Chapter 1
Regulus had it under control, he really did. Methodical bites, precise portions, a fair amount of shuffling food around his plate and cutting it up while he ate so he didn't appear idle. He doesn't purge too much, doesn't eat too little to be noticeable, and doesn't ever forget to apply his glamours in the morning to hide the permanent dark circles sunken under his eyes. It was almost a game, at times, how long he could handle the ever-gnawing feeling in his stomach. He liked the control it gave him, in a world where he had so little control over everything that happened to him, who he associated with, what O.W.L classes he took, what his future looked like, etc; Regulus clung to that shred of control he had.
He had the routine down to a science, counting in his head, always counting; bites and calories and test scores and days until he graduated, days until everything was ripped from him when he'd become Lord Black and couldn't see his friends anymore, couldn't see James in hidden places of the castle anymore or write Sirius letters because it was too dangerous to be seen talking. Regulus could feel his childhood slipping through his fingers like grains of sand, the safety that was Hogwarts would not last, could not protect him from what came next. Nobody knew about the invisible war he had waged against his body, retaliation for the ways he couldn't lash out, for every time he refused to fight back, for every time he disappointed Sirius for being their parents' perfect son.
His stomach growled audibly as he sat down for dinner in the Great Hall, exorbitant piles of rotisserie chicken and glazed ham, buttery golden corn, and shiny warm rolls of bread. Regulus hated the food set out for him like this, overwhelmed with the delicious smells that made his palms sweat as his mind whispered numbers and warnings, hissed that he must be careful not to get carried away as hungry as he was. Control, his mind reminded him, was the only way forward and through.
"Salazar, Reg, your stomach sounds like it's going to eat itself," Evan commented, sliding onto the bench next to him and across from Barty. Regulus shrugged in response, he couldn't say why it made him feel a little guilty, he didn't understand why something as human as being hungry felt so shameful.
"Oh, did you hear? Avery messed up the ingredients for the liquid luck we're doing for Slughorn and singed his eyebrows off! The pillock looked like a boiled egg, pale and shiny as he is, it was brilliant." Barty guffawed through a mouthful of ham.
"Pretty sure his hair was smoking too. Snape must've seen it coming because he practically leapt from his seat to avoid the blast and spilt armadillo bile all over himself, best potions class ever." Evan added, cheerfully filling his plate with his favorites, pointedly avoiding any of the vegetables like the plague.
Regulus hummed, half listening as he portioned everything carefully, the calculator in his head ticking up with every scoop of beans and sides. He separated the food so none of it touched, another necessary part of his routine, he ate in a specific order of operations, which always earned him a raised eyebrow from his friends, but it helped. His silly little lists and routines made him feel calmer, although it was senseless, it'd send him in a spiral if he didn't. Even when he was younger, in a house full of invisible land mines, routine was what calmed him most, lists and facts. It wasn't always about food; he had specific blankets he needed to sleep with, compulsively running his fingertips over the silky corner, a well-worn and loved book he forced Sirius to read him before he was old enough to do it himself, a particular French song he needed to hum to himself whenever he got that itchy feeling under his skin that made him want to rip it off.
He looked up when he felt the table shake, Barty smacking it with his hand in silent laughter, while Evan hid his face, cheeks reddening so deeply it nearly looked painful. Regulus was about to ask what he missed when he noticed Avery sheepishly entering the dining hall, head ducked as he beelined toward the table. Regulus had to hide his grin behind his goblet when Avery glanced up, his already high forehead hopelessly accentuated by the lack of eyebrows and the copper hair that usually curtained it was missing a notable few inches.
"Talk about a face only a mum could love, eh Avery?" Barty said with a wheeze, unable to contain himself. "Mind pointing that thing somewhere else? The reflection off your dome is blinding me and my mates."
Evan let out an outrageous snort from behind his hands and Regulus smacked his shoulder, purposefully turning his head away from the ghastly sight of a scowling Avery so he wouldn't see Regulus laugh. Avery wasn't brave enough to hex them in front of the professors at the front of the hall, so he settled for glaring at them in a way that was probably meant to be menacing, but only made them laugh harder. Dinner was a rowdy affair after that, more than usual, because Slytherins are more dignified than Gryffindors, but also could never pass up an opportunity to take the piss.
