#this is for mil bc she opened my eyes to dwg

[residentrookie]

NFU 

a messy exes/right person, wrong time jegulus microfic inspired by the song NFU by del water gap for my bb @static-radio-ao3 as my thank u for the introduction :))

“Hello?” 

“Regulus,” a hoarse voice rasps on the other end of the phone, drawing out the syllables of his name. Rough and low and… drunk. Extremely fucking drunk, by the sound of it.

Regulus stiffens. “James. Are you-- you’re drunk calling me. Again.” 

“Very astute. You’re always so astute, Reg.” 

He checks the clock on his nightstand with bleary eyes. 3:30 AM. God. Not this again.

“I thought we talked about this,” he sighs, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

“We don’t talk much these days,” James points out rationally. “I think I would have remembered.” 

Regulus rolls his eyes. Not fucking likely. 

“Since you were in a similar state the last time we had this conversation, I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Just so we’re clear that doesn’t make it okay, James. This is— you have to stop doing this.” 

By ‘this’ Regulus means getting wasted and calling him when James is too far gone to talk himself out of the idea. And, if Regulus were smart, he would stop picking up when James’ name flashes across his screen. 

“Like I said. Astute.” 

Drunk James is his worst nightmare, truly. Drunk James is a walking, talking reminder of everything he doesn’t have anymore, everything he will never have again. When he calls, lacking crucial social skills like self-control and any modicum of a filter, Regulus is forced to be the rational one, reminding them both that this boundary exists for a reason. A very good reason.

“Okay. Well I’m glad— it’s good that we talked about this. But this is— this has to be the last time. I’m hanging up now, okay?” 

James continues as if he never spoke. “How’s your um— your boyfriend doing?”

Immediately no. 

“I’m not talking about this with you—” Regulus attempts to shut him down, but James is nothing if not obstinate. 

“You’re still dating the guy with the dumb fucking name, right?” 

James knows full well that he is. Sirius would have informed him otherwise. He just wants to hear Regulus say it because he’s fucking sick and twisted. Naturally, Regulus can’t give him the satisfaction, so he avoids the question. 

“You can’t think Regulus is a perfectly normal name and then turn around and shit on a guy for being named Kingsley.” 

James scoffs on the other end of the phone. “I can shit on him as much as I want. Fucking hate that fucker.” 

“You’ve never met him. You can’t hate someone you’ve never even met.” 

“Sirius hates him.” 

“Sirius doesn’t hate him—” Sirius just wishes he was you. 

“Mhm. Told me so. Said he’s a little bitch who can’t hold his liquor.”

Now it’s Regulus’ turn to scoff. “This coming from you right now? You sound so fucked up, I doubt you can even see straight. Not that you could before, but—” 

“I’m not fucked up,” James insists, then says calmly, “I just missed the way that you talk.” 

This. This was why they had to stop. In his worst moments, Regulus loathes the fact that Sober James all but ignores him most of the time, only bothering to text him on important holidays or birthdays. That is, until he’s reminded that Drunk James wants to ruin him— completely and thoroughly— by the casual cruelty of speaking his mind and expecting Regulus to go on peacefully with his life as if he didn’t just upend it entirely. 

“James…” he starts shakily. 

“Fuck, that sounded stupid. This was,” James hiccups, “not my best idea, I fear. Rash. Extremely rash feeling.” 

“What, drunk calling your ex? Yeah, I would say it’s one of your worst.” 

James is quiet for a moment. “You kill me, you know? I-I hate talking to you.” 

Rage wells up in Regulus’ throat so fast he nearly chokes on it. “You called me—”

“God, you sound good. You always sound sexy when you’re angry, did you know that?  Rougher… hotter. All red in the face and your neck…I can almost see it, if I squint.”  James pauses, presumably squinting like a drunken idiot. “Maybe that’s why I called you— to make you angry. To hear you be angry at me again. Stupid fucking thing to miss, isn’t it?”

Yet again, Regulus is at a loss. 

“You— I’m— God, you’re a real fucking bastard. Do you have any idea how excruciating it is to talk to you when you’re like this?” 

But James ignores him, saying ruefully, “Sirius told me, he always tells me, he says, ‘Don’t fucking do it, James. You always regret it, you always yell at me the next day for letting you call him,’ but he can’t stop me,” a childish giggle bursts from him. “I’m too fast. Much, much faster than him, just for the record. He’s never once beat me in a foot race, and if he says he has he’s a big, fat fucking liar—”

“James, I sincerely don’t give a fuck about that— be honest, did you run away from him at the bar?” 

Drunk James will do that. He’s a runner. Well, not when Regulus was around to keep him on a tight leash, but it seems that without him, James is turning back to some of his worst habits. 

The line goes quiet. Then, “A little bit.” 

“It’s a yes or no question, James.” 

“Mm.” He seems to think on it. “Yes, then.” 

Regulus tosses his hand in the air, forgetting James can’t see him. “Go back and find him!” 

“Don’t want to,” James sniffs. “Tryin to make my mistakes in peace.” 

“You— I’m hanging up and calling Sirius.” 

