cold feet

Regulus thought the drive back would be hell on earth.

He was prepared to immediately be met with punishment, to shrivel under the scalding words of his mother, to hear her tell him how he failed her, and to be screaming apologies at her, even though he didn’t regret a single bit of it. He’s seen how Sirius disregarding her every will has gone, and had prepared himself for what might happen if she ever caught wind of him doing the same.

So when she doesn’t say a word as she drives both of them home, it’s the silence that frightens Regulus the most.

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen once they’re home. He has no idea what awaits him  the moment that he steps through the door. He wonders if this is her plan—to meet him with silence until he can’t take it anymore, to make him feel her disappointment until it completely consumes him. If that’s her strategy, then he hates to admit that it’s working quite well. Though he doesn’t want to regret skipping training for once in his life, for doing just one thing outside of skating, the guilt is finally beginning to seep in the longer the silence lasts. Because really—what was he thinking? Blowing off his training just three weeks out from nationals, and for what? For Sirius? For…  James? God, it even sounds stupid. He must’ve been out of his mind to ever say yes. 

Except he did say yes, and now he’s reaping exactly what he sowed. And he can’t exactly deny that this treatment is nothing less than what he deserves.

How could he have been so foolish? Is this what James has done to him, just like he did to Sirius all those years ago? And how could Regulus have fallen for it?

He should’ve known better. He should’ve been able to sense the trap from the moment James laid it, should’ve been able to circumvent it so that he wouldn’t fall so far into it. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself. He remembers when he realized all those years ago that Sirius was choosing James over him, remembers hating Sirius for it. But now, he understands. He didn’t even realize that he was choosing James over everything else until now—it just happened. It happened, and he had no control over it.

He doesn’t think his mother will take that as an explanation, though, and so he spends the entire drive back trying to rack up every excuse he can think of.

He comes up with nothing.

So his mother drives, and doesn’t speak. Regulus looks everywhere but at her, and doesn’t speak.

Though he looks out the window, watching the familiar landscape pass by , he doesn’t register any of it. It’s all a blur, and so is his mind, racing so fast that he can’t keep up . He barely notices when the car pulls into their neighborhood, and only comes back to when his mother takes a sharp turn into the driveway and slams on the brakes. “Come on,” she says, already unbuckling her seatbelt, “we’re here.” She says it so casually, like she doesn’t harbor the slightest bit of resentment towards him, that it only instills more fear and worry into him. 

She opens her door, but Regulus doesn’t dare to move a muscle. He focuses his eyes down on his lap, his heart racing as he refuses to look at her. But his plan is easily thwarted—the passenger door opens just seconds afterwards, and Regulus can’t stop himself from instinctively turning his head over to look. She’s just opened the door for him, and her expression is unreadable as she raises an eyebrow. “What’re you waiting for? Let’s go.”

Regulus doesn’t want to, but he also doesn’t want to make her more unhappy than she likely already is. So, he forces himself to take a deep breath, unbuckle his seatbelt, and step out of the car.

The garage is freezing as he makes his way into the house, the bitter air from outside seeping in and biting at his skin. But it doesn’t matter to Regulus—it’s the second worst cold front he will face today. 

They don’t speak as they walk inside, but Regulus catches another glimpse of his mother’s expressionless face. It only fills him with more dread. She takes a turn into the living room, and though she doesn’t gesture for Regulus to follow, he feels obligated to.

When he comes into the living room, he expects her to be staring him straight down, he expects for the reckoning to finally come. But it’s silent for a minute longer, and by this point, the panic in Regulus’s mind has caused his head to ache. He can’t think anymore, and finds himself simply looking at her and willing her to look back. He’s out of options, except to just take whatever is coming. 

When she speaks, her words take him completely by surprise. “Where did I fail you?”

Regulus’s initial reaction to the question also becomes his response. “What?” he asks, grateful that she’s turned away from him and can’t see the baffled expression on his face.

