Chapter 7
Sirius has been quiet all day. Which is very unlike him, as many of his friends have pointed out already. He simply can't stop thinking about James. He has been drinking on his meds for weeks now, at the very least. And he has been working out far more than normal. James has always been a fitness fanatic, dragging Sirius out of bed at ungodly hours to train for their next Quidditch match. But this feels different. And the drinking? Fuck, Sirius has been researching what happens if you drink while taking his medication, and the side effects are not good. It could make everything so much worse for him, yet James doesn't seem to care. To put it mildly, Sirius is worried. He hates that unless James actually talks to him about what he's going through, there isn’t much he can do to help. What the fuck is he even going through?
Sirius' spiralling comes to an abrupt halt as he sees someone he recognises. Or thought he saw someone he recognises – there's no way in hell he is actually here. A figure turns around outside his classroom and memories flood his brain as he meets his eyes. A baby, grinning up at the sun, before chasing Sirius around the garden. A child crying when Mufasa died in The Lion King. A young boy sneaking into Sirius’ bed and hiding under the covers when he had a nightmare. Someone who watched as their parents came dangerously close to killing Sirius.
Regulus. Reggie. His little brother.
When did he grow up? His baby face is now gone, replaced with sharp cheekbones and a scowl. Bloody hell, he’s taller than Sirius now. That’s not fair. Sirius is older, he should be taller. And he’s cut his hair so that it’s shorter that Sirius’. Sirius wonders about their parents’ reaction to that.
Sirius simultaneously wants to hug his baby brother and punch him in the face. He wants to get closer, get a proper look at him. It's been years since he’s seen Reggie. What the fuck is he doing here? At his university. This is all too much. Sirius feels like he can’t breathe. He backs away, stumbling into someone.
“Sirius? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Mary asks, concerned.
He can’t speak. He can’t breathe. He needs to get out of here, needs some fresh air. Pushing past Mary and out the door, he can’t stop his thoughts from racing around his head like an out-of-control car.
His brother is here. Reggie is here. At least Sirius knows he’s alive. But he can’t get his mother's voice out of his head from that night.
Traitor. Disgusting. Impure.
And Regulus’ stoic gaze as he is screamed at, then beat. He just watched. The amount of times Sirius took a punishment for him, and Regulus made no attempt to stop them that night.
Sirius wasn't aware of where he was going until he pushes open the door to the café. Please say he’s working. Please be working. I need you.
Sirius makes his way to the counter, breath still coming in short gasps.
“Sirius?” Remus says. Thank God. “What’s wrong?”
Remus abandons his customers and comes around the counter. He gently places his hands on either side of Sirius’ face, his thumbs gently swiping his cheeks. Fuck, when did he start crying?
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Remus asks once more.
Sirius can’t speak, can’t do anything. He simply nestles his head against Remus’ neck, breathing in his scent. He stays like that until his breathing evens out. He pushes away from Remus, scrubbing at his face as he apologises.
“No need to apologise. I'm glad you came to me,” Remus says reassuringly. “What happened? Does it have something to do with the man that followed you in here?”
“What?” Sirius exclaims, spinning around to see his brother a few feet away.
“I’m sorry, Siri. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Regulus looks genuinely distressed at the idea of making Sirius so upset.
“It’s- it’s fine,” Sirius stammers. “Just came as a surprise, that’s all.”
“Can we talk? Please.”
With a nod, Sirius turns back to face Remus and murmurs, “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he replies sincerely. “Flat white?”
Sirius nods, “And a black coffee for my brother, please.”
Remus raises his eyebrows at the mention of his brother, then kisses Sirius’ forehead gently. “I’ll be right here if you need me,” then goes back to work.