Chapter 3
Regulus is only able to run through his short program two times without disruption.
As the blaring music of Michael Bublé dies down and Regulus holds his arms up high above his head, the sound of eager applause shatters his peace and quiet. When he turns around, he nearly rolls his eyes at the sight before him.
He isn’t the slightest bit surprised to see Barty and Evan at the other end of the ice, cheering him on as though it were actually competition day. Barty’s yelling something like “That’s my boy!!”, and Evan’s just whooping and hollering like an absolute maniac. Though Regulus would like to keep the sour expression on his face, he can’t help it; he’s smiling within seconds.
“You’re both late again!” he calls out as he begins to make his way over to them, his hair still covering his eyes.
“Nah, we’ve been here,” Evan replies. “Watching your beautiful skating.”
“Oh, knock it off,” Regulus says with a little shove to Evan’s shoulder. Though he’d be reluctant to admit it out loud, he’s never been more relieved to see the two boys in front of him. It finally provides him with some sense of normalcy.
“Come on, Reggie, we’re being serious!” Barty exclaims, shifting Regulus’s focus onto him. “Evan and I do not stand a chance.” He’s joking, Regulus knows he is, but hearing Barty say that can’t help but sadden him a little.
“Don’t say that,” Regulus responds, brushing the hair out of his eyes now. “I haven’t even seen your program yet.”
“Good,” Barty nods vigorously. “Because I am definitely going to eat shit and die at regionals.”
”You’re going to jinx yourself,” Regulus warns with an eyebrow raise, though he hasn’t been so superstitious in years. He’d learned as a child that nothing he does the same or differently makes a difference; he has no impact on fate. Tying his left skate before his right or doing twenty-two jumping jacks doesn’t change anything. Still, Barty and Evan are two of the most superstitious people he knows, and he does respect their commitment to tradition.
”I actually think I jinx myself more if I don’t say I’m going to eat shit,” Barty says, shrugging. Regulus doesn’t quite understand that logic, but whatever.
”It’s your program,” he replies, and doesn’t push the matter anymore; he truly doesn’t care about jinxes or curses.
A moment passes in silence, and that’s when Regulus recognizes the music that’s playing now: one of the younger kids on the ice is skating to Starman by David Bowie. He nearly stumbles over–he feels as though he’s just been hit in the chest. Suddenly he’s taken back to another time, years ago in this exact rink.
In front of him he sees a 9-year old boy and his younger brother, eagerly watching the former skate around the surface of the ice like he could take on the entire world. He sees that boy, with his pristine edgework and flawless jumps, skating a program so perfect that all his little brother can feel is admiration. He watches as the boy finishes a run-through of the program, as his little brother breaks out into eager applause, and his stomach twists into knots.
He shouldn’t be able to recall every detail so well–it was so long ago, and he was so young. He wants desperately to forget about everything that ever had to do with his brother, to act like it’s all in the past and doesn’t matter to him now. He doesn’t want to remember.
But he does. He remembers everything.
As if they’re able to read his mind, Barty suddenly pipes up. “How’re things with Sirius?” He asks the topic that everyone else in his life has avoided for the past three days, and Regulus should’ve seen the question coming. The three of them have skated together since their first group class–it would be silly of Regulus to think they didn’t know him that well.
Still, it manages to catch him off guard. And the most he can manage is a shrug. “No idea. Go ask James.” He says it more harshly than he means to, and it doesn’t escape him how Barty and Evan both flinch. But it’s true. Sirius has texted him once since the plane landed, and Regulus responded almost immediately. And that’s been the extent of their interactions. Exactly how things have gone with them for the last three years. The longest conversation they’d had was the night before Sirius left, and Regulus would rather take a skate blade to his ankle than relive that.
“Sorry,” Barty responds, like he isn’t sure what else to say. Regulus sighs. “I thought–”
“No, I know,” Regulus says. “It’s just–everything’s fucking sucked since he left. I’ve only heard from him once, Mom and Dad are, of course, acting like he never even existed, and now James is going to be in the rink across from us practicing–”
“–and watching you skate?” Evan suddenly interrupts, raising an eyebrow.
At first, Regulus doesn’t fully process Evan’s statement. He can only blink. “What?” he says, turning to look at Evan.
The expression on his face is one of surprise, like Regulus surely had known about this already. “Dude, he was watching your program when we came in here. He literally wouldn’t take his eyes off.”