It was a welcome distraction from Regulus' fixation on his persistent hunger and the calculator in his head. He was able to eat a fair amount without feeling too awful about it, caught up in the ache in his cheeks from trying to smother his laughter and the shit-eating grins on his friends' faces, punctuated by giggles anytime they looked in Avery's direction. It was a rare gift to be so thoroughly distracted that he hardly felt anything about the bites sliding down his throat, settling in his stomach.
He regretted it deeply hours later when he was overcome with nausea, stomach burning and cramping fiercely, unused to the amount of food inside it. Regulus barely made it to the prefects bathroom on time before he was retching into the toilet bowl, his body knowing instantly what to do and needing no prompting this time, his mind a flurry of thoughts, all of which made him feel worse for losing control. He was still heaving when he heard footsteps approach, jerking up suddenly and fumbling for his wand, ready to hex whoever was stupid enough to bother him. Regulus sighed when he caught sight of red trainers with crude moving scribbles of a shaggy dog, a crescent moon, a rat with a flicking tail, and a pair of antlers on the toes nearing the stall. Too tired and shaky to stand, he flushed the toilet to do away with the sick, wiping his clammy face before he flicked his wand to open the door, revealing his boyfriend, grinning down at him like he won a prize. Regulus was sure he looked horrible, sagging against the wall of the toilet stall with his tie too loose and dangling limply, a few buttons of his dress shirt undone.
"What're you doing here, Potter?"
James shrugged, "It's a bathroom, what do ya think, lovely?"
"This is the prefects bathroom, and last I checked, you're far too seditious to be a prefect."
"Dunno what that means, but it sounds pretty coming out of your mouth so I'll take it as a compliment," James said cheekily. When Regulus only gave him an unimpressed look, he settled on the floor in front of him, keen eyes scanning Regulus' face, smile fading a little. "Alright, I was looking for you, and I had a hunch. Are you feeling okay? You're looking a bit peaky, love."
Regulus scrunched his brows, he was sure that nobody had followed him to the bathroom, he was always careful to check that the hall was deserted before entering. He'd never been here with James before or even mentioned it to him, so there was no reason for him to know where Regulus was.
"How do you always know where to find me?"
James clucked his tongue, "You can't answer a question with a question, that's against the rules," He brushed sweat-damp curls off of Regulus' forehead, fingers ghosting skin before he frowned and laid his palm on his forehead, "Think you have a fever, lovely, you feel warm. Do you feel sick?"
Regulus nodded, the easiest answer he could give, trapped as he was. "Ate something bad at dinner, I reckon, I've been nauseous since. How'd you find me?" He wasn't keen on repeating this experience, if James were to find him again, the "I ate something bad" excuse would only work for so long before he started asking questions.
"Top secret information you don't have clearance for, I'm afraid," He ignored Regulus' scowl, sliding one of his rings off his finger and easily transfigured it into a goblet, casting an aguamenti to fill it with water before passing it to Regulus. "We should get you to Pomfrey, she'll have something to fix you right up. Think you're done throwing up for now?"
Regulus took a sip, hoping James wouldn't catch the tremor in his hand as he lifted the cup. "Don't need Pomfrey, I think I'm alright now, feel loads better after throwing up." Which wasn't a lie, despite the symptoms it raised in his body, he always did feel like a weight was lifted when he expelled the food coating his insides with rot.
"Are you sure? You should probably have her check to make sure you're not coming down with something."
"I appreciate the concern, but I feel alright now, okay? If I still feel bad tomorrow, I'll go. It's late now anyway," Regulus gave his boyfriend a slight smile and poked him in the ribs, "I'll figure out your secret eventually, don't think I'll forget."
James relented, though he seemed unsettled about it, keeping Regulus company for a little while to make sure he was okay and not going to be sick again. They talked, knees bumping as they sat on opposite ends of the stall, more teasing and light conversation, a glimmer of worry in James' eyes that didn't dissipate even after they'd been there for a while. Regulus' mind roared, berating him for nearly getting caught, for eating too much, for not expelling enough. He tried not to fidget, he loved James but was also desperate for him to leave, an unbearable, claustrophobic feeling building under Regulus' skin the longer he tried to repress it.
Regulus was in control, really he was. It's just that, he was interrupted last night and James wouldn't leave with Regulus still huddled by the toilet, so he couldn't finish the job, and he didn't want Barty and Evan asking questions if they caught him in the dorm bathroom. The interruption in his routine, particularly before he could complete the task, set him on edge so much that he couldn't sleep. He dug his nails into his palms, trying to convince himself it was fine, to convince himself that he couldn't feel the food in his stomach, to distract himself from the counting in his head.
