"Y/N/N, let me in!"
You lifted your head from your pillow to speak into the distance separating your bed from your door, "Go away, Pads! I'm staying in."
"You said that last weekend... and the weekend before that," you heard Sirius groan from the hallway. He continued to bang against the wooden door, rattling the metal components of it, "We miss you, Y/N/N! Come out to Hogsmeade with us!"
"No, I want to stay in," you yelled, falling back into the solace of your bed, "Sirius, please just go without me. I'm sure my less than happy attitude would kill the mood anyway."
"I'd rather have the mood be killed than not have my friend with me."
You smiled a bit at his words. Sirius always did know how to cheer you up. A part of you wanted to give in and spend the day with your friends. You did miss them terribly, as you've done nothing short of avoiding them for the last month. You even went so far as to switching out of the classes that you had with them. You were surprised you got permission to do so, but you had to thank your long-standing and pleasant relationships with your professors for that.
As you opened your mouth to agree to Sirius' offer, you began to remember who else would be there— James. A month in isolation was not enough time to mend a broken heart. So you sunk back in your bed, pulling the covers up to cover your chest, and squeezed your eyes shut.
You heard Sirius sigh, disappointingly, before his footsteps echoed down the corridors. You were relieved he gave up, at least for the day. You didn't know if James had told them about that night, you didn't really allow yourself to be in the same space as any of the Marauders for enough time to have a conversation beyond "hi's" and "hello's." Sirius was tired of it, as was Peter and Remus, but Sirius took it personally. You two have built a good friendship over the years and he didn't know what it was that caused you to pull away from them so rapidly and so out of the blue.
He had a hunch. He figured it had something to do with James, as the boy flinched every time someone was to mention your name. Not to mention the way James had changed drastically, more subdued and mellowed out ever since the night of the party. He hasn't chased after Lily since, and it puzzled a lot of people, Sirius especially. He had to hear about James' incessant pining for years and all of a sudden, Lily seemed to cease to exist? Something wasn't right.
Sirius talked about it to Remus and Peter but the two boys were just as lost as he was. Nobody knew what happened that night between you and James. And although they all had their theories, most of them being absurd, James never talked about it to anyone, nor did you. So your friends were left in the dark, wondering and guessing what on earth transpired.
It wasn't until an hour after Sirius' supposed departure did you hear a knock on your door again. You groaned, not wanting to have this conversation twice in the same day. You sat up, "Go away, Sirius!"
Another knock.
"Padfoot," you warned, "Go away, please!"
He seemed to ignore your rebuttals, continuing to pound harshly on your door. You closed your eyes, pushing two pillows against both of your ears to try to drown out the noise, forgetting for a second that you were a witch with the knowledge of a simple spell to do the trick. When you realized that the pillows weren't working, nor did he show any signs of stopping, you got up from your bed and marched angrily to your door.
You swung it open, looking down at your feet. You huffed, "Sirius, I'm really not in the mood—"
It wasn't Sirius.
James' back was turned, evidence that he'd been pacing in front of your door after he heard your footsteps. When he heard the familiar creaking of your door opening, he turned around, an unexplainable look on his face. His eyes were brimmed red, like he'd been crying. His curls were tossed around, not neatly styled the way he always did them. James wore pajama pants and a fluffy sweater. It was unfair, really, how good he still looked even when he quite literally just rolled out of bed.
The two of you didn't talk, not one word. You just stared at each other, taking in each other's presence. You became so aware of how you must've looked— pajama pants that went past the tip of your toes, a large hoodie that you were half-sure belonged to James once, and your hair in disarray from spending the entire day and afternoon in bed. Subconsciously, you hid behind your door, trying to hide yourself from the boy who watched your every move.
The silence was deafening. It was awkward and uncomfortable. It was like neither of you knew each other anymore, like you didn't spend years being friends or months being wrapped up in each other's arms in the most vulnerable way. You stared at James Potter, not recognizing the man who stood in front of you.