“No, no don’t!” James yells into the receiver, making Regulus wince and pull his phone away from his ear. James’ voice is much quieter when he speaks again. 

“Don’t, I have to say— I wanted to tell you. I have to tell you that I’m sorry, Regulus. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

A pit of dread forms in his stomach. James sounds wretched. He sounds like how Regulus feels when he thinks too long about how far they’ve drifted apart, how little they speak to each other anymore. For one infinitesimal second, Regulus gets the satisfaction of knowing that he’s not alone in this specific shade of misery— dark blue and bottomless. And then he reminds himself that he’s sober and his ex-boyfriend is drunk and they shouldn’t even be fucking talking right now if they knows what’s good for them. 

“James, look, you’re drunk, you’re emotional—”

“‘S not what I’m apologizing for.” 

“What, then?” 

“Everything. All of it. I never—I wanted…” 

Don’t say it, Regulus begs silently. Please don’t say what I—

“I still love you,” James breathes out. “I love you so much I can’t breathe around it.” 

Regulus lets his eyes sink closed, firmly shuttering the tears forming in his eyes. He can’t let himself say it back. He can’t. If he does…

“James…” Regulus lets himself savor the sound of his name on his tongue. Then says softly, “It’s okay.” 

They both know it’s not. 

______________________________

James looks down at the number on his phone. Blinks, just to make sure he isn’t imagining… but, no, he isn’t making it up. He picks up his phone, his apprehension growing. 

“Regulus?” he asks, unsure. 

A snort sounds on the other line. “Hm, fffancy seeing you here.” 

James blinks again. “...We’re talking over the phone.”

He doesn’t have to see Regulus to know that he’s just waved James’ words away with a flippant hand. “Metaphorically, then.” 

It’s been weeks since the last time they spoke. James remembers very little of that ill-conceived conversation, except of course for the part where he said the one thing he promised himself he would never say again because his brain hates him. It’s played on a loop in his head everyday since, his ragged, sincere words and Regulus’ noncommittal response to them. 

It’s okay, he had said. 

It was anything but okay. They both knew that. 

He had been doing so well, had been training himself to think of other things besides his ex boyfriend and his ex boyfriend’s new boyfriend and what the two of them were getting up to together, all the fun things they were probably doing while James was just focused on getting through his day. On getting to the next one. The next. The next the next the next the next the next—

“You don’t have ‘nything to say? Hm?” Regulus’ words slur. Unusual for him. Regulus was always so in control of himself. 

James frowns. “Are you okay? You sound—”

“Drunk? Well, that’s because I am. Royally, massively fucking toasted. Thought I’d return the favor and call you for once. ‘S your lucky day.” 

“Oh. I guess— I deserve that.” 

“I’ll say. Taste of your own medicine. Drink up, Potter.” 

James huffs a humorless laugh. “You must be drunk if you’re calling me ‘Potter’. You never call me that.” 

“Never say never, Potter,” he spits out meanly.  “It’s never a good idea to say never, remember? Remember how not good of an idea it is to use the word never? My therapist, she says I need to stop talking in absolutes. Never and always. Never say never, I learned that from her. Shame you didn’t, too.” 

James sinks into a kitchen chair, burying his face in his free hand, rubbing out the headache growing in his left temple. “You were right,”  he admits. “This is excruciating.” 

This conversation is making him feel awful for every single time he’s dialed Regulus drunk, the barrier between his thoughts and his words nowhere to be found. Regulus was right. He deserved a taste of his own medicine. He deserved this for every single second Regulus had to keep his cool on the other line while James was busy fucking them up a little more than they already had been. 

“Like remember when you said we’d never break up? Or when you said you’d always love me? Hilarious. Really, really funny stuff.” 

Regulus’ voice is liquid rage, red hot and acidic. James swears it’s burning him through the phone. 

He sighs. “Regulus. Can we not?” 

“No, no, we should talk about it. It’s been long enough. We can be rational adults and have a damn conversation. Here, you know what, I’ll even go first. I wanted you to come with me, you know. I should have asked you. To come with me.” 

James feels his heart stutter in his chest at those words. “You did ask me to come with you,” he murmurs. 

Regulus was waiting for that, like a snake rearing to strike. “Wait. Yessss, that’s right. I asked you to come with me and you said no! Now I remember. You said fucking no.” 

James clenches his jaw, his own anger slowly rising up the column of his throat. “I didn’t say no. I asked for some time to decide if I wanted to upend my life and move across the country, which is a pretty sane response to a question of that fucking magnitude. You’re the one who decided my hesitation meant I didn’t fucking love you.” 

“Well, it sure didn’t feel like you loved me when you let me leave.” 

“Let you—?!” James cuts off, knowing he’ll blow a gasket if he doesn’t calm himself.  “Regulus,” he starts, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but no one lets you do anything! You do whatever you please and damn the consequences! I just never— I didn’t want to be one of those consequences.” 

Regulus, to no one’s shock, does not attempt to calm himself. In fact, James fears he’s only stoked the flames. 