In the end, he slept very little, which was rather unfortunate considering he had a quidditch match against Gryffindor today. He rubbed at his crusty eyes, exhaling a harsh breath in the hopes of relieving some of the discomfort that hadn't disappeared at all from the night before. Whoever said breathing helps was a dirty liar, because it never helped when he felt like this. Regulus was extra sensitive on these days, every noise amplified to a thousand, making it hard not to flinch, the way his robes fell on his body would make him squirm, and his heart would jackrabbit the whole day as if he had drank too much coffee despite not having any at all. He couldn't manage it today, he knew. Eating would send him over the edge, likely into a panic attack in front of hundreds of students, which wasn't in his best interests.
Breakfast was a sordid affair, Regulus didn't even attempt to eat or put anything on his plate, deciding he could get away with it for once, sticking to orange juice, and fighting the urge to cover his ears with his hands to muffle the noise. His ribs ached from throwing up last night and that morning in the dorm bathroom under the guise of taking a shower, finally giving in to the urge in the hopes it'd help him hold onto his sanity for longer, to satiate the cold, hissing voice in his head that insisted it was the only way to regain control after the interruption in his routine. He traced a star on his leg under the table over and over again, the same spot, starting at the same point each time, an anxious tick he'd had for years.
"You get into it with Potter last night, Reg?" Barty asked to Regulus' bewilderment. He hadn't told them about James, Sirius was the only other person who knew, only because James couldn't keep a secret to save his life, and Sirius knew him far too well, cracking him two weeks into them dating.
"What?"
"Bloke's been staring at you all of breakfast, figured me and Evs missed something while you did your prefect rounds last night."
Regulus' shoulders relaxed slightly, he chanced a glance at the Gryffindor table to find James was indeed staring in a way that might've looked angry to anyone else, but he knew was just concern. He could see the gears turning in James' head, trying to figure out what was wrong with Regulus and how to fix it. When Regulus met his eyes, James tilted his head in question, gesturing to the food in front of him with a crinkled brow.
Regulus looked away, "Potter's just a prat, I dunno what his problem is, maybe something my idiot brother said." Barty looked skeptical but shrugged, engaging Evan in conversation again and leaving Regulus to stew in his thoughts, James' eyes burning a hole in his head.
"Okay, Prongs?" Sirius asked as the pair stood side by side in the quidditch changing rooms, pulling on their gloves and pads.
James was usually a ball of restless energy on game days, particularly games against Slytherin, as their teams were pretty evenly matched and could be challenging. But James had been on the quieter side the whole morning, a persistent twist of his lips that always meant he was mulling something over. He was still energetic with the team, offering plenty of encouragement and smiles, but it was clear that, for once, something other than quidditch was on his mind.
"Yeah," James answered with a small sigh, buckling his gear into place on his shoulders, "Have you talked to Reg at all lately?"
"Few days ago, maybe. Why? You have a spat?" James didn't answer for a moment, his mouth twisting in that expression again. Sirius closed his locker and leaned against it, head bent closer to James, "What're you thinking, mate?"
"He was throwing up in the prefects bathroom last night, but when I found him, he refused to go to Pomfrey. Said he ate something bad, and he was fine now, but it just felt off. I feel like I'm missing something." James said lowly.
"I mean, I'm not surprised he didn't want to go to Pomfrey, you know how we were raised. Getting help isn't really our thing."
"He said he'd go if he still felt bad today, but I reckon he only said that to get me to leave him alone. I was watching Reg today to see if he seemed better, but he didn't eat a bite of food at breakfast, and he looked awful. Pads, I'm worried."
"Okay, we'll keep an eye on him, and after the game convince him to go to Pomfrey if he still looks sick. I can probably nick some potions from the infirmary if I have to." Sirius clapped him on the shoulder, shaking him a little with a smile, "It's probably fine, Prongs, Regulus is just a stubborn git."
James gave him a weak smile in response, "Yeah, I'm sure he's fine. C'mon, we've got a game to win."
Regulus was an idiot. A pure, painfully stubborn, tosser. Now that Sirius was paying attention, he understood what James was talking about. Regulus moved stiffly like all his muscles were too tightly coiled to move normally, he was as pale as always, but the lack of color in his cheeks was surprising, considering the sheen of sweat on his face that would normally be accompanied by reddened cheeks. Sirius missed at least two bludgers because he was too distracted by his brother, who seemed to be gritting his teeth whenever he flew like he was in pain. James missed enough goals to make the opposing team certain of their victory, the students in the Slytherin stand chanting and taunting him for the unnatural behavior, while the Gryffindor team seemed uncertain with their captain so distracted and off his game.
