When The Cold Came
Remus feels the cold air hit his face as he steps outside the building. He didn’t even stop to take his coat with him. Well, Regulus can do that, he’s not going back inside. He stares at the cobblestones, the weight of Sirius’s words still crushing him. He doesn’t know why he thought it would be any different. It never has been. Sirius never fails to tell him how unwanted he is, how his presence is a burden. The words, “You shouldn’t have come”, hit him like a slap across the face, each syllable digging deeper than the last. It’s a rejection, but it’s not the first one. And that makes it worse.
His chest tightens, breath shallow, but he can’t seem to escape the sinking feeling in his stomach. The icy air feels thick, suffocating, like it’s closing in on him, and all he wants is to disappear. To be anywhere but here, anywhere but this street, surrounded by people who either don’t see him or don’t care to.
He takes out a cigarette from the pack he keeps in the pocket of his trousers. His hands tremble slightly, but he steadies them just enough to strike the lighter. The small flame flickers in the wind, and he cups it with his hand, finally igniting the tip. He takes a long drag, the smoke curling in the air as he exhales slowly. The tension in his chest loosens, if only slightly, as the familiar burn fills his lungs. His gaze is fixed somewhere distant, letting the sounds of the city settle around him as he smokes.
“Remus?”
Lily’s voice breaks through the fog in his mind. Her presence beside him is immediate, her hand warm on his shoulder. She doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong. She already knows. Well, everyone heard Sirius’s words, so it’s not like it’s a secret. But Lily is probably the only one, apart from Regulus, who understands how deeply hurt he is right now. Lily’s always known how to read him.
He looks up, the edges of his vision blurring, but his voice comes out steady, even if his insides feel like they’re unraveling. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve just stayed away.” He looks at the building behind Lily as he takes a long drag from his cig.
Lily’s hand tightens around his, a soft, unspoken promise that she’s not letting him go. She doesn’t press him to speak, doesn’t ask for more than what he’s willing to give. But when she speaks, her words are gentle, yet firm. “Don’t listen to him. Sirius… he’s angry. He’s got a way of pushing people away, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t wanted here.”
But Remus shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping before he can stop it. “He doesn’t want me anywhere near him, Lily. Not anymore.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the frustration that’s threatening to spill over. “I thought I could handle it, but I can’t. Every time I think I’m getting through it, he… he breaks my heart again.” He sits there, on the floor of that cold street and finishes the cig, putting it off.
Lily sighs softly, sitting beside him, her fingers tracing light patterns against his palm, as if that simple touch can ground him. “You belong, Remus. And you’re loved by so many people. I love you so much. No matter what anyone says.”
He can feel the warmth of her hand, but it doesn’t reach the coldness in his chest. You belong. It’s what she says, but it’s not what he feels. He feels like an outsider in his own skin. An uninvited guest in every room he enters.
“I don’t know if I can still believe that I belong here anymore,” he admits quietly, voice cracking just slightly. He turns to face her, meeting her green eyes for the first time since the start of the conversation. "I know you’re trying to help, Lily, but it’s hard. It’s hard to just… pretend like it’s fine when everything feels like it’s falling apart."
Lily doesn’t look away, her gaze steady, and that steadiness is a lifeline he’s clinging to. “Then stop the pretending. You’re hurting. And that’s okay.”
Remus exhales sharply, feeling the weight of her words sink in. She’s right. He’s been pretending for so long that he’s lost sight of how he’s really feeling inside. His life has become a string of pretend-to-be-okay’s, each one stretching thinner and thinner until it’s become unbearable.
Lily’s fingers pause for a moment, then continue their gentle movements, bringing him back to the present. “You just need to take one step at a time. And you don’t have to do it alone, Remus.”
The sincerity in her words pulls at his heart. She’s always been his anchor, his steady hand when everything feels out of control. But the thing is, Remus feels like he’s drifting, even when she’s there, even when she’s trying to pull him back. It’s like his whole world is slipping through his fingers, and no matter how tightly he holds on, it’s not enough. He turns his head, glancing at the building.
“I’m so tired Lils. I really tried to endure his taunts tonight, praying for him to understand. But he doesn’t see me. Not anymore. Not the way he used to. And I… I can’t keep being the one that’s always left behind. Always the afterthought.” he mutters, barely above a whisper.
