What Letters?
Loud music jolted him awake—rock ‘n’ roll, for crying out loud. It had been the same all week, and Remus had finally reached his breaking point. Not only was Sirius Black an insufferable pain in the ass who ate all his food and took up all his space, but he also refused to leave.
“Bloody wanker,” Remus muttered under his breath.
With a frustrated groan, he pushed himself up and stormed toward the living room, too angry—and too sleep-deprived—to bother with a shirt. He just wanted the damn music to stop.
Sirius, of course, was already up, running on barely four hours of sleep but acting as if he were powered by pure chaos. An AC/DC shirt hung off his frame, and a spoonful of ice cream hovered near his lips as he mumbled along to the song, his head rocking to the beat.
“COLD BLOOD IS ALL YOU NEED—”
“Black!” Remus barked, but over the blaring music, Sirius didn’t hear him. Eyes closed, he was completely lost in his own world.
“WHEN IT COOLS OFF, YOU’RE TEASIN’—”
“Black!”
Still nothing.
Remus inhaled sharply, his chest rising with irritation, before stepping forward with the intent to put an end to this madness himself.
“WHEN IT GETS HOT, YOU'RE FREEZIN´ –”
He clamped his hands over his ears, marching straight to the hi-fi and swiftly shutting it off. Finally—some peace. Or so he thought.
“What the bloody hell did you do that for?!” Sirius shouted, mouth agape in outrage.
Remus couldn’t believe the audacity.
It had all started after the hospital. He’d barely gotten Sirius back to his place when James came knocking at the door. Remus had reached for the doorknob, ready to let him in, when Sirius suddenly grabbed his wrist and yanked him back, pinning him against the wall.
Remus barely had a second to react before Sirius brought a hand up, covering his mouth. His eyes were pleading, intense. “Don’t,” he mouthed.
The sudden proximity sent a jolt of something sharp through Remus, something that shouldn’t have startled him as much as it did. His pulse quickened, but Sirius was too caught up in the sounds behind the door to notice.
They stayed like that—pressed close, barely breathing—until the knocking finally stopped. Only when James gave up and left did Sirius let him go.
“We’re going to your house,” he declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“What?!”
“James won’t stop coming over,” Sirius explained, already moving. “I don’t wanna be here, so we’re going to your house. Let me pack.”
And by pack, Sirius had meant some clothes, an absurd amount of hair products, and far too many vinyls.
Remus had no idea how he’d been manipulated into this situation, but the only thing he knew for certain was that Sirius Black was now living in his apartment—refusing to leave—and, on top of everything else, was violating his ears with rock ‘n’ roll at ungodly hours.
“You just unplugged The Kix, you absolute tosser—” Sirius ranted, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “You don’t pause that kind of band.”
Remus shot him a sharp glare, barely suppressing a groan. “It’s too early for this,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “Are you leaving today or—”
“Oh, brilliant!” Sirius cut in, voice dripping with mock indignation. “Toss the sick guy out. Real classy of you, mate.”
“You’re not sick!” Remus snapped. “And even if you were, the doctor said you should be resting—which means no headbanging, no yelling, and definitely no blasting rock at this ungodly hour.”
Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but Remus cut him off before he could get a word out.
With an exasperated huff, Remus stormed across the living room and into the kitchen, his frustration evident in every step. “And look at this bloody mess!” he exclaimed, gesturing wildly.
Plates were stacked haphazardly in the sink, cups littered the counter, and a fine dusting of flour coated nearly every surface. A mixing bowl sat in the middle of the chaos, filled with what looked like half-mixed brownie batter.
“Did you seriously try to make brownies?” Remus demanded, turning to glare at Sirius.
“...Maybe,” Sirius admitted, suddenly right beside him, surveying the kitchen disaster as if he were seeing it for the first time.
"Black, I swear to God—" Remus started, his voice low and dangerous as he loomed over Sirius, his glare sharp enough to cut. "I want you out."
But Sirius wasn’t listening. Not really.
His gaze had dropped, locking onto Remus’ bare torso. Scars crisscrossed the expanse of taut, well-defined muscle, each one telling a story Sirius wanted to know but never dared to ask about. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, as an unwelcome heat crept up his neck.
Shit.
His mouth had actually watered.
"Black!" Remus snapped, finally dragging Sirius out of his daze. "What the hell are you doing?"
