Who: James Potter and Regulus Black What:The only manly way to cope: alcohol. Where: Beach When: Middle of the night on Sunday Status/Rating: Inomplete/ Uh. About that. High? Probably high. (we'll just see where the night takes us)
Luggage. Fucking... carpet bags. Not that things should be underestimated, but.. fuck. Maybe it was some kind of karmic punishment for hitting Regulus so much the other day. But no, that was -- he had told Regulus. He was right. Of course he'd been right. Of course being a Death Eater went and got Regulus killed. And it was bullshit for him to feel so bad when Regulus was the idiot who went of just joined right the fuck along. It was his stupid choice and his stupid self who'd gone and mucked up.... a lot of stuff. Even if he was just a kid.
And Regulus still was a kid. Two years wasn't such-- And not that James had considered himself a kid when he'd been eighteen-- But Regulus had always been--
No. No, fuck that. Sirius had been smart enough at sixteen to get out of his house in one piece. More or less. Only. Regulus had always seemed sort of... Well he'd always needed a little looking after. A little persuading. A little something.
Not entirely liking where his thoughts were headed, James intended to just sort of chuck the mostly-empty bottle of rum (because if they were on an island, it seemed silly to go for drinking anything else) that he'd nicked from the pub. It wasn't really his fault. Some things were just matters of necessity. And all this ridiculous, stupid stuff, that mostly wasn't his fault at all was just... well something had to drown it out before he did something stupid. Like go out and track down Regulus. And do something completely degrading. Like apologise for being right.
But why had he had to hit Regulus the last time he'd seen him? Even, the last two times. Not that Regulus remembered the first last time, the one that mattered, the one that kept gnawing at his conscience and his gut and in his attempt to toss that bottle, it only fell a few feet away. It did seem a lot farther, though, but that was mostly because James went rocking back from his seat near the shore, leaving him splayed out on his back. Laid out on his back, trying to avoid the idle habit of naming whatever stars he could see.