Lily opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, Remus’s phone vibrates in his pocket, cutting through the moment like a sharp knife. The sudden buzz jolts him from his thoughts, and for a split second, he wonders if he should ignore it, but the name on the screen makes his pulse quicken.
Grant.
They have talked a few times over the phone, but Remus had his doubts about meeting in person. Right now, he doesn’t even have to think. Before Lily can stop him, he’s pulling the phone from his pocket, his thumb hovering over the message. His heart races.
“Remus... I don’t think…” But he’s already typing. Fuck it. He presses send before he can second-guess himself. The weight of the decision feels like a relief, but also a mistake. And deep down, he knows it.
“I need to get out of here,” he mutters, barely looking at Lily. He doesn’t wait for her response. He knows she won’t stop him. She’s never been the one to keep him from making the wrong choices, though she’s always been there to pick up the pieces afterward. She watches him stand up, concern flickering in her eyes. She knows him too well. He needs to go. Without a last goodbye, Remus helps her stand up too, wiping a tear from her eyes once they’re face to face. He turns around, leaving them all behind.
The walk to Grant’s house goes by in a blur. He barely registers how much time passes, or the cold biting at his skin, or the faint hum of traffic in the distance. The world around him feels muffled, like he’s moving through water, every sound distorted, every step heavier than the last. His hands are buried deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against a wind he doesn’t feel.
He knocks on the door, his knuckles barely making a sound against the wood. Remus steps into Grant’s flat, and before he even has time to register where the man is, he’s already moving towards him. His body acts before his mind can catch up, and in one quick motion, he’s pulling Grant into a kiss.
It’s raw. It’s desperate. He doesn’t think about the consequences, doesn’t think about what this is or isn’t. He just needs to forget. He needs to escape the weight of everything, Sirius’s cold words, the rejection, the ache that’s been settling deeper inside him ever since that dinner was over.
Grant pulls back for a second, eyes searching Remus’s face with a mix of confusion and worry. “Remus… are you okay?” The question stabs at him, but Remus doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to process anything, doesn’t want to feel all the cracks in his chest.
“I’m fine,” Remus says, voice rough, as he pushes Grant back against the couch. The words come out easily, even though they’re a lie. Grant doesn’t push him, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Still, he lets Remus take control, let’s him move him, let’s him block out all the noise in his head. And that’s all Remus needs right now: someone who won’t ask more questions, someone who won’t make him face the mess inside him.
He kisses Grant again, harder this time, like he's trying to erase the sharp sting of rejection still fresh on his lips. He lets himself get lost in the sensation, the warmth, the taste of Grant’s skin, the way Grant’s hands move over him. Grant’s not gentle either. But Remus isn’t asking for gentleness. He’s asking for a distraction. And Grant, thankfully, is all too eager to oblige.
Sometime later they’re in Grant’s bed, the unfamiliar softness of the sheets pressing against his skin. His mind is hazy, still grappling with the chaos of the night. The events feel distant, like a fever dream, but the dull ache in his chest is very much real. He rolls over slowly, eyes meeting Grant’s gaze. Grant’s still awake, his eyes softer than before, a quiet understanding in them. The bed feels like a strange haven, but the turmoil inside him is inescapable.
“I know you’re not okay,” Grant says, voice low, breaking the silence. There’s no judgment there, no probing, just a simple offer. “You can talk about it, if you want. I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is laced with a gentle concern through the words. Remus feels his throat tighten. It's the second time he asks the question, and he feels like he can’t deflect an answer again. He’s not okay.
“I…” Remus starts, but then falters. His voice feels thick, like it doesn’t belong to him. He knows the moment his emotions crack, they’ll spill over, and he’s terrified of what might happen when they do.
Grant shifts, sitting up next to him, the bed creaking under his weight. “You don’t have to tell me anything. But I can see it in your eyes, Remus. You’ve been holding a lot in for too long.”
Remus feels his breath catch. There’s something in the way Grant looks at him, like he’s not seeing the person Remus is trying to show him, but the person Remus is desperately hiding. His heart beats a little faster, and his hands tighten around the blankets.
"I don't know," Remus murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. "I just... I don't know what I expected." Grant shifts closer. He stays there, waiting. Remus feels the silence pressing in, but it’s not uncomfortable. There’s something in the way Grant’s presence doesn’t demand anything from him.