It still takes him a second, simply because it just sounds absurd. Huh? James was… watching him skate? And then it hits.
James was watching him skate.
All of the color rises to Regulus’s cheeks, and though the rink is ice cold, he’s never been hotter. He’s surely red as a tomato, and yet he doesn’t care.
“What the fuck?!” he says, not sure whether he’s talking more to Barty or Evan or to himself. “Are you kidding me?”
“You didn’t know?” Barty asks. But Regulus shoots him a look that says are-you-fucking-serious-right-now, and that’s the end of that. He has more pressing things to care about.
James was watching him skate and he hadn’t even known.
He makes up his mind right then and there; Regulus Black is going to murder him.
❅ ❅ ❅
By the time practice is over, James feels as though he can barely stand upright. The walk back to the locker room might be one of the most painful of his life, and it’s more reminiscent of a crawl than a walk.
At least I didn’t die, he tells himself as he finishes changing out of his gear. But with the way that he can barely catch his breath even now, it seems like he could still die at any second. As he puts all of his equipment into his bag and zips it shut, he takes a moment to lean back against the wall, closing his eyes and just sitting in the silence. And he realizes that this is the first time he’s been able to do this in years.
When he and Sirius still played together, they always made it a competition to see who could get out of their gear and out the door the fastest. The entire team would partake in this thrilling event, picking one of them to cheer for as they both sprinted to be the first one out. A couple of years ago, Marlene began to keep a tally of who was winning more often.
Their score had been tied when Sirius left. Forty-one wins for Sirius and forty-one wins for James. Now, James stares at the door that they used to fight each other over and wonders if, when the season starts, Sirius will still be racing to get out of his gear after practices.
James is quick to stand up now, a realization hitting him as he swings his bag over his shoulder: he doesn’t like being the last one out of the locker room. And it’s with that thought that he grabs his stick from the rack, pushes the door open, and leaves.
The silence only lasts about two more seconds—the second James turns left, he spots him.
Regulus Black is standing right in front of him, looking just about as cheery as ever. And based on the way that he immediately locks eyes with James, James gets the feeling he’s been waiting for him. He has absolutely no idea what’s going on. But he does his best to hide his bewilderment and shoots Regulus a little wave with his hand, like this is totally normal for the two of them. “Oh, hello.”
Regulus gives him a curt nod in return, his arms crossed stiffly in front of him. “James.”
And before James can process what the hell is happening, Regulus is grabbing onto both of his shoulders and practically slamming him backwards into the wall.
What the hell.
If James was surprised beforehand, it’s nothing compared to what is going through his brain now. His bag slips right off of his shoulder and his stick flies out of his hand, landing on the floor with a loud clatter. And he makes no effort to pick either of them up, no effort to struggle against Regulus. He can’t even speak. Any instinct of fight or flight has left his body, so instead of making an effort to do either he just stands there and stares blankly at Regulus.
Before he’s able to ask what he did to warrant this, Regulus screams the answer back at him. Right to the point, then. “Why the fuck were you watching me skate?!”
The question throws James off even more than being slammed into the wall did. That’s what Regulus is so worked up about?
If it wasn’t for the fact that Regulus is shooting him a dagger-sharp glare, James would be bursting into laughter right now. He throws his hands up almost in surrender, though he’s having a very hard time taking this entire situation seriously when the boy driving him into the wall is a good few inches shorter and at least twenty-five pounds lighter. “I don’t know?” he responds, and he has to fight like hell to keep a smile from creeping onto his face.
He’s fighting a losing battle, however, and his smile is quickly wiped away when Regulus tightens his grip on James’s shoulders and practically pins him against the wall. Jesus—where did all of this sudden strength come from? “This isn’t fucking funny, James. Why were you watching?”
And though he chokes out the same answer as before, this time it’s fueled by genuine fear. “I don’t know!” he exclaims, trying to wriggle out of Regulus’s grasp. His efforts are all but useless; he never knew a figure skater could be this damn strong. “I just—I saw you go out there, and I wanted to watch.”
“Don’t bullshit me,” Regulus says, but it’s true—James finds himself entirely short of an answer. And after a moment of silence… “You seriously have no explanation? Nothing?”
“I don’t!” James responds. “I swear, I had no idea it would be such a big deal.”
