Chapter 36
Sirius’s very first hockey game had also nearly been his last.
This is a fact that Sirius doesn’t often talk about. He doesn’t want anyone to know that fact, lest he be deemed weak for it. James doesn’t blame him. He’s one of the only people in the world who witnessed this story unfold in front of him.
It was nearly the end of the third period, and the score of their spring recreational league game had been tied at 5-5. Sirius was the only kid on the team who had never played hockey before, and his nerves were apparent to everyone. Each pass was done with trembling hands, every shot on net flimsy and timid. He attempted to skate the puck out of the zone, and that was when the lethal mistake had been made–Sirius attempted to pass the puck to one of their teammates, standing right in the middle of the ice.
The attempt was completely botched. He turned the puck right over to the center on the other team, and he’d managed to fire it right in. Sirius didn’t seem to react at first, completely frozen in his tracks. That’s when James realized he was looking right up at the scoreboard, which had just changed from 5-5 to 5-6.
It ended up being the game-winning goal, and as every other teammate of theirs got off the ice and sprinted straight for the locker room, Sirius stayed right on the benches. Staring down at his own two feet, looking uncomfortable and unsettled in his own skin.
James hadn’t hesitated to go up to him, smacking him hard on the shoulder as he took a seat beside him. He knew the zamboni would be coming on at any minute now, but he didn’t find it in himself to care. Let the zamboni run over the two of them; he’d stay out here as long as it took.
“It’s my fault,” Sirius mumbled before James could get a word out, still not facing him. “I gave the puck right to him. Like a freaking idiot.”
“Sirius, it was your first game,” James replied. “You’ll get better.”
“No, it was a stupid mistake!” Sirius exclaimed with sudden fire in his words. His head snapped over to look at James, and the expression on his face did not match the ferocity in his tone. He looked resigned and defeated, completely disappointed in himself. He looked Like he was ready to give it all up. “I suck at this.”
James had wasted no time in his response, immediately alarmed by the hopelessness in his friend’s voice. “Are you kidding me? You were the best skater out there!” James exclaimed, gesturing out to the ice. “You’re telling me that’s it, then? You’re going to give up because you made one mistake?”
For once, Sirius had nothing to say. And James knew that he was right in calling him out. So he continued.
”So you messed up—“
“Very badly,” Sirius interjected. James ignored it.
”Yeah, whatever. You’re telling me your response is to just… stop?”
Sirius didn’t protest at this. He’d looked away from James again, his eyes focused on the ice. He seemingly had no intention of glancing over at his new friend again. And there was desperation to James’s words as he presented his last resort, his ultimatum. “If you quit after this,” he said, putting a hand on his friend’s leg, “that is a million times worse than if you kept going.”
He could feel Sirius stiffen beside him, the statement sinking in.
Then, he felt the air beside him shift, felt Sirius’s head snapping over to finally look at him again.
James was confident that he’d won then.
Suddenly, James heard the familiar whirring of the zamboni starting up, and the buzz it created as it drove out onto the ice. The boards surrounding the two began to vibrate, and James took the hint as the driver honked the horn.
“Come on,” James said, standing up and jumping over the boards. “Marlene’s mom always hands out snack packs. You don’t wanna miss them.”
With that, James had skated off the ice and made his way down to his team’s assigned locker room.
Sirius hadn’t followed at first. James had worried that maybe he hadn’t said the right thing after all, that maybe he really had given up and James would just have to live with it. At least he could say that he tried.
But a few minutes later, the door to the locker room had clicked open, and James had smiled brightly when he saw Sirius standing in the doorway.
It hadn’t been Sirius’s last game. And James thanks god it wasn’t.
He thought afterwards that Sirius would never want to quit again. That he’d realized he was born for this, that he knew his capabilities now and that he’d never doubt what he could do.
As they stand in the airport now, James watches as Sirius steps away from Regulus, pulling out of the hug. Then their eyes meet, and James sees that 10-year old kid again.
Sirius smiles and opens his mouth to speak. But James beats him.
”You asshole,” he says, shifting forward and lightly punching Sirius in the chest. “You gave me a heart attack, you know that?”
Sirius lets out a scoff at this. “That’s exactly what I was going for,” he says, and the next thing he knows, they’re both hugging tightly, laughing through a teary-eyed embrace.
”I missed you, man,” James gets out as they hug, attempting to look up at the ceiling so that his tears don’t spill.
”Yeah,” Sirius mumbles back. “Yeah, me too.”