"Sirius, my… ex" Remus starts, his voice thick with the weight of it. He doesn’t even know how to explain what happened, but he knows he needs to say something. "I saw him for the first time today at the Christmas dinner, after a year. It went very badly. In the end he told me I shouldn’t have come."
Remus tells Grant the story, though not in big detail. Grant listens, his expression softening. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to fill the silence with words. He just lets Remus speak, lets the tension slip out of him bit by bit.
"I just don’t understand," Remus continues, his hands still gripping the blankets tightly, as if holding onto something tangible will stop him from falling apart. "We were friends once, and then we were nothing at all after the breakup. I thought maybe things could change, but it’s clear, if today is any indication, that he doesn’t even want that. I felt so out of place tonight. And I feel like I’ve lost the rest of them too, not just Sirius, but all my friends." His voice cracks at the end, and he doesn’t try to hide it. The tears threaten to come, but he doesn’t let them fall.
Grant, who had been quietly listening, speaks then, his voice calm and steady. "You don’t have to explain it all now, Remus. And you don’t have to carry this alone. Even if you don’t see, there’s people who are there for you." There’s something in those words, 'You don’t have to carry this alone’, words that Lily had said too, that makes Remus feel like maybe it’s true.
"I just don’t know how to fix it," Remus admits, his voice barely audible. "How do I fix something that’s been broken for so long? How do I make him see me... as something more than this... whatever I am to him?"
Grant doesn’t answer immediately, but his hand finds Remus’s shoulder, a small but comforting gesture. "You can’t fix it for him, Remus. You can’t make someone else see you the way you want them to. But you deserve to be seen. You deserve to be heard."
Remus closes his eyes for a moment, absorbing the truth in Grant’s words. It feels raw, but it’s also something he needs to hear. He doesn’t know what the future holds with Sirius, but at least, for now, he doesn’t feel quite so lost.
"Thanks," Remus whispers, the words heavy with meaning. It’s not much, but it’s enough.
--------------
Regulus leans against his chair, arms crossed, his eyes not entirely focused on the group but still taking in every shift in the room. He can't help but feel a small knot tightening in his chest. Remus has left the flat, and he is the reason why Regulus came here in the first place. Why hasn’t he left yet? Remus is gone, leaving this tension to simmer among the rest. He watches the dynamic between Sirius and his friends unfold since Pandora brought him back from the room he was sulking in.
After some time, he hears the soft click of the door as Lily enters the room. It’s obvious that Remus isn’t with her, though she doesn’t say a word about it. She looks frustrated, it isn’t too hard to spot that on her face. But then, something about her energy shifts in an instant, an anger, but a controlled one. Regulus can tell she’s here only for one thing, as she stares daggers at his brother. Sirius.
Regulus, for once, doesn’t relish the sight of his brother at the receiving end of Lily’s wrath. He’s worried, just slightly, about how Sirius will handle this. But only slightly. Lily stops at the entrance of the living room and stands still for a moment. Then her voice cuts through the space and the drama begins. “Sirius Black.”
The way she says it, low, almost a hiss, but with an edge to her voice that makes it clear she’s about to take no prisoners, sends a small shiver down Regulus's spine. The air thickens. Sirius doesn't respond right away. Not a sarcastic retort, not a defensive remark, just silence. His eyes don’t meet hers immediately.
Regulus raises an eyebrow from his spot, watching intently. He expected Sirius to put on his usual show, some defensive jab or a mocking comment to try and regain control of the situation. But there’s nothing. Just silence.
Lily doesn’t seem to care about the lack of response as her gaze sharpens, eyes narrowing. Regulus can see that she knows what Sirius is like, how to handle him when he’s in one of his moods, and Regulus surprises himself by finding a new respect for Lily Evans. Remus might have been right about him liking her after all.
“What’s wrong with you?” she says, her voice suddenly cutting through the air with authority. “You wanted Remus here. I know you did Sirius. Do you know how hard it was for me to convince him to come today? I had to guilt-trip him. And don’t think I haven’t seen you fret all week, because it was very obvious how nervous you were about seeing him. You wanted him here and yet you let your pride get in the way, you can’t see past your own tunnel vision. So what if he came with Regulus tonight? Is that more important than the apology you’ve owed him for a year? And not only that, but you hit him where you know it hurts by telling him he shouldn’t have come? This could have been simple, but instead, you made it harder than it ever had to be.” Lily breathes deeply when she’s finished and if Regulus was a different man his jaw would’ve fallen open at that wild dressing down. Note to self: never anger Lily Evans.
