Finally Clean

There was really nothing left of his house. He stood in the ash, looking for anything, any sign of life. There was none. This was metaphorical to Regulus. Everything was burnt to a crisp, not only his relationship with Barty (thankfully) and his parents (also thankfully) but also all of his remaining hope for himself and the unknown future. Its lingering presence scared Regulus. 

“Well, this is dandy.” Regulus jokes, kicking something that’s heavily charred. Sirius snorts and walks along the neglected space. 

“I’m sorry, Reg.” Sirius mumbles, unsure of what else to say. Because what can he say? Sorry, your house mysteriously burnt down, but at least you can live in my overpopulated flat. 

“It’s fine. It was just a house.” Regulus shrugs. His emotions clinging to the back of his throat. He swallows hard. 

“I can’t imagine how hard it is to lose your home, Reg.” Sirius puts a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. 

“It was never a home.” Regulus snaps and shrugs Sirius’ hand away because it wasn’t a home. It never felt warm with happiness. The walls never spoke stories of family and love. Regulus had lived in several houses all his life but never lived in a home. 

Sirius stays quiet. He knows silence is what Regulus needs right now. Sirius is only slightly confused about why Regulus spoke so poorly about his house. He had Barty with him, right? It’d been five years since he spoke with his brother; undoubtedly, the two had stayed together; they seemed so happy the last time Sirius had seen him. But he doesn’t say anything just in case his brother would speak to him on his own. They stay there for another thirty minutes, not talking. But it was comfortable silence, one that the Black brothers had gotten used to growing up where they did. Walburga and Orion were keen on silence; they would tell them that the more you spoke, the more of yourself you would give away.

Once Regulus was ready to go, Sirius brought him to his flat. Regulus was immediately overwhelmed by the situation. Right when he walked in, he was met with a welcome home party. Everybody wore a party hat, and a small banner behind them read, "Welcome Reggie." 

“Okay, who the fuck put Reggie on that? I asked for Regulus.” Sirius snapped when he saw it. James laughed and stepped forward. 

“I figured it was more fitting.” That is all Potter said, shrugging his shoulders. Regulus’ face heated with embarrassment. Everybody was so happy to have him. He went around reintroducing himself to each of Sirius’ friends. Shaking hands with Peter and Remus. Who shamelessly told Regulus he was shagging his brother. 

“Well, it’s about time somebody did it.” Regulus snorted. Then, the last in line was James. Regulus was unsure of how to greet him. He’d spent so much time trying to ignore his love for James, shoving his emotions as far out of reach as possible, knowing they would never be reciprocated. 

But last night hung around his memory like a disease. A sickness he could never thoroughly shake. James’ eyes were just as lost, which made Regulus feel a little better about his freaking out because James was also freaking out. His palms were sweating, and he didn’t know how to handle this situation. Last night, he had held Regulus. The smaller boy, in his arms, had confessed his most profound tragedies. And now they were supposed to fall back into normalcy as if it had never happened. If that’s what Regulus wants. James told himself that he realized then that he would do anything for the younger Black brother, just as he would for the older one. 

Regulus decided nothing could cover his feelings; a handshake felt too formal, and a hug would send him into waves of embarrassment and probably make him panic. And side hugging was just weird. So Regulus just nodded. He fucking nodded. The moment he did it, he hated himself; Regulus felt like a jackass. Watching as James’ smile tampered into a frown, and his eyes understood. 

The air was tense, and James was drowning in it. He searched for anything he could do to switch the situation and asked how the weather was. Ask how he’s doing? No, he’s made that mistake before. What could he do now? Watch as Regulus disdains him as a stranger. But James would never push; he wouldn’t force Regulus to hug or shake his hands. James wouldn’t even make Regulus hold eye contact with him if the younger boy didn’t feel comfortable. 

"Hi, Regulus." He breathed out. This seemed to ease some pressure from everybody's shoulders. 

"Potter," Regulus said back. Regulus feels like he'll cry if he keeps their eyes together any longer. He doesn't want to start this whole situation by crying in front of everybody. The room is silent for a couple beats, and Sirius clears his throat. 

“I’ll show you your room,” Sirius says, and Regulus quickly follows his brother down the narrow hall. Once they were alone, Sirius whispered, “I had Remus buy you a couple of things. If it’s not your style, feel free to tell me. We can go shopping.” Sirius teases. 

“Oh, joy shopping.” Regulus sticks his tongue out in return. Sirius opens the door and Regulus chokes. The room is small, which Regulus has no issues with. The bed is complete with a neat blue bedspread. There is a lamp on the bedside table, which has a couple of things, including a journal, pen, and a couple of books. 

“Didn’t know which color spread to get you. Hope you like blue.” Sirius comments. Regulus answers right away. 

“I love blue.” That’s a lie. Regulus doesn’t have a favorite color. He doesn’t even believe he’s seen the world in vibrant color since before… 

"Are you coming for dinner? The lot of us decided we might as well celebrate your coming with a nice home-cooked meal, which usually just means James cooks and we all watch and destroy it when it's done." Sirius rambles. His words are fast, and he doesn't know what his brother will say back. Regulus tenses, and he sits down on the bed. 

“Not tonight, I’m not hungry. Think I’ll just go to sleep.” Regulus says back, not able to look his brother in the eyes. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat something? Hardly touched your lunch today at the hospital.” Sirius looks concerned. 