Time passes by—seconds or hours, James doesn’t know. But finally, they pull away from each other. And as Sirius’s expression shifts, he can see it more clearly than ever before. He sees the same defeat that Sirius had after his first game, the same exact disappointment, the same shame. Like he’s failed. Like he’s let everyone around him down, including himself.
James has a million different things he wants to say to Sirius. He wants to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he’ll be back on the ice before he knows it, that everyone’s seen just how incredible of a player he is now and that it would be pointless to give it all up over one injury. But then a buzzer from the other side of the room rings, and James’s dad speaks up before he gets the chance.
”Come on,” he says, “let’s get your bags.”
”Thanks,” Sirius says, flashing both his mom and dad a smile that feels less than genuine. “Good to see you guys.”
”Good to see you too, Sirius,” his dad replies, and just like that, they set off to get Sirius’s bags.
As they walk side by side, Sirius in between his best friend and his brother, he suddenly elbows James hard. Good to know one of his arms is still working, then, James thinks, fighting the urge to grimace. “God, we’re so gay,” Sirius jokes, and now James’s mild pain has turned into major discomfort as the word graces Sirius’s lips for the first time since James’s realization.
It’s not like they haven’t been joking around like this for years. For Christ’s sake, they end every single call by telling each other “I love you.” They used to call each other boyfriends in middle school, tell everyone that they were going to get married since all girls sucked, and it was always funny because they knew it wasn’t real. Now, James is confronting the fact that it might not have been as much of a facade as he’d thought. And now, he wonders what Sirius would think of him if he knew.
James fights the urge to give away any sort of discernible reaction, fights the urge to run into the nearest bathroom and hide forever. But his eyes betray him. To his horror, they look right to Regulus.
Regulus, who walks right beside Sirius, has turned his head completely away from either of them, and seems to have no intention of looking back.
”Well, yeah,” James replies at last, once he’s remembered how to speak again without sounding like he’s choking. “We’re literally getting married, remember?”
”That was only if there were no girls in the picture,” Sirius reminds him, which gets James to raise a skeptical eyebrow.
”Well, they’re not exactly chasing after either of us, are they?” James says, and though Sirius opens his mouth, it soon falls closed. Thought so, James thinks. “You’d better start picking out a dress.”
Sirius practically cackles at this. “I’ll be ready,” he says, and James is left to breathe a sigh of relief as the joke ends there.
Regulus still doesn’t look at them.
James wonders if this is what the next several months are going to be like—if things will go back to how they were, or if they will change completely.
He’s not sure which of those options is better.
❅ ❅ ❅
Sirius’s arrival back at the Black home had gone about exactly as well as Regulus had expected it to.
Their dad hadn’t even been home—no surprise there. Regulus wouldn’t have been shocked if he had no idea that Sirius was coming home today, despite the fact that Regulus had continually told him the date over and over again. And their mother; well, she was their mother.
Regulus had tried to open the front door for Sirius as quietly as possible, had tried to sneak him in so that they could maybe forgo a snide comment from her. But it hadn’t worked; she’d been waiting for the two of them right at the door, her arms crossed as she watched Sirius come in.
”You’re back, then,” she said, sounding strangely glad. Regulus immediately knew it wasn’t genuine; she was satisfied by something, seemingly vindicated. Sirius had ignored her, rolling both of his suitcases through the door as Regulus lingered behind with his bag of hockey gear.
Initially, Sirius attempted to brush by her. But she wasted no time in ripping one of the suitcases out of his right hand. “No, let me help you,” she’d said, grabbing it by the handle.
”Mom—“ Sirius started, but he was instantly cut off.
”Oh, you don’t want to make your shoulder any worse,” was all she said, and she seemed so smug that Regulus had half a mind to scream at her. But soon, she’d disappeared up the stairs, and the two brothers were left in silence.
They stared at each other for a moment before Regulus opened his mouth. Sirius beat him.
”Don’t,” he said. “I can handle her.”
Regulus nodded, pressing his lips together. And finally, he replied. “You shouldn’t have to.”
That had been many hours ago by this point, but Regulus still finds himself too infuriated to sleep. He knows that this is just how their mother is, he knows that Sirius has always taken the brunt of her bitterness, and yet he’s still pissed.
It shouldn’t be like this. Sirius should’ve come home to a mother who was happy to see him, a mother who was proud of what he’d accomplished and who greeted him with a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Instead, he came home to Walburga Black, who is only proud of herself and her prediction that Sirius would fail.