But Sirius, the sneaky bastard, only smirked. That smirk—the one that spelled trouble.
"Have you always been this fit?" he asked, his tone dripping with casual arrogance, though his eyes lingered a little too long.
Remus' expression shifted in an instant—fury melting into something startled, something almost vulnerable. "Um- What?"
"You know, Lupin," Sirius drawled, a teasing lilt to his voice. "You've spent all week going on about how much you despise wealthy gits like me—how we're all condescending and pretentious." He tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief. "And yet, here you are, wasting no time putting on a show for me. Why is that, huh?"
Remus slapped Sirius’ hand away, fingers that had been shamelessly reaching for his abdomen. "This isn’t for you, you absolute wanker!" he snapped, stepping back as though Sirius' touch had burned him. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I just happened to run out of my room without thinking because a pretentious asshole was blasting music at the crack of dawn!"
Sirius barely flinched, his lips curling into something infuriatingly smug. "Been doing that all week, and you’ve only just now called me out on it?" he mused, cocking his head to the side. His eyes flicked over Remus, sharp and assessing. "Guess I finally managed to get your attention."
Remus grimaced, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Why do you rich bastards always assume the world revolves around you?"
Sirius shrugged, closing the distance between them with an easy confidence, his presence invasive yet deliberate. "Why do you hate us so much?" His voice dipped lower, smoother. "It’s not our fault our parents are loaded."
Remus’ jaw clenched, his lips pulling into a scowl. "It’s your bloody fault that you grow up with no morals," he spat, his nose wrinkling. "Plus, don’t even get me started on how lazy you lot are—thinking money will just fall from the damn trees."
Sirius grinned, stepping even closer until there was barely an inch between them. He lowered his voice, his breath warm against Remus' face. "Well," he murmured, eyes glinting with amusement. "Money does come from trees, or did you fail the academy?"
Remus' nostrils flared, but the heat that flared in his chest had nothing to do with anger. "As I’ve stated previously… I’m smarter than you," Remus said coolly, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was steady, unwavering—a challenge in itself.
"Oh, really?" Sirius scoffed, exasperation bleeding into his voice as he threw his hands up. "I could test you right now."
Remus arched a brow, a slow smirk creeping onto his lips. "I could test you too," he shot back, tilting his head slightly, his tone laced with something almost daring.
For a beat, the tension crackled between them, charged and unspoken. Then Sirius’ grin turned wolfish. "Alright then, Lupin," he murmured, taking a deliberate step forward. "Let’s see who wins."
That’s how they ended up spending the next four hours hunched over practice exams from the most prestigious academies around the world. The competition was relentless, shifting from subject to subject—geography, mathematics, science, English, and history—neither willing to back down.
Sirius dominated in history and mathematics, his mind sharp when it came to patterns and the past. Remus, on the other hand, excelled in science and English, his analytical thinking and grasp of language giving him the upper hand. Geography, however, left them at a deadlock, both scoring identically.
By the time they finished, the results were clear—neither had won. They were evenly matched. But somehow, the unresolved tension between them felt like the real challenge had only just begun.
"Alright, fine—you know your stuff," Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "Now, will you kindly get the bloody hell out of my house and go talk to your best friend?"
Sirius narrowed his eyes, tilting his head with mock offense. "Alright, missy," he drawled, pushing back from the table with a smirk. "I’ll leave you to your peace." But there was something unreadable in his gaze, something lingering, like he wasn’t quite done with this game yet.
The trip to James’ house was long, yet somehow not long enough. Truthfully, Sirius didn’t want to talk to either his best friend or his brother, but curiosity gnawed at him, an itch beneath his skin that refused to be ignored. He was owed an explanation. He had spent the day driving around endlessly, and now it was nighttime, close to midnight.
When he arrived, he let himself in without hesitation, the way he always did. The door to James’ bedroom was slightly ajar, and through the gap, Sirius caught sight of Regulus—his little brother, his spine curled inward, his expression a picture of pure desolation.
Sirius pressed his back against the hallway wall, listening in, eavesdropping like some nosy spy.
"Please, James—" Regulus’ voice cracked. "Barty and I are no longer. He doesn’t want me—"
"Oh, brilliant!" James snapped, exasperation sharpening his words like knives. "So just because he doesn’t want you, you come to me? As if I’m some bloody replacement? That just makes me feel wonderful!"