This man was unsure of himself, not carrying himself in the confident way that James usually does. His back was hunched over like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. He looked small. He had this guard up in front of him and a face that you couldn't read. This was unusual for the both of you. You weren't used to not knowing James.
You forced yourself to be okay with that thought as you stared him down, knowing that you had no choice but to accept that you two will be strangers to each other one day. Soon, even. But truth be told, you didn't like it. You didn't like not knowing him.
You gulped, starting to close the door, little by little, in hopes he wouldn't notice. At first, he didn't. He was too preoccupied staring at your figure, your face, your being, that he didn't realize that the door was shutting. When James finally did, he stuck his foot in the crack, right before you could close it. He hissed at the pain, but kept his foot there, not daring to move.
"I miss you," he finally said, breathing out every word, "And I-I won't lie to you, I don't know if there's a word for what I'm feeling. I'm not even sure I fully understand it."
James pushed the door open, letting himself walk in despite your silent protests. You walked backwards, stopping right before the back of your knees hit your bedpost. He continued to talk, looking down at his feet, distraught, "All I know is now I can't stop thinking about you and I can't stop worrying about whether you're alright or not. And I think I'm going crazy, Y/N/N."
"James.."
"No, let me finish," he shook his head, looking into your eyes. His eyes were clouded by tears making your breath get caught in your throat. He paced back and forth in your dormitory, "I haven't slept in weeks because every time I close my eyes I just see you and I don't know what it means! I'm so confused and I just— nothing makes sense anymore. I keep looking for you everywhere I go and I expect you to be there next to me and when you're not, I just feel so empty."
You sat down on your bed, tears flowing down your cheeks. You twiddled with your thumbs in your lap, unable to look at James who stopped his pacing and stood in front of you. You didn't say a word. You didn't think you had any words to say.
After his rant, James looked at you. His heart ached as he watched you retreat to yourself, cowering after every word that he said. He ran to you, ignoring the warning signs that were flashing in his mind. "Y/N," he whispered, crouching down to be eye level with you, "Please look at me."
You couldn't do it. You gulped, biting your lip to stop the cries that wanted to escape. James wrapped his hands around yours, engulfing them in the familiar warmth you've missed in the time you were apart. He kneeled in front of you, his head hanging low. Neither of you said anything, the silence and the sounds of muffled cries bouncing off the walls of your dormitory.
James began to shake softly, his chest rising up and down as his tears began to drop onto the floor. You watched the wood under your feet become pooled with his tears. He placed his forehead on your knees, his lips kissing the fabric of the pajamas you wore to cover your legs.
"Y/N, I miss you. This month has been hell without you and the only thing that makes sense to me right now is that I need you in my life," he sighed, lifting his head to place his chin on your lap, "I can't imagine my life without you."
"That's not fair, James," you sobbed, pushing him away. It took all your might not to scoop him up in your arms the minute you saw his hurt expression. You never once denied him, never once pushed him away, until now. You still couldn't keep eye contact with him, his glossy eyes and trembling lips made you putty in his hands and for once, you wanted to put yourself first. You crossed your knees under your thighs, sitting uncomfortably on your bed, "It's not fair that you just came in here and said all that."
He sat in front of you, knees up to his chest. He respected your wishes and kept his distance, "Why?"
"Because I know what I'm feeling," you stated, lips quivering. "I'm sure of what I feel and you can't just come in here and say that you miss me without knowing what it is you feel! I don't want to keep thinking that there's something here when there's not, James. It's not fair to me."
"How am I supposed to figure out if there's something here if I haven't seen you in a month, Y/N?" he replied, frustrated with the lack of communication between the two of you. "I haven't seen you for weeks! You disappeared on me. I didn't know what to think. The only thing I could think about was how I didn't want you gone from my life. I tried, Y/N/N. I tried so hard to talk to you but you weren't around anymore. I asked Minnie where you've been and she said it wasn't any of my business—"
"Because it isn't," you interrupted.
James rolled his eyes, ignoring your snarky comment, "The last time I saw you— if you even count that glance as seeing you— was when you helped bring Moony inside after the full moon. And the minute I tried to talk to you, you bolted! I felt like you didn't want me around anymore and that killed me, Y/N/N."
