Falling
Regulus watched his brother across the great hall. Sirius was laughing. Regulus used to despise that laugh, for the sole fact that it was different to the laugh that Sirius had shared with him. It was the laugh Sirius shared with the boys that stole him from Regulus. Now it brought a small smile to his lips.
Regulus used to hate Sirius’ new Gryffindor, friends. He thought they had stolen Sirius from him. It was bad enough that Sirius had left for a year, and in that year rebelled against their parents more than Regulus ever could. But Sirius had made friends, friends he could not shut up about. Friends that had replaced Sirius’ need for Regulus. Now, while not exactly fond of the people that had taken his big brother, he held a certain thankfulness for them. They made Sirius happy, so how could Regulus fault them, or Sirius, for wanting that.
The only problem was that they had left Regulus behind. In the year that Sirius rebelled, Regulus took more of the pain their parents dealt out than ever before. Later, Regulus would realise that this was the result of Sirius not being there and taking the brunt of the pain, but poor 10-year-old Regulus just felt abandoned by his brother.
Regulus didn’t know when he had decided he was going to die. He supposed that the comfort with the idea of death came in the year of pain. That’s what he called it, when Sirius left for Hogwarts. In that year he had been told by his mother over and over again, how useless both his sons were, how they were both a burden. Sirius was too much to handle and Regulus was incapable of anything.
When he arrived at Hogwarts Regulus tried his very best to prove that he was worth something. Getting sorted into Slytherin, making highly valuable acquaintances, being the best in all of his classes. Regulus was going to prove that he was worthy of something, that he was capable of something, anything.
But acquaintances aren’t friends and grades don’t prove worth. For the longest time Regulus could pretend that he was okay, that the people around him were friends, that he found interest in the world around him. No one would have to know that when night fell and Regulus was alone in his dorm, he used sharp things to punish himself for the failures of his life. It never took much, a wrong look from a teacher, a deduction of points on an essay, a letter from his parents. The smallest thing and Regulus would hear his mother’s words in his head. He needed the pain to make it all go away.
‘Appearances are everything,’ his mother used to say. It was all that kept Regulus taking care of himself. The fear of judgement from others, from his parents, from Sirius. Regulus was jealous of his brother. Sirius always seemed unbothered, happy, thriving, while Regulus was barely keeping his head above the water. Sirius never cared about grades, but still somehow did well, he never seemed to care about appearances, but looked effortlessly good. Sirius was a walking paradox to Regulus, but he still idolised his brother.
Despite himself, Regulus wished more than anything for Sirius to take his hand and take him away. A futile and childish wish, but it never faltered. He watched Sirius from across the hall every day for four years, hoping that he would be saved. His hopes were crushed one day, when morning at Grimmauld place found Sirius’ bed empty. Regulus watched his parents process the disappearance with sorrow in his heart. Sirius hadn’t even asked Regulus to join. He didn’t wish to consider whether he would have.
The time following Sirius’ exit went by in a blur. Regulus knew that he was to be the next heir in Sirius’ place, but it all felt pointless. Regulus knew he had never been too long for this life and it was only a matter of time before he would die. Disinheriting Sirius would only leave his parents with no heir. Regulus felt nothing when his parents turned their attention to him. He felt barely anything, when they punished him for his mistakes. What good would it do to learn this all, when he would never be able to use it?
When the time came to once again return to Hogwarts, Regulus found himself all alone for the very first time in his life. Away from his parents, distanced from Sirius and without any other person he could call a friend, he boarded the train feeling completely and utterly empty. No hope, no joy, not even melancholy. He felt solely and profoundly empty.
Life for Regulus slipped into a rhythm. Every day went by with little besides quidditch to look forward to, and even it started losing the thrill. Regulus was losing his grip on life and he had no one left in his life to notice.
It didn’t take long for the hopelessness of Regulus’ entire existence to have an impact on his life. The grades, which he had been so proud of began slipping, and his performance in quidditch had taken a toll. Everything Regulus could be proud of, everything he could point to and say ‘hey i’m worth something’ was going away.
The activities that Regulus did under the cover of night, behind the security of his curtains continued. Throughout the years it had evolved from pinches to slaps to bruises to cuts. Regulus was quite excellent at healing small wounds and bruises. Not a soul would see them come morning. But even these had slowly lost their power. Nothing hurt enough and there was nothing the punishments were doing. He was still failing in life.
So that day in the great hall he was glad that Sirius had friends that could make him happy. Regulus still had some part of him that desperately wanted to believe that Sirius still cared for him. That Sirius would still mourn him. So, he was glad that Sirius had people to help him mourn, to help him move on. Sirius had people. Unlike Regulus.
Regulus had been in the astronomy tower before. Countless times. Obviously there were his classes, but at night this was his place to unwind. It was always colder than the rest of the castle, especially at the window. He’d sit there for hours. It didn’t matter how numerous or how awful his nightmares had been. It didn’t matter how awful his day had been, how many times Sirius had looked away. Here he was always at peace.
When he found himself standing in the Astronomy tower that night, Regulus found nothing but peace in his heart. Certainly there could have been mourning for the life he could never have had, but he had mourned that for years. This was a time for peace and determination. Flying had always been one of Regulus’ favourite things to do, so to have the feeling of air rushing against his face be the last thing Regulus felt seemed right.
He thought that perhaps it was the inevitability of it all. Or perhaps it was how in the end it would be his choice. It was his choice to be here, however temporary. It would be his choice to end it, whenever it happened. Sitting on the ledge, one foot out the window, he could look at the stars outside. On cloudy days the same spot would allow him to look at the stars on the ceiling of the tower. Either way he could lose himself in the vastness of the sky. He could lose himself to the insignificance of it all. How small he was, how little impact he had. He didn’t even have the ability to change himself, let alone anyone else.
Sometimes he would entertain a world where he mattered. Where he and Sirius never fell apart. Where everything was fine at the end of the day. Where he wasn’t afraid of small dark rooms and quick movements. Where he held his head up high in protest exactly like his brother. Where at the end of the day he wasn’t sitting at the top of a tower thinking about death and dying.
But that was a fantasy, and fantasies were not reality. In reality Sirius couldn’t even look at him. In reality he would always bend to his parents’ will. In reality he had very little meaning to the course of the world. Time would continue to flow. Life would keep on moving.
The end would be his choice. There was little else he could control. His marks kept slipping, no matter what he did. His parents kept yelling, screaming, hurting. The sun kept on rising and setting. The world kept on turning.
He had left no note, save for the one naming Sirius as his heir. No soul would miss him. No creature would mourn him. The night sky was clear, both in the tower and looking out the window. The night air felt cool and crisp in Regulus’ lungs. It felt like the perfect night to die.
Regulus sat on the ledge of the Astronomy tower window for a moment. Taking in the feeling of the night, wondering about what would follow. Thinking about the life he had, and the life that Sirius would go on to have. A quiver of sadness raised its head at the thought of not being able to see what the future had in store for Sirius. He would go on to do great things, Regulus was sure of it.
Sirius’ smile was infectious no matter the cause. Regulus liked it best when it was brought on by a prank with his friends. It was victorious and mischievous and so, so, bright. Regulus hoped that it would never dull. Even all the way across the great hall it caught his eye. It was always followed by a string of laughter. Light and airy, like a laugh was supposed to be.
Regulus pushed off the edge of the building, welcoming whatever came next. The cold rush of air being the last thing he felt before the nothingness.
He hoped Sirius would keep on smiling.