One blissful summer in August, James Potter is looking for something to yearn for and bedsheets to be tangled in. Regulus Black is willing to answer. He's (secretly) thrilled James has moved on from his long-time muse and is finally looking at him a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Lily's POV; "You drew stars around my scars, but now I'm bleeding"
Lily saw James everywhere.
Not in the literal sense, though that happened too. She saw him in the skateboarders that whizzed past her street, the Sun on hot summer days, and his old Quidditch uniform she still had in her closet since he never took it back. She recalled him in untied shoelaces, broom polish, scribbled stars, and warm hot chocolate.
They didn't get their perfect fairytale ending. Lily found it hard to pry herself away from poignant reminiscence. No one had made her feel the way James had, alive and wild and youthful. When she felt broken, he'd sat there and listened and made her feel like the only one in the world. They'd started as a rose: the most romantic flower there is. James forgot to water it. It withered.
When James had disappeared from his post at the forefront of her vision, the hopes they'd had fell apart. They'd planned to live in a flat together once they finished Hogwarts.
James had taken time to adjust. A couple of times, he accidentally sat next to Lily in The Great Hall. Then he coughed awkwardly, before turning away. During Christmas break, he'd come to her house. She didn't know if he'd ridden his skateboard the whole way or had another mode of transportation (the Potters' wealth was no secret.) She opened the front door and saw him standing there on the porch, dim light washing over him as if his sunniness had dimmed too. She'd been so flabbergasted she slammed the door in his face.
She couldn't recall much about the night of the party. She remembered alcohol and confusion and knots twisting in her stomach. She remembered telling James to go fuck himself, leading him to the garden, trying to reason with him. She knew he apologized. That night, every time she felt doubt trickling into her senses, she fizzled it out with the buzz of alcohol. It stripped her of her problems (and stole some of her dignity as well). She wasn't proud of it. She drank so much she nearly passed out. She kissed Pandora in the rain.
She wasn't completely sure how she felt about Pandora. They'd only been dating for a few months. Pandora was lovely, of course: they went on strawberry picking and picnic dates. They studied together in the library and braided each other's hair and exchanged deep conversations and bought each other bouquets. Lily still had a hard time believing Pandora wasn't an angel or a fairy sent from heaven.
Among the tension and pain shrouding Lily's life, Pandora was the serendipity, a shooting star. (Pandora also made her spout ridiculous metaphors like these.) Despite all that, she didn't know if a life with her was in place. They didn't have much time to decide; the end of their time at Hogwarts was pushing them to make quick decisions. In truth, she didn't want to grow up. She was Head Girl, yes, but she didn't know how to apply that same academic levelheadedness to her personal life.
Lily felt bad for Pandora. James still owned a slot in Lily's mind, a lingering kiss that hadn't faded. Her world would always be overlaid by faint smoke, haunted by every last what-if. If she'd accepted his apology and let their relationship continue, would they still be going strong? Would he learn from his mistakes and improve in the end? She questioned it every day.
