It started when Regulus was 12 years old, Sirius a year older at 13. They were home from Hogwarts for the summer holiday, throwing a quaffle around in the backyard on their brooms like a two-person quidditch game, left to their own devices for the afternoon. Sirius showed off like he always did, zipping around and flipping upside down on his broom, performing daring stunts, hanging from only his legs as he tried to catch the ball from his precarious position. Regulus, being 12 years old and a little brother, of course, was immediately jealous of this and tried his best to imitate the daring maneuvers to the best of his ability.
The problem was, he hadn't had nearly as much practice as his brother, who was on the Gryffindor quidditch team with James and regularly practiced multiple times a week because they were both quite frankly, addicted to the sport. Regulus had always been competitive by nature, as well as jealous, but that usually had more to do with the ease with which his brother was able to do everything than his quidditch skills. Everybody at Hogwarts loved Sirius, thought he was handsome and funny, and everything he tried, he excelled, whether it was spells, potions, or sports. He had an ease about him that Regulus could only dream of, everything Regulus managed to excel at was through gritted teeth and hard work. He wasn't well-known or liked at school, which was fine as he didn't like people much anyway, but he envied the way his big brother seemed to perfect everything without trying, while all Regulus did was try.
On the next pass of the quaffle, before Sirius could throw it back, Regulus attempted a trick he'd never tried before, simply because he had seen Sirius do it so many times before. He swung low to the ground, tilting himself back as he flew upwards in a curve, intending to catch the ball on the way up and complete the loop one-handedly. Unfortunately, he miscalculated, swinging too far to the right and heading straight for the big oak tree at the edge of the property at a nerve-wracking speed. He barely missed the trunk, inches away from colliding with it, but he wasn't so lucky as to miss the low-hanging branches that tore at his cheeks and arms, earning him a bunch of shallow burning scratches. Regulus rolled off his broom, eyes stinging with unshed tears, as Sirius, laughed so hard he nearly fell off his broom, bent over in a fit of giggles as he landed next to him. Regulus shoved him so hard he lost his balance, landing on his butt on the grass, Regulus' face burning with tender scratches and hot embarrassment. His laughter only lasted as long as it took for Walburga to call for them from inside the house, her sharp, demanding voice always had the effect of dark clouds swallowing up the sunlight, and any childlike joy disappeared at the sound.
When Walburga had seen Regulus' face, she had grabbed his chin, nails digging into his sliced-up skin, turning his face this way and that before releasing him, hard eyes turning on Sirius for an explanation. Before Regulus could explain, his brother took responsibility for it, as he often did, because this was another thing he could do with ease. Sirius could look Walburga in the face without fear, look her in the eye boldly, and still spit defiance like it's his job. Regulus only knew how to make himself scarce and quiet, he could only say, "Yes maman" and keep his hands behind his back to hide the way they shook.
Defiance and rebellion were not in Regulus' blood the way they seemed to be in his brothers, he could not raise his head to meet Walburga's searing gaze, could not raise his voice against her, for only a reserved, measured tone would come from his mouth. Walburga surely recognized Sirius' pattern of accepting punishments on his brother's behalf, she never seemed to care, content to punish whoever so long as she got the message across: any and all mistakes or hints of rebellion were not accepted in this house.
It was that night, watching Walburga punish Sirius for something he hadn't done as if his mere existence was an abomination and warranted punishment, that Regulus found his defiance. It wasn't an obvious rebellion, wasn't loud or brash like Sirius' was, this rebellion was found on the cold tile of his bathroom, knees aching against the cold floor as he spilled his guts in the porcelain toilet. At first, it was because he felt so sickened by how far Walburga had gone that night, maybe because they were older now, or because Sirius' Gryffindor friends emboldened him even more, the punishments seemed to get worse and lasted longer than ever before, were crueler than the expected swift slap on the cheek.
When they were younger, she never drew blood, she may have dug her nails in and gripped them too roughly, given them bruises, locked them in their rooms, or made them go without meals, but that was the worst of it. These punishments were expected, Regulus had received a few himself the first year Sirius was away at Hogwarts and couldn't be there to take responsibility, or the rare occasion Regulus did do something she was able to catch him for. But he had never seen his mother wield her wand against them, never to draw blood, until that night. As soon as they were free to go, Sirius slinked back to his room silently, and Regulus dashed to the bathroom to expel his nerves, the guilt that twisted in his stomach seemed to crawl up his throat, and he sighed in relief when his stomach was finally emptied of it. The problem was, the guilt always came back, his constant companion in that house.
