CANNONBALL ⇒ jegulus

THREE

James is trying to tune his guitar while Peter thrashes about wuth his drumset, Sirius soft, husky voice humming along while Remus slowly and effortlessly strums Roxie; the quiet melody of a David Bowie song courisng through the room.

As James alternates between softly strumming and tweaking his guitar, thoughts of Regulus fill his head.

He hasn't heard from him since that night, that blow out night; the night he has been trying to burn from his memory since it had happened, wanting nothing more than to rid himself of the guilty feeling he'd begun to harbor. Regulus isn't exactly sensitive, so making him cry feels like a bigger deal than it should be.

"Regulus coming this evening, Pads?" Peter asks. "Haven't seen him in a bit,"

James had taken note that Regulus has been quite reclusive lately, James doesn't see much of him and he's starting to wonder is Regulus ensuring that it is that way.

"Yeah, neither have I. He's been writing, well," Sirius pauses with a small smirk. "At least that's the excuse he's given me for now,"

"He should be here though," Sirius adds. "He said he'd be," He adds before he sits down on the sofa and let's Remus crawl into his lap for a pre gig snog, Sirius' hands coming to grip Remus' waist. James meets Peter's eyes and they groan in sync.

James rolls his eyes. "Get a room, fuck," He smirks.

The door opens before either boy can retaliate and James feels his jaw drop. Standing in a periwinkle silken button down shirt that seems to be more opened than closed and what look to be a pair of Sirius' leather pants, Regulus looks otherworldly.

James can't stop himself from staring at the exposed skin of Regulus' chest. Regulus himself is starry eyed, his pupils wide. He's been smoking, James can tell. He looks euphoric and dazed, but not in the sleazy way; in the ethereal, beautiful kind of way.

Sirius stares over at him. "Those are my pants...." He trails, his jaw unlatched. "But wow, this is an incredible look for you." He grins suddenly, his teeth bared. "Do a twirl for me,"

"C'mon, don't make me twirl, Sirius," Regulus laughs softly, his cheeks heating up and James wonders briefly if Regulus is even aware that James is in the room.

"Those pants look better on you than they do Sirius," Peter teases.

Remus barks a laugh. "Arguable," He smirks at Regulus. "But you do look quite lovely, looking for somebody to impress, eh?"

James practically holds his breath as Regulus replies, "No, 'course not," The younger Black answers. "But I've got to get something out of my system so....?" He grins softly.

Sirius smirks as he stands up to pull Regulus into a tight, brotherly hug. "One condition," He smirks playfully. "Mary does your make up,"

Regulus is on fire, exploding like a thousand stars on the stage, and James can not bear to tear his eyes away from him.

The way he moves, the way his body seems to move to the beat that James, Remus and Peter are all working tirelessly to create, enchances and enthralls James to no end.

He watches as Regulus moves under the fluorescent lights, the colors bouncing off of his face; the faded pink blusher Mary had applied hours before hand sits on his cheeks.

James watches in almost awe as Sirius grabs Regulus' wrists, the brothers twirling and dancing together; laughing can be heard between their singing.

James has only ever heard Regulus sing briefly before, certainty not to s large crowd of people. A part of James feels hot and burnt as he watches Regulus, his shirt almost all the way unbuttoned now and hanging off of his pale, boney shoulders.