“I don’t believe you,” Regulus shoots back, and his face only gets closer to James’s. At this point, James can feel Regulus’s hot breath against his neck, and he’s quite certain that he might die. “I think you know exactly why you went in there.” James almost wants to respond with Do I?, but he knows better than to poke the already infuriated bear. So instead, he says nothing and chooses to let Regulus do all of the talking.
And talk he does. “I’m not going to say this twice, James—I’m not Sirius. The sooner you stop pretending I am, the better off you’ll be. Got it?”
If he weren’t currently fearing for his life, he’d be tempted to laugh. Of course Regulus isn’t Sirius. He’d learned that a long, long time ago. And that certainly hadn’t been why he’d decided to watch him skate (though he doesn’t know the actual explanation either).
Still, if that’s what Regulus believes this is, then James will humor him. “Got it,” he gasps out, and finally Regulus’s grip begins to loosen until he’s let go of him completely. Freedom has never felt so relieving before. “Jesus,” he says once he’s able to breathe again, “you’re strong.”
Regulus’s nose wrinkles as he takes a step away from him. “And you stink.”
James forgot that sweat is still clinging to his body, and that the smell of the post-practice locker room will linger on him until he showers at home. “Wow, thanks,” he says simply, and though Regulus has let go of him he’s still glaring at him with narrow eyes.
When at last he speaks again, he only says five words. “Seriously, though. Don’t watch me.” And then he turns around completely, walking away and not sparing another second on James. So much for them looking each other’s way again.
James might be the most stupid person in the world for what he calls out next, before Regulus gets the chance to round the corner and disappear completely. “Hey, for what it’s worth.. you skate beautifully.”
He watches as Regulus turns back around ever so slightly, and the look on his face is unreadable. His mouth falls open, but no response comes out. And then he shakes his head, his eyes falling to the floor.
His reply is so quiet that James might’ve missed it had he not been listening so keenly. “Just stay away. Please.”
Then he’s gone.
As James goes to pick up his bag and his stick again, the interaction plays over and over again in his head. And as he leaves the rink, he thinks more about what Regulus said to him.
I’m not Sirius.
He reflects again on his locker room races with Sirius, on how hard they would laugh as they pushed each other out of the way to be the first one out. He reflects on their many street hockey sessions together in James’s backyard, reflects on how hard they used to laugh every time the ball would hit something other than the net and how Sirius would stay over even hours after they were done “practicing”. He reflects on the many late nights they’ve spent together after games or practice just driving around town and talking, on the many winter afternoons they’ve spent playing pond hockey, and the overwhelming sadness that he’s tried so hard to ignore all comes flooding back at once.
Yeah, James thinks as he looks back at where Regulus was just standing. You’re definitely not.
❅ ❅ ❅
Sirius is just settling down on the couch when his phone begins to buzz.
He doesn’t even need to check to see who it is—he picks up immediately. If it were anyone else, he’d hang up. It’s been a long couple of days, and god knows he needs the rest. But James has been calling him at the same time every single night, and talking to him is something that Sirius will never turn down. Especially not when he’s in an entirely new country where everything is different and James is the only thing that’s stayed the same.
“Hey, James,” Sirius begins, but James is ten steps ahead of him.
“Dude, you are absolutely never going to believe this.”
A smile is already forming on Sirius’s face as he responds. “What’s up?”
”Alright, so today was the Marauders’s first practice, and so I was rushing to get to dry land on time…”
James then proceeds to recap the entirety of his afternoon, starting from him bumping into Regulus all the way to him leaving practice. And Sirius listens.
He’s glad that they’re not on a video call right now, because he’s sure the facial expressions he’s making as the story progresses are absolutely unpleasant. He’s also confident that he’s probably rolled his eyes about a thousand times as James tells him more and more about Regulus being there, about his bitter attitude and out of pocket quips at James.
It’s not like this is anything new—Regulus has been making snide comments about James since he was nine. Usually they’re after James has left their house, or under his breath when only Sirius is within earshot. But the fact that Regulus is now doing it to his face (and also slamming him into walls, apparently?)… what a ray of sunshine his little brother is.
When James finishes telling him the story, Sirius feels as though he needs a moment to breathe. He blinks slowly once or twice before speaking. “Wow. That’s… something.”
“Yeah,” James replies. “I mean, I already knew he didn’t like me, but now I’m pretty sure he actually wants to kill me. So.”
He tries his best to make it sound like a joke, but they both are aware it isn’t. Though James has told the entire story in a lighthearted sort of tone, Sirius knows him better. He knows how badly James wants to be liked by everyone, knows how personally he takes it when somebody doesn’t. James has never told him this directly, but he sees it in everything his best friend does—he doesn’t need to.
