Aftermath
Sirius
Sirius hadn’t spoken directly to Remus in three days.
To be fair, the Potters had begun clearing junk out from their house, a task that involved all three boys. There hadn’t been much time to talk.
Sirius was using it as an excuse. He knew he was. That didn’t change the fact that something in him had completely fallen apart at midnight when Remus had captured Sirius’ face in his hands and kissed him like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like he had done it a thousand times before and would do it a thousand times again.
And Sirius had fucked it up by doing the same thing he always did. Sirius ran.
To be more precise, he had frozen, pushed Remus away, and then ran. He had gone upstairs and shut himself in the room and not come out for the night. He had heard the remnants of the party trickle out slowly, the music dying down to a soft beat before stopping altogether. And still he hadn’t come out. He had seen feet approach his door, footsteps too gentle to be James, before they had turned and walked away. That had been about the time he’d put his headphones over his ears and blasted music so loud that Euphemia would’ve warned him about going deaf.
He knew it was the wrong move, the wrong thing to do. He knew it was a slap in the face to Remus. But he just couldn’t- he didn’t understand what had changed. What had happened to make Remus decide…
He didn’t understand.
They had danced around this thing, whatever the hell it was, for years now. And maybe that wasn’t a good thing, he knew that, but at the same time… it was a rhythm. One they’d fallen into and that had beat through Sirius like a drum wherever he went, like something beautiful that was just for the two of them. And changing it was, well, fucking terrifying.
So now he’d only talked to Remus in passing, making it seem like he was busier than he was helping Euphemia and Fleamont clear things out of the attic. He had thrown himself into the work, pretending like he didn’t see Remus glancing at him or waiting for him after dinner or in the mornings.
If Sirius was being honest with himself, he knew this wasn’t better. Not even a little. It was much, much worse. But the thought of sitting there and talking about what had happened between them felt similar to standing on train tracks and playing chicken.
And James had been too far in his head to notice what had been going on, too. Sirius couldn’t blame him for that, though he had no idea what had happened between James and his brother that night- he just knew it was something big. James had been in a daze, itching to go talk to Regulus, but between cleaning out the house and the near foot of snow that had fallen, it was practically impossible. And Sirius knew that James wasn’t about to tell either of his parents what had happened between him and Regulus before he had even figured it out, so James was stuck. Waiting.
Which meant, as selfish as it was, there was no bridge between him and Remus at the moment.
By the time the fourth day rolled around, Sirius could tell that Remus wasn’t going to put up with it much longer. He had stopped eating as much at meal times, pushing the food around his plate and staring at Sirius like he was trying to solve a puzzle. His answers had become short and clipped to everything that Euphemia or Fleamont said, polite but unwilling to elaborate. He seemed withdrawn and frustrated, and Sirius didn’t have to wonder why. It was the same reason why Sirius had been over-talkative, overworked, and avoidant.
He just didn’t think he was ready to deal with it.
In the end, Remus really didn’t give him much choice. As it turned out, cleaning out an attic wasn’t a very effective way of avoiding someone.
“We need to talk.”
Remus’ voice startled Sirius, causing him to drop the scrapbook he was holding. Thankfully, it landed with a soft thud on the floor, unharmed.
“Moony-”
“You don’t get to call me that.” Remus’ voice was hard, and when Sirius looked over, he was leaning with his arms crossed against the wall. “Not right now.”
Sirius scrubbed his face with his hands, nervousness washing over him along with a twinge of panic.
“Okay. I just… I’m not ready-”
“Too bad.” Remus’ voice was steady, but an undertone of frustration shone through easily. “I’ve waited half a week and you haven’t said anything to me.”
“Rem-”
“Can you just be honest with me?” Remus snapped, and Sirius felt his eyebrows arch, mouth snapping shut. “I don’t want you to bullshit me right now. If you hated it, fine. It was stupid of me. But don’t sit here and baby me about it, alright?”
