reflecting
Sirius
Sirius has always wondered what happened to Remus Lupin after graduation. The boy he had met and shortly after, fallen in love with. They had broken up senior year, and Sirius hasn't heard from him since. Why they had broken up is a mystery to Sirius. Remus sort of just - left. Just like that.
It's been four years since then and he'd grown to miss him. He went on rebound dates after, as one does. He'd met some nice guys, but none of them were all that interesting.
Or rather, none of them were him.
Besides, as his acting career got bigger, he couldn't date any guys anyways, it'd be too much.
Then of course, there was Peter. Sirius' best friend since the first grade. Now, he isn't so sure where he is.
Sirius can only assume the two keep in touch, without him. He misses them - of course he does. But now he has James.
"Sirius, could I use your towel? I can't find mine!"
Good old James.
They had moved in together after Sirius had met him through his manager a year ago and clicked instantly. It had meant leaving Regulus, but Sirius is sure he's out of that house by now, and any moment he would reply to his messages.
Any moment.
Their mom had put them through acting - insuring that they kept up with the family traditions. Out of pure spite, Sirius pretended to hate it.
Key word: pretended.
He couldn't help but fall in love with the art, the way you could get lost in a character. So, he kept it up, and is now waiting on the Oscar nominees that should be announced later this week.
Yes, the Oscars.
Sirius is quite proud of himself if he's being honest.
"Sirius? Please don't be dead!" James calls again.
Sirius laughs. "Go ahead use it, just don't put it on your cock!"
James hesitates before calling back. "Oops!"
"James, man, please be joking or I might fling myself off the roof," he groans.
Sirius hears James' laugh as he appears through the dimly lit hallway of their apartment. He's wearing sweatpants and a muscle shirt and drying his hair with said towel. "Don't worry, just for my luscious locks."
"Better be," Sirius grumbles, reaching for the TV remote and turning it onto the first channel.
It just so happens to be the premiere of the new movie that his brother is staring in.
Sirius smiles to himself at the sight of Regulus.
No matter how popular he gets, he'll always see him as the little boy who used to give names to the chess pieces and cry when Sirius took one.
"That Reggie?" James asks, jumping over the back of the couch and sitting next to him.
Sirius nods, smiling. "Yeah."
"He looks like shit." James grimaces.
Sirius furrows his eyebrows and turns to James. "Excuse me?"
James puts his hands up in a surrender-motion. "Are we not mad at him?" He squeals in what would be an impressive tone, if Sirius wasn't too busy being mad to notice.
"No! That was last week! Keep up, Jesus." Sirius rolls his eyes.
"Sorry! My mistake," James says, turning back to the TV.
Sirius rolls his eyes, turning back as well.
It has been like this for a while, Sirius being mad at Regulus for not keeping in touch, then caving the moment he sees him on a screen.
He is his little brother after all.
"And he doesn't look like shit," Sirius says, watching Regulus' mannerisms. "He looks better - healthier."
"Yeah, of course, sorry." James grimaces at his mistake.
"Yeah, don't sweat it."
Sirius sighs, unmuting the TV, just as the reporter's voice cuts in.
"-And accompanying the star, we have his new publicist, Remus Lupin."
Sirius thinks his brain malfunctioned when he heard those words. That can't be right, can it? His ex-boyfriend working with his brother?
Regulus must - know? Right? Sirius vaguely remembers them meeting during their school years, but they rarely interacted.
And what about Remus? Surely he remembers? He couldn't just forget about Sirius - could he?
Sirius heart skips a beat as Remus appears on screen and it's like freshman year all over again.
Those same brown eyes, the same sandy hair. The way Remus smiles brings back memories. Sirius thinks he could recognize that laugh anywhere.
The ache in his chest begins to grow stronger as Remus makes his way to Regulus, who grows noticeably more comfortable when he arrives. As Sirius watches Remus interact with his brother, he can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy mixed with longing. The pair look like polar opposites standing together, Regulus in a plain black suit with Remus wearing a sweater and jeans (not to mention he's at least 5 inches taller).
It’s maddening how time hasn’t changed his feelings. After all this time, after everything. It's still Remus Lupin for him and it's always going to be.
