black-eyes angels swam with me
13th December, 1979
“Sirius?” A familiar, warm voice whispers from the doorway. Yellow light is spilling into the darkness of the bedroom, “Lils is just dishing up if you want any.”
No reply.
A sad sort of sigh, “I can just bring it to you if you want? Do you- yeah, I’ll just do that instead. I… back soon, okay?”
No reply. Sirius could not speak even if he wanted to.
For the past three days, he has not been able to force a single word out of his throat. It’s felt as though there is a great, choking pressure resting on his throat.
Strange how an extraordinarily gaping absence has manifested into such an overwhelmingly physical presence. Odd how the human body handles grief.
The door softly clicks shut, casting Sirius in darkness once again.
He knows that he’s worrying the others with this behaviour, knows that they’re most likely quietly talking about him at this very moment, but can’t bring himself to care. Their efforts would be much better wasted on something more worthwhile than Sirius. After all, what is he now that his brother is gone?
His entire life has been spent worrying about his little brother, his baby. No one else was there to keep him fed, safe and happy. No one else cared enough about the second little Black heir that had just been born. It was Sirius’ duty to do what others did not.
He thinks it a little bit unfair for there to not be a word for who he has become. When losing a spouse, you become a widow or widower. When losing a parent you become an orphan.
What does it mean to lose a brother?
Sirius ponders the word ‘loss’ as he lays in the darkness. It’s strange that people are scared to say ‘dead’ or ‘died’. He didn’t lose Regulus; he knows exactly where he is. Sirius left his brother in the Malfoy Manor and the woods and in the hallway of their family home. Regulus isn’t lost, he’s just dead.
Perhaps ‘gone’ is a more apt term.
The thought brings hot tears to his eyes. Odd; Sirius ought to have run out of those by now. Yet the burning tears come and they slide down the sides of his face and they land in his tangled hair and Sirius… just doesn’t care. He can’t, not now.
The bedroom door creaks, yellow light sending a glow across the room once more. Sirius turns away.
There’s a slight dip in the mattress, followed by the sound of a plate being set down on the nightstand. A hand comes to rest on Sirius’ shoulder.
“Can you try to sit up, Sirius?” James pleads, voice low and soft, “Just to get a little bit of food in you?”
Sirius doesn’t move, not even for James.
When he’d managed to find himself back at the flat three days ago, the sight of James and Lily at the door had sent him crumbling to his knees.
It’s all rather a blur after that. He can recall his own babbling, stuttered explanation of where his baby brother was. The feeling of Remus’ soft jumper against his cheek. Lily’s hand working out the worst of the tangles in his hair. The smooth drone of James’ reassurances.
Meaningless reassurances.
It's all meaningless, now.
James slowly lays down behind Sirius, hand never leaving where it rubs soothing circles on his shoulder. Sirius can’t find the effort to acknowledge him. Instead, he fixes his gaze on the strip of wall lit up by the light of the hallway.
Ever since those days in the woods, Sirius has been silently pleading for the little boy to show himself again.
With a clearer mind and the gift of hindsight, Sirius knows now that Regulus was never with him in the woods - it’s simply not possible. Brothers don’t stop being dead just because you wish it hard enough. Mothers don’t suddenly want you to come home and brothers don’t stop being dead. It’s how the world has always worked.
If Sirius were a little less tired and a little less heavy, he would be concerned about the phantoms he had conjured in his own mind. Instead, all he can do is rest against the warmth of his best friend and will the cracks in his mind to be just a little bit smaller.
He’s not crazy, he just really wants his brother.
In the safety of James’ arms, Sirius lets himself float away for not the first time in the last three days. He dreams.
-
“Sirius?”
“Yes, little star.”
“Why does Mother hate us?”
Sirius turns to his little brother, startled. His heart begins to beat a little harder, even in the solitude of their own living room. He has the urge to check if anyone has heard.
“Don’t say that, Regulus.” He hisses, eyes wide, “That’s ridiculous.”
Regulus doesn’t shy away from his scolding; instead he scowls right back, far too sharp for his five years, “I was just asking! No need to snap.”
Sirius wills his panic away, relaxing back down into his body. He knows his little brother meant no harm by his question, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”
Regulus graciously accepts the apology with an upturned nose and a sniff.
“Mother doesn’t hate us, Reg.” Sirius explains, scooting closer to where his brother has turned away, “She loves us very much.”
“Then why does she hurt us?” Regulus looks down at his hands, “She hexed me last week and I didn’t even do anything!”
“I know, I was there, Reggie,” Sirius sighs. He’d patched him up afterwards. He explains, practised, “She loves us very much! It’s just that her feelings get so strong that she can’t help but lash out. It's almost like she loves us too much and…”
He stops short. He’s heard these words countless times in the past and has recited them to himself as he’s fixed up his own bruises and bloody noses. Until now, they’ve always seemed reasonable. Yet, hearing them come out of his own mouth… it all suddenly seems a bit ridiculous.
Sirius thinks back to the book that he took from the library. Mrs Josephine Rabbit always looks after Peter and his sisters. Even when he makes mischief and trouble, Mrs Josephine Rabbit doesn’t hurt her babies. Her love is soft and caring and warm.
Now that he thinks about it, Sirius doesn’t hurt Regulus like Mother does. He used to think that it's just because Mother loves Regulus more than Sirius does but now, with Regulus curled up next to him, Sirius just can’t believe that that's true. Not when he’s the one who’s always comforted Regulus when he’s sad and praised him when he’s done a good job.
Sirius is sure that he loves Regulus more than anything in the world.
Mrs Josephine Rabbit loves her babies more than anything in the world, too. She’s the mother, the adult. Sirius has the sneaking suspicion that love like that shouldn’t mean hitting and hexing - it just doesn’t make sense.
“Ignore what I just said, little star.” He croaks out, taking hold of his little brother's narrow shoulders, “Mother shouldn’t hurt you, okay? That’s not what mothers are supposed to do.”
Regulus stares up at him, round face solemn, “How do you know?”
“Because you’re my favourite person in the whole wide world, Reggie.” He smiles, reaching out a finger to tap his brother on the nose, “And the idea of anything happening to you makes me feel sick. Anyone who hurts you will live to regret it.”
Regulus’ eyes, just a touch paler than Sirius’ own, widen in awe, “Really?”
“Really, really.” He sticks out his pinky, “I promise to always keep you safe, my little star. I won’t rest until retribution is made.”
Regulus loops his pinky finger through Sirius’, toothy grin breaking through his stoic little mask, “Do you want to know a secret?”
“What?” Sirius whispers back, playfully.
“You’re my favourite person, too.”
-
Sirius awakes with a jerk, tugging himself out of James’ solid grip.
“What?! What, are you okay?” James croaks out, presumably having also been woken up by this sudden movement.
Shudders quake through Sirius’ frame, eyes burning once again. The voice of his five-year-old brother echoes in his ears.
“Pads?” James whispers, sounding close to tears himself, “Are you alright?”
Sirius turns to his best friend. His round glasses sit crookedly across the bridge of his nose and one side of his hair is flattened to his head. There are dark bags beneath his eyes. For the first time in days, Sirius manages to force some sound out of his mouth.
“Call Dumbledore down here. It’s time to fucking finish this.”