Regulus had shown up about twenty minutes ago, pleading for a moment of James’ time. James had been furious, but over the past few months, he'd learned something—he couldn’t deny Regulus anything. Not really. He hated that. And now, he was starting to regret giving in.
Regulus took a step forward, but James immediately moved back.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” Regulus pleaded, his voice trembling. Something about James’ anger made his stomach twist uncomfortably. "This has nothing to do with Barty. I want you, alright? You said you couldn’t get me out of your head—right?” His words came out rushed, desperate. "Truth is, James, you never left mine either. You wanna know why?" He swallowed hard, the weight of his confession settling between them. "Because it’s only ever been you!"
“Bullshit,” James shot back, his jaw tightening. "You have that look in your eyes when you talk about Crouch. And besides—you’ve spent months telling me you despise me."
Regulus exhaled sharply, the pain in his chest manifesting in a stammer as he switched to French, his voice cracking on the syllables. "Because you bloody broke my heart—merde, je ne sais pas—" His breath hitched as he clutched at his own ribs, as if the ache had become physical. "Tu m’as brisé le cœur."
James exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand down his face as if trying to wipe away the weight of the moment. The look on Regulus’ face—the raw, unguarded heartache—was unbearable. It cracked something inside him, something fragile he had tried to ignore.
"Bloody hell, Reg," he murmured, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I made a mistake." His voice was rough, tangled with regret. "All this time, I kept you like a secret when I should've kept you like an oath, and I’m sorry, alright? But you don’t bloody know what happened when I was in Spain—you... you said I erased you from my life, but you erased yourself too."
Regulus blinked, his throat tightening. His arms crossed over his chest, as if trying to shield himself from the words, from the vulnerability creeping in. "What was I supposed to do?" His voice came out small, fragile in a way that made James’ stomach twist. "You discarded me. You left—moved to bloody Spain—just so you wouldn’t have to see me again, like I’m... like you were embarrassed of me."
James’ breath hitched at that, his heart pounding against his ribs. "Embarrassed?" He took a step closer, barely resisting the urge to reach for him. "Reg, it was never that.”
Regulus turned his face away, his expression tightening as if bracing for impact. "No, you don’t have to lie," he muttered, voice fraying at the edges. "I mean, I understand… I’m not really desirable. It’s fine. I’m used to it."
James let out a short, incredulous scoff. "You don’t really believe that, do you?"
Regulus’ jaw clenched. His arms wrapped around himself like a makeshift shield, his nails digging into his sleeves. "Who have you ever wanted in your life?"
James exhaled sharply, already knowing where this was going. "If this is about Lily again—"
"It’s not about her!" Regulus snapped, his voice cutting through the room like a whip. His hands shot out, shoving James square in the chest when he took another step forward. James staggered back, eyes widening in surprise, but Regulus didn’t care. His breathing was uneven now, his throat constricting around the words clawing to get out. "Sirius!" he spat, his voice cracking. "You’ve only ever wanted him. Even when you came by the house, you never bloody looked at me… You never look at me."
James froze, his mouth parting slightly as if to protest, but nothing came out. Regulus' chest rose and fell with shallow, angry breaths, his fingers still curled like he wanted to push James away again, but there was something else there too—something far more vulnerable.
James swallowed thickly. "Reg—"
"Don’t," Regulus cut him off, his voice barely above a whisper now. His eyes were wet, gleaming in the dim light, and James felt something in his gut twist painfully. "Just… don’t."
James exhaled, running a hand down his face before finally conceding, “Alright, I’ve been a git.” His voice was rough with exhaustion, with guilt. He dropped onto the edge of the bed, shoulders heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.
He reached out carefully, fingers ghosting over Regulus’ before taking his hand and pulling him in. When he looked up, he saw an angel—fragile, furious, and heartbreakingly beautiful.
“I’ve been blind my whole life,” James admitted, his thumb brushing over the back of Regulus’ hand. “And for that, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. But I can’t change the past, Reg. And just because you’re breaking my heart now won’t erase the fact that I broke yours.” His lips curled into a sad, tired smile. “We’re both losing men.”
Regulus’ breath hitched, his fingers tightening slightly around James’. “That’s what happens in love,” he whispered, voice nearly lost in the space between them. “You love… and you lose.”
