i tried, i can't
Regulus could have screamed. He almost did, but to his credit, he withheld himself at the last second because he was in public and people would have turned to look at him. Then there would have been a line, and people would have talked to him… It would have been too much of a hassle. But he could have. He really, really wanted to scream his head off, or at least punch someone. He would have settled for that.
He had a hat over his hair and a scarf over his mouth, so no one looked twice at him on the subway, but if someone got a good look at him, well, they would have recognized him. So he fumed quietly until he got off at his stop and walked a few blocks home. The snow melted on his face, but it did nothing to cool him down. If there was one thing Regulus Black was good at, it was holding on to his anger.
The door to his apartment slammed closed behind him as he threw his scarf and coat onto the floor of the kitchen. He had taken them off in the elevator. He grabbed his hat and threw it somewhere; he wasn’t sure where it landed, but he frankly didn’t care. He rushed to his computer to open his email. Perhaps his agent had been lying. It was two months early for an April Fool’s joke, but he could hope. The text was still open on his phone, but he needed to check his email for confirmation.
Sure enough, there it was. The email had not been sent three minutes ago. The movie Regulus was contracted to work on next had cast his co-star and love interest. He could have murdered someone. He had worked so hard for each of his roles. He had used everything in him to make his career mean something. It had taken thousands of auditions, hundreds of thousands of lines memorized, and a million thoughts of how he was going to end up working in finance to get his breakout role. Once he had lifted off the ground, he had soared, but getting his feet off the earth had been one of the hardest things he had ever done.
James Fucking Potter seemingly needed one phone call, and he could get one of two lead roles in Chasing the Stars, the biggest movie of Regulus’ career. A fucking soccer player would determine whether he failed. People were expecting things from him now. They were expecting greatness. He couldn’t produce greatness when he had to act beside some man who was clearly having a quarter-life crisis and thought he could act because he had done a play as a kid. They had only cast him for his name and face. God, Regulus had half a mind to call his agent and tell them to pull him out of this movie.
Thankfully, Regulus did have some common sense, so he shut the computer and tossed his phone onto the counter a little too forcefully, but it could have been worse. He stepped out onto his balcony and into the cold air. He knew he would be cold within minutes, but the hot pulses of anger kept him warm for long enough that he was looking onto the streets below him.
To calm down, he people-watched. He glared at every couple who passed, well, he glared at every person he saw, but especially the happy ones. Who could dare to be happy in a world with the people he knew? The people he was related to? He couldn’t fathom how someone could be happy in a world with fathers who beat their kids, mothers who drank until they didn’t recognize their own children, and brothers who left.
Regulus hated being alone in the cold with his own thoughts, so he went back inside, turned on a French show, and allowed it to fill the silence he couldn’t bear to live in. He once thought about getting a cat, but he figured he’d probably kill with within a few months because he didn’t know how to keep something alive. Remus had once given him a cactus, and even that had become brown and withered.
His thoughts were loud enough that even French dramatics couldn’t drown them out. His co-actor had done nothing–
He grabbed his keys off the counter.
Everything he touched either withered slowly or died instantly–
He shut the door.
He was alone–
He got in the cab.
He would forever be alone–
He knocked on the door.
Sirius was going on tour–
“Regulus?” Remus asked, holding the door open.
He took a shaky breath. “I–”
It felt like he was floating when Remus reached for his shoulder. He walked with the force because avoiding stumbling was his default. He heard the door close behind him, but Remus never left his side. He was being led through Remus’ apartment until they reached the kitchen.
Regulus leaned on the counter with his hands, his head hanging between his arms. Remus was shuffling around his apartment while Regulus just tried to get a breath in. Why couldn’t he breathe? Just one full breath. Why weren’t his lungs working?
“Regulus,” Remus said, and it took him a few seconds to realize someone had spoken. He turned around until he could see Remus, who was holding a bar of chocolate. “Five things. I need you to tell me five things you see.”
So Regulus listed. The basket of loose tea bags. The pen on the table. The kettle. The chocolate in Remus’ hands. The plastic bag on the counter.
“I always forget you’re French.” Remus offered the chocolate to him.
