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How did they come to this?
A few months ago had James Potter in bed, grinning and in bliss. Without a worry in the world. James’ life was full of stars, guiding him through the dark.
One of those stars was the love of his life.
Right now had James Potter standing in the somber fields. The stars have vanished. He’s all alone, with no one near to hold when his life eventually crashes and burns.
All except for the love of his life.
The gun in his hand trembles, weight heavy. His head aches with a reminder—- One bullet, there’s only one bullet left — and his body is close to crashing down from fatigue.
“Why,” he starts, voice hoarse and dry from days without water, “did you do this?”
A breeze flows by, and the fields dance with it.
James Potter looks up, and tears come.
The killer of fifty stands tall. Black, heavy locks of hair sway with the wind. A handsome face smiles at him and he feels warm. But warm was never the treatment for a fever. The cold and harsh truth, it was.
He was never prepared for any of it.
“I had to,” came the response. Soft and not meek, never meek. “She— They would’ve killed me.”
It was not the answer James wanted.
“No.”
“No?”
James Potter was a strong man, he had been told. But when it came to this, to them, to him —-James Potter was weak .
“Why did you do this?” he repeats and he has to know, he has to know . “Why?”
Why did you destroy us ?
“I’m sorry.”
He grits his teeth, “That is not an answer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Tell me!” he can’t stand it. Not anymore.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I said, stop it.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Why did you leave me alone, Regulus?!” his heart is heavy, he can’t breathe, he’s running out of air, and he can’t stop crying . “Why, why, why?!”
For a moment, only his sobs were heard. The world was unheard of. Not even the slightest rustle of fabric, or the tears dropping on the crops. And Regulus, oh, his lovely Regulus, stayed quiet in the midst of that moment.
How did it come to this? How did they come to this?
As Regulus Black still stands, unknowing of the ownership he has of James’ heart, his face aloof, one hand bare of the weapons he’s known of —- ah, James now remembers.
The day June 18th will forever haunt their minds.
The day Sirius Black died.
Sirius Black — brother of Regulus Black by blood, and James Potter by choice.
Killed in the battle at the Ministry.
They had never been the same since.
Part of James understands what Regulus had done. Another part of him loathes what he did — not who he is.
Nothing can stop James from loving him. Nothing.
Even when they’re standing face to face, a line forever drew between them, each one on opposite sides, nothing. Even when Regulus killed fifty people, nothing. Even when James points a gun at Regulus’ chest, nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
“James,” Regulus calls, and he heaves. “James.”
He continues to sob, and it hurts. It hurts so bad . He wishes his parents were here, hugging him tightly and supporting his weight. He wishes Sirius will come from behind, back-hugging him and James won’t even mind in the slightest. He wishes Remus will whisper his comfort and he’ll listen.
He wishes Peter didn’t betray them.
He wishes Regulus was by his side again.
“Pull the trigger.”
What?
“Pull the trigger.” repeated again, he doesn’t understand.
“Pull the trigger, James.” he loved the way his name was said. Regulus’ way of saying his name was his favorite of it all.
He still doesn’t understand.
“Please, pull the trigger .”
He still doesn’t understand.
“No.”
“James, please.”
“I’m not doing that, Regulus.”
“You don’t understand—-”
“And I don’t, Regulus!” The shout comes out breaking, “But I still won’t do it.”
“Why won’t you?!” The frustration was clear. Regulus was crying. “I’m a monster, James! You know that, I know that, hell, the whole world knows!”
The crops get crushed under boots, and before he’s aware of it all, Regulus grabs a fistful of James’ shirt, pulling him close. The gun, so heavy, is finally nearer to its target.
“So, let’s do us and the whole world a favor.”
Regulus smiles.
“Kill me, James.”