"Holy shit," he whispers under his breath, leaning closer.
"What? What is it?" James asks from where he's leaning back on the couch.
"Remus is my-" he stops himself. "friend. From high school." He has to stop himself from cringing at his own words, at the way he minimized it to something as simple as friendship.
Sirius can feel James' eyes on him, but can't tear his eyes away from the man on the screen.
"Well that's great then!" James cheers, clapping his hands together.
That's one word for it. Another could be excruciatingly painful.
"Maybe you could reconnect!"
Sirius nods, only half-listening. "Mhm. Yeah, maybe."
Sirius Black is utterly fucked.
Remus
Remus Lupin is completely fine.
Four the last four years he's been working at a lousy desk job that under pays their workers, so best believe that when he had found a job working as an actor's publicist, he took it. Long story short, said actor just so happens to be his ex-boyfriend's younger brother.
And that's fine. He's fine.
It had been terrible to see Sirius on every billboard and movie poster in Los Angeles at first, like a painful reminder. But hey, all's well that end's well.
What really stings though, is that Sirius seems unaffected by their break up, going to award shows and the like, smiling like nothing even changed.
So sure, maybe when he found out it was Regulus he would be working for, he didn't turn it away. Sure, maybe he's only staying because he's bitter and wants Sirius to see just how fine he is and is doing it out of vain. Sue him.
"Mr. Lupin could you move out of the shot please?" A paparazzi's voice cuts off his thoughts.
"Oh ye-"
"Mr. Lupin please move!"
"Get out of the shot!"
"Publicist move!"
Remus raises his eyebrows, putting his arms in the air. "Alright then." He makes to move, but Regulus pulls him back.
Remus furrows his eyebrows at him in question, but Regulus ignores it, going up to the paparazzi.
"Do not - and I mean do not - ever again, tell Remus to move. If I want him out of the shot, I will politely ask him to move, unlike whatever the fuck that was." Remus can only watch as Regulus, in a surprisingly polite manner, tells off the paparazzi. "So, if you don't mind, we're going to take some photos."
The paparazzi are pretty silent after that.
Regulus moves back to his previous position, smiling and unfazed.
Remus makes an impressed face at Regulus.
"Shut up." Regulus grits behind his teeth.
"I didn't say anything!" Remus protests.
Regulus roll his eyes and Remus has to bite down a laugh. "We should head in!" He addresses the paparazzi, who immediately burst into protest.
"Mr. Black, please!"
"Just one more shot!"
In response, Regulus just walks off, head held high.
Remus shrugs, mouthing a quick sorry to the crowd.
Barty
Barty hadn't expected to fall in love today, but hey! First time for everything right?
He hadn't been in love before, not really. The only time he'd gotten close was with Regulus, but that didn't work out. The break-up was mutual, both of them agreeing that it just didn't work.
Now, as he watches a dark-skinned man with messy blond hair walk into the shop, he can only hope and pray that he's here for a tattoo and not a piercing (in which case, Dorcas would be doing them).
Barty had dropped out of school sophomore year when Regulus did so to pursue his acting career, making school even less bearable. It's been three years since when they were supposed to graduate; he's worked jobs in retail, but eventually settled on a tattoo and piercing parlour.
"Hello there!" Barty calls out from behind his desk in an unusual cheery tone for him. He grimaces at his own voice.
"Oh, hi," the man calls back, walking towards the desk.
"Anything I could help you with?" Barty smiles, putting on his customer service voice.
"Yes, actually. I'd like a tattoo if that's okay?"
Barty tries not to let his excitement show. "Sure! Have anything in mind?"
"Maybe a snake? Just on my collarbone if that works?" The man asks, searching in his pockets. "How much?"
"Oh, it's on the house." Barty shrugs.
"Really? Thanks man." He smiles, and oh, Barty is a goner.
"'Course." Barty smiles, attempting, and probably failing, to hide his blush. "Snake was it? I love them."
"Yeah, me too."
"Just sit on one of the chairs right over there and I'll be with you in just a moment."
The man looks around, eyebrows furrowed. "Don't you need like, ID or something?"
"Nah, I don't turn twenty-one until July so.." Barty says, looking down at his own tattoos. "Don't tell my boss though, he'll have a fit."