”It’s not you, James,” Sirius finally says with a sigh. “He’s still pissed at me. He’s going to be for a while.”
As he says the words he thinks back to his final night in Minnesota, Regulus’s words to him still ringing fresh in his ears.
It stings to reflect on. He tries to forget as quickly as he remembered.
”Yeah, probably,” James agrees. “He doesn’t strike me as the ‘forgive, forget’ type.”
”That’s just how figure skaters are,” Sirius says, trying to shrug it off.
“Sirius, you literally used to-“
“Takes one to know one,” he shoots back with a grin, and though it isn’t all that funny they’re both laughing now. Never mind the fact that hockey players can be far worse about holding grudges.
”Yeah, yeah, I guess that’s true,” James says, then he goes quiet. Sirius almost groans—he hates when James does this. It usually means he’s thinking, and that’s never a good thing. He prepares himself for what’s going to come out of his best friend’s mouth next.
“Should I try to talk to him—“
”Absolutely the fuck not,” Sirius cuts him off before he has the chance to finish that thought.
“But what if—“
”No. Do not.”
”He might just—”
”You are actually going to get yourself murdered.”
James sighs. “Fine, you’re right.”
”I always am.”
”Bullshit.”
Sirius lets out a gasp at that, and before the two know it they’re both bursting into laughter again. “How dare you!” he cries out, “I have literally never been wrong ever!”
”Right.. so what about that breakaway you had last year where you decided to—“
”That doesn’t count,” he scoffs, and he’s fighting hard now to catch his breath as their hysterics continue.
It’s at that moment that the timer in the kitchen begins to beep, reminding Sirius of the pizza he placed in the oven twenty minutes ago. “Shit,” he says to no one but himself, springing up off of the couch. ”I gotta go.”
”Sounds like it,” James says, and though Sirius can’t see him he can practically hear the shit eating grin that must be decorating his face.
”Oh, come on,” Sirius says, all while dashing to the kitchen. But before he hangs up, he takes a moment to stop and talk directly into his phone. “Hey.. just know that he’s a prick, okay? It’s not your fault.”
The timer is still beeping in the back as he awaits a response from James. And finally… “Yeah. Got it, okay.” He knows that James probably isn’t entirely convinced of it. But he also doesn’t know Regulus like Sirius does, doesn’t know the half of what the two have had to put up with their entire life. He doesn’t know that Regulus’s contempt for him comes from his contempt for Sirius, contempt for their family. And he doesn’t need to. But Sirius wishes he’d believe that this wasn’t on him.
“Good. I’ll, um, call you back later.”
”Alright,” James responds, still sounding unsure. Then he pipes up again, and everything’s back to normal. “I love you, bye!”
Sirius can’t help the scoff that escapes from his throat. “Love you too,” he responds, the corners of his lips turning upwards as he ends the call. It’s a tradition they have that somehow started up in middle school, something that they always make sure to say whenever they’re parting ways for the day. Whether it’s while leaving the rink or when James is dropping him off at home or when they’re ending a call, it’s a constant he can rely on. And though it’s always funny, secretly he’s grateful that they do it. James is the only one he ever hears those words from.
He shuts the timer off now, taking a moment before he goes to take out the pizza. At this point, it’s probably already burnt. He wishes that the Longbottoms had been home tonight—the mom, Augusta, is the one who can actually cook decently. Or maybe he should’ve just accepted their invitation to tag along to dinner with them. But he doesn’t feel ready for that yet.
He’s relieved when he opens the oven to find that only the crust is a little burnt, and quickly takes it out.
He turns the oven off afterwards and leaves the pizza on the counter to cool, and sits at the dining table by himself. Then, he doesn’t end up eating for another hour.
Instead, he thinks of his baby brother.
His baby brother, whom he used to be so close with. His baby brother, whom he used to skate with for hours on end. His baby brother, whom he used to stay up late with to watch figure skating competitions with. His baby brother, who looked at him like a hurt puppy the day he told him he was going to quit figure skating completely to pursue hockey.
His baby brother, who just a few days ago had wanted him to stay (even if he hadn't said it out loud). His baby brother, whom he left behind.
Sirius buries his head in his hands, and decides right there and then: it’s best if he doesn’t think about Regulus at all. Not right now.
It’s for the better, anyways.