Chapter Text
The first rule in gardening is: choose the right spot. The plants need neutrally rich soil, a sufficient access to clean water and a much needed supply of sunlight. Vegetables and most flowers need a full supply of sunlight which means six hours of direct sunlight so you either should plant them in the right spot or you should turn yourself into the sun and shine on them.
James usually goes with the latter — he has a saying, once you plant something, you should take full responsibility for it. That’s why he runs his hands through his messy curls, jotting his leg up and down as anxiety bubbles in his chest. “I can’t do this,” he says desperately, his eyes pleading with the man standing in the door frame.
That’s Regulus — not Reg, or Reggie or someone with a last name. Just Regulus. His young, quiet, usually wearing black neighbour who moved there almost three months ago and on the first day — when James went to say hi and brought along one of Euphemia’s infamous pies as a housewarming gift — he made a point to remind James that he is ‘just Regulus’.
‘Just Regulus’ doesn’t say anything as he crosses his arms on his chest and looks at James with unimpressed eyes. James feels like a child who wants ice cream and his mother doesn’t let him have it. It’s hot and he’s sweating and the bloody flowers are dying! “Please, Regulus. At least let me come inside — talk you into it? I’m melting out here.”
Regulus narrows his grey eyes which now look like the edge of a knife with their hardened silver and tilts his head. That means ‘no’. And not just a ‘no’ that James can manage to talk his way out of. It means a hard get-the-hell-out-of-my-face sort of ‘no’. He braces himself for it and sure enough, it hits. “No,” Regulus deadpans.
Usually, James wouldn’t mind it. The fact is, this very strange neighbour has been a strange source of joy for James — he hasn’t talked to him any more than a handful of times but it hasn’t been for the lack of trying. “Regulus, we have been neighbours for more than three months…” James whines — he just wants to get out from under July’s sun and get inside the house. He is truly melting slowly as a droplet of sweat tickles his face as it runs down.
Regulus wrinkles his nose.
“A, I didn’t choose to be your neighbour,” Regulus points out, “B, so what? And C, how is that a reason to let you inside? I don’t see you letting all your neighbours inside your house.”
“I would, if they were hot and melting and very frustrated,” James points out. He would — he likes people and he likes helping people and he likes it when he can give people ice cream scoops and lemonades and tell a story and smile. Most of the time — at least he has for the longest time. “And you can come inside my house any time you want. Please, Reg? I need your help.”
“Regulus,” Regulus deadpans almost like a reflex as he eyes run up and down James’ body, his hands clutching the door frame firmly. His knuckles have gone white and his angular face suddenly feels sharper to James. He can give up — he can put his tail between his legs and give up and go back to his dying garden and his cold house and mourn the fact that he can never raise a living thing.
James hates the heat — okay, maybe hate is a strong word but he certainly hates the situation he is in right now. The sun is burning the back of his head and for the first time that summer he wishes he hadn’t gotten a haircut. His lips and under eyes are soaked with sweat and he feels like his shirt is sticking to his body. Truth be told, with how dishevelled he looks right now, he can’t blame Regulus for not letting him in.
But it’s not fair — last month, it was Regulus who gave him the bloody book. The “Full Guide To Gardening For Amateurs” was handed to James by a very disapproving Regulus who said, “You’re going to kill the poor plants if you keep on doing… whatever it is that you are doing.” And then he went back inside. So really, it is Regulus’ fault that James is now standing in front of his door, desperate for any type of tip.
“The book you gave me is all theory,” James says, frustration seeping through his words. “It’s stupid — no. No. Not stupid — just without any practical value? Okay, don’t look at me that way. I’m not an imbecile — okay, maybe I am. It’s just that the book isn’t stupid — I just don’t understand what the fuck it is yammering on about — oh, shit. Sorry, no — sorry for that, too. Can you not roll your eyes? Okay, I read it and I understand but whatever I’m doing is not right because the garden doesn’t look any better and the flowers inside don’t look any better and they are all dying and I fucked them up — shit, ugh! I just don’t know what to do, okay? I don’t want them to die.” When James pauses to take a breath, his face is red and this time, it’s not because of the heat.
Regulus looks amused — that bastard. Well, not exactly amused because his facial expression hasn’t changed. James doubts he is even capable of changing his expression — any time that James has come across him, he’s been the same — stoic, posed, fancy and very very coldblooded. He reminds James of a reptile. Or a cactus. He should’ve gotten a cactus — it would’ve made this whole thing–
“You don’t have to apologise for cursing, I am not a child,” Regulus drawls, pulling James out of his head as he blinks for a second, confused. Where were they? Ah. Regulus licks his lips, the first sign of faltering in his expression before he says, “And everything you said is inherently not my problem.”