He can’t tell if she even heard him or not as she continues speaking. ”Merde, I must’ve spent hours in here watching myself lose. Over and over and over again.” Oh. Regulus knows now why she’s brought him in here. So that he can remember being there by her side, watching a younger version of herself fall off the podium with just one mistake. “I didn’t want you to ever know how that felt. I’ve spent my whole life trying to help you do better than I ever did. I took you to the rink, I got you the best coaches, I watched every practice in the freezing cold, all so that you would never throw your chance away when the time came.”

Regulus’s stomach twists at this—it’s true. Fourth place at the Olympics doesn’t get one sponsorships or fame, it doesn’t earn riches or glory. It earns an acknowledgement by commentators and a pat on the back before fading into the depths of obscurity. Those who follow figure skating might remember the pretty decent skater in 2002 who just missed the podium at the Olympics; the rest of the world will not. For years, his family has given their lives away so that he could have a shot at the sport, so he could have a shot at winning the medals that they never did. His dad works as a coach, and his money goes right towards Regulus’s lessons. They have enough to travel the world if they want to, enough for Regulus to go to a good college and enough to never work a day in their lives again. But that’s never been what their money goes towards. Regulus wonders how much of his life he’s missed out on so far. He wonders how much of his life he’ll never get to live, all because of his skating.

“It didn’t matter, though,” she continues. “You don’t care.”

He knows she’s setting up a trap for him. And he falls right into it, falls right into the cycle of emotional torture that she is constantly subjecting him to. What other choice does he have? “What? Maman, I do care—“ he begins, but she cuts him off quicker.

”No, don’t lie to me. First with the coaching, and then the walking out of practice.” Regulus grimaces at the mention of that; when it had first happened, Regulus had expected her to be furious when he got home. She wasn’t at all furious. She never brought it up again. And now. She’s bringing it up now. Like she’d waited for the perfect opportunity to mention it. “And now, you’re missing practices entirely. Did I do something wrong?”

”No,” Regulus lies instinctively, because he knows the truth will only be used against him further. “No, you did nothing wrong, maman.”

”That’s not true,” she says, and finally, she turns to face him. Though she’s at the other end of the room, it’s impossible to miss the glistening streaks coming down her cheeks, impossible to miss the redness of her eyes. She sounds hurt. Genuinely hurt. Regulus caused it. “If I didn’t do anything wrong, why are you doing this?”

Because there’s so much more to life than skating, Regulus wants to yell, but he knows for his mother, that isn’t true. He used to think the same as her, that nothing could be better than the feeling of simply gliding freely on the ice. Nothing would beat the highs of launching himself up into the air and rotating around himself as fast as he could before coming back down on a blade that’s an eighth of an inch, nothing could beat the adrenaline rush of landing your final jumping pass and turning straight into a step sequence, the music blasting overhead as the crowd cheers you on. Nothing could beat the dizzying feeling that came with throwing yourself into your final spin, knowing that you’d just skated a perfect program that would be impossible for others to beat.

But James has shown him otherwise. He’s shown him that skating isn’t everything, that the kindness and support that is so often discouraged in the sport might have been exactly what he needed. He doesn’t want to go another day without it. He doesn’t want the one thing in his life that has ever truly been good to be taken away from him. 

Regulus can’t say any of this out loud to her. All it would do is ensure that James is taken away from him faster, and the separation between him and his brother will only grow to what it was before.

His actual reply is far worse. “I took one morning off!” he exclaims. “Is that not allowed?”

It’s the wrong reply. He knows the moment the words come out that he shouldn’t have said that. If she wasn’t angry before, she will be now. “Oh, one morning?” she asks. “You think this is about one morning? This has been going on for months, and now, it’s Nationals—“

Regulus is fully aware of his anger now, aware that it will lead him to say entirely the wrong thing in response. He can’t bring himself to stop. ”Are you kidding?” he asks, stepping towards her. “I’m skating better than I ever have! I landed my quad toe, Maman. I’m doing clean run throughs, I finally got my lutz consistent, we changed the step sequence—“

”So now you’re just going to stop practicing?” she responds, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s it? You’re done? Just going to go out there on the ice, and hope you skate your best?” 