Without warning, it became routine for Regulus, every time Sirius was punished, he threw up in the bathroom until his stomach ached and his throat burned. It helped him breathe around the guilt he felt watching his brother bleed time after time in defense of Regulus, it was almost solidarity, to say, look, I can't rebel as you can, but I can suffer with you, I can fight too, except Regulus waged war against his body instead of his parents.
The hardest part was going back to Hogwarts, where he had no use for such things, but it didn't stop the self-loathing, and guilt stayed with him even so far from Grimmauld, especially when he had nightmares about his mother killing Sirius after going too far. In those dreams, Sirius would always look straight at him with bloodshot eyes that seemed to see right through him and scream with blood flying from his lips about how it was Regulus' fault; that even if their mother had the killing blow, it would be Regulus who was actually responsible for killing him in the end. Regulus, who could never stand by his brother for fear of what Walburga would do, who could never find the courage to interfere, could never be anything but exactly what their parents expected and wanted.
Sirius found out eventually when Regulus started skipping meals as well, struggling to put anything into his hollow stomach, when somewhere along the line eating started to feel like giving up, losing an invisible battle that Regulus didn't fully understand himself. He just knew that he felt better when he was empty, when he could see the way his cheekbones jutted out and his skin looked as pale as paper, when he could look in the mirror and imagine saying to Walburga, this is your perfect son, this is what you've done to him, aren't you proud?
Sirius found out midway through Regulus' fourth year when things had gotten especially bad and he'd passed out in potions from standing too quickly to get ingredients. When he'd woken up in the hospital wing, Sirius was begging Madam Pomfrey not to contact their parents, insisting he'd help him manage it. Over the next few years, Sirius helped him start eating and taking care of himself again, annoyingly pushing protein shakes on him when he looked too pale and sweaty, sitting with him at meal times to make sure he was eating, etc;
Regulus would start to get better for awhile at Hogwarts, but repeatedly relapsed when they were home, and their parents harsh comments about his gaunt features only made it worse. Walburga once spelled him into his chair until he finished his entire plate, while Regulus wept silently over a cold dinner. Things got better again when Sirius and Regulus finally ran away, watching Sirius flourish under the gentle and overflowing love of the Potters seemed to help unclench the fist of guilt that had a hold on Regulus for years, but even the safety they offered was not enough to rid him of the fear and nightmares, the ghost of Walburga's fingers poking at his ribs.
Regardless of their escape from Grimmauld, Regulus was never really able to escape the habit, even when it wasn't really necessary anymore, he couldn't find it in himself to stop. Food seemed to taunt him, he struggled to eat around people as they tended to point out how frail he looked, struggled to choke down food after bad nightmares or flashbacks, and struggled to feel hungry when he felt full of anxiety most days. Eating felt like an exhausting ordeal and he generally just wished he didn't have to deal. The Potters, of course, found out about this problem when he started living with them, but Effie never pressured him to finish his plate, never forcing anything on him or looking at him with disgust like his parents had. They were kind and patient with him, which made a different sort of guilt twist uncomfortably in his gut, Regulus felt like he took their hospitality and threw it back in their faces every time he struggled to eat what Effie made or when he was caught throwing it up.
Sirius was so easy to love, and fit into their perfect family so easily, and he accepted their love readily, leaning into it hungrily, he knew how to make Monty laugh and Effie smile brightly. He and James were already like brothers, Sirius the perfect second son, while Regulus felt like he made everything hard on them. He held the Potters at arm's length, flinching away from their affection, hiding in his room and listening to the laughter float up from downstairs, a ghost that haunted their house and their bathroom. While his relationship with them got better the longer he stayed, he would never be as close to them as Sirius was, Regulus was never as easy to love and accept as his big brother was.
Now, Regulus lived with James, and both graduated from Hogwarts a few years ago, getting a flat just a short walk away from Sirius and Remus'. Even at 20, Regulus struggled with food daily, though James was well versed in how to help him manage after years of living with him and Sirius, not to mention dating him for the last three years.
