Author's Note: Here's a short one-shot that took me an embarrassingly long time to write. Any thoughts would be very much appreciated :).
Teddy doesn't say anything as he walks into the room. He doesn't need to - James reckons there's nothing on Earth that could make him forget the sound of those footsteps. He doesn't move from his position by the window though, doesn't even chance turning around. Just a quick glance to see the older boy gingerly sitting down on his bed, looking for the first time like he doesn't belong there. If any confirmation that Victoire has told her boyfriend every word of what she overheard is needed, then this is surely it. The time spent together in this room – as children hiding out in a tent made of James' duvet, telling each other little-boy secrets; as adolescents cracking jokes until neither of them could stand up without the support of the other; as teenagers smuggling away illicit firewhiskey while the grown-ups were talking downstairs; as best mates who, they drunkenly swore, would always, always remain that way – all of it now seems very long ago.
James maintains a steady gaze out of the window. Enough has been ruined already – he doesn't need the red rims around his eyes making him look even more ridiculous.
The silence stretching out between them is broken by Teddy, speaking in a voice that doesn't sound like his voice at all.
"How long?"
There's no need to ask what he's talking about. James still doesn't trust his own voice not to crack, but decides he can't exactly ignore the question.
"I think – " he croaks, throat too dry for proper speech, before swallowing and continuing "I… I don't know. I think it's always been there. I'm sorry."
The last two words are little more than a whisper, almost a question as he entertains the hope that Teddy will reassure him there's nothing to be sorry about. For an impossible moment, James allows himself to believe that this will be just like every other time he's gotten himself into trouble – that Teddy will just get up, put an arm around his shoulders and tell him that none of it matters, because they'll deal with it together. The hope quickly evaporates. This isn't like every other time, because James has never fucked up quite this badly before. There are no reassurances, just more awkward silence as the other boy fiddles with his hands and looks everywhere but at his friend's face.
The silence doesn't last long this time, though. James' feeling of emptiness is quickly disappearing, but the sick dread replacing it is certainly not an improvement. Only now, as his brain finally starts to re-engage, is he realising the full magnitude of what's happened, of what he's about to lose. The dam of numbness holding back his emotions shatters as he finally turns round to face the boy he loves, the words tumbling out of his mouth with no time to filter them.
"Teddy, I'm so fucking sorry – I tried not to Ted, I swear I did, I tried so fucking hard, I just couldn't stop it and, and…Oh shit, it's just because you're so fucking brilliant, and I couldn't, I just couldn't – and now you hate me and oh sweet Merlin please just let me take it back. Please Ted, please don't hate me, I don't think I could… I swear I'll make it stop – I'll…I'll…"
James' voice breaks as his thoughts become more and more hysterical. It's probably just as well, he thinks, because he has absolutely no idea how to finish that sentence. There's nothing left to try. He's been attempting to block out these feelings for years now, ever since he was fourteen and the sight of Teddy trekking back to the castle after Quidditch practice, Captain's uniform clinging to his well-toned torso, finally explained why the interest his dorm mates were starting to show in girls simply wasn't present for him. Back then he'd believed the cliché of it being "just a phase", had been sure that if he just pushed those thoughts straight to the back of his mind whenever they popped up, they would eventually go away. Back then he'd thought that, if he could just date one more girl, maybe he could grow to actually enjoy the sensation of a woman's body against his own, the anticipation of tasting her lip gloss and more, rather than feeling an unpleasant mixture of dread and nausea at the prospect.
None of it had worked though, and as the years had rolled on James had started to realise that it wasn't just because the sight of Teddy sweaty and exhilarated after Quidditch practice got him all hot and bothered. It was because every time Teddy looked at him and grinned, no matter what he was doing, he felt his breath catch. It was because every time the two of them stayed up so late talking in James' room that Harry came upstairs and cast engorgio on the bed for Teddy to stay the night, James felt his heart leap at the prospect of spending another night with Teddy's face pressed against his chest because "it's not my fault you're more comfortable than the bloody pillow". It was because he was falling completely and hopelessly in love with the boy – the boy who was supposed to be practically part of his family.
And that had been when James' real problems had started. That had been when he had stopped thinking of himself as James Potter, Harry Potter's son, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team with a bright, fantastic future ahead of him. That had been when he'd started thinking of himself as James Potter, fucked-in-the-head pervert who'd managed to take the best possible start in life and turn it into a worthless, disgusting mess. James Potter, who had taken the most wonderful friendship anyone could ask for and turned it into something that the whole rest of the world recognised as just…wrong.
He doesn't know at which point in his rant he slid down to the floor, or when the wetness rimming his eyes spilled over, but by the time he's finished his face is lined with tears. He swipes furiously at them, trying to brush away his weakness lest Teddy notice, before realising that there's no point and letting his head rest in his hands. He's never been able to control his emotions around his best friend, and this is no exception. He's probably barely ever going to see Teddy after this – what does it matter if the older boy finally gets to see what a complete screw-up he is?
Palms pressed tightly against his eyes, James doesn't see that it is as he breaks down completely that the other boy finally looks straight at him. He isn't aware of the fact that, when Teddy actually takes in the sight of the crying mess on the floor that had been his best friend only a moment ago, it takes less than a nanosecond for the expression of shock on his face to be replaced by one of utmost concern. He doesn't notice as Teddy rises swiftly from the bed and crosses the room, and so his first sign that anything is happening is the strong arm that hooks under his armpit and hauls him to his feet. And as soon as he notices that, there is no time to process what's going on before he is enveloped in the tightest embrace he's ever experienced in his life.
"Teddy, what?" He manages to choke out, "I – "
"Shhhh," Teddy interrupts, a hand moving up to gently hold the back of James' head against his chest. "You're my best mate, James, nothing's ever going to change that. This…it'll be ok. We're going to deal with it together. It's going to be ok."
And James knows he doesn't need to respond, doesn't need to do anything apart from relax into Teddy's embrace and maybe, just maybe, believe that what he's saying might be true.