Chapter Text
James Potter ran away, nothing truly did happen, he just wanted a new life and a new life he was going to find. He always gets what he wants, so this was nothing new.
He’s heard tales of people ‘disappearing’ in the west, where no one truly obeyed the law fully and no one was truly persecuted if they changed as much as their haircut or grew a beard or changed their name.
James lived a good life, he really did. A loving family in the northern east of the country that would’ve found a way to accept him even if they didn’t believe what he was doing was right or holy and friends who would not tell on him and get him thrown in jail or do hard labour were out there, to the east of the country. But they wouldn’t like it. They’ll think it’s a sin and therefore think James a sinner.
He’s whole with who he is, he’s known about himself liking men since he was young, it changed nothing. He’d still had a romantic interest in women, it just sometimes felt more natural to look at some woman’s brother rather than the woman herself when he’d meet her family.
Some of the brothers looked more feminine than the women, so James guessed it also justified his attraction for them sometimes, but not always. Some brothers looked manlier than him, some looked just as manly. He didn’t have a preference, not really. Whoever could breathe, looked good, and gave him attention was someone he wanted to bring home and gush about for a week until he’d get tired of them and feel bad about letting them go.
He’s never done anything with a man though, it never felt right enough and he had no idea who would do what. People tell you what to do with women, they don’t tell you what to do with men. Not to other men at least.
“Ticket.” The man in front of him demanded, cutting James out of his thoughts.
“Yes, here you go.” He said, handing him his ticket and hoping he didn’t look too out of place with the people around him.
He’d worn his lesser clothes, ones that his parents would tell him to wear when he was outside and trying to not be noticed. They still looked better than most of the people’s around him, but it was something he hoped could be mistaken as him just wearing his best clothes to the train because he’s doing something important when coming off and not because he’s rich.
He got handed the ticket back soon enough, now with a little tear on one end and got left alone. Next to him were a woman and her husband, both asleep and holding onto each other as subtly as one black horse next to ten white ones. It made James both a bit disgusted and a bit envious. He’d always wanted a lover, one that he could hold hands with and look at longingly in public. He never loved anyone enough for that, he has loved, everyone has, but none had made him want to reach for the stars and hand pick each and everyone and give it to that person.
He also felt disgusted because, even though it was romantic and sweet in a way, he was already on the road for longer than he ever had and wanted to sleep without this in front of him.
He tried not to think of this for longer than he should have, especially not to depress himself when he’s on his way to a new life that’s supposed to not depress him and finally let him be himself on his own terms.
It was a long way until he got to the last stop, long enough time that he could swear his mother had found his letter and cried and told his father. He was sure they’d understand, after all everything they ever wanted was for him to be happy, which he was at times, but not for most of it, way less than most of it. He could feel it, something in his heart changed a bit later than halfway through, something made it feel heavier, like it suddenly carried ten times the secrets it already had and made it sink deeper into his chest.
His mother had definitely found the letter, he knew it after thinking about that feeling for less than a minute. Nothing, yet everything, changed around him and inside him. He felt so strangely, yet so at home. His parents now knew him deeper, knew he wasn’t happy at home, knew he wasn’t planning on coming back.
The only thing he was sure they would never know was that he was queer, that he looked at more men than he ever looked at women and has done it since he was young. That would always be his secret from them, even if they wouldn’t care too much, James does. It’s the only bit of himself he’ll never share with the people he cares about most, and even if it someone he didn’t care about the chances of him actually muttering the words ‘I’m queer’ are slimmer than an unfed, malnourished animal.
The sleeping couple had gotten off a few stops before him, when he was on the verge of sleep himself. They’d said goodbye and thanked him for not letting anyone steal their stuff which made him look at them confused then and asked why anybody would steal their belongings. It was then their turn to look confused and ask what he meant, the conversation hadn’t gone further, as the man who had asked for his ticket earlier came to yell that to get out quickly or stay until the next stop which was an hour away.
James was glad to finally get off at the last stop, glad to stretch his limbs out from the small seat he was in for what felt like days and feel the sun on his skin. He didn’t think about where he’d stay or where he would get a job or how he would earn money or make friends, it didn’t matter as long as he found somewhere to stay tonight.
