unspeakable | jegulus

right or wrong

chapter title: it ain't me, babe by bob dylan

cw: very brief sexual content, minor/brief self-injury, discussion of suicide, pretty callous discussion of physical abuse.
their relationship is it's own trigger warning.

an:

it's bad again, sorry. james has bpd and he doesn't know what bpd is, he doesn't know wtf is happening with his perception of the people around him. he actually deals with splitting a lot (splitting aka black and white thinking aka "regulus is an angel :) i'm so in love, i feel so safe with him" / "i hate regulus, he's a monster, i've never been so miserable"), but this chapter feels different. please keep in mind, james is not a very reliable, objective narrator. regulus is just a 16 year old boy, he is not a monster, and he is just as scared as james. i can't remember if i've mentioned it in my author's notes on wattpad, but regulus has ASPD and james has BPD in this fic. i might let them know at some point, but honestly i really can't imagine my regulus ever willingly going to therapy. i hope you enjoy the angst. if you want, play 'kiss with a fist' by florence + the machine.

xoxo elliott

The rest of the party was a fuzzy daze. Regulus didn't make him stay long, not after the fight. James drank more in the aftermath, too much of Evan's firewhiskey burning in his stomach. They found Walburga, and at the sight of James, and the sorry state he was in, she immediately ushered them home, complaining about the Dark Lord.

"Whatever did they make him do? It is barbaric, the initiations he subjects perfectly respectable people to. He would not tell me his name. He could be a mudblood for all we know," James heard her whisper to Regulus when he was half-carrying him up the stairs to his bedroom. She didn't offer to help. "Your fixation on the Dark Lord is beyond me, Regulus—"

"He had to cast a cruciatus curse. He did it for a long time." He didn't even have the energy to feel surprised that Regulus told his mother about what happened in that room. He was glued to James' side, immovable, his hand in his, his body pressed against him, all of him soft and lovely and uncharacteristically sweet. James drunkenly pressed his cheek into his hair, then his lips. Regulus allowed it.

"Shh." James pressed his finger to his lips. Regulus narrowed his eyes. "You're not supposed to talk about it."

"Why?"

"It's illegal," he whispered sharply, loudly. His expression shifted from confusion to amusement.

"My mother would never turn you in for using an unforgivable curse."

James was drunk enough to mumble, "I guess that would be hypocritical." He laughed, then glanced at Walburga. There was meanness in that look. "You're not vile enough to be a hypocrite as well as a—"

Regulus slapped a hand over his mouth. Walburga's face was bloodless and her dark eyebrows were low, her ever-present smile diminished. She looked between James and Regulus.

"Has my little one shared a secret with you, James?" Regulus went white. James' mind was muddled, he was sick with misery and empty inside, hollowed out and hungry for the first time in months. His expression hardened.

"I'd say he's shared a lot of secrets with me. I don't know which one you're referring to." It wasn't a lie. It was blatant mockery. "Maybe you can narrow it down a little." He smiled, mean, and knew he'd both won and lost something when he met her cold eyes.

"You need to go to bed," said Regulus, weakly. James didn't move. He stared at Walburga in silence for a long time. Maybe it just felt like a long time. Time was slippery for him when he'd been drinking. "James."