Regulus was grateful that his position was a lot less flying than others because he was aching, a pulsating migraine beginning behind his eyes, and his ribs felt as if they contained a monster that was trying to burst out, pushing and pushing against the cage, a suffocating straitjacket feeling encompassing his torso. It was work not to react at all to the roaring of the crowds, the shouts of his teammates, and the shrill sounds of the commentator trying to keep up with the chaos. He tried to watch for the snitch, but his eyes kept straying to James, who was hopelessly distracted and not himself at all.
James was normally set aglow in his games, doing what he was born to do, throwing out encouragements and plays while working with his team as a well-oiled machine. But today, he was a mess, and so was his team, thrown off by their captain's behavior and lack of direction. Slytherin was up 125 points, and it was looking bleak for Gryffindor unless they caught the snitch. Regulus tried to pretend he didn't see James and Sirius glancing at him, hoping they wouldn't try to talk to him during the game.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of gold, there and gone again. Regulus turned his head slightly to track it without warning the Gryffindor's seeker, who was wickedly fast and sharp, just not as fast as Regulus. The small golden snitch flitted past one of the hoops, hovering for mere seconds before dipping low beyond most of the flyers in the center of the pitch. He readjusted his grip on the broom, bracing himself though he knew it was fruitless, this was going to suck regardless. The Gryffindor seeker was across the pitch, scanning the stands for the ball, looking away from it. The golden snitch peaked out from the bristles of a player's broom and without another moment of hesitation, Regulus dove to chase it, his gasp of pain carried away by the wind.
Regulus gritted his teeth, inhaling short bursts of air to soothe the burning in his torso as he raced toward the snitch. It darted into the fray, momentarily lost in a bundle of red and green players, but Regulus followed it anyway, eager to end the game. He went high and low, slowed down by having to swerve away from balls and bats, following the blur of gold. The Gryffindor seeker noticed his chase, and immediately joined from the other side, cutting Regulus off to get ahead. Regulus flattened himself to his broom, pushing harder to make up the distance between him and the other seeker. When the Gryffindor seeker took too sharp a turn, they were forced to slow down to prevent crashing, but Regulus eased into it, reaching for the snitch that was so close now if he could only stretch a little more.
He ground his teeth into dust as he stretched, still flying at top speed, arm extended before him when the Gryffindor seeker came up right next to him, elbowing him directly in the ribs, a hit that shouldn't have hurt as bad as it did. But still, Regulus faltered, arm wrapping around his torso, head hung over the side of his broom as he tried to catch his breath, bent over in pain. He heard the sounds of Gryffindor winning, the commentator announcing they had caught the snitch, but Regulus was still fighting against the black spots in his vision, the ground swimming in a blurry haze underneath him. After allowing himself a few seconds, still blinking away the spots, he landed clumsily, legs unsteady underneath him. Around him were sounds of celebration, the Gryffindors making a legendary comeback after a rough game, Slytherins shouting in disbelief and anger, and a sea of red and green surrounding him.
"Reg?" Evan landed next to him, hesitant hand on his elbow, "You get hit?"
Regulus shook his head, forcing himself to straighten, to regain his composure despite the migraine drilling into his head, only amplified by the noise and the burning pain in his ribs.
"Fine, I'm fine." Regulus managed to say through gritted teeth, pulling his arm out of Evan's grip and escaping to the quidditch changing rooms, eager to get away from the chaos surrounding him.
He tugged off his gear at record speed, breathing short pants through his nose to get through it, not bothering to shower. Something was wrong, he didn't normally feel like this after being sick. Sure, he was used to the headaches and the raw throat, sometimes soreness in his chest and stomach if he did too much, but this persistent burning ache hadn't happened before. It felt as if he'd been kicked repeatedly in the stomach, his rib bones felt fractured, like a too-deep breath would only widen the cracks, like his sternum was too fragile to withstand a deep breath without collapsing in on itself. He was pulling on his shoes by the time the rest of the team streamed in, grumbling and glaring at him for losing the game for them, but Regulus couldn't care less, he only strode past them and their dirty looks, head held high and hands in fists at his sides. It was only when he was past the changing rooms that he let himself sag a little, leaning heavily against the wooden stands to catch his breath.