“I’m not-”
“And whatever this is has to stop,” Remus carried on. Frankly, Sirius was surprised actual steam wasn’t coming out of his ears. “I can’t do the late nights and the looks and… and… I just can’t. I’d rather stop all of it than do… whatever this is.”
Sirius tried not to flinch at the tremble in Remus’ voice.
“You-”
“And-”
“Jesus, Moony.” Sirius threw his hands up, exasperation raising his voice just slightly. “Are you gonna let me talk?”
Remus stared at him, mouth slightly open. Vaguely, Sirius wondered if Remus had gotten so lost in the haze of saying what he’d been thinking for the past few days that he’d forgotten Sirius was even there.
“I’m sorry, okay?” Sirius said after a moment’s pause, letting his voice soften. For once, the apology didn’t hurt on the way out- wasn’t dragged, wasn’t hesitant. “I’m really sorry for hurting you. I didn’t want that.”
Sirius hated apologies. But he hated hurting Remus Lupin even more.
“It wasn’t stupid. You’re not- it wasn’t stupid, ‘kay? Really. It just… startled me.”
“Startled you?” Remus gave a derisive snort. “It happened four days ago. Shock is a lame fucking excuse.”
“Okay. Okay. Not… startled. More like…” Sirius hesitated, reluctant to say the word. Scared.
Remus blinked back at him, clearly unimpressed by the unfinished sentence, and Sirius groaned.
“Fuck, Moons. Scared. It scared me.”
“Stop using that stupid nickname,” Remus muttered, but the edge in his voice had softened just slightly. “This isn’t the time.”
“Right.” Sirius blew out a breath. “I just freaked, okay? I shouldn’t have run away.”
“Why did you?”
There was something fragile in Remus’ voice now, something breakable, and something inside Sirius ached. He didn’t want it- didn’t want to hold whatever breakable thing was there, not when he was so prone to breaking things. He wasn’t ready for this discussion. He didn’t know if he ever would be.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Rem-”
“Yes, you do, Sirius.” Frustration replaced fragility. “You just don’t want to talk about it. You never do.”
“Why do you?” Sirius asked desperately. “Aren’t you happy? We’re us. We don’t have to be anything different.”
“I don’t want this!” Remus’ voice seemed to silence everything else around them. “I’m tired of this. Of pretending like we’re not… whatever we are.”
Sirius swallowed back the whine that rose in his throat. “Why?”
Remus’ eyes shuttered close, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m so tired, Sirius. This is exhausting. Even if it’s not to you, it is to me.” Remus opened his eyes, and Sirius felt his throat tighten in anticipation. “I’ve practically given up on finding other people, and it’s fine, it’s okay, whatever- no one compares, anyway. I’ve resigned myself to this for however long it takes because I figured… I figured, eventually, you would feel the same.”
“Remus,” Sirius breathed, and Remus held up a hand, silencing him.
“I don’t know what this was to you,” Remus whispered, blinking rapidly. Sirius tried not to let himself linger on the word was. “I thought I did, but after New Year’s… I don’t know, not really. But when I kissed you, I thought I knew. And I’m really, really sorry if that’s not what it was for you. But if it wasn’t, all of this needs to stop. I can’t be… I can’t act like that with you. Not anymore.”
Sirius felt his stomach twist, dread pooling there with every word.
“I don’t know how to be anything else,” Sirius’ voice was quiet. “I can’t… I can’t give you anything else, Remus. I don’t have anything else to give.”
“Right.” Remus’ voice turned bitter, and though the other boy turned away, Sirius could see the way his jaw tightened with resignation.
“But you’re not- it’s not stupid.” Sirius chewed on his bottom lip. “I feel it, too.”
There was a moment’s pause, and when Remus looked back at him, his gaze was guarded. “That’s not enough, Sirius.”
“I know,” Sirius whispered, but the words didn’t matter- Remus was already making his way out of the attic, back turned to Sirius.
***
Regulus
James didn’t come the first day, or the next. Or the one after.
Regret had become a familiar feeling in Regulus’ life, but it had never been as strong as it was now. And that was really, really saying something.
