Sirius was never okay. It was easy to tell. The way he carried himself, like he thought nobody would want to see him, the way he spoke, all bitter and sarcastic, the way he never gave any regard for his life, always brave and reckless.
People would look at him and see a bright, shining star. Someone so utterly happy with his life that nothing could ever be wrong. He smiled, and laughed, and had lots of friends. Nobody would have ever made the suggestion that it was all a facade, he was that confident, that good at pretending.
Regulus knew better. He saw past the fake smiles, the placating words, he knew better than to believe that a few people could change everything. He heard the sobbing late at night, noticed the scars in passing.
They’d joked, once, talked about the letters they’d written, the things they’d leave behind. Regulus had found the letters, in the back of a drawer, after Sirius had left. He’d read the first one; it had been short, but to the point.
He’d been too sick to even think about reading the others.
His stomach rolled, hands shaking, every time he thought about those letters for weeks. To this day it still makes him sick. He’s gotten better at hiding it over the years, hands stopped shaking, breath is always even. Everyone copes in different ways.
When Sirius had left, he’d thought that things would get better. He had confidence that the Potter’s could help Sirius. It might have seemed like they did, Sirius had become less aggressive, less impulsive, but they hadn’t done anything. Sirius had just learned how to hide it from everyone else better.
He talked loud to hide the pleas of help that tried to escape. He moved around a lot to keep people from touching him, unintentionally causing pain. It was a lot of little things to hide all the big things he didn’t want people knowing. And it worked, most of the time.
Regulus was sure that James could see something, could see that Sirius was trying too hard, that he was hurting. James knew something, but it was never enough for him to actually do anything about it. Sirius was always good at keeping things from the people that cared most for him.
It was different for Regulus, though. He grew up with Sirius, was subjected to the same horrors, felt the same pain. Sirius can’t hide anything from him; as much as he’s tried, he’s never succeeded.
He’d noticed that something had severely changed Sirius’ sixth year, Regulus’ fifth. Sirius had stopped talking to his friends, they’d stopped talking to him too, only the occasional glance. Either Sirius had done something impulsive and idiotic, again, or he’d pushed everyone away. Both were concerning, he knew what could come of it.
Regulus had been scared for ages that, somehow, he’d find another letter. He’d find another and it would be the last one. The last thing he wrote, the last thing he thought, the last of him.
It hadn’t been until mid year that his fear had manifested. James Potter had been able to get a note to him in the middle of class. He’d looked away from his textbook for one second and when he looked back there was the note in front of him, the letters R.A.B. printed on the front.
He’d looked to Barty beside him, but Barty had been fast asleep, drooling on his half completed notes. Warily, he’d opened it.
Regulus,
Sirius and I aren’t on the best of terms lately. Something happened, that I’m unwilling to share with you, that has kept us distant. Despite that, I’m still worried about him. He’s shared a few concerning things with me these past few years, and while I hadn’t been too worried about it then, I am now. He’s been pulling away a lot, becoming more self destructive. He hasn’t been to class all day, and, without revealing my source, I know he’s been in, or around, the astronomy tower for hours. Things between you and Sirius have been pretty shit these past few years, but I know he still loves you, that he’d do anything for you. With the way things have been I don’t feel it’s my place to talk to Sirius about how he’s feeling, but I think he’d talk to you. Please find sometime to talk to him, or at least check on him, make sure he’s not doing something that might hurt him. If you still care about him at all, please make sure he’s safe. I’d beg if I thought it might help any, but I know it won’t. I won’t be angry if you don’t do anything, I know nothing about how things have affected you, so I won’t push. I just wanted to give you the choice.
-James Potter
His hands shake the entire time he’s reading it, and by the time he’s done reading and asking the professor if he can go to the washroom, his whole body is trembling. He knows the words come out shaky and thin, but he can’t help it. The astronomy tower is the tallest place, with very shitty safety measures, in the entire castle. If someone fell from that height, they’d die on impact.
He doesn’t remember packing up, or grabbing his bag, but he does, he knows he won’t be going back. Things are blurry from there, his head full of thoughts of what he might see when he gets to the top of the astronomy tower. He can barely walk, his whole body trembling too hard, he can’t see ahead of himself, tears blurring everything except the hand covering his mouth.
He comes up with plan after plan of what he’ll do based on what he might walk in to. If Sirius has already jumped, he needs to find Pomfrey first; she’ll take care of Sirius, she’ll confirm whether he’s dead or not. Regulus doesn’t think he’d be able to stomach being the one to do it. If Sirius is on the ledge, it doesn’t matter what he does, Regulus will have enough time to cast a cushioning charm to break Sirius’ fall. If Sirius is just there, he’ll sit with him until Sirius decides to leave. As much as he hates being around an apathetic Sirius, he could never leave him alone there.
Every other possible scenario is covered, even the most improbable. It’s a long walk to the tower, and his panic can’t just seem to leave well enough alone. It’s for the best, preparedness is important, and Regulus would never forgive himself if something happened that he wasn’t ready for and Sirius got hurt.