He huffs out a laugh. "Right.. I'll just-" he points to the chairs.
"Yeah, of course."
Sighing, Barty blinks. "Woah," he says to himself, washing his hands, hygiene and all that jazz.
He puts on his gloves and sterilizes the tattoo gun as he makes his way over to the man.
"I'm going to just clean off the surrounding area if you don't mind. Left or right collarbone?"
"Left. Wait no- right. Wait, left. Nope, right for sure." The man stutters.
"Right it is." Barty laughs. "Are you good if I just-" Barty starts to move his shirt down, hesitating slightly.
"Oh, yeah, go ahead." He nods, lips pursed.
He can feel the heat from his body as he pulls the fabric down. Barty's fingers brush against his collarbone, and he can't help but notice the way his muscles tense slightly at the contact. Barty looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. "This is okay?"
"Yeah, sorry, just a bit nervous. First tattoo and all that." The man smiles tightly.
Barty nods, cleaning off the area. "No need to worry, I'm great with my hands." He winks, then has to stop himself from grimacing.
The man doesn't respond, just looks away, which is arguably worse.
Barty sighs, getting up from the stool he was sitting on. "Do you have a reference photo or should I just - go with the flow."
"I don't have a photo but I'd rather you not do-" he points towards Barty's general vicinity. "-that."
"Go with the flow?"
"Yes, don't do that."
"Gotcha, I'll draw something, let me know how it is."
Grabbing an old recite from his pocket, he holds it against the wall, drawing on the back. It takes a while to find the right proportions, but he ends up with a design that gives the snake the illusion that it's wrapping around the collarbone.
"Okay," Barty says, turning around dramatically to show him. "do you love it or do you love it?"
"Shit." The man smiles again and Barty's heart skips a beat. "That's perfect."
That's perfect.
He might as well say that he's in love.
"Right so I'm good to start then?"
"Great."
He positions the tattoo gun, the buzzing sound filling the air. "You'll just feel a little pinch," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. He connects the gun with his skin, and the man huffs out a laugh. "Just try to relax."
"No I'm fine, it just hurts less than I thought."
"Well, you have a good pain tolerance then because most people hate it." Barty furrows his eyebrows, trying to stay focused.
"Really? I kinda like it."
"Hey Barty?" Dorcas' voice cuts through after a few minutes.
"Bit busy Cas!" He calls back as he finishes the outline of the snake, turning back to the man. "Wanna take a look? Just have the scales left now."
"Yeah, sure," he replies. Barty hands him a mirror.
"Aren't you supposed to be there?" Dorcas yells again.
"Be where?" Barty replies, not taking his eyes off the man as he runs his hand over the fresh tattoo.
"Check the TV!" Dorcas calls.
"Checking!" Barty says, hesitating slightly before he turns to the TV that they keep playing.
Immediately, his heart drops.
"Oh shit." Barty sighs, looking at Regulus and his new publicist walking off the red carpet.
"You're supposed to be there?" He asks, looking Barty up and down. "You?" He motions to the TV. "There? No offence man, but you may wanna change."
Barty looks down at his Iron Maiden t-shirt and sweatpants. "Oh shit!" he throws his gloves on the counter and turns the gun off, making his way to the front door. "Listen, man I gotta go, come back in tomorrow," he calls to the man.
"I'm wor-" But Barty is already out the door.
Rushing to his car, Barty's head tries to make up excuses to Regulus, who is probably dying right now. So far, all he has is that his dog died, and even if he had a dog, that wouldn't work.
Putting his car in reverse, he makes to pull out of the parking spot, only to go too far and hit another parked car.
"Oh you've gotta be shitting me!" Barty calls out, moving his car forward and searching for a paper and pen so he could leave a note.
Eventually, he finds the second old receipt of the day, this time one for Taco Bell, and scribbles a quick Sorry! Contact me at [email protected]
Getting out of his car, he takes a look at the damage and he thinks he might just die. The bumper has a huge dent right in the centre, and both headlights are shattered. It may not seem like much but that's at least $250 worth of damage
"Well, fuck me." Barty says, sighing as he quickly puts the note on the hood and gets back in his car.