“You are hands down the most infuriating human being on the face of the goddamn planet! Of course you’re blaming me! Of course, like you were just an innocent bystander while I went about ruining our relationship! Like you had nothing to do with it! You had no part in it, no, not perfect James Potter, never him! I cannot believe— I just— it’s all so— fuck!” 

His voice breaks on the word and then the rest of him breaks too. His tears sound painful, like they’re fighting they’re way out of Regulus’ body with each sob. He cries loudly and messily and James can’t pretend like the sound doesn’t break his heart all over again. 

“Regulus?” He makes his voice gentle. Soothing. “Hey, don’t cry. Listen, you’re drunk. Why don’t we try talking when you’ve sobered up?” 

“No, James,” he sobs, gasping for breath. “You don’t understand. I fucked up. I fucking fucked up.” 

James sits up straighter, alarmed. 

“Are you okay? Are you safe? What’s going on—” 

Regulus sniffles. “No, I’m— I’m at my place. I’m fine. It’s just… it’s Kingsley.” 

James’ mind goes still in a way that should scare him but doesn’t. “Did he hurt you?” He doesn’t  bother keeping the cool rage out of his voice. 

“No!” Regulus nearly shouts. “No.. the opposite, actually. I hurt him. Badly.” 

James closes his eyes and takes a deep, slow breath. “Look… I’m sorry you’re upset but I really don’t want to listen to your lover’s spat—”

“I said your name last night,” Regulus whispers. 

“You—what?” 

Regulus doesn’t hold himself back. “He fucked me and I said your name. When I came. Yelled it, actually. No way to hide it. James and Kingsley don’t sound remotely similar.” 

And that— well. James has lost the ability for rational thought. “Oh,” he manages.

“Yeah, oh,” Regulus mimics him harshly. “He stormed out and we haven’t talked since. And I think— I think he’s going to break up with me now. He should break up with me. It’s— what I did is unforgivable.” 

No matter how hard he tries, James can’t think of a single thing to say to this information. Naturally, Regulus won’t let that stand. 

“James? Are you gonna say something?” 

“What do you want me to say?” he asks weakly. 

“Say you’re sorry!” Regulus shouts. “Say you’re sorry for drunk calling me all the fucking time, for reminding me that you exist, for reminding me I still fucking love—” 

He cuts off, but not quite quickly enough. James still heard everything he didn’t say. 

“I am sorry,” he says, voice rough. “I’m really fucking sorry, Regulus.” 

He hears the hitch in Regulus’ breath. If he closes his eyes he can see Regulus before him, see the pain take up residence on his beautiful face, the way he scrunches his nose when he cries, his eyes going stark red, his cheeks staining themselves pink. 

He can see Regulus so clearly in his mind. But he didn’t see what was coming next. 

“I-I just want to be with you again,” Regulus cries softly.  “I want to be with you, James. I’ll move back, I’ll quit my program, I’ll move in with you like you wanted, I’ll do fucking anything— but I can’t live like this anymore, James, I can’t, I can’t—”

James’ own tears slide down his cheeks silently, falling off the cliff-edge of his chin. 

“Regulus,” he says as firmly as he can manage. “Stop it. Please. You didn’t move away on a whim, okay? You’re in an amazing program. You love Chicago, you love the city and the river walk and the Art Institute and that bookshop across from Grant Park—” 

“You can’t— I didn’t tell you about any of—” 

“I pay attention. I know you love it. And I love where I live. I love my job here.” He forces the next words to leave his mouth, even though they taste like poison. “We’re… in the right places for ourselves. I have to believe that.” 

This doesn’t satisfy Regulus. The most twisted part of him is glad about that. 

“Why don’t you fucking get it, James? I can’t be in the right place if I’m not with you. The right place doesn’t exist if we aren’t in it together.” 

James squeezes his eyes shut tightly. Regulus can’t know how badly this is hurting him. He can’t know that James feels like dying every day they spend apart, that James has applied for over ten jobs in Chicago just to hear nothing back, has looked at apartments in Regulus’ neighborhood enough times he’s saved the site to his favorites bar. Even when Regulus was dating someone else. Even after Regulus had moved on from him. 

He's looked at it from so many angles, tried to reconfigure it so many times in his mind, and nothing made sense for them. One of them would always be giving up something, making sacrifices for the other, letting the resentment build.

Even thought Regulus is saying everything he’s been wanting to hear for an entire year...

He’s drunk. He’s drunk and he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Doesn’t know what he wants. 

“We’re happy, Regulus,” James tells him stiffly. “We’re both happy.” 

Maybe if he keeps repeating it, he’ll finally start to believe it. 

“If this is what happiness feels like,” Regulus snarls, “then I don’t want to be fucking happy.” 

No. And James doesn’t either. 

“You’ll feel differently in the morning. I promise.” 

Regulus laughs without humor. “I’ll still want you in the morning. Being sober doesn’t change that. It just lets me hold on to a shred of my dignity and not call you to tell you about it. But it doesn’t change a damn thing. You have to know that.” 

He’s drunk, James reminds himself. He’s fucking drunk. 

“Goodnight, Regulus,” he chokes out. 

“I still love you, James.” 

“It’s okay, Regulus. It’ll be okay.” 

They both know it won’t be.