The move was still fairly recent and Regulus wanted it to work so badly, wanted to prove to his brother, who was anxious about not living with him anymore, that he didn't need him to be fine, and wanted to show James that he was fine, that he could be somebody whole, not the chipped and shattered person he'd seen over the years. He didn't want them to be disappointed in him, to feel like they'd have to take care of him and worry about him his entire life, waiting anxiously for the next time Regulus fell apart. Regulus desperately wanted to chalk up his eating disorders to childish problems that he left behind in adulthood. But it doesn't work like that.
"Here we are," James said lightly, setting down the plates of food on their small kitchen table before sitting down across from Regulus, who tried to hide his grimace at the sight of the simple foods, peanut butter toast, a small portion of strawberries with granola and yogurt, and some veggies on the side.
It made him feel like a toddler, eating like this when James ate real food with ease, seemingly without any thought because that's what it's supposed to be like. It made him want to snap at James, to start a fight for treating him like one of his young students, but he wouldn't, because Regulus was tired of making everything difficult all the time. Eating wasn't supposed to be this hard, yet every meal felt like a marathon Regulus hadn't prepared for, pushing himself past his limits and draining what little energy he had.
Typically, James would make something more complicated, but Regulus had been having a rough go of it lately, stress from the move making his mind a whirlwind of anxiety, so James had adjusted what they ate to make mealtimes easier. Regulus had refrained from purging because he was, for the most part, more afraid of disappointing James than he was tempted to do it, but he'd still been struggling to make himself eat.
"Thanks," He muttered, going for the easier foods out of habit, avoiding the toast because it would sit the heaviest and opting for the yogurt. The Smiths played softly in the background as James ate and talked animatedly about his day, his favorite student had drawn a terrible picture of James that he proudly hung up on the wall behind his desk, despite the mildly offensive way said student had drawn his head, which was apparently way bigger than his body.
"It looked like a snowglobe with little arms and legs, but he was so proud of it, I couldn't not hang it up," James gestured to his head with his sandwich, smiling fondly at the memory. He was an elementary school teacher, primarily second graders, and often came home lit up from within and full of stories of what the kids had done or said that day.
"You do have a pretty big head, are we sure it wasn't an accurate depiction?" He teased, smiling at James' wounded expression, hand on his chest like he was clutching his pearls.
Regulus always appreciated that James wouldn't just stare him down as he ate, judging how much or how little was on his plate, instead telling funny stories or singing obnoxiously loud to whatever music was playing to draw his attention. The distractions helped pull his mind from dark thoughts and the familiar spiral his brain followed when he ate, the less he thought about it, the easier it was to get down. He leaned into the distraction as much as possible, trying so hard to pull his mind away from the food on his plate, and methodically eating small bites of everything else but the dreaded peanut butter toast.
"Oi, I just have a lot of hair! My head is perfectly average, I'll have you know," James said indignantly, patting his wild hair down repeatedly, even as it stuck right back up the second he lifted his hand. If he suspected Regulus was doing it, he didn't say anything, only leaned into the joke harder by insisting on texting his mother and asking her if she thought his head was that big.
Regulus picked at his carrot sticks slowly, the last thing he had to eat before the toast while James prattled on about his other students and what he'd been teaching them this week. Sometimes, Regulus couldn't help but wonder what his life would be like if he wasn't constantly consumed by this disease. What would it be like to see peanut butter toast as it was, just food, instead of seeing every night he spent on his knees, expelling the guilt while Sirius' cries came from the next room, instead of feeling his mother's sharp finger poking at his ribs, demanding to know what was so wrong with him that he could not do something as simple as eat? What would it be like to have a full stomach that made him feel contented rather than panicked and guilty, to never know the harsh burn of a raw throat and stomach bile, to not feel proud of an empty stomach?
It was better with James in some ways, but it was worse too because James worried and saw too much of Regulus at his worst, saw and made sure to hold him a gentleness he never knew what to do with. Not many people had ever been gentle with Regulus, and it took him a long time to stop lashing out and waiting for that gentleness to fade, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now that they moved in together, Regulus almost constantly worried that James would grow tired of his issues, of the dance they did every time Regulus tried to find excuses not to eat or not take his meds. James never acted like he was tired of him, but Regulus was well aware of the nobility each of the Potters seemed to have, that they cared for each person they encountered out of instinct, out of sheer goodness. Regulus didn't want James to be with him because he was noble. Sometimes on his bad days, he was scared that was the only reason James stayed.