"Hospital food is rubbish. I just need sleep. I'm okay, Sirius." The older brother nods and turns to leave the bedroom. Regulus jumps up suddenly. "Sirius, wait." His brother turns. " Thank you," Regulus whispers, feeling embarrassed by his vulnerability. Sirius chokes back his tears, knowing such emotions will send Regulus into panic mode. Sirius just nods back and leaves Regulus alone in his new bedroom. 

Once the door closes, his emotions are racked from his body. Regulus shakes with sobs, his body folding over into itself. He lays on the hardwood floor and sobs. His gasps for air are silent and unsuccessful; he can’t breathe as more waves of sadness take over his body, and convulsions lead him to near passing out. He feels every emotion simultaneously, his loss of the only thing he ever worked towards. The emptiness of being truly alone for the first time because Barty is gone. Regulus had put that on himself when he kicked out Crouch. It had felt like the best possible solution for his life, but as he lay alone on the ground, he wished he had somebody. Even if Barty never showed Regulus compassion and only knew how to convey emotions through fists, at least there was a warm body next to him at night. 

Back in the kitchen, James puts his feelings into his cooking. When making something for his friends, his mind is empty, solely focused on his work. Something he’s thankful for, especially today. The weight of his emotions sits heavily in his chest, putting a strain on his lungs. Everybody sits at the table conversing. Sirius and Remus are entangled together on the bench next to the table. Peter sits patiently on the other side, teasingly commenting on their obsessive snogging. 

"I'm just saying that it doesn't have to be every moment of every hour!" Peter cries, and Remus just chuckles as he kisses each knuckle of Sirius's hand. 

“I think it should be every moment.” Sirius backfires jokingly. “I’m sorry you don’t have a loving partner here for yourself.”

“I have a loving partner; she’s just not ready to move in yet,” Peter says sheepishly. James laughs from his position in the kitchen, soaking in the happiness his friends emit. He mixes the tomatoes with the vodka he’s poured and grounds some spices to toss in as well. The sweet smell of the sauce wafts around the room, making its way into the dining area. Sirius walks into the kitchen and sits on the breakfast island. 

“Hey James, you okay?” Sirius asks, and James’ back straightens. 

“Yeah.” He answers, moving to stir the softening pasta noodles. 

Sirius starts playing nervously with the tips of his black hair. “I hope you're not upset. Reg moved in.” James drops his mixing spoon; it clatters in the pot. 

“No!” He gasps, slightly offended Sirius would think so less of him. “Why would you think that?” 

Sirius blows out a breath of relief. “I don’t know. You just seemed so weird when he came back, and I wasn’t sure if you were just upset that I invited him to live here without really asking any of you if it was okay…” Sirius is rambling again.

"Sirius, listen." James spins around and puts his hands on his friends' shoulders. "You did what you had to do to protect your family; if I had siblings and were in the same situation, I would've done the same with no hesitation." These words reassure Sirius, his shoulders relax, and a smile forms on his face. 

“Thank you.” Sirius huffs out, “now get back to cooking, smells amazing.” 

“Would you like to help?” James asks. 

“And burn the kitchen down? No thank you.” 

Regulus feels like the walls of his stability (or what he had left of it) are tumbling down as the world continues around them. He’s torn apart the bedroom Sirius made for him, going through each drawer to see what Remus had bought for him. The guilt burned through Regulus’ skin. How much money had they spent on him? Regulus didn’t think he was worth the trouble. There were a couple outfits, the journal, the pen which itched to be in his handwriting, a couple of toiletry necessities, and the picture. 

The fucking picture frame that taunted him from the wall. The picture was of the Black family in its total. Whoever decided to put that there was definitely not thinking about how it would affect Regulus. He feels like their eyes are watching him. Judging each thought he has and the decisions he makes. He can’t stand it. It feels like giant gashes are slashing into him, and he needs to let the anger out. Regulus jumps to his feet in a fit of rage. He throws himself across the room, his eyes puffy and swollen from the crying. 

"This is your fault!" He yells, not caring if anybody else hears. They don't. Nobody checks on him, and the sinking feeling of loneliness engulfs him again. He rips the frame from the wall and throws it to the ground. It flies across the room and smashes on the floor. Glass shards fly everywhere, spraying the surface with crystal tears. Regulus can feel his tears coming on again; they prickle his throat, begging to be cried. The anger flows through his veins, and he feels them surging. He needs to cut out the feeling. 

“This is your fault.” He says again. He doesn’t know who he’s talking to. His parents, Barty. The universe for handing him such shitty cards to play and laughing in his face when they lose. Regulus sinks to the floor and grabs a shard. He fiddles with it between his slender fingers. It seduces him, the simple way it could take away his pain for just tonight. Regulus slips his shirt off, his pale arms glittering in the moonlight seeping in through his window. He holds his arm in front of him; it’s littered with baby scars; they sketch along his arms and dance down his thighs. They make him a monster. They remind Regulus of every battle he’s ever fought and lost. “You’re doing.” Now Regulus is talking to himself; he says more harsh words in his mind. As the glass digs, little cuts into his skin. Pain blossoms down his arm, shooting pains to his brain, numbing all the pain he’s suffered through these past weeks. Beat up, used up, anorexic slut. Blood droplets fall to the hardwood floor, and Regulus slouches his shoulders. He smiles. This seems to be the only thing that makes Regulus feel alive anymore. That, and the constant reminder of how James Potter felt against his skin.