James’ hands run up to go through his hair one more time in an attempt to tame the lion’s dame. He is grateful for his skin tone — he can only imagine what the sun would do to someone as pale as Regulus who is standing in the safety of his house. “What do you mean it’s not your problem? It is your problem — okay, no, don’t close the door — tone delivery problem! You are — you are being a grinch! No, it’s not Christmas time — too soon for that analogy–”
“Potter,” Regulus tries to interrupt him but once James tries to gather his thoughts, it’s done for Regulus. He has to get this out or it’ll tickle him for the rest of the day.
“No, wait — you are being very selfish and like — mormons! Like mormons! You are trying to what, gatekeep flowers? You take care of your own flowers — don’t try to deny it. You love them and they are very pretty. I see you every morning, talking to them and taking care of them. Not in a creepy, ‘I am stalking you’ way but in the ‘I just woke up and the windows are open’ way and you refusing to help me can only mean the death of my beloved flowers and essentially murder of living things and their blood — okay, maybe not blood — will be on your hands! You take care of your own like a loving father and when it comes to mine… Regulus, you are like a doctor, now, who sees the dying patient and doesn’t even bat an eye and do you really wanna be that person? Sure, he’s smart and studious but do you really wanna be that doctor? I planted those and I’m responsible for their lives and I’m like the desperate villager whose kids are dying and is begging you for a prescription, so are you going to watch? I hope not — cause only a fool does that I didn’t take you for a fool. Oh my god, there you go with the bloody eyebrow again! Don’t fucking do that and don’t you fucking dare tell me that I shouldn’t have planted them in the first place if I couldn’t take care of them because I will punch you in the face. I will do it, don’t tempt me! Those flowers are important to me and if you care about Mother Nature in the slightest, you will help them. Do you get what I’m saying?”
Regulus, apparently, doesn’t if his facial expression is anything to go by. He looks baffled, his eyes unfocused and his body tense as if his mind is trying to sort through the word vomit James has just done. He cringes, his hands touching his pockets. He is well tempted to take a time-out and call Sirius cause he’s itching and he’s nervous and his heart is beating too loud. He tries to stay still, though. He tries to ignore his restless leg syndrome and his head full of voices and focus on Regulus who looks like he’s panicking because of the sheer amount of information he has gotten from James in the last few minutes.
James rubs his hands on his trousers, sweating intensely as he swallows, opening his mouth to add something — an apology, maybe? — but before he can, Regulus recovers, beating him to it.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” James asks. Well, he did not think that would get the first ‘okay’ ever from Regulus Something. God, he wishes he knew his last name. But it’s far too late to ask him for his last name, right? It would be awkward and maybe it would dissuade Regulus from coming… “Okay what?” he stutters, losing his train of thoughts. He’s almost sure he was going to add something but he can’t pin it down…
“You are an idiot…” Regulus sighs, moving to close the door.
“No!” James yelps, putting his hand on the frame, pulling it back with apologetic eyes. Or at least he hopes he looks like it. “No, no — I’m not an idiot. I understand. You’ll help me and save the flowers, right? No — no questions. I get it. We will save them — no, you will because honestly, if I could’ve done anything I would've already and I wouldn’t have come to you and they’re half-dead, so… Anyway — yes. Uhm — we will save them. When will we start?”
Regulus looks at him for a few seconds as if he can’t believe himself before shaking his head and pulling away from the doorway. “Come in,” he sighs.
“Really?” James can’t help the word that escapes his mouth before snapping it shut. He’s really surprised, is all. Half an hour ago, he didn’t think he could get his moody neighbour to even talk to him and now he’s inviting him inside?
Regulus rolls his eyes before huffing out his breath and raising his hands as he signs, “are you deaf? I said come the fuck in.” James chuckles as Regulus tilts his head.
“I’m not deaf,” he shrugs, raising his hands as well, signing, “Just pleasantly surprised.” Regulus rolls his eyes again. At this point, James is worried that at some point, his eyes are going to get stuck behind his head and stay there forever as a side effect of rolling his eyes.
As Regulus disappears inside, leaving the door open for James, James nods his head firmly, taking a deep breath. Yes. Really. He’s going inside Regulus’ house. He walks inside, closing the door behind himself as his eyes look around.
The house is cool — figuratively and literally — as the heat in James’ body finally gives away to the coolness of the turned-on air conditioner. James has a list of things that makes him feel better — Sirius wrote them, but it still counts because James said the words, right? — and number three on that list is “cool weather” right behind “mint ice cream” and “stargazing”, followed closely by “rom-coms”. He added the “rom-coms” himself — couldn’t possibly let Sirius tease him about that for the rest of his life. He even has two stars next to it because it’s just that effective.
The house is beautiful but not quite what James expected — what with Regulus’ posh accent and the way he carries himself (now that he thinks of it, almost like Sirius when he’s being snotty) he expected chandeliers and antiques. But the inside is simple — there’s a worn out green couch and two wooden chairs and a whole lot of plants everywhere. There’s a white table in the corner of the room with a swirling chair and his laptop is on there, the pens organised immaculately on it. The walls are white and James almost has a headache looking at their spotless shining colour — his place looks like a dumpster compared to this. The thing that stands to James, though, is the glass wall that leads to the backyard. It’s renovated, James bets. It’s the most expensive part of the house without a doubt and the best frame James has ever seen. Regulus really is a master in gardening if his backyard is anything to go by.