He didn't realize he'd been glaring at his toast until James slid into the chair next to him, having stopped talking at some point and watching him with thoughtful, kind eyes. He hadn't realized he was biting his lip so hard he could taste blood, following that downward spiral so easily without remembering when he started doing it just as he had for years. James reached up slowly, tugging at his bottom lip until he released it, a bloody spot where Regulus' teeth sunk into it. When Regulus managed to drag his gaze to meet James', he found no pity or look of exasperation in those hazel eyes, even as he searched for evidence of it, he found only a glimmer of worry overshadowed by the softness of love and understanding.
"Sorry, I didn't realize what I was doing," Regulus murmured, frozen in place by how close James was, how intently he was watching him, feeling exposed, like he was a child caught doing something he shouldn't. He darted his tongue out to soothe the bloody spot on his lip, catching James track the movement before meeting his eyes again. James shook his head, thick brown hair falling in his eyes at the motion,
"I know love, it's okay," He slid a hand to the back of Regulus' neck, squeezing lightly and resting it there comfortingly. James nodded at the toast, untouched on his plate, "How many bites can you manage, do you think?"
The Potters had never forced Regulus to eat when he lived there, but they always asked him to try, no matter what it was. They bought all of his safe foods and kept them stocked so if he wasn't able to eat a full meal, he'd always have something easier to eat on hard days. It helped a lot to have options, and it was a strategy James still applied. James always tried to nudge him to eat what he could but never shoved it down his throat or acted frustrated when Regulus struggled to eat anything at all, only patiently asking him what he could handle, one bite at a time.
"Three, maybe. I ate everything else," He frowned at the plate, cheeks hot with embarrassment, twisting his hands in his lap.
Even though James had seen him like this countless times, and even worse over the years, it still made him feel small and childish to struggle like this. He wondered if this was what their life would be like together, James patiently prodding him to eat while Regulus fought off a panic attack at the simplest task. He wondered if James wanted to do this forever, or if he was just waiting for Regulus to wake up and end the cycle he'd been stuck in since he was 12.
"Let's try three then," James smiled kindly and pressed a kiss to his warm cheek, "I'm proud of you for eating what you could. Do you need me to do anything?"
"Keep talking?" Regulus asked, picking up the toast and taking a deep breath.
James sat beside him, looking away so he wasn't watching Regulus eat, a steady presence, fingers absentmindedly twisting the curls at the nape of Regulus' neck around his fingers as he rambled mindlessly. It took Regulus an embarrassing amount of time to take the first bite, several minutes were spent just glaring at it and hoping it would teleport itself off his plate. He managed it though, pushing past his nausea and finding it a little easier after the initial bite.
James' phone pinged, and he groaned at the screen, turning it to show Regulus sheepishly. He wasn't joking, he had texted his mother to ask her if she thought his head was huge, and Effie, the lovely woman she was, responded with a picture of James as a bald-headed baby with the words, I'd say so.
Regulus snorted indecently, "Oh yeah, I'd say your hair actually helps make it look smaller, you'll be in trouble if you start balding,"
"Oi! Leave my head alone, you tosser!" He exclaimed, tugging on Regulus' hair playfully.
~
Regulus didn't mean to do it. He honestly was trying not to, but when he laid down next to James that night, all he could think about was how heavy the food sat in his stomach, how it felt like regret, coated his insides with dread. He lay there and imagined that he was a ticking time bomb, he could only pretend to be whole and fine for so long, that if he didn't relapse now, he would one day, it was only a matter of time.
It was part of him, an inescapable, incessant urge that did not care for his progress or healing and could only be satisfied by purging. The urge to empty everything out until he felt light, until the shadows of their apartment at night no longer reminded him of Grimmauld, until James' soft breaths couldn't be mistaken for Sirius' cries, only became stronger the more he obsessed over it. The more he thought about how he might be stuck in this cycle forever, the less he wanted James around to see it.
The temptation to purge built until the pressure was near unbearable, he felt like his skin was stretched too tight over his bones, a hurricane of thoughts and uncomfortable sensations that had him desperate for any sort of release. James had fallen asleep next to him over an hour ago, oblivious to the silent mental breakdown Regulus had been having the moment there weren't any distractions around to direct his attention away from the sensation of being full.
