It’s been almost three months since Regulus last sang. Three months. Regulus hasn’t taken this long of a break from music since he started. His fans and everyone probably think he’s working on an album. A really big album. Regulus should be working. His parents would absolutely lose it if they found out he’s outright refusing to sing right now. Not that they would know. Ever since his parents were exposed as abusive to their artists and staff, they haven’t so much as picked up the phone to lecture Regulus about how this is all his fault. After all, Regulus was the client Walburga and Orion got caught “abusing.” Regulus struggles to define his parents' treatment as abusive. It’s not like when he was young and used to protest until blue in the face that his parents weren’t ever in the wrong. Now, Regulus knows all the beatings he endured throughout the years were very wrong. It’s just, the physical violence went on for so long that Regulus normalised it. He adapted a way of thinking that if he screwed up and got hit, that was completely his fault. Not because his parents were abusing him- but they were born that way. They always would have resorted to striking first and asking questions later. There were good times too. His father taught him how to play chess when he was eleven.
Regulus fiddles with the large ring on his right thumb with chess pieces engraved on it. Across from him, the only person who semi gets his childhood sits on the window sill. Remus Lupin is his brother’s bandmate and best friend. Although Regulus suspects they’re more. This year, Remus posed as Sirius’ fake boyfriend to anger our parents after they beat him half to death and released him from the label for being gay. Regulus thinks that's when he finally used the ‘A word’ for his parents. Abusive assholes. The worst part of that night is his father kept Regulus locked in his room as Regulus listened through the vent as his mother half killed Sirius. Regulus screamed for his brother until his father came in and punched him in the face and ordered him to shut up. So, Regulus sobbed silently as his mother yelled for Sirius to get out. He never saw his brother again for several months. At the first concert The Marauders and The Skittles did together, Sirius refused to speak to him. Regulus didn’t blame him. It’s not like he reached out or anything. His parents confiscated his phone after that night. He attempted to use his bandmates' phones but with Sirius also being famous, he wouldn’t check random numbers.
“Thinkin’ ‘bout him again?” Remus has the window cracked for ventilation as he chain smokes cigarettes. Regulus has a pencil tucked behind his right ear and a yellow notepad cradled in his lap. A few random lyrics and doodles litter the page. Regulus and Remus have been friends before Remus and Sirius were but they have never hung out in person. Until lately when Regulus bought his own house in Cambridge. The house isn’t outrageously large like other celebrities are. There’s three bedrooms and two bathrooms spread over two floors. Technically three but the attic is one room that holds Regulus' own recording studio. The house is pretty isolated for British real estate. Regulus snags Remus’ cigarette. He doesn’t take a drag from it. Regulus doesn’t smoke. He was always paranoid his parents would smell it on him so he never picked up the habit. “Going to have to be more specific which him” Regulus puts out the cigarette in the ashtray in front of him. Remus rolls his eyes playfully. “Your brother, asshole”
“Ohhh… Him” Regulus sighs. Out of the four possible him’s, Sirius is the most complicated. Barty, his father, and James are much more simple than his brother. He’s hidden his homosexuality from his parents since he found out he was gay in Year Two not only for the sake of his career but fear of being treated like his brother by their parents. Since moving out, Regulus has mostly been keeping a lid on his sexuality out of habit. All his song lyrics are changed from he/him pronouns to she/her pronouns.
“Yeah, I guess.” Regulus nods. Remus sighs, exasperated. “What do you have?” Remus fingers drum restlessly on the window. Regulus hands over the legal notepad. Remus scans it and snorts. “That’s some depressing stuff” he holds up the paper and his thumb points to the drawing of the titan Atlas holding up a piano and various other instruments like the sky. Regulus smiles. “Aren’t all celebrities live’s depressing?” The grin is not genuine at all. Remus jumps off where he sits on Regulus’ counter. He wordlessly climbs the stairs to the attic. Regulus follows. When they get up to the studio, Remus takes a seat at the Baby Grand Piano Regulus took from Grimmauld. Regulus slides over to the piano with the chair used by producers- mostly Regulus nowadays. Remus clears his throat, “what inspired you to draw this?” He holds up the drawing again. Regulus leans back in the chair. “You mean, besides my shitty parents?”
Remus places the notepad on the place where sheet music normally goes. “What specifically about them?” Remus starts playing random scales on the piano. Regulus blinks at Remus. The older doesn’t even look up as he asks about details Regulus hasn’t even voiced to a therapist. The two boys don’t work like this. They’re both messed up by messed up people but they don’t talk about that. They’re friendship is built on dark humour and their shared love of literature.