"What the bloody hell were you thinking, playing in the state you're in?" Regulus opened his eyes, not recalling when he'd closed them, to find Sirius, still in his bulky quidditch gear, half his hair pulled back in a sweaty knot. James was hovering next to him, watching Regulus intensely. "James said you're sick, but you played like you're injured, not sick."
Regulus straightened, pushing damp hair out of his face, trying to contort his face into an expression not twisted with pain and exhaustion. "I was sick yesterday, and I still don't feel great, that's all. I'm not injured."
"I'm not an idiot, Regulus, I know what it looks like when you're hiding your pain."
"This is not that, so you can leave me be, Sirius, I don't have the energy for this." Regulus tried to walk past the two nosy Gryffindors, but Sirius caught him by the arm, glaring at him, a challenge.
"And if I were to touch your ribs? Should be fine, since you're not injured, right?"
"Don't touch me, Sirius, or I will hex your fingers off." Regulus snapped, trying to pull his arm out of his brother's hold. Sirius only tightened his grip, taking his other hand and pressing on his side firmly before Regulus could dance out of reach. He sucked in a breath at the touch, cutting it off too early so it came out as more of a wheeze, nearly bending him in half with the force of the pain.
"Want to try telling me you're not injured again?"
"Leave me alone." Regulus spat hoarsely, he was not ready for this conversation. He never would be, it meant he had lost control, enough that others noticed, and that was not possible. Regulus had it under control, he had to. His heart raced, pounding painfully against his ribs, the lack of air only making everything feel worse, Regulus just wanted to crumble right there and sink into the grass to decompose. James finally stepped forward, prying Sirius' hand off Regulus' arm, much to his relief.
"Look, you need to tell us what's going on with you, lovely, otherwise, we'll strongarm you to the infirmary where we'll find out from Pomfrey anyway." James' face was stern, resolute, and determined, Regulus could find no weakness in it. There wasn't any way out of this.
"I'm not injured," Regulus said carefully, licking his cracked lips, "I was sick a lot last night, and this morning, and I think it messed something up in my ribs."
"Why wouldn't you go to Pomfrey? I know you're a stubborn git on a good day, but this seems excessive, Reg," Sirius questioned, frowning deeply.
"I just couldn't," Regulus answered lamely. She would find out, Pomfrey would see how rotted his insides were and that would raise questions he couldn't answer.
"You didn't eat breakfast," James added gently, reaching out to feel his forehead the same way he had the night before, "You don't feel warm like you did before, just clammy. You're probably faint, love, you haven't eaten anything in hours."
Sirius was still watching him carefully like he was putting puzzle pieces together. "Let's go to Pomfrey then get some food in you, there's no reason for you to go on like this."
Regulus closed his eyes, defeated, "Please, Sirius, I can't see Pomfrey. But if you can heal my ribs, it'll be fine, that's all I need." If he could convince them he was just sick and injured himself by throwing up, he could get away with it. Regulus could still be in control, and nobody would have to know, he wouldn't have to stop.
Sirius had gotten fairly good at healing charms after Remus nearly bled out in the shrieking shake on a full moon a few months back. He's been studying on the side since, checking out all kinds of books on healing from the library to ensure nothing like that would ever happen again. He sat in front of Regulus, flipping through one of his books to find the right charm while his brother rested with his back against the bedpost, eyes closed, subconsciously tracing a star on his leg over and over again. He hadn't said much on the way back to the dorms, having to stop several times to catch his breath on the way up, steadily growing paler and paler.
Sirius hadn't missed the way Regulus had been ignoring James' prodding to get him to eat something, or the way his eyes widened with panic at the mere suggestion of Pomfrey, the cautious way he explained how he was sick like he needed to choose his words carefully. It didn't make sense to him, if Regulus had been sick in a normal way, he could've easily gotten a potion from Pomfrey and been fine for the game, but he refused, and even after being sick multiple times, he refused to eat, though he was sure to be extremely hungry by now. Regulus took quidditch seriously, he loved it as much as James, so if the problem was merely sickness, it was illogical to think Regulus wouldn't go to the infirmary to get help so he could play his best game, unless he was hiding something he didn't want Pomfrey to see.
"I need you to eat something, lovely. I know you haven't felt well, but you're really pale and I need you to get that blood sugar up. You'll feel much better when you do, I promise." James murmured, cupping his cheek in one hand, thumb swiping over a sharp cheekbone. He'd swiped some food from the kitchens on the way up, and had been pestering Regulus to eat something, anything, for the last several minutes.