He and James were so different, he struggled to understand why James would want someone like him, though he knew he was loved, knew James wanted him, Regulus couldn't help but wonder what the limitations to that love were. Regulus had not grown up with parents who loved him unconditionally, the only person in his life who had was Sirius, and he always felt like that also came from some sense of responsibility, Sirius took care of him because he had to, because their parents wouldn't.
Regulus just wanted relief, he wanted his mind to go quiet, he wanted to feel at home in his body, safe. He only intended to do it once, to just feel a little less full of everything bad, to relieve some of the pressure, and go back to bed with James none the wiser. The problem was that he couldn't really be trusted to do these things in moderation. He didn't know how much time had passed before he heard the doorknob rattle, couldn't recall how many times he had thrown up already, only that his skin was cold and clammy, heartbeat rushing in his ears like waves crashing on the shore.
"Hey, love? Alright in there?" James' voice came through the bathroom door, slightly muffled and sleep-soft. Regulus closed his eyes, cheek sticking slightly to the toilet seat, though he hadn't remembered when he put his head down all the way. He vaguely felt panic grip him, and it only made him want to be sick again, anything to escape the guilt that clung onto him, pulling him down until he couldn't hear anything else but Walburga's voice in his head. The doorknob rattled again, James' voice coming through louder this time, more awake and tinged with the beginnings of worry. "Reg? Can you let me in?"
Regulus' muscles felt like jelly, his head swam when he opened his eyes and the acid smell of stomach bile made him all the more nauseous. He cursed under his breath, trying to breathe through his mouth as he tried to think of something he could say, some way he could make James leave him alone.
"Go back to bed, James," He called back weakly, fingers curling on the edge of the toilet seat, he was feverish and shaky, every rattle of the door only made him feel worse. Regulus was tired of being someone that James worried about, he just wanted to fall apart in peace.
"I won't be mad, okay? Whatever happened, I just want to make sure you're okay. Let me in, please love," James pleaded, sounding really concerned now, like he already knew what Regulus was doing, like he already knew Regulus had failed him.
So much for being proud of me, Regulus thought, unmoving from his position at the toilet, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Usually when he was upset, all he wanted was James to be with him, to hold him and speak softly until he was able to smooth all of Regulus' sharp edges again. But the last thing Regulus wanted right now was James, the last thing he wanted was to remind James of every other time he'd slipped up and promised he'd never do it again. Every time he lied about taking his meds and eating enough before that was something he monitored. How many relapses could a relationship take? It would be so much easier for James to find someone who didn't have this problem, who didn't make him panic in the middle of the night at the sight of a locked bathroom door.
Regulus flinched at the feeling of something cold on his cheek, cracking his eyes open to see that James had gotten through the door at some point, and knelt in front of him with a brittle smile and a cold cloth held to Regulus' clammy face.
"Rough night, hey?" James murmured, tired eyes scanning his face and gentle hands wiping him clean of sweat and sick.
"Please leave me alone," Regulus whimpered, wrapping clumsy fingers around James' wrist and pushing his hand away from his face.
He wasn't ready to face James' disappointment, but some feral part of him also wanted to spread his arms and yell, this is what I am, this is what our life will be like together if you stay. To rip off the bandaid instead of this painful freefall they were in, waiting for James to give up. Maybe it would be a relief for Regulus to lose him in a way, to not have someone to keep it together for all the time, maybe it was easier to not have anyone to disappoint in the first place.
James shook his head, unfazed as he reached for him again, trying to pull him up this time, "Let's get your head out the loo-"
"Leave me alone, James!" Regulus burst out, jerking away from his outstretched hands and unintentionally slamming into the wall behind him, black spots swimming in his vision from the sudden movement. He exhaled harshly, frustrated with himself for going too far and doing the exact thing he had been obsessively worrying over for weeks. It always led to him being right here, knees bruised from being pressed into the hard tile, mouth sour with sick, sweat soaking through his clothes.
James pressed his lips together, pulling his hands back toward himself and drawing a deep breath before getting to his feet and leaving the bathroom. A sound akin to that of a wounded animal bubbled out of Regulus' mouth, something wild and feral was tearing at his insides, responding violently to the absence of James' warmth. Just because he didn't want James to see him like this didn't mean his absence didn't scratch at every wound he had, ripping open every abandonment scar he had earned as a child.