Regulus opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Suddenly, Remus stops in the middle of the D scale and looks up at Regulus. “I’m serious. Pick a memory. What was going through your head as you drew that?” Remus raises an eyebrow. “I-I-I guess I was thinking about how they’re expectations were unfairly high” Regulus stutters, uncertain. Remus hangs his head and aggressively smashes his hands on the keys. “Do you remember when Sirius got kicked out?” Remus asks bluntly. Regulus’ eyes snap to Remus and his jaw drops. What does he read minds to? Remus looks predatory. Like, if the saying ‘I got you now!’ was an expression. “Ah, so you do remember it” Remus grabs a guitar from who-knows-where. Regulus has about a dozen different guitars laying all over the room. Majority of them, wildly out of tune. The one in Remus’ hands is a regular, old acoustic guitar from an old tour Regulus did that hasn’t been tuned in years. Remus tunes the strings with one hand and scrolls on his phone with the other. Regulus scowls at the device. The general rule of thumb is no phones in the studio. Remus tosses his phone on the piano. Landing with a ‘thunk’. He throws one leg over the playing bench so he’s straddling it. Then, he strums all the strings on the guitar and looks up at Regulus. “Sirius told me you didn’t even come downstairs when he left. Something tells me that’s not true” Remus’ eyes narrow. Regulus hits his head on the back of the chair and stares at the ceiling. “How do you know I’m not just an asshole who abandoned his brother when he was getting beaten on?” Remus full belly laughs at that. Regulus frowns. Remus sombers. “Because I would like to say I know you” he turns one of the tuning pegs. Regulus glances at Remus through his lashes. Remus carries on. “And I would like to say the guy who I know didn’t just sit there while his flesh and blood got ‘beaten on'’” deep green eyes which seemed to know everything, stare in Regulus’ soul.
No one ever sees him like that. No one ever believes himself capable of caring for someone like he cares for Sirius. Remus has a way of seeing through the fake front people who have been mistreated put on. Maybe because he’s been putting on that front for years. Remus grew up in a boys group home in London. While there, he gained over half the scars that litter his body today. Then, when Remus turned eighteen he moved in with his “boyfriend” at the time. The boyfriend gave him the other half of his scars and the type of trauma that caused him to flinch away from any form of physical touch.
Remus picks up his phone again and uses his chipped nails to type randomly on his phone. A few minutes later he throws his phone at Regulus. Regulus catches it and studies the screen. Random lyrics are neatly arranged on the screen. Regulus cocks a brow. “I changed a few things to match your voice but I wrote that when I was with Steven.” Steven. The ex that Remus lived with after he left the group home. Regulus grinds his teeth. “You said you stopped writing when you were with Steven” he points out
“Yeah well,” Remus lowers his head, “I wrote this the night he locked me in a windowless closet for the last time. I left him the next day.” Regulus blows out a breath. “Damn. That’s some heavy shit. Seen a therapist for that?” Regulus tries to joke. To distract himself from thinking about how Remus was in a similar situation as him once. He has always known why Remus can relate to him- on a surface level. Again, talking about specifics is not really their thing. Remus is private with everyone. So him randomly blurting out his life anecdotes doesn’t happen a lot. When it does, no one negates it. So, Regulus starts humming to the tune of the song. The lyrics pebble his skin in goosebumps. This is exactly how he felt that night.
After a few more run-throughs of the song and talking it over with Remus, Regulus was confident in his ability to sing the song without making a fool of himself. Remus alternated between the piano and the guitar. He tried out both with the song but inevitably settled on the guitar. The guitar is the instrument Remus is confident with. Remus says he started playing when he was a toddler because of his dad. He picked up the piano fairly easily in school. All musical people can work out how to play the piano. It’s probably what most musicians use to write their songs before adding fancy guitar playing and cool drum kit sounds. “Ready?” Remus asks before humming the intro to the song. With one hand, he plays a few high notes on the piano. Then he switches back to the guitar. Regulus takes a deep breath before singing.
“Hell raising, hair raising
I’m ready for the worst…
So frightening, face whitening
Fear that you can’t reverse…
My phone has no signal it’s making my skin crawl
The silence is so loud…”
With every word, Regulus feels his skin tighten. Yet, the smile on Remus’ face is worth it. He can finally make these ugly feelings into art. Regulus feels a sort of power grow from the helplessness of the locked door.
“The lights spark and flicker with monsters much bigger
Than I can control now…”
Regulus hears the phantom footfalls of his father coming up to his locked room. To beat him. To punch him. To threaten to snap Regulus vocal chords with his bare hands. Regulus doesn’t even know how that would’ve been possible but it terrified him at the time. He listened to his brother scream and his mother spew awful words at him. Derogatory words. Hateful words about being gay and a disappointment to the family. Regulus remembers living in fear of his sexuality since that day. Remus switches to a more aggressive strumming pattern as Regulus sings the chorus.
