Crimson Rivers

Chapter 25

James hadn't felt it when the dagger went in. Perhaps that's ironic, but between the adrenaline and everything else that had just happened, it genuinely didn't register to him at all at first. He was just standing there, reeling from the final cannon that meant he would get to go home, and then he felt the wet, sticky drag of heat that he's come to recognize as blood sliding down his skin. Because he recognizes it now. Because he's bled enough at this point to know.

As soon as he touched the blood, the pain broke through. It wasn't anything like he imagined it would feel like. A heavy, throbbing burn more so than a stinging sensation. But it was okay, in James' mind, because they had won. They had made it to the end, and they were going to go home.

James is tired of trying to hope. He thinks he'd like to stop now. He thinks it's best if he doesn't do it anymore, because it never seems to work out for him.

In a way, James is almost relieved. As much as he would have liked to go home, he's come to terms with the fact that he wouldn't be able to once, so it's easy to do again. He accepts it with no fuss, just as he did when he made his choice from the very beginning. It's okay, he thinks. It's going to be okay.

Because, see, James did it. James helped Regulus make it to the end. All that he set out to do at the start, and he's done it. He didn't fail. Regulus is alive, and he's going to go home.

On the bright side, at least Regulus won't have to kill him. At least James knows for sure now that Regulus can't, and even with that fact, it's not an issue. James is bleeding out, slowly but surely, and Regulus doesn't have to worry about a thing.

Though, honestly, James had meant it when he said that he wishes it had been Regulus. Maybe it's a strange, pyschosexual thing, but he feels like he's sort of been flirting with Regulus and his daggers this entire time, so to be stabbed by him would surely have been more satisfying. Regulus would have made sure James felt it, adrenaline or not. He isn't sure why that's so attractive to him, but it really is.

Maybe James is in shock. Maybe James actually does have a knife kink. Maybe James is just in love, and he wants anything he can get from Regulus, even if it's literal death.

Instead, what he gets is Regulus' hands hauling him up and dragging him to one of the poles closest to them, leaning James against it and causing him pain, because he's so fucking mean. Oh, he's so mean. James is madly in love with him.

"Let me see. James, let me see," Regulus chokes out, kneeling down beside him, bag thrown on the ground and tipped over so everything has fallen out, all the contents spilled in his haste to find something that will work. He's pale.

"Stop," James murmurs, reaching out to catch Regulus' hand with the one not cupping his stomach, keeping Regulus from touching his blood. "You don't need to see. There's nothing to look at because there's nothing to fix."

Regulus' eyes are clouded with a film of tears, his breathing wonky like it's a chore. "James-"

"Just sit with me," James says, sliding his hand up to thread their fingers together. A broken sound falls out of Regulus' mouth. "Shh, don't do that. It's fine, love."

"We were supposed to go home together," Regulus whimpers, shaking his head. "It's not fair."

"I know," James agrees, "but if it couldn't be both of us, it was always going to be you."

"You said-" Regulus swallows, reaching out with his free hand to cup James' cheek. It's such a kind thing for him to do, and it feels so nice. "You said something when you were high. James, you... You said something about getting me home, whatever it takes, and apparently you made a promise to Sirius to do that? You were high, so I figured it wasn't true."