He wasn't gone long, probably only a few minutes, though it was hard for Regulus to tell, time felt thick and syrupy around him, the air in the bathroom suffocating, pushing against his chest painfully no matter how many deep breaths he tried to take. James entered the bathroom with a glass of water and his phone in hand, hazel eyes damp behind his smudged glasses, but any evidence of tears had been wiped away. He sat down across from Regulus, close but not making any move to touch him, only sliding the glass of water toward him silently.
"I called Sirius," He began, watching Regulus' reaction to this warily, taking in his sweat-soaked shirt, his trembling fingers, and hollow expression. When Regulus said nothing, James continued, flipped his phone in his hand nervously, "It's okay if you don't want my help, but you need someone, and I'm trying my best but I-" He cut himself off, swallowing harshly and looking down at his hands. After a few moments, James seemed to find his voice again, "Anyway, he's on his way, I'll leave as soon as he gets here. I just don't want to leave you alone right now,"
"Okay," Regulus rasped, unsure of what to say, feeling the urge to comfort him somehow, but he couldn't when he was the reason James looked like a kicked puppy.
Just another reason they were ill-suited, his brain provided helpfully, James makes things better for you and you make them worse for him.
They sat in thick, uncomfortable silence until Sirius burst into the room, still in his pajamas, hair disheveled in a way it rarely was, keen eyes darting between the pair before resting heavily on Regulus. Wordlessly, James got to his feet and made to leave the room before he was halted by Sirius' hand on his arm,
"Prongs?" He said softly, an unspoken question passing between them, communicating with a single look as they had done since they were 11. Sirius tilted his head, trying to meet James' downcast eyes, but he shook him off lightly,
"It's fine, Sirius. I'll be outside if you need something," James stepped around him and left the bathroom with slumped shoulders. He didn't glance back at Regulus once, and Regulus tried not to feel the sting of his avoidance.
Sirius turned to his little brother with a raised eyebrow, hands on his hips like he was preparing to reprimand him for something. "What's going on, Reggie? You two have a fight?"
Regulus leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to swallow the sobs that kept trying to claw their way back up his throat, "Nothing, no, it's fine,"
Sirius huffed, wiping a hand over his mouth and shaking his head, "It's never fine when you're found on the bathroom floor with your head in the toilet, Reg. It's usually pretty bad, actually,"
"I don't need a babysitter," Regulus bit back, hands clenched in fists as he tried to stop them from trembling. There wasn't enough air in the room to fill his lungs, no matter how many breaths he tried to take, his lungs kept burning insistently.
"Clearly you do!" Sirius retorted sharply, waving a careless hand at his brother's crumpled form slumped against the wall, holding all his muscles so tightly he shook with the effort.
That was all it took for Regulus' slippery hold on his emotions to crumble, a punched-out noise escaping his mouth before he curled in on himself, heart-wrenching sobs filling the space between them. Sirius crossed the space in seconds, sweeping up the shattered pieces of his brother and pulling him into his arms like he had so many times over the years, well-versed in the meticulous process of gluing Regulus back together again.
"I'm sorry," He choked out, hands fisted in the fabric of Sirius' shirt like he was afraid Sirius would leave him if he let go.
"Okay, Shh, Je t’ai, petite étoile, you're okay," Sirius murmured, holding tightly to his brother, ignoring the clammy cold of Regulus' forehead against his neck, resting his chin on top of his head and combing a hand through his sweaty hair. He swayed them gently back and forth, murmuring platitudes until Regulus' cries calmed, dissolving into the occasional sniffle, wobbly breaths evening out again. When Regulus pulled away, Sirius took him in for a moment, seeing his paler-than-usual face and lips, and making his decision about the next steps. "Let's get up, rinse your mouth and face, then we'll talk, okay?"
"Yeah," Regulus scrubbed at his eyes, snorting when Sirius' knees cracked loudly as he stood, making him groan in discomfort. "Old man," He snarked, accepting Sirius’ outstretched hand and letting himself be pulled to his feet, wobbling a little unsteadily. Sirius kept a firm hold on his arm as they shuffled slowly toward the sink, keeping him upright as Regulus' knees threatened to buckle underneath him.