He didn’t have a lot on him, money and a suitcase of clothes were all he truly needed he guessed, so that’s what he brought.
“Excuse me, sir, do you know a cheap place I could stay at for tonight?” James asked one of very few men that looked like they wouldn’t beat him up. “My train’s delayed for until tomorrow.” He lied, because he felt like he had to.
“Old tavern west of here, just walk ‘til you see a big sign of a green horse with a rope over his stomach painted on it.” James could barely understand the man if he was to be honest, he had such a thick accent that James could only pray and hope he’d get used to it fast.
“Thank you.” He replied with a quick nod.
He started walking, he hadn’t asked how far away it was which probably wasn’t good but he knows not to ask the same person twice for the same thing. It probably wasn’t a long walk he guessed, the man saw he didn’t have a horse or anything close to it so he most likely wasn’t cruel enough to make him walk for until night in such hot weather.
When he got to the tavern it wasn’t too close to dark, the only difference he could really sense was the temperature dropping colder and the clouds starting to disappear. He’s asked a few people on his way to give him direction, some were helpful, some were less, but he was just happy to get to his destination already.
“Do ya need a room?” A bartender asked, and James was more than glad someone here didn’t have such a thick accent and that he didn’t have to ask and maybe be turned down for a room.
“Yes, please.” James replied, him and the bartender talked for a little while more, it all ended with James giving him the money and somehow getting a drink and then another and another and another until he was on the verge of being drunk while the sun was still out. And even though he was half sure no one really cared as long as he kept quiet enough and didn’t start fights, he was still a rich boy who grew up in a society where stepping just a little bit of line was seen as bringing shame to the whole family.
So he does still have the habit of trying his best to look as reputable as possible in public. Even when no one cares or notices him.
He tried his best to blend into the background at some point, sitting at the end of the bar next to a wall and not talking to anyone who haven’t talked to him first, which wasn’t a lot thankfully because he’s not sure he could contain himself from being too loud and bringing himself more attention than he already has.
James won’t lie to himself and say that he looks like the people around him here, his skin is darker, even if it’s just by a bit, his hair, moustache, and beard are neater, his clothes are cleaner. Oh, and most importantly, his accent is way more different.
It wouldn’t have been such a big problem back home, everyone he’s met and is acquainted with doesn’t mind how he’s a bit darker than most of his friends, how his hair is almost black while theirs is closer to white, or how his eyes are the same colour as wet soil while theirs is usually blue or this light brown colour that he’s never seen anywhere else.
They were all used to it. Others, like people on the street, wouldn't look at him the same, because sure he was white and rich, but he wasn’t white enough for strangers. There was always a difference between him and people, he knows that. He’s not that dense. But what he doesn’t know is if people here care more or care less than people in the northern east.
He’s been here for less than 12 hours, he doesn’t know anything about this place. Hell, he’s not even 100% sure he’s in Arizona at the moment so he can’t fully trust anyone who gives him a dirty look if it looks more like they’re wondering if he truly belongs here rather than it’s just how he thinks they look.
He knows that maybe he’s been a little too paranoid, if anyone truly did want to do something to him they probably could and would do it already. He’s not that strong, he’s never done anything close to manual labour in his life that doesn’t involve riding on horses once a week a few years back because the girl he was set up with liked horses and his parents wanted him to make good impressions.
If he was honest, she was amazing. She was beautiful, kind, and smart. Something in him did want her romantically, but that something wasn’t close to make him want to stay riding horses once a week for the rest of his life or read together most of the day. They’re friends, well used to be friends now he supposed because he has no intention of contacting anyone back home for probably until he knows he’s going to die and wants to reconnect.
But the point is, she was nice and he thinks she’d be better off marrying someone who would hand pick every star from the sky for her or hand pick the flowers she likes instead of someone who tolerates horses and books and sneezes like a madman every time he’s next to said flowers.
“Sorry,” James called over to the bartender. He came here to be happier, if he keeps thinking about the past and everything he used to like from it he’ll never be happy. “Could I get another beer?”
The bartender looked at him with a raised eyebrow for a few seconds before shrugging and pouring him another glass. “You okay? Seems like one too many beers for you.” He chuckled.