He felt incredibly stupid for how he’d acted on New Year’s- how he’d let James see the part of him that maybe, just maybe, actually wanted this. James’ silence had been an effective enough reaction, most likely the better part of himself realizing that he didn’t want this now that he was sober. Still, it was humiliating.
Regulus rubbed his eyes in frustration, silently urging himself to move from the couch that he’d pretty much slept on for the past few days. This was so stupid. He’d waited like a dog for James, the couch perfectly within hearing range of the door.
Stupid, stupid, stu-
For a moment, Regulus didn’t register the knock that echoed through the house like a cannon. It wasn’t until the second knock, softer this time, that Regulus fully realized he hadn’t gone crazy and imagined it. Someone was actually here.
It was a tangible effort to shove his heart back into its chest where it belonged when he opened the door to a slightly shivering James Potter. Instead of smiling, Regulus looked at him with a frown.
“Hey,” James said awkwardly when Regulus didn’t speak. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
“Uh… okay?” James looked puzzled, like he wasn’t quite sure why not. “You want to do this out in the cold?”
“Do what?” Regulus’ voice had a familiar cold edge to it, surprising even himself. It was his defense mechanism, he knew that, but sometimes it happened without him even realizing it.
James’ eyes narrowed just slightly, searching. “Are you… okay? Did I do something?”
“No,” Regulus answered in a clipped tone. It wasn’t a lie. The problem was what James hadn’t done, which was show up.
“Reg,” James said slowly, and Regulus fought the urge to bristle at the nickname. Don’t call me that. Not right now. “What did I do?”
Regulus leveled the older boy with a look, leaning against the door frame. James just watched him, waiting for a response- the issue was, stonewalling was a frequent thing in the Black household. If Regulus didn’t want to give a response, he wouldn’t.
James seemed to realize this because, after a few moments, he let out a soft huff that sent a cloud of misted air towards Regulus. The snow fell on James in soft flakes, making his hair seem darker than it was. “It’s kind of cold, Reg.”
“Then go home,” Regulus said frostily, knowing it wasn’t quite fair. That was the opposite of what either of them wanted, but the fact that James had the nerve to complain about this minor inconvenience when Regulus had waited for days- it made him more upset than he’d care to admit. It felt unfair.
“You know I’m not going to do that,” James replied stubbornly. The challenge in those brown eyes tugged at Regulus just slightly, even though he’d known when he’d said the words that James wouldn’t leave. It was the confirmation, the fact that James knew him so well that he knew it wasn’t what Regulus actually wanted. “Talk to me.”
“It might’ve been easier to do that a few days ago.” The words slipped out faster than Regulus could stop them. Regret filled his mouth with a bitter taste at the knowledge that he’d just revealed what was wrong, along with a pinch of fear that James would laugh or find it stupid. Defiantly, he felt his chin lift just slightly, a facade Regulus had no doubt James saw right through anyway.
“A few days ago?” James said questioningly, and then realization seemed to click. “Oh- I-I’ve been busy, I’m sorry.”
The words fell lamely to the floor in front of Regulus’ feet, despite James’ earnest gaze as he spoke them. Unimpressed, Regulus arched a singular eyebrow.
“You’ve been busy?”
“I- yeah?” James scratched the back of his neck, suddenly seeming unsure of himself. “I didn’t think- I didn’t know you wanted me to come at a certain time, I guess.”
Regulus almost laughed at the absurdity of the words. Instead, he just stared at James. Which, he thought, was a pretty good answer to that statement in itself.
“Right.” James cleared his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so, in hindsight, that was stupid of me.”
“Brilliant observation,” Regulus drawled, and James’ lips twitched in what looked like the beginnings of a smile. This isn’t amusing, dick. But something in him warmed at the fact that James wasn’t annoyed or pissed off at Regulus’ behavior.
“I’m sorry. I should have come earlier.” James took a step closer, and though Regulus stayed stubbornly in one spot, he felt his heart leap at the near proximity.