He had switched languages? He hadn’t realized.
“Take a bite, then tell me another five things.”
He took a bite, then he listed five things in French again. It comforted him to speak in his native language in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Then he listed five more things again and again until he could breathe slightly better.
“I–” have a brother. “He–” is going on tour, and he’s going to be in my city again. “I’m–” scared.
Remus smiled gently and patiently. He had stayed in that kitchen for however long it had been; Regulus didn’t know, and he hadn’t complained once. “You don’t have to tell. You can if you want to, but you don’t have to, Regulus.” Remus probably would have hugged him had he not known Regulus didn’t like to be hugged. It felt like being trapped.
“James Potter is my co-star,” he whispered because it was the easiest answer. It was the thinly veiled lie that he told himself, so he didn’t have to admit the truth.
“In Chasing the Stars?”
Regulus nodded, leaning against the counter opposite Remus. “He doesn’t even have any acting experience. He just pulled some strings,” he scoffed, not withholding the anger from his tone.
“And you’re worried that he’ll ruin the movie, and people will blame you.” He didn’t even say it like a question because he was so confident he knew Regulus that well. He was right, of course, but he didn’t like anyone being able to see through him.
Remus gave another reassuring smile, not mentioning what had happened not two minutes ago, allowing Regulus to change the subject. “They love you, Regulus. James Potter can’t ruin that. He won’t ruin you.” He paused, then his face brightened. “I do have something that will make you feel better, though.” Remus practically ran out of the kitchen, so Regulus had to follow him very suspiciously.
Remus was kneeling in the living room over what looked like a large cardboard box. There was a brown, leather couch with about five blankets spread around it. In front of it was a coffee table that had at least ten cups of what he knew used to be filled with tea but were now empty. A window showed outside, but it only revealed the peaks of buildings. However, what took up at least half of the space in the room were his five bookshelves, which were all filled to the brim with books. Regulus knew he had at least two more in his bedroom. Only one of the shelves was filled with Remus’ books. The rest was his collection of books from every genre, although he stuck to his favorite ones. There were many historical fiction books, naturally, but also quite a bit of fantasy and science fiction. He could even spot a mystery book or two on the shelves. And standing out in a variety of very bright colors were Lily’s books. They were the only romance novels on the shelves.
With a book in his hand, Remus stood up from the ground and walked toward Regulus. He already owned copies of each of Remus’ books; he surely didn’t need another.
“This just came in.” He handed the book to Regulus, who took it, instantly running his eyes over the cover.
Les Squelettes de Paris was written on the cover, which translated into The Skeletons of Paris, Remus’ most recent book. He had been there through every step of writing it. He even remembered the day Remus got the idea for this specific historical novel.
“It’s your book,” Regulus said slowly, flipping through it.
“Yes.” Remus dragged the word like he was waiting for Regulus to finish his sentence. Regulus never did. “But it’s in French,” he finished.
Regulus chuckled silently. “I noticed. Did you get over your writer’s block, learn French, and rewrite your book?”
Remus laughed at his sarcasm, settling on the couch. “It’s yours if you want it,” he offered, grabbing the remote.
“Will you sign it for me?” Regulus asked sarcastically, tucking into the corner of the couch. The leather was cool against his skin, and he became fully aware of how cold he was. In his haste, he had never grabbed a jacket.
Pulling the book from Regulus’ hands, Remus grabbed a Sharpie off the table and began to scribble something in his book. There was a basket of clean laundry, neatly folded, that Regulus grabbed a wool sweater from. He pulled it on. Remus had never minded Regulus stealing his clothes before, and he had done it so many times now that Remus didn’t even mention it as he passed the book back. Regulus opened it to see what Remus had written.
Here you go, you little shit, Remus Lupin.
“Well, I can’t sell it now,” Regulus deadpanned, shutting the book in mock disappointment.
He saw Remus chuckle in his peripheral vision. “Because you need the extra cash.”
Regulus threw a nearby pillow at him. “With my career in compromise because of James Goddamn Potter, I need to start saving.”
Remus threw the pillow back at him, promptly shutting him up, but he heard a quiet laugh before the cotton made impact with his face.