You felt a bit guilty, knowing that you did everything that he stated. You sniffled, finally getting the courage to look at him. James was staring at you intently, resting his cheek on his knee. His cheeks were squished, making him look so adorable with his red nose and messy curls. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, eyes widening in realization.
"Merlin, you haven't even been in the Great Hall for meals! How do you get away with that? Have you been eating?"
You couldn't help but chuckle at his worried tone, not expecting that to come out of his lips. James always did have a motherly instinct when it came to you and the Marauders. He was shocked at the sound of your laughter, the worry in his eyes subsiding for a second. He missed that sound so much.
A lopsided smirk appeared on his lips. James looked at you, quirking his eyebrow. His tone changed as he spoke again, "Well?"
"Well what?" you asked, tilting your head to the side, dropping your smile. You remembered why you were in this conversation in the first place.
"Have you?" he echoed, "Have you been eating?"
"I have."
"Good, good," he nodded. His voice never returned to his frustrated tone, as if that little moment between you two was enough to cure his broken soul. He awkwardly waddled closer to your bed, not bothering to get up as he inched to where you sat. James sent you a sad smile, "I missed you."
"James—"
"You know," he interrupted, ignoring the way you wanted to roll your eyes at his antics, "The only times you've ever called me James was when I've pissed you off, or when I've done something, or when we're talking about something serious. Which makes sense since we are talking about something serious right now—"
To push his buttons, you decided to do the same to him, "Does this lead to a point?"
"Yes, if you would let me talk," James scoffed, a playful tone in his voice, "As I was saying, you only call me James when I do something... That night in the Common Room was the first time you called me James for not doing something. And Merlin's beard, every night since then, I wished that I did."
You wore a puzzled look on your face, not understanding what he was saying, "What?"
"I wish I did something that night, Y/N/N," he confessed, "I wish I didn't leave you on your own. I wish I sat down and talked to you that night. I wish I kissed you when you asked me to. Something! I wish I did something instead of just walking away."
You stayed silent as you let yourself process his words. You didn't want to feel the butterflies in your stomach, but when you realized that he regretted that night for the opposite reason that you did, you couldn't help it. You regretted that night because you lost James. You lost the years of friendship and history that the both of you shared because of one too many shots. You swallowed your pride and asked him to kiss you so you could have something to remember him by, something to keep you connected with him, even if it was nothing more to him than a memory.
He regretted that he walked away from you despite the growing ache in his chest. He shut out the rest of the Marauders, hoping that he'll have enough courage to face what he was feeling for you, rather than hide away and cower behind his far-fetched fantasy with Lily. James regretted that night because he let you believe that you lost him when in reality, he was completely and wholly yours to take.
"Y/N?" he whispered, focusing on nothing else but you, "Please, say something."
"You can't do that, Prongs," you didn't miss the way his eyes twinkled with glee when the nickname rolled off your tongue so effortlessly. You blushed, embarrassed, "Sorry, it's a habit."
"Never apologize for that," he shook his head, testing the waters by sitting down on your bed beside you. You didn't push him off, which he took as a good sign, "Never break that habit either. It comes naturally to you and that's what I want between us, Y/N/N. We fit together so naturally."
You closed your eyes, letting out broken breaths. You clutched your chest, feeling yourself crumble to his feet. James couldn't hold it in anymore. He wrapped his arms around your shivering figure, only holding you tighter when he felt you stiffen under his touch. He cooed into your hair, sweet nothings that didn't make any sense, but it was enough.
James kissed the top of your head, letting you beat your knuckles on his chest in frustration. He knew he deserved this. He deserved your anger and your rejection and your denial. He deserved to be left for dust, as he did to you. But for now, he had you in his arms, and he'd take that over anything else in the world.
You cried into his chest, "You've hurt me so much, James Potter."
"I know."
"It hurt so much to watch you run after someone else while I was just standing there, waiting for you to see me."
"I know."