Regulus despises it.
Once he’s determined that he’s not going to fall asleep anytime soon, he sighs and gets out of bed. It isn’t hard to do at all, considering the fact that he’s wide awake and has been for hours. His feet know where he is going before his brain does, and he could laugh as he realizes where he is—the kitchen downstairs.
Of course. Of course his feet have taken him to the place where he’s always sought out comfort from Sirius, where they’ve shared many late night conversations shadowed by the secrecy of dim stovetop lights. Without even knowing it, he came back here, even though those days are long past both of them.
Regulus was brought here without even questioning why he came. He shouldn’t be surprised when the stovetop light flickers on, and he turns around to see the half-lit face of Sirius in the dark.
”I thought you might be down here,” Sirius says simply, walking over to him and settling in on one of the chairs at the counter.
“Yeah, that makes two of us,” Regulus replies lightly, and as they gaze at each other their mouths both turn upwards. Neither of them speak for a second. “You okay?” he asks eventually, when he decides it’s safe.
Sirius’s expression immediately shifts as he glances back up at the stairs, pointing a thumb towards where their mother is currently sleeping. “Oh, with her? Yeah, it’s um… I’m used to it, you know.” He says it so nonchalantly that Regulus wants to be sick.
”I guess,” Regulus responds at last, knowing that Sirius will hate it if his brother pities him. But then the words come off as too unbothered, too uncaring, and Regulus doesn’t want Sirius to think he doesn’t give a damn. “I’m so sorry,” he says, knowing that he’s just done exactly what Sirius will hate. “About everything. The injury, our mom, having to come back… I’m sorry.”
If those words invoke any sort of emotion in Sirius, he doesn’t let it show, simply shrugging with his good shoulder. “It’s fine, Reg,” he says, though it doesn’t slip past Regulus how Sirius chooses to look at a point just past him. “Really.”
Somehow, Regulus doesn’t believe that. But instead of continuing to harp on it, he tries instead to be positive, to look on the bright side. He’s unfamiliar with the approach, but he attempts it nonetheless. “You were right,” he admits. “All those years ago, when you told me you were really good. You were right.”
Sirius doesn’t seem to think anything of it. He scoffs as Regulus confesses. “Wasn’t good enough to avoid that hit,” he says at last, shaking his head.
Regulus wastes no time in replying. “It wasn’t your fault,” he begins, but Sirius already interrupts him.
”Lot of people would say otherwise,” he says, and he doesn’t try to contain the bitterness in his voice as he speaks anymore. “God, everyone must think I’m a shitty fucking hockey player.”
“You aren’t,” Regulus says, but his reassurance feels shallow at this point . “And no one thinks that.”
”Yeah, only every single person who saw that hit,” Sirius snaps, leaning against the countertop and sighing. Regulus doesn’t speak—he’s afraid of igniting the already short fuse that exists between them, of setting it off and creating a fiery explosion right after promising to himself that things would be different now. So he bites his tongue and watches his brother tear himself apart.
It stays silent for a long time between the two. Sirius is the first to speak again, “Sorry, I just… I didn’t expect to be back home this soon, and now I don’t know what to do anymore. And James wants me to go to the Marauders practice tomorrow, say hi to everyone, and—I don’t think I can. It feels like I let everyone down, or some bullshit like that. You, James, my teammates, my friends…”
Regulus is quick to shake his head, quick to interrupt. “You didn’t let anyone down,” he says. Especially not your teammates. Especially not me. Sirius laughs at this, but it isn’t a happy laugh. It’s dry, devoid of humor entirely.
”Feels like I did.”
Regulus takes a moment to pause, and chooses his next words very carefully. He approaches Sirius as he speaks. “Remember us in this kitchen,” he starts, “the night before my very first regionals?” Sirius doesn’t respond, but his glance towards Regulus is enough for him to carry on. “I asked you how you weren’t terrified. And you said you were. You just didn’t let anyone know you were.”
Sirius forms a sort of half smile now, crossing his arms and nodding as he looks over at Regulus. “I remember.”
“Don’t let any of them know now,” Regulus finishes, and he already has a feeling that Sirius is going to cut him off, to insist that he isn’t terrified. But Regulus knows better. “I know you didn’t see this coming. I know you don’t know what’ll happen next. But don’t let anyone else see that. Only you know.” And me, but right now, that feels entirely too personal, a part of a conversation they haven’t had yet.