The sickness kicks in when he sees the first steps leading up to the astronomy tower. It all becomes very really very fast. He’d been holding back his tears until now; a few slip past and he can’t help the wounded sound that escapes him.
He and Sirius have been distant for years. When they were younger they were practically inseparable, but things happen. Kids are forced to grow up too fast, parents become ruthless, aggressive. Things got bad, and, no matter how strong they were, nothing could keep them together. He’d watched from a distance, but could never get too close.
Regulus couldn’t handle the thought of drawing Sirius back into the family. Sirius had needed to cut ties with everyone to be able to move forwards, and Regulus was a part of that ‘everyone’. So he stayed away, did everything to make sure he wasn’t the reason Sirius got hurt again. He couldn’t get Sirius to stay, so he wouldn’t force him.
The thought of Sirius taking away any choice he might’ve had for reconciliation hurts. He’s always had a choice in things; he chose to stay, he chose to leave Sirius be, he chose a lot of things. To have those choices, those sacrifices, taken away from him is painful.
He’s breathless as he runs up the stairs, faster than he’s run before. As he gets closer the panic sets in. His theories get crazier and crazier, conjuring up insane stories of how he might find Sirius.
As he approaches the last few steps he finds Sirius’ fancy knife. The first thing Sirius had ever bought for himself. At first it hadn’t meant much, just something for him to carve his name into his bedpost with. But as the years went on, it had become so much more.
The knife isn’t bloody, which doesn’t mean much, but it means something.
He picks up the knife, folds it back together, and puts it in his pocket. He opens the door to the tower slowly. The door is old, and therefore creaky; opening it slowly helps muffle the sound, he doesn’t want to startle Sirius.
When the door is open wide enough, he sees Sirius standing on the edge of the tower, where the wall raises to create the sense of a barrier. He walks into the room slowly, feet light but not soundless.
Sirius hears him, it’s obvious in the way his body tenses and he clenches his fists. “Go away, James,” Sirius says. It starts out hard and sure, but very quickly fades to pitiful.
If Regulus is correct with his thinking, and he usually is, Sirius doesn’t believe anyone but James would come for him. Sirius is wrong, but in the worst way, even James wouldn’t come for him.
“Sirius,” is all Regulus manages to crack out. His voice sounds wrecked, like he’s been crying for hours.
Sirius spins around so fast that it doesn’t even register for Regulus. Just, one second he could see the back of Sirius’ head, and the next he was staring right at his face. It’s so sudden that he thinks Sirius might fall backwards.
“Reggie,” Sirius whispers, almost too low for Regulus to pick up. He looks and sounds as wrecked as Regulus does. Tears staining his face, clothing rumpled.
Regulus can’t feel, can’t breathe. Sirius is still standing on the ledge, the tips of his toes dangling off the edge. He’s so scared, and it’s like everything crashes into him at once. The fear and panic, the regret, the hope.
Suddenly, he’s shaking so violently that he can’t even stand. He has to crouch down, hands in his hair, as he tries to calm the everything. It doesn’t work, obviously, because it never does; it just makes it worse, the tears come and then the sobbing, and then he’s too much of a mess to recount how he breaks apart. He knows he needs to put his head between his knees, to get his breathing in control, but he can’t take his eyes off Sirius. Sirius is still standing on that stupid fucking ledge.
“Siri, please,” he manages to gasp out. And it’s like that breaks something in Sirius. He’d been frozen before, just standing on that ledge, staring unblinkingly at Regulus while he crumbled. It was like Sirius had forgotten what to do, how to help. It was as if Sirius couldn’t do anything.
Sirius jumps down, stumbles the few feet between them, and crouches down right in front of him. His hands are out like he wants to touch, but doesn’t know if he can, or if he should. Regulus makes the decision for him.
He grabs Sirius, pulling him as close as he can. Sirius wraps his arms around him immediately, grabbing just as aggressively as Regulus. They’re a mess; Regulus crying, sobbing, into Sirius’ shoulder, and Sirius trying to hold back, trying to be the strong one.
It’s so fucked up that, even now, Regulus is making Sirius take care of him. He’s the one that’s supposed to be helping Sirius, not the other way around. It’s whatever though, it’s done, can’t be changed. Regulus will always be too weak for Sirius, and Sirius will always be too brave for Regulus.
“I’m so scared,” Regulus mumbles into Sirius’ shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I should have done better. I should have been there for you.”
“It’s not your fault,” Sirius cuts in, whispering fiercely. “Things just get bad sometimes, you couldn’t have known.”
That’s where Sirius is wrong. Regulus did know, he’s known for years, and it took James sending him a letter to get him to actually do something about it. He had always been too afraid to do anything before, he hadn’t wanted to make things worse.
“I did. I did know, Sirius. I’ve known for years, I saw, and I did nothing. I should have done something; I should have been there for you.”
Sirius grabs him closer, hand settling on the top of his head. “You’re here now,” he says. “You’re here now.”