Despite the bite to her words, he can see that it isn’t without care. Regulus can tell she’s worried beneath the anger. Regulus watches carefully, his stomach twisting with an unfamiliar feeling. He thought he might enjoy seeing Sirius so uncomfortable, but now it feels... too real. He sees the way Sirius’s face contorts, the way he almost takes a step back, as if the weight of Lily’s words is sinking in deeper than he’s willing to admit. Sirius doesn't respond at first, his lips trembling but still silent. Regulus notices the way his brother's shoulders sag, as if some of the weight Lily’s words carry are more than he can handle. It’s an unusual sight, one that Regulus finds almost concerning to see.
“You could’ve fixed this. You could’ve made it right, Sirius,” Lily continues, her voice softer now, yet laced with the same frustration. “But instead, you keep pushing everyone away, your friends, the people who care about you. Do you really think that’s how you fix things?”
Sirius's lips twitch, as though he’s about to speak. But no words come. He just stands there. The silence between them stretches, thick and uncomfortable. Sirius, for once, seems caught in a moment of reflection. It’s the first time Regulus has ever seen his brother truly absorb the words of someone else. He looks lost, like he doesn’t know where to begin, or maybe like he doesn’t want to.
Regulus wants to say something, wants to throw a snide remark at his brother, to remind him just how much he’s messed up. But he doesn’t. Instead, he observes, his arms still crossed. The satisfaction he thought he’d feel by seeing his brother broken isn’t quite there. But he pushes the thought away. He’s not here to feel bad for Sirius. Why is he here?
The noise from the others feels distant, muffled as though he’s hearing it through water. Sirius hasn’t looked at him since Lily finished her tirade, and Remus, well, Remus is gone, and that alone is enough to remind him of how absurd it is for him to still be in this flat, with these people.
Regulus sits stiffly in his chair, his fingers laced tightly around the glass in his hand. The room feels smaller, the air heavier. He’s aware of every shift, every sound, every lingering glance. Especially one.
James Potter.
He doesn’t want to admit it, to even entertain the thought, but the reason he hasn’t left yet might have something to do with the man sitting on the sofa in front of him, his messy hair falling in every direction, round glasses catching the light.
Potter has been watching him. Regulus feels the weight of his gaze like a tangible thing, heavy on his shoulders, burning at the back of his neck. He keeps telling himself it's nothing. Maybe a look of judgment, surprise, or just an unspoken signal that it’s time for Regulus to leave. After all, what does he even have to do with Remus’s friends?
He feels those brown eyes on him again. Regulus sets his glass down with a sharp clink. That’s it. Time to go.
He stands and walks to the kitchen, the excuse of needing water more for his own pride than anything else. He doesn’t belong here. He turns the tap on, letting the water run cold before filling his glass. The noise fills the silence in his head, grounding him for a brief moment. Then, he hears footsteps.
Regulus doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. His grip tightens on the glass, the coolness of it almost soothing. Almost. “Running away?” Potter’s voice is casual, almost teasing, but there’s a layer of something else beneath it.
Regulus turns his head slightly, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. He’s leaning against the doorframe, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking too at ease for someone who’s just walked into this mess of a night. “I’m getting water,” Regulus says coolly, lifting the glass slightly as if to prove his point.
Potter steps further into the room, his presence somehow filling the small space. “Sure. And then what?” Regulus doesn’t answer. He takes a slow sip, the cold water doing little to ease the knot in his throat.
“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he says, leaning casually against the counter now. And how would he know that he isn’t just quiet in general? Which he is. Potter’s eyes are steady, curious, and Regulus hates them. He doesn’t understand why he followed him in the first place, they aren’t even friends.
“Didn’t realize I was expected to perform,” Regulus bites back, his voice sharp.
Potter smirks, tilting his head. “It would’ve been better than the shitshow we had going on minutes ago, that’s for sure...”
Regulus bristles, his grip on the glass tightening until he’s certain it might crack. “Is there something you want, Potter? Or are you just here to make conversation?” He needs to cut off this chat as soon as possible.
He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studies Regulus, his gaze steady but not unkind. “I’m here because I wanted to talk with you.” Regulus freezes. He doesn’t even blink. He just stares at Potter, who doesn’t waver, doesn’t take it back.
“Why?” Regulus finally manages, the word sounding croaked.
