginny cut him off, “We can play the blame game later, alright?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not right now. Please, can you just carry James to his room? Then you need to go get some rest, too. Before Harry comes home with questions as to what’s going on with his sons.”
Teddy stared at her for a moment before nodding, stepping around her and towards James’ sleeping form.
Regardless of being a grown man, he still found himself always listening to Ginny’s orders, no matter what.
He knelt down and looped an arm under James’ legs, his other wrapping securely around his back. He rose to his feet slowly, not wanting to wake the snoozing boy in his arms. Much to his surprise, James subconsciously buried his face into the front of Teddy’s sweater, releasing an incomprehensible string of murmurs before relaxing in Teddy’s arms once again.
Teddy nearly started crying again right there.
He silently brushed past Ginny and down the hallway, towards James’ bedroom. Upon entering, he made sure to stay clear of the broken glass littering the doorway.
He laid James down in bed gently, pulling his wand out of his back pocket and waving it strategically at the wound on James’ foot, watching as it immediately scarred up, all traces of blood vanishing. He then turned towards the broken plate and crumbled cookies on the floor, flicking his wand to gather the remnants up and —ever so gracefully— discarding them into the trash can.
Running a hand through his bright blue hair, he turned back to James, his eyes trailing all across his young, peaceful face. He tugged the blankets up over his sleeping form, tucking him in nice and warm. Brushing his fingertips along James’ forehead, Teddy leant down, moving the messy brown curls away to expose his smooth tan skin.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered —hardly above a whisper— as his lips ghosted against James’ forehead, “I am so sorry, James Sirius.”
When he pulled away, the cause of this entire dilemma caught in the corner of his eye. The brown shoebox that was still placed on the corner of James’ bed. Teddy knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but to reach out for it anyways, his hand diving in and grabbing the first piece of pretty pink paper that was sitting right on top.
All at once, Teddy felt his world shatter as his eyes took in the messy scrawl. He even had to place a hand over his mouth to muffle the sob that threatened to break through, a single tear descending from the corner of his eye.
The last part of the love letter read:
“One of these days you’re going to find all of these, and I need you to promise me something when that time comes. Please, don’t blame yourself for the attack I have afterwards, because I can assure you it isn’t your fault.”
Teddy shoved the note into his pocket before closing the box and sliding it back under James’ bed. Sending one last glance to his sleeping best friend, he silently left the room, doing his best not to blame himself for everything that had happened.
Just like James had asked.