"You're only a year younger, if I'm old then you're old," He snarked back, looping an arm around Regulus' back as he bent down to rinse his mouth with the tap. Regulus flipped him off before washing his face, the cool water made him feel a bit more human, and joking with his brother helped relieve some of the crushing weight on his chest, though every time he remembered the look on James' face, he felt like he could break down all over again. Once he was done, Sirius put the toilet seat down and helped him sit down on the lid, pressing the glass of water into his hands and frowning, "I'm gonna have James bring you a protein shake, you're still too pale,"
"No, wait," Regulus darted a hand out to stop him, eyes wide with fear, "I don't want to see him right now,"
Sirius halted, brow furrowed in confusion because James and Regulus had fought before, but he’d hardly seen them act like this. He crossed his arms, repeating his earlier question, "What's going on with you two?"
Regulus looked down at the glass in his hands, biting his lip on instinct before wincing at the raw skin he’d ripped open earlier. "I'm hurting him, by being like this, and I don't want to, anymore. I tried not to be like this but I don't- I'm not sure it's possible for me to be... whole, not in the way he is. He tried to help when he found me, and I told him to leave me alone,"
Sirius let the words sit between them, mulling them over as he watched his brother, hunched and exhausted on the toilet seat. "You know, James has never flinched from our darkness. He doesn't... understand what it's like, but he's never let that stop him from loving you or me with everything he has. It hurts to see you like this because he wants you safe, but his love has never been conditional on our... "wholeness", as you say."
Regulus' eyebrows furrowed, lips tipping down in a frown, "He's too good, too noble, I'm afraid I'm just pulling him down with this."
"Regulus," Sirius sighed, dropping his arms and crouching in front of him, hands balanced on his brother’s knees, "You've always been made up of so much more good than bad, and you've never been able to believe that, but he does, he sees it. We weren't raised to believe we had good within us, or that we were lovable at all, but that doesn't make it true. Loving someone is choosing to take the bad with the good, and believing that the bad is easier to handle together. All we're asking is for you to keep trying, and let us help you handle the bad,"
"Do you worry Remus will leave if he sees the bad too many times?" Regulus asked quietly, raising a shaky hand to take a sip of his water, the action requiring more strength than usual. Sirius put a hand on the bottom of the glass, wordlessly pushing it up to help him drink.
"I used to worry about it constantly. You can ask James how many mental breakdowns I had over it, and I still find myself worrying sometimes, but Remus taught me something very important; Love means longsuffering, a daily choice to endure everything that comes our way together as a team because love also means to lean on each other when things get hard. What would be the point if we did everything alone?"
"You're both so sappy," Regulus commented with a small smile, which made Sirius grin back widely, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
"Says the one dating the softest man on the planet," he teased.
Regulus tilted his head back and forth, "Yeah, can't argue with that,"
"Can I bring James in, now?" Sirius asked, stepping forward to drop a kiss in his hair when Regulus nodded, still looking a little apprehensive about seeing him. "Just be honest, he's had a lot of experience with us Black brothers, so he gets it. Drink your water," he added, pointing at Regulus menacingly.
James entered the bathroom warily like he wasn't sure if he was wanted there, holding a chocolate protein shake with a straw in one hand. He came to stand a short distance from Regulus, shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly, clearly trying to think of what to say.
Regulus sighed, helplessly softening at his obvious anxiety and a pang of guilt shot through him for causing it. "Come here, James," He set his glass on the sink and held out a hand, beckoning him closer.
James exhaled harshly, "Oh thank God," He wrapped his arms around Regulus, who looped his arms around his waist, still seated so his head rested against James' stomach. "I feel so lost when you shut me out like I don't know what to do with myself around you,"
"I'm sorry, there was just a lot going on in my head," Regulus said, tears pricking his eyes again as he sunk further into his arms. "It just got to be too much, and I really didn't want you to see me like that, but I didn’t mean to hurt you,”
James hummed thoughtfully, rubbing idle circles on his back, "Talk to me about it?"
Regulus did, and it felt good to let it out, even though he got choked up at some points, tears falling when he explained the more sensitive things, the most vulnerable parts he was scared would make James walk away or flinch. James listened, wiping away Regulus' tears and patiently waiting as his sentences jumbled together, stopping and starting with the waves of emotion. He never flinched, grimaced, or looked at him with pity, only nodded and hummed his understanding, giving small encouraging smiles. Everything Sirius had said was right, love is longsuffering, a choice, and to those bold enough to choose it and keep it as a promise, it was a covenant to do the hard things together. Regulus would struggle some, heal some, and struggle again, but the fact that he tried and kept trying mattered more than anything else to the people who loved him.