CANNONBALL ⇒ jegulus

FIFTY THREE

They drive in silence mostly, Bowie curled up in his seat in the back, asleep. James watching him from the review mirror as Regulus gazes out the window, arms folded over his chest.

The radio plays softly. The Carpenters, James hums along. Regulus stares out towards the dim night's sky, the stars lighting up the night.

They're quiet. It is almost peaceful and soft and gentle. Delicate.

Regulus is fearful that one wrong word may shatter the fragility that surrounds their silence. At least when they are silent, nobody can get hurt or offended or say something wrong.

James, naturally, challenges this sacred silence they seem to possess. "Hey..." He trails, gently. "Um...how are you? Postpartum is...erm...difficult, just, y'know, say the word and I'll be there for whatever needs be," He bites his lip, not daring to glance at Regulus; eyes remaining on the road.

Regulus nods, stealing a glimpse at James. He sighs softly, his narrow, boney shoulders tensing. "I'm good, James, I really am," He assures curtly. "How're you doing? You must be thrilled with the album,"

James shakes his head. "Well, we've got to write it first," He slumps.

"You'll be fine, you guys'll write a good album," Regulus replies. He cranes his neck to glance back at a snoozing Bowie.

"He okay?"

"Mmh," Regulus hums. "He's just a very sleep baby," He muses.

James cracks a small smile before shaking his head. "I...I'd like to be around more, Regulus. But I don't want to be in your space if you aren't ready-"

"You're in my space now, aren't you?" Regulus raises an eyebrow. "We had brunch at Remus and Sirius' at the same bloody table, James. Stop being so self righteous," He scrunches his nose.

James frowns slightly. "I don't want you to feel like you have to put up with me just because I got you pregnant, Regulus," He says it so quietly that Regulus almost misses it.

"James, please, I don't want to do this right now," Regulus doesn't want James' sorrows. He doesn't want to hear how James is so undeserving of Regulus and Bowie. He can not have this conversation anymore.

Regulus sighs, realizing he has to do this as he steals a glance at James, only to see that ever present frown. The kicked puppy frown. Regulus Black is not a puppy kicker. "I just find it hard for you to look at me, alright? It isn't even that I find you hard to look at. I just don't want you to look at me..." Regulus trails quietly.

James blinks in response. "Why...why not?" He questions.

Regulus shakes his head, avoiding eye contact. "Because, sometimes I wonder if when you look at me, when you beg for me to forgive you; you're just thinking of her and how similar you seemed to think we look,"

Regulus hates to confess this. But it's been tearing him into tiny little shreds.

James makes a small noise and Regulus is afraid he may have confessed too much. James shakes his head, bowing it slightly. He keeps his hazel eyes fixated on the road ahead of him before, "I...it's only ever been you, I can promise you that,"

"Me and her," Regulus offers bleakly.

They arrive at Regulus' flat building and they are silent once again. 

"Thanks, James," Regulus mumbles as he unbuckles his seatbelt. "Uh, text me, yeah? I'm sure...erm, I'm sure Bowie would like to see more of you,"

James halts him, gently grabbing his wrist. "Uh-" He cuts himself off when Regulus gives him a strange look. James softly releases Regulus' slender wrist. "Reg, let me help you carry up the stroller and the sleeping baby?" James suggests with a slight raise of the pitch of his voice.