"Do you know how many times I've thought about why I wasn't good enough for you?" you croaked out, not having the energy to pull away from him. You stayed idle in his arms, except for the occasional wiping of the tears that stained your cheeks, "I know I'm not Lily but Godric, I thought I would be good enough for you."
"You are," he replied, holding your face in his hands. James pulled you away, hoping that if you were to see the sincerity in his eyes, you'd see how much he meant it, "Y/N, you are too good for me. I'm the one that isn't good enough for you. I've been such a fool."
"James," you pushed him away, creating some distance between you. The few inches that separated the both of you might as well be oceans because James had never felt so far from you before.
He reached out for you, a ghost of a touch caressing your hand before you pulled it away, "Please, stop pulling away from me. Y/N, I'm trying."
And he was. You could tell he was trying to figure out what it was he felt for you. He stared at you differently this time— not in the way a friend looked at a friend or the way he used to look at you with lust clouding his eyes. This time, this time was different. James stared at you in adoration, like if he were to be separated from you again, he would lose all his senses. His eyes yearned to look into yours, hoping that if he looked into the swirls of your eyes long enough, he'd be able to see the future he desperately craved with you.
"I know you are," you smiled, though it didn't reach your eyes. You leaned over to trace patterns on the top of his hand. "And I appreciate that you're trying to figure this out but James, like I said, I can't be ten steps ahead of you. I can't wait for you to figure out what you're feeling for me while I watch myself fall deeper and deeper in love with you because I love you, James and I—"
James' breath got caught in his throat. The minute those words left your lips, his other hand placed itself on top of yours. He squeezed it, "Say it again."
"What?"
"Say it again."
"Say what?"
"Say that you love me again."
You shook your head, flustered that you confessed your unrequited love for him a second time. You tried to take your hand back but James held it in place, staring at the way your limbs seemed to melt together.
He spoke again after he realized you weren't going to, "The night you told me you were in love with me, I felt something that scared me. At first I thought it was just shock and confusion, maybe, because I didn't think you could ever fall in love with me. I stayed up trying to figure out what that feeling was in my chest because I couldn't sleep, Y/N. There was this pressure in my chest that I've never felt before."
James locked his eyes with yours, "And when you said those words right now, I felt it again— that pressure, that something in my chest. Now, it makes sense. It all makes sense. You, your words, your love, is the only thing that makes me feel this way."
"What are you saying, James?"
"I'm in love with you, too," he chuckled, breathily. His eyes pooled with his tears, the overwhelming feelings of realization too much for his emotions to handle, "I've been so blind all this time, trying to hide it behind an infatuation that could never and would never touch what we share— what we have."
"You can't say things like that without meaning it. Just a few minutes ago you showed up saying that you didn't know how you feel and suddenly because I said three little words, you have it all figured out?"
"No," he said, truthfully, "I don't have it all figured out. I don't know how I can make you trust me again. Or how I can show you how much I truly mean it when I say that I love you. Or how I can convince you that we can move past this. But those three little words helped me become more sure of myself than I ever have been this entire month and I would do anything for you to give me a chance to prove myself."
"I don't want to get hurt," you mumbled.
His hopeful eyes wandered to yours, "I'd rather hurt myself a million times over than hurt you again."
Finally, after fighting thoughts, you gave in. You nodded, scooting closer to him. James let out a laugh, completely overjoyed that you found it in your heart to give him a chance. He wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you down onto your messy bed with him. He held you so close to his chest, allowing you to listen to his heartbeat and the way his chest rumbled as he spoke to you.
"Thank you," he murmured. James caressed the side of your face. He inched closer, darting his eyes to your lips. He swallowed back his fears, taking a leap of faith as he asked the question, "Can I kiss you?"
You found yourself lost in his eyes, lost in his presence. You couldn't take your eyes away from the boy in front of you, the boy you loved who you watched love another. The boy who was now in front of you, staring at you in the way that you always craved. It took you a minute to find the right words. When you eventually did, you nodded, hovering your lips over his, "As long as it's not the last time."