“Welcome to the panic room
Where all your darkest fears are gonna come for you…
Come for you
Welcome to the panic room you’ll know I wasn’t joking when you see them too…
See them too…”
Emotion grabs Regulus by the throat. Remus continues onto the instrumental break in the song. Feelings that Regulus thought he buried when Sirius never came back home grew. Memories of his own screams glue his vocal chords shut. No matter how hard he tries, Regulus can’t seem to forget that night. Many people have suggested therapy over the years but Regulus brushed them all off. He likes to think writing sad poetry and composing sad songs have always been more helpful to him than any shrink could. Regulus has thought of stepping away from being a popstar since his Paris Fashion Week months ago. His cousin Andromeda even encouraged it. She left the family business before Regulus can even remember. Now she plays smaller gigs on the weekend with a new band and designs clothing during the week.
Regulus finishes the song and immediately leaves the room. He runs down the stairs to the main floor, so fast it leaves him dizzy. He rips open the cupboard above his kitchen sink while turning on the faucet. He grabs a plain mug made for holding tea and holds it under the tap. Water rushes into the cup and Regulus gulps down the liquid without even shutting off the faucet. After a few more swallows of the water, the telltale sound of Remus’ footsteps came down the stairs. He reaches past Regulus and shuts off the tap. Then, he hoists himself up on the counter besides Regulus. Regulus slams down the mug a little more forcefully than intended. Water sloshes over the sides. Regulus ignores it and looks outside. The view was the selling point of the house. The window overlooks the large backyard where Regulus allowed his PR manager and best friend to plant her garden. Pandora left a little bit of grass leading down to the creak but other than that, the yard is all stone sidewalk running in between dirt patches of carrot, lettuce, radish, and even more seeds. Pandora didn’t have garden space in her fourteenth floor apartment.
Remus says nothing. He lights another cigarette and hands it to Regulus. Regulus rolls his eyes. Remus kicks him lightly. “You’re not there” he assures. Suddenly, the cobwebs of Regulus’ past that he couldn’t brush off all day, dim. He stops pounding on the walls and his mother’s screaming quiets. Regulus brings the cigarette closer to his mouth. Fuck it. He takes a deep drag from the stick. He sputters immediately and the backs of his eyes sting. Regulus hands the cigarette back to Remus. Remus smokes the cigarette effortlessly. Regulus tilts his head, inquisitory. “Practice” Remus smirks. Regulus rolls his eyes. “You did better than your brother though,” Remus adds. The competitive flame in Regulus ignites. Normally he’s not this easily goaded with other people. Sirius just brings out his need to win. Regulus raises his eyebrows and gestures for Remus to go on. Remus blows smoke out of his nostrils like a bull. “Oh yeah. Should’ve seen it. He almost threw up.” Regulus snorts a laugh. “Really?”
“No lie. I thought he had asthma” Remus explained. Regulus laughs harder.
The room went silent after. Both boys are smiling. Remus offers the cigarette to Regulus but he declines. They sit, not talking, for a while. This, Regulus thinks, is the beauty of their friendship. They can sit in silence forever and never get bored. Remus' phone lights up in his pocket. He holds the screen out to Regulus. ‘Sirius Black’ Regulus reads. He gets an idea and takes the phone from Remus. Regulus presses the answer button. “Why is your phone on silent?” Sirius’ voice comes out demanding. Regulus smirks. “I have other friends” Regulus mimics Remus’ voice. Sirius’ voice turns concerned. “Remus! Are you okay?” Sirius asks frantically. Regulus chuckles. “Not dating, huh?” he drops the voice
“Reggie?” Sirius sounds sceptically
“Brother,” Regulus deadpans
“Why do you have Remus’ phone?” Sirius asks. Regulus rolls his eyes so far he can see the inside of his skull. “He has other friends, Sirius” Regulus put the phone on speaker. He props the device on the windowsill above his sink. “You guys are friends?” Sirius sounds more suspicious. Remus bristles. “Yes diva. Your brother’s cool” Remus ashens his cigarette. Sirius makes an audible noise of adoration. “Cooler than you” Remus adds
“Hey!” Sirius squawks. Regulus snorts loudly. “Straight to marriage, I see” he remarks. Both boys protest in sync. Regulus laughs internally. “Sure. When's the wedding?” Regulus teases. Remus kicks him a little too hard to be friendly.