“It’s like a big telly,” James says, a smile on his face as Regulus throws a look at him over his shoulder and shakes his head as if it’s painful to tolerate James. James grins in return.
“Televisions are stupid,” Regulus mumbles under his breath. “They are stupid and of no practical use and filled with idiotic shite that attract fools — you can’t compare living things to that,” Regulus huffs his breath out as if he’s disgusted by even the thought of a telly. James laughs. He is a snob — it’s cute. He looks at James for a few seconds as if he can’t believe that James just laughed as he shakes his head for what feels like the thousandth time that day. “I can’t believe I let you in.”
James shrugs, “Neither can I,” the words escape before he can stop them. “I mean,” James clears his throat. “You’re kind of intimidating — and um, very mean.”
“Thank you,” Regulus deadpans and James has a feeling it’s sarcasm.
“No — I mean. You are serious? And antisocial? Jesus — no. look, you know what I mean.”
“That was a genuine thank you,” Regulus says, sounding baffled. “Sit, Potter. You are making me nervous.”
James nods as he sits on one of the wooden chairs. “Sorry,” he mumbles. Regulus ignores his apology as he pours himself a glass of water and sits across James.
“I’ll help your flowers but I have a few conditions,” he says, taking a sip from his water as James cocks his head. He’s suddenly very distracted by the way Regulus’ Adam’s apple moves. He wonders if it’s sharp — will he cut his hands if he touches– “Potter?”
“Sorry,” James yelps, straightening his back as he looks at Regulus’ unimpressed face. “What were you saying?”
“My conditions.”
“Ah, yes,” James nods sincerely. “Please, go on.”
Regulus narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything as he lets out his breath. James shuffles in his seat — the chair is too stiff. He almost wishes he had chosen the couch — it would probably be more comfortable. James notices the cactus on his ‘work table’. It has a red flower on the top of it — almost like a fat baby if the nurses hadn’t washed the poor thing… James smiles. “First of all,” Regulus’ voice snaps him back to reality. “You use a lot of words — I don’t like words.”
“Can I sign them?” James suggests, tilting his head. “No spoken words.”
“Those are still words,” Regulus says. “Just — no words. I’m not good with words.” James nods. He can do that — no words. Got it.
“But what if I want to ask you how to–”
“James, no extra words,” Regulus interrupts, fed up. James raises an eyebrow.
“I didn’t know you knew my name,” he points out.
“Well, I can only go so long without hearing it when you shout at yourself in the yard,” Regulus shrugs but his pale face a faint pink blush — it makes him look more alive. James smiles.
“Okay.”
“Okay. I just want you to — minimise the use of words, alright? Make it brief.” James nods, zipping the imaginary zipper on his mouth. Regulus nods as well, rubbing his hands against his trousers. James guesses Regulus isn’t a fan of his what with the fidgeting and constant eye rolling but if he can help his flowers, then it’s alright. He can dislike him all he wants if his babies are saved. “I’m going to set specific hours to help you, okay? I just — don’t want you to show up on my doorstep at every hour of the day.”
Regulus sounds serious. Maybe he just doesn’t like people in general. That must be it — how can he dislike James? Did he do something that offended him? Not that he can think of anything. I mean Euphemia’s pies were lovely — he couldn’t hate James because of his house warming gift. And yes, James might be a little extreme but Regulus gave the book to him and that got to mean he doesn’t dislike him, right? Or maybe he dislikes the way he takes care of the flowers and he simply likes the flowers and flowers alone. Did he turn the kettle off? He is pretty sure the lilies are next to the counter? What if the boiling water hit them and–
“Potter?” Regulus sighs.
“Yes?”
“Do we have a deal?”
James raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t remember hearing anything after Regulus expressed his dislike for sudden events and he really doesn’t want to ask Regulus — who looks buggered enough already — to repeat himself. So he assumes it wasn’t something important as he nods, offering his hand. “Yes.”
Regulus takes a second to look at his extended hand before letting his cool eyes dance around on his face as he huffs his breath out and takes James’ hand in his for a split second, letting go almost too quickly as he clears his throat. “And one last thing?”
“What?” James asks as he stands up as well, straightening his jeans.
Regulus looks at him a second too long as he cocks his head and James can swear his lips lift upwards for a split second before sitting in their neutral state once again as Regulus says, “For living and giving life, you should trust the Earth. It’s your best friend.” James’ lips split wide in a smile.
Regulus might not like him but James does as Regulus looks away from him, fumbling slightly as his eyes fix themselves on the door to his backyard. “Thanks,” James mumbles, looking at his side view, suddenly very focused on his pale skin and a few of his splashed spots.
He guesses he’s found the right spot.