James stilled.
“Love?” he echoed, his eyes sharpening with something unreadable.
Regulus swallowed hard, the realization of what he’d just let slip hitting him like a blow to the chest.
James’ grip on his hand didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened.
“You love me?”
Regulus parted his lips, eyes wide with horror, but before he could force out a single word, a sudden noise from outside the room shattered the moment.
James’ body tensed. In an instant, he was on his feet, instinctively pushing Regulus behind him like a shield. His steps were slow, deliberate, as he approached the door. He yanked it open and, without hesitation, slammed the intruder against the wall with brutal force.
A startled yelp echoed through the hallway.
“No—no, wait!” the voice protested.
James froze, his grip tightening before recognition dawned. “Sirius?” His clenched fist wavered as his mind scrambled to make sense of what he was seeing.
“Hey, mate—” Sirius started, but he didn’t get the chance to finish.
“Sirius?!”
Regulus’ voice was venomous, his fury burning away the lingering vulnerability from moments before. He stormed out of the bedroom, his strides quick and lethal.
“I’m going to bloody murder you!” he roared, seizing Sirius by the shoulders and tackling him to the ground with surprising strength.
“Reg—fuck!—” Sirius barely managed to react before Regulus was on top of him, shaking him violently.
“How long have you been here, huh?!” Regulus spat, his grip tightening. “How much did you overhear?!”
Sirius groaned, trying to pry Regulus off. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe just the bit where you confessed your undying love for my best friend—”
Regulus saw red.
Sirius barely had time to register the shift in Regulus’ expression before a fist came flying at him. The punch landed hard against his jaw, snapping his head to the side.
“Fucking—” Sirius hissed through clenched teeth, rubbing his jaw. But before Regulus could swing again, James yanked him back, arms locking around his torso and lifting him off the ground.
“Let me go!” Regulus thrashed violently in James’ hold, his breath ragged with fury.
“Bloody hell, control yourself, will you?” Sirius groaned, stretching his jaw with a wince.
But Regulus wasn’t done. Insults flew past his lips like venom, colliding with Sirius’ own sharp retorts until three voices were crashing together, overlapping in heated chaos.
“Where the hell have you been?” James demanded, eyes dark with frustration.
“You’re an imbecile—”
“Oh, shut up, Reggie,” Sirius spat, his voice sharp with exasperation. “Since when have you been fooling around with my little brother, huh?” he asked James.
Regulus’ eyes burned. “How did you find out, you bloody wanker?!” he shouted over him.
James, still holding him back, barked, “You’ve been missing for a week! Vanished without a single word after you crashed! Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
“Oh, so bloody worried that you’ve been shagging my brother?” Sirius shot back.
“We’re not shagging!”
“Sirius, what the fuck—” James ran a hand through his hair, his patience unraveling. “Where have you been?”
But Sirius ignored him completely, his focus locked on Regulus. “I want to know since when you’ve been lying to me.”
Regulus tensed, his fury reigniting. He lunged again, but James kept him firmly pressed against his chest, his grip unyielding.
“Sirius, stay the fuck out of our business!” Regulus snarled, voice shaking with rage.
“Just brilliant!” Sirius barked, his voice dripping with mockery as James tried to cut in.
“Let us explain—” James started, but Sirius wasn’t listening.
“My best friend,” Sirius seethed, eyes flashing with betrayal. “The one person I trust, keeping things behind my back. Bloody fantastic!”
“He said—” Sirius pressed on, jabbing a finger in Regulus’ direction, his voice rising with each word. “He said you broke his heart when you ran off to Spain. So what—have you two been screwing since before college? And why the fuck did you break my little brother’s heart, huh? What the hell did you do to him?”
“Oh, so now you’re mad at me?” James shot back, incredulous.
“Yeah, Sirius, who are you to be mad at him?” Regulus cut in, his voice sharp as a knife.
Sirius’ face twisted in shock, as if Regulus had just struck him. “I’m bloody defending you, and you’re siding with James? Where’s your so-called blood loyalty?”
“I don’t need you to defend me!” Regulus spat, stepping closer, his chest heaving. “Always thinking I need you.”
“You do need me!” Sirius shouted, his voice cracking with frustration. “I’m your big brother! And I’ve just realized I let my best friend break your heart—” his words trembled with anger. “And I wasn’t even aware of it, because nobody tells me anything in this bloody house!”