“Yes.”
“I wanted to come earlier.” James took another small step, tentative.
“Hm,” was all Regulus said, head tilting up just slightly so their gazes could meet. James was so close now that Regulus had to look up to talk to him directly.
“I’m sorry,” James said again, voice barely a whisper. The breath of it ghosted over Regulus, smelling of James- of firewood and the barest hint of cinnamon. Not the kind of cinnamon that was strong, but rather the smell of cinnamon rolls, of snickerdoodles and baking.
Regulus felt his jaw tighten, stiffening in an effort to not lean into James’ chest. It wouldn’t be hard. They were so close now that Regulus was practically touching him already.
But the past few days weren’t lost on him, either. The fact that he’d sat alone by the door, waiting and waiting for someone who might not come. The fact that he’d rather drive his car off a bridge than be the person who waited around forever.
“You should’ve come,” Regulus said, the words just a bit too loud compared to how softly James had been speaking. And he hated them- those three words that opened him up, flayed him and left him bare for James to see. They confirmed that Regulus had wanted him there, had wanted him enough to miss him when he didn’t show. That vulnerability- it didn’t exist in the Black family.
Except, apparently, it did.
“I know.” James’ gaze searched his own, and Regulus knew that vulnerability wasn’t lost on him, either.
“I…” I waited. For you.
“I know.” And James did. Regulus could see it.
“It was humiliating.” Regulus felt his throat tighten on the last word, an audible strain. He was just grateful it didn’t crack.
“Why would that be humiliating?” James reached out, brushing one of Regulus’ curls back with his hand. His fingertips were cold, a testament to the freezing weather they were both standing in. But to go inside would be to break whatever spell allowed Regulus to be so vulnerable right now, and they both knew it. Both of them didn’t move.
“I’m not someone who waits.”
The words could’ve sounded bratty. They would have, from most anyone else. But they meant something different here. Not, I’m too important to wait. More like, I can’t bear it.
“I waited,” James murmured, and Regulus felt his heart pick up as James moved the tiniest bit closer. “I waited for years, Reg. I’d do it again. Is that humiliating?”
No. The answer didn’t come out of his lips, but he knew it didn’t need to. It’s not humiliating. It’s what I needed.
“I can be patient,” James tilted his head just slightly. “That’s not humiliating. It’s… open.”
Vulnerable.
“I don’t like it,” Regulus whispered, and he didn’t know where the words came from. He didn’t know what about James rendered him so speechless, so defenseless. Why all of his arguments could be dismantled with such ease, why having the truth laid bare in front of James was more comforting than hiding it. For once in his life.
“I know you don’t.” The corner of James’ mouth twitched, just slightly, but Regulus knew the amusement didn’t come from malice. It was more of an I know you. Then his gaze grew somber again. “I’m sorry. Really, truly. It was thoughtless of me.”
“Mhm,” Regulus agreed, though it was all that he could get out through the lump in his throat. James leaned forward just slightly, and Regulus grew still. If he turned his head just slightly he knew his nose would hit James’, that their mouths would touch and his world would be shattered around him. Fear gripped him, a slippery thing that twisted in his stomach.
This would be it, for Regulus. He knew that. James kissing him would be it. There was no going back from it, there would be no one that compared. Not that anyone compared, anyway. But this was one of those irrevocable moments that Regulus knew that he would dream about, that would change his life, for better or for worse. The gravity of the situation was so strong he was surprised he didn’t fall to his knees, and when James looked at him like that…
Oh, did he want to.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m sober,” James murmured, and Regulus swallowed. This was James, asking for permission without asking for it, exactly.
“I noticed.”
James’ mouth was on his before the word had fully finished.
Regulus had been right.
Everything shattered.
That was the only way to describe how everything fell away, in bits and pieces so small he couldn’t grab them even if he wanted to. There was nothing left, nothing but this. And when James pulled away, cheeks flushed and lips parted just slightly, the world didn’t come back to Regulus. And he didn’t think it ever would.