James shrugs, but there’s nothing casual about the way he’s looking at him. “Why not?” The silence stretches between them, heavy and electric. Regulus wants to break it, to say something sharp and cutting, but his voice won’t come. Instead, he turns back to the sink, placing his glass down carefully. His reflection in the dark window stares back at him, pale and hollow-eyed, and he hates it.
He can see Potter’s reflection too and he doesn’t move, even if his smirk fades away. With a more serious expression he speaks again. “Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been like this,” he says softly, his voice calm but deliberate.
Regulus furrows his brow, unsure whether to take it as a compliment or an insult. He turns around to face James. “Like what?” he bites, his tone cutting.
“Guarded. Like you’re constantly waiting for someone to tear you apart.” Potter shrugs, as if it’s an observation he’s thought about before but never had the chance to say out loud. “Even when you were a kid.”
Regulus feels the words like a weight pressing against his chest. “Maybe some of us have our reasons. And you don’t know me, never did,” he replies, his voice low but steady, though the crack threatening to surface makes him bite down on the inside of his cheek.
He steps closer, not enough to feel imposing, but enough to make Regulus aware of how little space there is between them now. “You don’t have to be like that, you know. Not here.”
For a moment, Regulus’s breath catches. The air feels thick, and his mind races to find an exit, a way to deflect. He settles on the familiar edge of sarcasm as he scoffs. “You think a few glasses of wine and some awkward conversation are going to change my behavior towards people?”
“No,” Potter admits, his tone softer now. “But it doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”
Regulus blinks, his throat tightening. He knows this is the type of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, who means every word he says, and that’s exactly what makes it so unbearable. He doesn’t know how to handle it.
“I should go,” Regulus says finally, his voice steady even if everything inside him is not. Potter doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t say another word as Regulus walks past him, out of the kitchen, and towards the door. But as he steps into the cold night air, his heart still racing, he knows he won’t be able to get the look in Potter’s eyes out of his head. Afterall, he never has been able to do that.
Once at home and ready to call it a night, Regulus sits on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen. The flat is quiet except for the faint hum of the heater, but his mind isn’t. He’s already typed and erased three different versions of the same question, not wanting to overwhelm his friend but needing to know if he’s okay.
Finally, he types:
Regulus (23:37): Did you get home safely?
The reply doesn’t come immediately. He taps his fingers on the phone, tension building in his chest. What if Remus is drunk now, or worse, and doesn’t reply? But then, the message bubble appears.
Scarface (23:39): Yes. Don’t worry.
Regulus exhales, shoulders relaxing slightly, though there’s still a knot in his stomach. Don’t worry? That’s rich coming from you, Lupin. He can practically hear Remus’s exhausted tone through the text.
Regulus (23:40): You left so fast. I just wanted to check.
He hesitates before hitting send. It feels like too little, but what else can he say? Anything more might make Remus go back to a dark place and Regulus can see that there’s an unspoken agreement to not dive too deep.
Scarface (23:41): I needed to get out of there.
Regulus nods to himself, biting the inside of his cheek. Yeah, I can’t blame you for that, he thinks, remembering the storm of Sirius’ mood, the sharp words thrown like daggers.
Regulus (23:42): Understandable. Sirius was…
He pauses, debating how to phrase it. Finally, he settles on honesty:
Regulus (23:42): Well, you know how he is.
The reply takes longer this time. Regulus shifts uncomfortably on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. The silence feels heavier than it should. Finally, his phone buzzes.
Scarface (23:46): Yeah. I know how he is.
Regulus frowns. There’s something in those five words, a heaviness he can feel even through the screen. You deserved better than that, Lupin, he thinks, but you already know that, don’t you? His thumbs hover over the keyboard. He doesn’t know if this is the right thing to say, usually they’re not like this, but he types it anyway. He feels like this situation calls for it.
Regulus (23:47): If you want to talk about it… or anything, you know I’m here.
He hits send before he can second-guess himself. It’s rare for him to offer support so openly, but with Remus, it feels different. The reply comes quickly, but it doesn’t ease the tightness in his chest.
Scarface (23:48): Thanks, Reg. But really, I’m fine.
Regulus snorts under his breath. Fine? That’s a bloody lie if I’ve ever heard one. He debates whether to let it go, but he can’t.
Regulus (23:59): Fine doesn’t usually look like bolting out of a room full of people who care about you.