“Yeah, yes, just uh… you know, long ride here and I need to let go.” James answered, flailing his hand a little and shrugging off the question best he could without making it seem like he’s a nutter or a drunk.
The bartender stayed quiet for a few seconds before scanning around the tavern as if trying to find out if someone’s listening. “Why’d you come here?” He asked, and James felt his throat tighten up for a few seconds. “Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with people from the east or north, usually good business, but you,” He pointed at James’ chest, “Look like you wanna stay.”
“I… I, uh, have family here. Yeah, moved here one or two years ago. Came to say hi.” He answered, and it felt like he was five years old again and his father caught him doing something he shouldn’t have and he had to lie.
James felt like the bartender knew something he said was a lie, and it was, everything about it was. But he didn’t need to know that, nor does anyone who may be listening to him at the moment. No one needs to know he moved here to hopefully have a new life and a person he actually loves.
No one really should know that if he’s honest. Not until he knows they won’t rat him out at least.
“Oh, really? Wonderful. So you’re gonna stay here awhile?” The bartender asked, leaning against the bar with a raised eyebrow.
“Probably. Haven’t seen them in long, so y’know.” He said with a shrug, drinking his beer. If he was going to continue this lie, at least his drunk self would deal with the consequences of the present. The future’s too far ahead for him to care about.
The bartender didn’t answer, just nodded and went back to doing whatever you’d do in a packed but unmoving tavern. James was a little glad if he was honest, he wasn’t that good a liar. Sure, he could lie and be believable from time to time, but small white lies were the death of him, especially when drunk.
Time had gone by now, James went up to his room and the moon was beginning to take over the sky, stars only beginning to come around and surround the up-coming moon.
He couldn’t sleep and figured it was either excitement or the unfamiliar humidity in the air that felt almost suffocating in the small room that turned hot so quickly.
He started thinking about his parents again, how it would be nice to let them know he’s okay, that he misses them, even though he’s seen them not that long ago, that he just couldn’t take his secret being a secret anymore.
He thinks of the letter, of what it had said. He doesn’t remember everything from it, only a few bits for sure about how he truly did love his parents and his life but he just knew deep down that that life wasn’t meant for him, that he’d be happier somewhere where he’s more free and people hopefully wouldn’t care about how he’s different to others in so many ways.
He thinks of how his mother may have reacted reading it. She's an emotional woman and James knows how much she loves him so he knows she most likely cried and had to sit down reading it.
He thinks of how his father may have reacted too. He’s more emotional than his mother, he’s also more dramatic when it comes to James so he probably had to hold onto James’ mother when he heard the news.
He thinks and thinks and thinks until suddenly he gets the bright idea to write a letter to his parents again. He won’t send it, obviously, but getting it out will be nice won’t it? Maybe it’ll become a tradition that every time he’s sad he’ll write a letter to his mother and father, who knows.
He stands up from the bed and goes to the small desk on the other side of the room, it takes him only about two steps and makes him feel like a rat in a jar.
He found a loose piece of paper in his suitcase and a pencil in his jacket’s pocket, somehow smart or dumb enough to leave it there the night before he left because he can not for the life of him remember putting it there.
Mother and Father,
I know you probably miss me, I miss you too, but I had to go. I wasn’t happy, as I’ve said in my previous letter, I felt trapped and hopeless back home.
I don’t blame you, you helped me throughout every difficulty I had and made me who I am today, which is something I will always be grateful for, but I could not continue living in secret. I couldn’t continue living in a place where no one knows who I truly am and no one can know who I truly am.
I’ve only been away for less than two days now, yet I miss you both terribly. I will come back one day, I’m sure of it, but not any time soon.
I’ve promised myself to be the better version of myself before meeting you again, so you will know a version of me who is happy and is not just pretending.
Even though I will not send this to you, I hope you will know I am okay and have a place to sleep. I hope you feel it in your heart, like I have felt when (I assume) you read my first letter.
I know mom probably will, I don’t know about you, dad, even though you’re the one who I have spent most time with mom has always known how I felt even while we are miles away.
I hope you know that I love you both, and the reason I left has none to do with you but more so with myself. I also hope you won’t come looking for me, and this time it’s because I’m not yet sure I won’t run away further and commit the sin of shooting and killing myself right in the heart.
With all my love,
James