“That’s not what I said!” Regulus exclaims, already exasperated. He should stop here, he should forget about this and just take whatever lecture he’s going to receive. He doesn’t stop. “I just wanted one morning. One morning to myself, that’s all. One morning where I didn’t have to think about training, where I could hang out with Sirius and his teammates and not worry about skating.”

”His teammates?” his mom suddenly questions, and Regulus’s stomach twists. Shit. “James was there?” 

Regulus has really gone and done it now, hasn’t he? She didn’t know where he’d gone. She didn’t know a thing except for the fact that he’d missed practice. And now, Regulus has messed that up too. Now, she’ll have to know.

Regulus swallows thickly before speaking. “Yes, James was there,” he says. He pauses before adding on. “He’s not as bad as you think.”

”That’s what Sirius told me too,” she scoffs simply, glancing over at him. “Then he quit figure skating. Look where that’s gotten him.”

How dare she. ”Well, I’m not Sirius,” Regulus responds.

She doesn’t have an answer for that. She launches right into the next way she plans on intervening in his life, on taking something away from him. “I don’t want you hanging around him anymore,” she replies. “Ever.”

”What?” he says, even though he should have expected this. “Are you kidding me? We can’t even be friends?”

“Yes,” she says, as though it’s that simple. “Mon caneton—“

”—Don’t call me that.”

”…All he’s done is distract you,” she points out, and he silently fumes at how untrue this is. He wants to tell her that James is the only reason he skated a decently clean run through before regionals, that James is the one who encouraged him to skate like himself and like no one else. But it will fall on deaf ears. “I should’ve done this months ago. But I’m doing it now. No more.”

He should leave things here. He should go up to his room before things get worse. He should learn to quit while he’s ahead. Maybe that way, he could come downstairs when he’s cooled down, and find some sort of compromise.

He doesn’t. Instead, he continues on. “Mon dieux,” he says, the French curse for my god. He hasn’t used it since he was younger, approaching her quickly and meeting her face to face. “I just wanted the morning. I just wanted one thing for myself, one thing that didn’t have anything to do with skating. Apparently you can’t even let me fucking have that.”

In hindsight, he should have seen it coming. He should’ve expected to feel the stinging against his cheek, should’ve taken a step back, should’ve ducked away before it could all come down on him. But he doesn’t see it coming, and it takes him completely by surprise.

His mother slaps him across the face.

She strikes him, and it’s so unexpected that it takes him a moment to even realize that he’s been hit.

She’s never hit him before. She’s done many things to get him and Sirius to apologize for their wrongdoings in the past—hitting has never been one of them. He doesn’t know how to react, doesn’t know what to do or say.

The sound rings in his ears as he reaches instinctively for his cheek, flinching away from her. The gesture was done crudely, like she hadn’t even thought about it before she’d reached out and done it. His face burns from the impact. 

The silence that follows afterwards is the worst part of all. Regulus searches his mother’s face, searches for any sign that she regrets what she’s just done. He comes away from his search with nothing at all.

They speak at the same time. “Mom—“ he begins, but stops, unsure of what he can even say next.

“Reg,” she says in a gentle tone, slowly taking another step towards him. Regulus immediately takes two steps away. 

“I’m going to my room,” he replies, though he makes no effort to move yet.

She smiles at this, though the smile is far from happy. “So that’s it, then. I’m a bad mother.”

Regulus has no idea what to say. 

Sirius wouldn’t take this. If he was Sirius, he would’ve hit her right back, daring her to ever even think of doing it again, before running away and finding refuge in James’s place. If he was Sirius, he would know exactly what to do, would know how to handle her fire.

Regulus is not Sirius.

“I don’t get it,” she continues, looking at him with confusion imminent in her eyes. Regulus doesn’t meet them. “You’ve wanted this ever since you were a kid. I just wanted to help you.”