Believe it or not, he actually manages to get out the second time around.
As he drives towards the venue the only thought in his head is, Regulus is going to kill me.
Regulus
Regulus is going to kill Barty.
Not only is he late, now he's causing a fit.
"I'm with Regulus, come on!" Regulus hears Barty's protest from outside of the venue.
"Sir, if you could just-"
"If you tell me to calm down I'm going to rip your fucking arm off, shove it where the sun don't shine, and then reach down your throat and shake your hand."
Regulus could cry as people are starting to stare.
"Right, that's it," Regulus says to Remus, standing up and making his way to the door. He can feel eyes on him and he can't help but worry. Is he walking strangely? What should he do with his hands? It's really hot, is he sweating?
"Wha- Regulus!" Remus protests as he follows him. "You know, as your publicist I'm supposed to make sure you don't do stuff like this."
Regulus ignores him, opening the door to come face-to-face with a very angry looking Barty, and two other security guards who remain unfazed.
"Barty, what the fuck." Regulus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You know him?" Asks Gideon, one of the guards.
"Yes, this is my plus one, he's late." He shoots a glare towards Barty.
"Bye Fab! Gid! Lovely to meet you!" Barty calls out as he's being dragged away. "Ow ow ow! I get it leave my ear alone!"
Closing the door, Regulus looks Barty up and down. "First, you're late, which wouldn't be that bad. Then, you cause a fit. And now, I'm blessed with the image of you in a band t-shirt and sweatpants at my very important movie premier."
"He's right, man you should probably change." Remus adds, looking him up and down.
"I don't even know you!" Barty protests. "And you're wearing a sweater that would look fine if you aged 50 years or so."
"No, you can't do that." Remus shakes his head.
Barty hesitates. "...Can't do what?"
"Be mean to me," Remus says blandly. "Regulus won't stand for it."
Kill me now.
"Jesus." Regulus exasperates. "Just-come on Barty we saved you a seat."
The rest of the premier went relatively smoothly, save for Barty cheering every time he came on screen while Regulus cowers in Remus' shoulder. As much as Regulus thought he'd never say this, he can't wait to go home. But first, of course, he has to drop off Barty.
"Holy shit, Reg there's like 200 paparazzi here!" Bit of a stretch, but nonetheless, Barty waves at them as he walks towards Regulus' car. Remus had tried to get him a limo, but Regulus had refused, preferring to drive on his own.
"Don't wave at them, dipshit!" Regulus swats his hand down, to which he only laughs more. "Get in."
"Getting in!" Barty replies, sitting in the passenger's seat.
As soon as the door shuts, Regulus gets in his own seat and bolts out of there, he can't stand the amount of people there - watching, prying.
When he's in the clear, he sighs. "I fucking hate you."
"Love you too." Barty shrugs, fastening his seatbelt. "And guess what? Today, I'm 100% confident I met the love of my life. He came into the store and not only was he hot as fuck. He was funny! I mean that's so hard to find! I did his tattoo, but didn't finish because well, I had to be here. So hopefully he'll come in tomorrow, like we told him to. The tattoo was a snake Regulus - a snake! Like we're practically soulmates."
Regulus hums. "And his name is..?"
"Okay, slow down, I can't just ask him what his name is." Barty scoffs, which is absolutely ridiculous, because, well, he can.
"Right." Regulus nods.
Despite Barty's ongoing rambling, Regulus' mind is somewhere else. The Oscar nominees are to come out this week, and Regulus is about to crawl out of his own skin. Let's say by some miracle, he gets it, then what? His mom is proud of him, he goes, maybe wins? He would hate it anyways, win or lose. And if he doesn't... Well, Regulus doesn't even want to go there. There's also a matter of Sirius, but Regulus doesn't want to think about him unless he absolutely has to. He's still mad, and he knows it's selfish, but he is. He hasn't texted, called, wrote, anything. He just left, without a note. Of course, he hadn't gone completely awol, he's still one of the biggest names in the film industry, and the infamous Black brothers are still the front page on everything - people speculating what had prompted their falling out (as if it isn't obvious).