The message is blunt, maybe too blunt. But he doesn’t regret sending it. Someone has to call Remus out on this.
Scarface (23:51): Not everyone in that room cares.
That one stings, though it’s not directed at him. Regulus grips his phone tighter. He knows exactly who Remus means, and it only fuels his anger.
Regulus (23:53): Fair point. But I do.
He doesn’t know why he’s being so candid tonight, but the words feel right. If nothing else, Remus deserves to hear it from someone. There’s a long pause this time, and Regulus wonders if he’s overstepped. He considers typing something else, maybe dialing it back, when the response finally comes.
Scarface (23:55): I know. Thanks for checking in.
Regulus nods to himself, the tension in his chest easing. He types back quickly, wanting to end this on a lighter note.
Regulus (23:58): Get some rest, yeah? Let me know if you need anything.
He means it, every word.
Scarface (00:01): I will. Night, little prince.
Regulus stares at the screen for a moment before replying.
Regulus (00:02): Night, scarface.
He sets the phone down on his nightstand, but he doesn’t feel any lighter. If anything, the weight in his chest has only shifted, settling somewhere deeper at the reminder of his brother.
Sirius.
He hasn’t had time to process the fact that today he saw his big brother again. After twelve years. He was too busy trying to keep his cool and being there for Remus that he suppressed any possible reaction he could have had when he saw Sirius again with his own eyes. But they do resurface now as he looks at the ceiling.
Twelve years. He lets the number roll around in his head, trying to make sense of it. Over a decade of silence, of avoiding thoughts about the person Sirius used to be and the person he must have become. And yet, sitting across from him tonight, it was like stepping into a time capsule. Sirius had the same sharp edge to his voice, the same commanding presence, like the entire room bent slightly toward him whether it wanted to or not.
But there was something different, too. Something hollow. Regulus didn’t want to look too closely, but he couldn’t help noticing it.
He sighs, shifting under the covers. He’s always thought about this moment, wondered how it would feel to see Sirius again. The scenarios ranged from indifference to anger, depending on the day. Sometimes he imagined himself saying something biting, something clever that would make Sirius regret ever leaving him behind. Other days, he thought he’d walk away without a word, not giving Sirius the satisfaction of a reaction.
None of that happened, though. Tonight, all he felt was… numbness. Like the years in between had built a wall around his emotions, so tall and thick that nothing could get through, not the anger, not the sadness, not even the faint flicker of hope he hates himself for feeling.
Sirius had looked at him tonight, and for a brief moment, Regulus saw something unfamiliar in his expression. Guilt, maybe? Shame? It wasn’t enough. Not for everything he’d done.
He clenches his jaw, trying to push the thoughts away. But they keep coming. The memories, the sharp edges of their childhood that he’s tried so hard to smooth over. He remembers being a kid, sitting on the floor of Sirius’ room while his brother showed him how to fold paper planes. Sirius had always made him feel like the world was bigger than the suffocating walls of their house, like they could escape it all one day.
But Sirius had escaped. Alone.
Regulus presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, the ache behind them growing stronger. He tells himself it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s been twelve years. He’s fine. Sirius doesn’t get to live in his head rent-free, not after abandoning him to the wolves. And yet…
Regulus had seen something tonight, a crack in the facade Sirius wore so confidently. The way he sat there, defeated after Lily tore into him. The silence that followed his conversation with Remus. For the first time, Regulus wondered if maybe Sirius wasn’t as unshakable as he’d always seemed. Maybe his brother wasn’t a fortress; maybe he was just a man, worn down by his choices and the weight of everything he’d left behind.
The thought unsettles him. He doesn’t want to humanize Sirius, doesn’t want to make excuses for him. But he can’t shake the memory of that silence, that look in his eyes when Regulus brought up the past.
Regulus exhales sharply, his breath shaky. He doesn’t know what to do with all this—this anger, this confusion, this… whatever this is. All he knows is that he’s not ready to confront it. Not yet.
He reaches for his phone again, needing a distraction, something to pull him out of his head. But as his fingers hover over the screen, he realizes there’s no one he wants to talk to. Not right now. Not about this. Instead, he sets the phone back down, turns off the light, and stares at the ceiling. The silence of the room feels oppressive.
He rubs his hands over his face and sinks further into the bed, willing himself to fall asleep despite the lingering unease. It’ll be a long time before can though.