This isn’t helping, he wants to shout back. Just because I want it doesn’t mean I have to do it your way.

“You know I’m just trying to help you, right?” she asks after a second.

And that isn’t what he says in response.

Because a part of him is beginning to believe that she’s right. Maybe she’s not right about everything, but he has been more distracted now than he’s ever been in his life. He isn’t old enough to qualify for the Olympics next year, but 2030 will be here before he knows it. What happens if he fails at nationals now during his first junior year, if he doesn’t make a good enough impression on the national judges to be competitive internationally? He needs to be the best he can. He needs to be perfect. And he can’t if he’s not even training.

So, he swallows down every single thought he wants to scream at her, refrains from saying anything remotely against her will, and he tells himself it will be easier like this. It may hurt more, but it will be easier.

He nods. “Yeah,” he lies, something that comes so easily to him by now. “I know, Maman.”

With those words he turns around and makes his way to the stairs, and doesn’t look back until he’s in his room with the door shut.

He expects to break down crying. He expects to be beside himself. He expects the emotions to come rushing out once he’s escaped to temporary safety.

Instead, he is numb.

He’s not sure how much time passes as he sits down on his bed, burying his head in his hands. But at some point his phone buzzes in his pocket, and it snaps him out of whatever emotionless trance he’s fallen into.

His heart skips a beat as he pulls his phone out and looks at the message, expecting a text from his mother, or maybe one of his friends at the rink.

The actual message on his screen makes him feel sick to his stomach.

siri: Hey James is dropping me off right now if you wanted to come say hi

Regulus wants to say yes, wants to text back that of course he’ll be right there. He even begins to stand up, preparing to head down the stairs and out into the snow again.

He isn’t prepared to feel the ghost of a hand coming across his face again, the stinging sensation so potent that it might as well have happened just now. The sound of the contact is still fresh in his mind, the way it echoed through the house, the way that it felt right against his ear. He isn’t expecting to recall exactly what it felt like, and isn’t expecting to be filled with a dread so thick that he can do nothing but collapse onto his bed again.

He feels the hand of his mother there, the same furious hand that claims to love him. And he’s powerless to do anything about it, powerless to go against her will.

All he can do is bend to it.

The text he sends back is simple, but straight to the point.

regulus: no

Once it sends, he looks out the window—the same place where he first caught sight of James just months ago. 

Sure enough, James’s car is there in the driveway, Sirius standing beside the driver’s window as they talk on and on just like always. He watches as Sirius glances down towards his hands, then glances up immediately towards Regulus’s window. Regulus can’t see the expression on his face from here, but he catches Sirius just seconds later, waving goodbye to James.

He got the message, then.

James backs out of the driveway and into the street, and Regulus watches as he disappears out of sight; one of the only good things in his life has finally been taken away from him too.

Because you’re letting him go. Because you don’t fight back.

Regulus throws his phone across the room and smothers his face in his bedsheets.He wonders what would happen if he was anyone but himself. He wonders if things could be different, if he’d let them be different. 

The door clicks open moments later, but Regulus makes no effort to move. “Hey, Regulus, are you okay?” says the voice of Sirius, softer than Regulus has ever heard him. “What’s going on?”

Regulus does not hesitate with his response this time. “Leave me alone,” he gets out from in between his covers, not even turning his head to glance at Sirius.

“Are you sur—“

“Get out!” Regulus exclaims, more harshly than he meant to. Sirius is taken aback; he doesn’t have to look to know this. Regulus breathes in now and turns to face his brother, and he’s right. Sirius appears stunned. “Please,” he adds in a whisper.

A moment of silence passes between them, and Regulus only hopes that Sirius can see the distress in his eyes.

He seems to get it quickly enough. Without another word, he returns a curt nod to Regulus.

The last thing Regulus sees on his face is the apparent hurt before he turns away and closes the door, leaving him with no idea of what to do now.