He's still living at the Black family mansion - infamously known for its size and how many people it houses. It consists of himself, his parents, his aunt and uncle, and his cousins. Out of all of them, he's grown to like his cousin, Narcissa, the most. She's only six years older, so not so bad, and is set to marry her asshole of a fiancé, Lucius, in the spring. Why she would ever go for him is beyond Regulus' abilities. There's also Bellatrix, who isn't half bad. She used to scare him when they were kids, but she's grown on Regulus, honestly.
Technically speaking, Regulus could always move out, he's way past being a legal adult, as he turns twenty-one in June, but where would he go? This is his home, it's all he's ever known. Not to mention the press would have a fit.
So now, as he pulls into Barty's driveway, he feels himself already missing him. Barty grounds Regulus, keeps him in check. It's stupid, but he makes him feel like maybe life doesn't suck and people don't analyze his every move.
"You sure you don't want to stay at ours?" Barty asks, unbuckling his seatbelt. "I'm sure Dorcas won't mind." He and Dorcas had moved in together after they had met and gotten close at their work. Regulus had only met her about twice, but she seemed nice enough.
"I'm alright, thanks. Duty calls." He waves towards his ringing phone, not even glancing at who's calling, he doesn't need to.
Barty smiles. "I'll see you later, yeah?"
"Yeah."
Barty gets out and shuts the door, and Regulus picks up the phone and puts it on speaker before pulling out of the driveway.
"Regulus." His mom's voice cuts through the air, as grim as ever.
"Mom." He's sure she could hear the strain in his voice. He hates this, hates how she calls after every event or premier. It's not because she cares about him, it's because she cares about how he looks because god forbid she has two sons out of line.
"I found an exceptional job opportunity for you and you've already been casted. Filming begins in Manhattan on the first, of course you'll have to fly back here for the Oscars, but no worries, I'll have Lucius book you a private one. We'll talk more at home." She stared doing that more often - booking films and shows for him without asking, speaking of awards as if he's already been nominated. Regulus is tired. He doesn't want to film every week and he sure as hell doesn't want to go to events where every reporter ever will be there.
"Yeah, sounds great." Regulus grits out.
So not great.
"Oh and by the way," she says again. "you are not to see that Crouch kid again, understood?"
Regulus slams the breaks so hard, he's sure she heard it.
"Understood?" She repeats.
Regulus swallows. "Um, yeah, yeah, understood."
"Don't stutter," She says coldly before hanging up.
Well. There goes his best friend.
James
James is fucking confused.
Sirius refuses to tell him anything about his home life, specifically his brother, despite the fact that they're best friends and James is his publicist. James understands why he might not want to talk of course, but it's starting to piss him off. Honestly, James could probably fix it, he's great at that stuff.
So, as one does, James decides to be especially annoying about it.
"Siriussss!" He sings, skipping towards Sirius' bedroom, hearing the faint voice of Freddie Mercury in the distance.
"James!" Sirius calls back and the volume turns down.
Knocking on the door, he sticks his head in to see Sirius laying in bed with his hair in a messy bun while he paints his nails. He seems to have at least ten magazines surrounding him, how he manages to read them at the same time is a question beyond James' abilities.
"I have decided to keep you company!" James cheers, skipping down towards the bed and sitting down.
"Ow! Watch the nails!"
"They look better chipped anyways." James shrugs.
Sirius seems to consider this. "True."
"Anyways I was thinking-"
"Well that can't be good, can it?"
James furrows his eyebrows at him. "Ouch okay." He shakes himself. "As I was saying, the oscars are next month, and the nominations should be any day now!"
"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." Sirius rolls his eyes, seemingly annoyed.
"What's up with you?"
"Nothing, sorry, just tired." An obvious lie, but James won't push it.
"Alright then. I was thinking, what if Regulus get's nominated at the same category as you?"
"Then-" he puts on a terrible British accent, "-may the odds be ever in your favour."
"You do a terrible Effie Trinket." James grimaces.
"Fuck off." Sirius shoves James, not too hard of course. Coward.
James sighs. "No, but seriously though."
Sirius shrugs. "Well, shit I don't know I guess I'd talk to him?"
"Right but what if he doesn't-" he searches for the words. "-want to talk?"