After what feels like an eternity of anticipating a response, Regulus watches as Sirius slowly nods again. “Never expected you to be giving me advice in this kitchen,” he says, which Regulus knows is Sirius’s way of saying thank you. “Jesus.”
”Yeah, well, that’s what happens when your older brother goes to Canada for four months,” Regulus jokes. “Someone had to be the man of the house.” They both laugh now, though it’s quiet, contained laughter amidst the darkness. “You should drop by practice,” Regulus says finally. “They’ll be happy to see you.”
Sirius still seems hesitant, but instead of protesting he decides to blink slowly instead and purse his lips together. “I’ll consider it,” he says at last.
It isn’t an outright rejection—Sirius doesn’t immediately shut it down. So Regulus takes it. “Good,” he says.
It’s too early to work out every single rift that’s been created between them over the past five years, too early to try to make amends over a list that extends many pages. But Regulus will take what they have so far. Satisfied now with the conversation they’ve had for the night, he brushes past Sirius, turning around to face him just before he reaches the stairs. “Night, Sirius.”
Sirius’s response, for once, isn’t half-hearted or tentative. “Good night, Reg.”
It’s not an I love you, but it will do for now.
❅ ❅ ❅
“You’re not coming?” Regulus asks in the doorway of Sirius’s room, his skating bag slung over his shoulder. It’s Saturday morning and their father is already in the car, prepared to drop Regulus off at the rink before he makes his commute over to the rink in the city. Regulus figured that since the Marauders practice on Saturday mornings too, Sirius would surely want to tag along. Especially after what happened last night (or, more accurately, this morning). But instead, Sirius is sprawled out in his bed with a blanket covering his head, and he seems to have no intention of leaving anytime soon.
Sirius rolls over and becomes more engulfed in the thick comforters, which is just about as much of an answer as Regulus needs. He says something that sounds like “I’ll go later,” but it’s too muffled for Regulus to fully understand.
”When?” Regulus asks, knowing all too well what his brother is doing right now. Deliberately avoiding anything that reminds him of what’s happened, instead hiding in shame and sulking in his own misery. He knows because that’s what he would do too.
He doesn’t have time for this. His dad has made it clear before that if he’s ever running late on mornings like these, he has no qualms leaving without him. Saturday morning traffic builds up fast, something that Regulus is constantly being reminded of. He wants to point out that he doesn’t think there will be much traffic on the road at seven in the morning, but he always restrains himself.
Regulus turns to step away, to rush down the stairs and be on his way. But something stops him. He looks back at his brother, and before he can stop himself the next words come flying out of his mouth.
“Everyone talks about what a bold, confident player Sirius Black is. Let me know when he shows up.”
He’s out of Sirius’s doorway before Sirius can say anything, down the stairs and into the garage. To no one’s surprise at all, the large door has already been drawn up, his dad already backing out of the driveway. Regulus rushes through the garage and grits his teeth together as he is greeted by the freezing cold, attempting not to slip over the little bits of ice that have begun to form in the crevices of the driveway. He’s always hated this time of year, when the rest of the state begins to feel just like the ice rink he spends so much time in. As it is, he’s wearing three different jackets right now, and he’s still shivering as he rushes over to the car door on the passenger side and pulls it open. He’s never been more thankful for the car’s janky heater as he steps inside and slams the door closed, putting his bag at his feet.
”About time,” his dad says. “I was about to start driving.”
”I noticed,” Regulus remarks, ignoring the glance over from his dad. Regardless, his dad shifts the car into reverse now, one hand on the wheel and the other hand clicking on the remote that shuts the garage door closed.
As they begin to back out, Regulus suddenly realizes that the door has stopped rolling shut. “Wait, dad—“ he begins as it rolls upwards instead, but before he can finish his sentence he realizes what stopped it. Who stopped it.
Sirius sprints towards the car now, yelling out something that Regulus can’t understand as he attempts to navigate the icy driveway. “Dad, stop!” Regulus suddenly exclaims, and finally his dad hits the brakes, allowing Regulus to unlock the car.
He looks an absolute mess as he rushes towards them, his curly black hair disheveled and frizzy and his sweatshirt and pajama pants that he slept in still on underneath the black puffer that he’s thrown over his clothes. But Regulus doesn’t find it in himself to care, a smile forming on his face as his brother opens the door behind them and hops in.
”Sorry,” Sirius apologizes to both of them, slamming the door shut. “Let’s go.”
As they finish backing out of the driveway and set out for the rink, only one thought crosses Regulus’s mind: There he is.