“Nobody tells you anything?!” Regulus scoffed, his voice raw with disbelief. “You’re the one who crashed and then vanished for a bloody week! Where the hell have you been? James has been worried sick!”
“Oh, and you haven’t?” Sirius shot back, arching a brow.
Regulus inhaled sharply. “I know you can take care of yourself,” he muttered. “You’ve never needed anyone. You never needed me.”
Sirius’ face twisted in shock, as if Regulus had slapped him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know—” Regulus sneered, feigning mock thought. “Maybe the fact that you bloody—” He abruptly drove his elbow into James’ ribs, slipping free from his grasp. Before James could react, Regulus launched at Sirius, shoving him hard against the wall.
“You bloody left me in that house,” he snarled, gripping Sirius by the collar. “And you didn’t write! Not once! You went to Spain, and you forgot me! After you said you’d write!”
Sirius’ expression flickered with confusion. “What?” His voice was softer now, hesitant. “You… didn’t get my letters?”
Regulus stiffened, his breath hitching. His grip on Sirius faltered.
“What letters?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The silence that followed was agonizing. It stretched between them, thick and unbearable, until Regulus let out a ragged breath—then another—before he broke. A choked sob escaped him, his shoulders trembling as he fought against the wave of emotions crashing over him.
“Sirius…” His voice was barely there, fragile and breaking apart. “What letters?”
But he didn’t wait for an answer. He couldn’t.
With a sharp inhale, he turned on his heel and strode toward James’ room, his movements stiff, almost robotic. Then—slam—the door shut behind him with a force that made the walls tremble.
James stood frozen in the corridor, his eyes locked onto Sirius, his face a storm of emotions—concern, guilt, exhaustion.
“Pads, I—” he began, his voice tentative, searching.
“Save it.” Sirius cut him off, his tone eerily flat, devoid of the fire that had burned just moments ago. He looked drained, as if every ounce of fight had been stripped from him. “I’m sleeping in the guest room. Tomorrow, however, you’re explaining yourself.”
James exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, bloody well,” he muttered. Then, after a beat, he added, “But so are you.”
Neither said another word. Without looking back, Sirius turned on his heel and walked off down the hall, disappearing into the guest room.
James lingered for a moment, staring at the empty space his best friend had just occupied. Then, with a heavy sigh, he made his way toward his own room—toward Regulus.
Regulus had his face buried in the pillow, his shoulders trembling as muffled sobs tore through him. The sight of him like this—small, broken—made James' chest ache. He hated it. Hated that it was all his fault.
He sat on the edge of the bed, hesitant. “Reg, please—”
“What letters, Potter?” Regulus cut him off, his voice raw, strained. He didn’t look up.
James swallowed. “He wrote to you every week,” he said carefully. “We thought—well, you never answered, but we assumed you got them. I—”
Regulus finally turned his head, just enough for James to see his face—eyes swollen, cheeks blotchy and red. He looked impossibly young, fragile. "Every week?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, childlike in its uncertainty.
“Yes, he—”
“I never got them.” The words came out hollow, empty, as if they had drained the last bit of air from his lungs.
James felt the weight of them settle between them. Then it clicked. “Your mother must have thrown them away…”
“Guess she did,” Regulus whispered, his voice barely holding together. His fingers curled into the fabric of the pillow, gripping it like a lifeline. “I’m sorry for everything. You’ve been good to me these past months, and I’ve treated you unfairly. You should just give up on me already.”
James let out a long sigh, staring up at the ceiling before shifting to lie back beside him. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give up on you,” he admitted softly. “I tried, remember? Didn’t work.”
And then Regulus broke. A sob tore through him, raw and unrestrained, and before he knew it, his head was buried in James’ chest. James didn’t hesitate—he wrapped his arms around him, holding him as tightly as if he could piece him back together just by keeping him close.
Somewhere in the midst of it all, James felt his own tears slipping down his face, blending into Regulus’ hair. Neither of them spoke. There were no more words left, only the sound of their breathing, their grief, and the way they clung to each other like a lifeline.
And they stayed like that—intertwined, tangled in shared sorrow—until exhaustion finally pulled them under, leaving them wrapped in the quiet solace of sleep.