"Well then we won't fucking talk." Sirius' jaw clenches.
"Right but what If-"
"Jesus, James! Do you know what boundaries are? If so you need to work on them because they're pretty shit. If I wanted to talk to you about my fucking brother I would. I get enough questions from the general public, I'd prefer it if my roommate refrains from doing so?"
James rears back, hurt. James doesn't have a problem with boundaries, does he? I mean sure, maybe he pushes a little, but that's because he cares, and there's no such thing as caring too much. His mom told him so.
"Right, sorry I'll just-" he stands up. "Go then."
"Yeah, please." Sirius sighs.
Shutting the door behind him, James leans up against it, sighing heavily. He knows Sirius hadn't meant it, that he was acting on impulse, but still, it hurt.
Evan
Evan is going to kill whoever the fuck was stupid enough to crash into his car.
Today is so not his day. Not only did the tattooer or whatever the fuck it's called, leave mid-way because he was too fucking stupid and forgot about an event, now he has at least $250 worth of damage done on his car (including his very expensive licence plate, that had previously says R0SI3R).
Assuming it came from the car in front of him, the distance is far. It would've been easier not to crash.
"Dumb fucking bitch," Evan grumbles under his breath, snatching the note that was left for him (on a Taco Bell receipt might he add, very classy).
Sorry! it reads, Contact me at [email protected]
"Yeah, I will contact you," Evan scoffs, taking a photo of the email. "And you're paying for it too."
Seeing as there's no safety-damaging features, Evan starts his car and drives towards the repair shop, thinking about all the ways he could kill the fucker.
When he arrives, he pulls into one of the empty garages and gets out, setting his car in park.
He's never been to one of these before, seeing has he didn't need to, so he's not quite sure how it works. Going up to the nearest employee, a girl with blonde hair styled in a shaggy haircut, he asks what he should do.
"Huh?" The girl asks, pulling a confused face. "Sorry, one second!" She takes off her headphones (Evan assumes they're for the noise) and then smiles. "Sorry what were you saying?"
"Um, I just need my car fixed I was wondering if you could do an estimate on how much it would cost?"
The girl nods. "Right. This one yours?" She nods towards his car.
"Er, yeah."
She snorts. "Well, I could tell it's already pretty bad off." She looks down at her clipboard. "We're pretty packed at the moment so the full inspection won't be done until the fourteenth. Are you able to come back and pick it up then?" She raises an eyebrow, looking up.
"Yeah, sure that works."
"Great, right now I'm estimating maybe $250? $300? But that's just the outside, who knows what sort of internal damage you've got going on?" She grimaces. "Sorry, not you, your car."
"Yeah, I got that." Evan laughs.
"Okay, great! Noon work for you?"
"Fourteenth, twelve o'clock, got it." Evan nods.
"Great! I'll just take your keys then!"
"Right, you need those." Evan searches around in his pockets until he finds them. "Could I just grab some stuff from it first?"
"Go ahead, but we don't look inside anyways, I just meant like the gears and all that jazz." She shrugs
"Oh, okay, it should be fine then. Thank you!" He hands her the keys, heading back out the way he came and calling Pandora to pick him up.
On the way home, Evan complains about his shitty day, of course the only part Pandora focused on was the tattoo.
"Let me see, let me see!" She beckons, reaching over to pull his shirt down, struggling to do both that and drive.
"After! Jesus Pandora eye's on the road!" Evan laughs, shoving her hand off.
Pandora frowns, but does so. "You going to email them then?"
"Actually, I will now."
He reaches for his phone, entering his password, and then opening the email app.
Entering their email, Evan begins constructing it.
I'm the one you crashed into asshole. You're paying for it and coming over tomorrow, I don't care if you're busy you broke my fucking car.
Address is 27 Willow Way, apartment 4.
Evan hits send, turning to Pandora. "Done!"
"Let me see!" She screams, grabbing the phone. "Hold the wheel Evan!"
"Wait what?" Evan grabs the wheel, panicking. "I can't drive Dora!"
"Oh don't whine," she groans, taking the wheel back and very mindlessly throwing the phone back.
"You don't whine," Evan grumbles under his breath, searching for his phone.