The Day the Music Died | Jegulus, Wolfstar

I Remember You

She said: It's really not my habit to intrude.
Furthermore, I hope my meaning won't be lost or misconstrued.
But I'll repeat myself at the risk of being crude,
There must be fifty ways to leave your lover.
Fifty ways to leave your lover.

29/7/1979 — one year later.
The heavy rain bounced against the thick glass windows while the record player scratched the vinyl, faintly playing 'Don't Leave Me Now' by Elvis Presley; there were steps downstairs, muffled by the hefty rug. The faint cracking of the stairs gave James away, as the paperwork he heard from upstairs stopped abruptly, giving the defined voice of Elvis a way to flood the room.

Don't leave me now,
Now that I need you,
How blue and lonely I'd be,
If you should say we're through.

  "Reg?" called James as his head peeked from the archway framing the staircase, humming to the tune he hadn't heard in so long.

He caught sight of the boy, whose head was bowed over an ancient-looking book, his finger following the Sanskrit like a highlighter; the young Black didn't bother to answer, not even on giving James a look of acknowledgment. James slid his hands out of his pocket, and they froze as soon as he uncovered them, the room was bitterly cold.

  "How aren't you freezing your bollocks off in here?" He asked, lighting the heater with a single brush of his wand. Immediately after, he took a quick second to inspect the room: parchment scattered everywhere, tens of books and notes thrown all across the table and its surroundings — Regulus didn't do much as shifting his eyes to another book, his black hair cascading over his face.

James then decided to come closer, caressing Regulus' back with infinite gentleness and getting a lock of his silky hair behind his icy ear. "Are you okay, Reg?" He said, as softly as possible — Regulus wasn't the type to be disorganized, he always liked his papers stacked, his desk clean... something was definitely wrong, James could tell.

Regulus slowly raised his head, turning it towards James —he was pale, his eyes sunken and framed in a dull purple, his cheekbones had recessed visibly, meaning he'd lost a significant amount of weight; that, in addition to his dark features, made him look like an uncanny ghost.

James raised his hand up, cupping Regulus' face, who subtly flinched, not fully relaxing into the other's grip.

  "What is going on? What's happening to you...?" He blubbered as he gazed at the boy, pushing his eyebrows together.

Regulus stripped his thick hand away, going back to the content he was reading before James had interrupted him. "Nothing. I'm all right," he absently mumbled, a deep frown crinkling his forehead.

James approached with greater apprehension, now increasingly more concerned — he shifted the book away from Regulus, who took a deep, tired breath without meeting his eyes.

  "Just speak to me, Regulus. I can help you," he begged, lengthening his arm to touch the boy. He grabbed Regulus' cold hands, dragging him to the center of the room, away from the book.

The other resisted for a few seconds, until James' insistence won his will; he placed his hands on his waist, while Regulus weakly embraced his neck, laying his head on James' shoulder, drunk with tiredness. They started slowly moving around at the song's tune, drifting away in each other's arms. James couldn't remember the last time they'd kissed each other.

Don't break my heart,
This heart that loves you.
They'll just be nothing for me,
If you don't leave me now.

  "I've missed you, you know?" James whispered, kissing his head, swaying his hip along the tempo of the music, Regulus limply accompanying his movement.