"I'll be sick again," He mumbled, trying to find a way out of it. He couldn't eat here in the dorm, couldn't eat the portions that James chose for him, couldn't properly separate and calculate the portions and calories this way, the sandwich was touching the potatoes and the potatoes were touching the vegetables and-
Sirius watched the panic bloom in his eyes and he knew. Regulus was lying, and James had caught him in it for the first time last night. Sirius knew he'd always been particular about his food, he had a way of eating it and organizing it on his plate, mother often scolded him for cutting his food into too many pieces, and doing more shuffling than eating. He'd seen Regulus eat, every day in the Great Hall, or at least, that's what it looked like, but here he was now, starving and peaky, clammy and uncomfortable. Regulus was sick, but perhaps not in the way they thought.
"I need you to try anyway. If you're sick again, we're taking you straight to Pomfrey and getting you sorted out. The agreement was that Sirius would heal you and you would accept our help to avoid the infirmary. This is part of it, alright?" James said firmly, but not unkindly. He was good at tough love, he needed to be because Black brothers were stubborn as can be, and while gentleness was nice, sometimes what they really needed was a good kick in the arse to move.
Regulus finally gave in and nodded, flexing his hands a few times before picking apart the sandwich, analyzing everything that was in it with a scowl on his face before taking a hesitant, tiny bite. Sirius pretended not to watch him as he ate, eyes trained on the healing book whenever Regulus glanced his way. Sirius smacked James' knee to get him to stop watching Regulus, who was clearly struggling to get the food down, and not doing any better for being analyzed. The two of them bent their heads over the book instead, trying to choose between two spells that might be best for Regulus' condition.
Sirius watched Regulus out of the corner of his eye, his breathing was more labored than it had been going up to the dorm, and his hands fluttered in constant, anxious movements, flicking like he was trying to rid himself of some invisible sensation. James was instructing Sirius' wand movement, the book held close to his face to see the small text better, while Sirius corrected and readjusted what he was doing to fit the instructions. They both glanced up when Regulus slid the half-eaten plate away from him, picked apart so it was hard to tell how much was eaten, but he had regained a bit of color in his cheeks and his eyes were less hazy, so Sirius would accept it for now.
"Think I've found the right spell, do you mind if I check your ribs? I want to find where the worst spots are." Sirius asked, turning to face his brother again.
"Don't have much choice, do I?" Regulus grumbled.
Sirius smiled grimly, his patience wearing thin, he wanted to understand and to help, but sometimes Regulus made it so damn hard to do so. "Why're you in such bad shape, Reg? What's happened to make it this bad?"
Regulus shifted uncomfortably, mouth opening and closing before he eventually sighed, "It's just the way it is, I suppose."
Sirius shook his head, scooting closer to feel around his ribs, "Doesn't have to be."
Regulus winced when he pressed on the left, jerking away from the pain instinctively, a curse falling from his lips. James cupped the back of his neck, squeezing lightly to both comfort and keep him still while Sirius checked him out.
"What really happened, lovely?" He asked gently.
"Why do you keep asking?" Regulus snapped, frustrated tears brimming in his eyes.
"I need you to get whatever it is off your chest, it's killing you, love."
Regulus' mind whirred, thinking itself into tangled knots, senseless circles. Control is all I have, I have nothing left after this, this is all I can do to fight, to rage, and grieve, because it's not fair. I can't stand to live like this and it's killing me, I think I want it to.
Sirius whispered a warning, moving his wand in a specific twisting motion and an incantation spilling from his lips easily. In the span of a breath, his ribs snapped into place, ripping a startled cry from his lips, tears streaming down his face involuntarily. James turned Regulus' face into his chest, cool fingers still resting on the back of his neck, lips pressed to the crown of his head. Regulus broke, exhausted as he was, the sudden pain relief was overwhelming, and then the real tears were released, echoing a pain that wasn't physical, not really.
"Je ne sais pas pourquoi je suis comme ça, je suis tellement fatiguée tout le temps, je ne veux plus être moi-même," Regulus found himself saying, everything spilling out of him faster than he could stop it, broken words that ached to speak just as much as they ached to be heard.
"C'est bon, petite étoile. Je t'aime, je t'aime." Sirius murmured, because there wasn't much to say, there was only loving him through it, and he would, he'd always love Regulus.