a beginner’s mind

('Fourth of July' by Sufjan Stevens)

8:37. Thursday.

Regulus had fallen to his knees, collapsing to the ground. Both of James's parents were at his side. Someone had shouted to get a cold towel for his forehead. Soon, he felt the freezing touch of something wet, smelling of lavender and mint. He wanted to fall asleep on the cold ground, curled up on the kitchen floor, becoming one with the multicolored tiles that lined the area. He never wanted to think about what happened.

Because it wasn't true.

Nothing bad had ever happened. Regulus was dreaming. He was stuck in some twisted game of limbo, purgatory, in the fields of Duat, in the town of Hades, in some inescapable Hell that he had put himself through. He just needed to figure a way out of this mess. He needed to wake up. The coldness pressed against his forehead would snap him out of this state of mind, offer him some clarity on what really happened.

Or he will come to discover that he is, in fact, not dreaming, and everything is so very real in this moment. 

Because his mother was dead. And his brother was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at Regulus. Regulus wanted nothing more than to reach out to Sirius, touch their hand or their arm, and make sure Sirius was still real. That Sirius was still here. Because his mother was not here. And even though Regulus had no intention of trying to go back to his mother, he still wanted her to be well and okay and to be real and to not be some figment of his memory and imagination now. If she's not here anymore, did anything bad actually happen to the two of them? Was everything that Sirius and Regulus ran away from all some facade? A lie? Was it all a ruse? A distortion of blood purity and messed up family trees?

Was any of it ever real?

Regulus didn't know how, but he was somehow sitting next to Sirius at the kitchen table, the letter still in his hand, the ink smudged and stained. Mrs. Potter had a hand on both of their shoulders. Sirius leaned into the touch, while Regulus remained neutral and stared a hole through the parchment. It was crinkled at the ends, curling upward.

Regulus didn't know how long he had been squeezing it. 

-----------

12:13. Thursday. 

Regulus had to decide whether he wanted to go to his mother's funeral or not. He had to decide if it was worth it to go and say his final goodbye without being screamed at or cursed, or if he would make peace with it on the beach or in his bedroom, listening to some David Bowie or Led Zeppelin or Stevie Nicks record. If he did go, there's no way she could hurt him directly. If he didn't there's no way he would ever be able to forgive himself for being selfish and being a snob. He didn't even know if he had been technically disowned, or if it was just some scandal his parents had swept under the rug. Whenever Sirius had run, it was all anyone would talk about during holidays and family dinners and gatherings. Was it the same now that Regulus had followed his brother?

And what about Sirius? Would Sirius go?

They were both sitting on a beach blanket, staring out at the waves. There were ominous clouds in the sky, warning them of a storm about to come through, yet surprisingly, there was no wind. Sirius was eating a sandwich James had made for the both of them, but Regulus couldn't touch his. He hadn't eaten, and he didn't know if he could today. The clouds hung above them, greying the sky. 

"Are you going?" Regulus asked Sirius. They weren't looking at each other, but out into the rolling sea waves, crashing against the sand. 

"I don't think so," They answered, sniffing. They hadn't been crying for a while, but the urge to was evermore lingering. Sirius usually was not the type to shatter, but when it comes to the death of a mother, they could not help but feel like a little kid again, crying whenever their mother had started coughing after she yelled at them. Walburga had cut them to pieces, searing the family name on the inside of their skin, the flesh burning and smoke rising from every pore and crevice of their body. Sirius was their mother's child, once.

She raised Sirius and Regulus because she had to, not because she wanted to. 

"Are you going to go?" Sirius asked in return.

"I don't know." Regulus bit the inside of his cheek. "If I did, would you go with me?"

"Yes," They said, without skipping a heartbeat.

It was quiet. The two brothers listened to the waves crash, taking in the salt of the air. Regulus's hair had began to become a thousand times curlier from the amount of the salt spray that permanently rested in his hair. He wasn't complaining about it either. He thought the curls suited him. Sirius's hair had always been messy, but it made sense now that they lived by the sea. 

"I wish you hadn't left, but I'm also so glad you did." Regulus broke the silence.

"What's that?" 

"I hated you whenever you left, but now I realize, it was for the better. It led me here. It led me back to you."

Sirius gave him a soft smile.

"I'm glad you showed up."

Regulus had to fight the temptation to rest his head on Sirius's shoulders. 

--------

23:41. Sunday.

Grief rolled over the Sirius like the blue waves outside the kitchen window. There were moments that they were happy, followed immediately by moments where the only thing that could calm Sirius down was the touch of their partner, whispering things in their ear, telling them that he's here, and they were going to be okay. Regulus noted to Remus that Sirius was lucky to have him, and Remus had almost collapsed then and there.

"Are you going to go?" Remus asked.

"I don't know. I think Regulus wants me to. I don't know. I really don't."

"You don't have to figure it out right now. Come on, let's get to bed," Remus reached for their hand.

Remus helped Sirius lay down in their bed, kissing the top of their forehead. He put his cane at the nightstand next to them, lifted the blankets, and crawled in next to Sirius, their bodies becoming completely entangled under the darkness.

"Closer," Sirius mumbled, breathing in the scent of Remus's neck. Their arms were wrapped around his shoulders, making their way into the back of his neck and hair. 

"I don't think we can be any more physically closer than this right now," Remus looked down at Sirius, trying his best not to laugh. He knew Sirius couldn't help it.

"I mean, technically we could be. We have been." Sirius smirked. Remus raised his eyebrows. 

"You're very funny." Remus kissed Sirius's hair. "I wish I could give you a better reaction, but I am insanely tired."

"Get some sleep, Moony," Sirius said sleepily.

"What does it look like I'm trying to do?" 

"Well, talking about it isn't going to make it happen either."

Remus laughed, running his hands through Sirius's dark hair. Sirius smelled like earl gray tea, like the shampoo in the bathroom. They raised their head up, coming to meet Remus's mouth in a soft kiss. Remus closed his eyes, letting Sirius guide him back against the pillows, kissing the corners of his lips and jaw. Remus let out a sigh, bringing Sirius back to his mouth. They kissed for what seemed like hours, Sirius getting more eager. They were kissing Remus passionately, even wanting to bruise him so they could not forget him. And Remus never would.

Sirius softly bit down on Remus's bottom lip, drinking in the quiet groan he let out. They then went back to his neck and slid their fingers up his old T-shirt, mapping out the tan and scarred skin below them. They moved down to kiss every single divot on his skin. Remus's breath was heavy. He was still sleepy, yet somehow so wide awake and eager for Sirius's touch. Sirius was kissing his neck again, and their bodies started slowly rocking against each other, finding a rhythm that worked for them. Sirius was panting into Remus's ear and whispering things that would send chills up his spine, sending him over the edge.

The two of them lay silently in the dark, breathing in and out the night. 

"She's dead, Moony." Sirius broke the stillness.

"I know," Remus kissed their forehead. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. It's all I ever think about unless I'm thinking about you."

"I'm sorry," Remus replied because he didn't know how to respond to that type of statement. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know. Talking can't change anything. But it hurts not to," Sirius said into Remus's skin. Remus rubbed a hand up and down their back, tracing patterns of different shapes across it. Stars on their shoulders, a half-circle on the base of their neck. 

"Can I say something? But you have to promise me you won't be upset with me."

"Yes."

"I don't think your mother hated you. Well, at least, not before the end." Remus breathed in. "She loved you a lot. You and Regulus both. She wanted you and Regulus to be good models for everyone else. She and your father just...look, they loved you, but they didn't know how to love you. But that doesn't mean they hated you. They just...it didn't work. And it's not your fault. It's not your fault she didn't know how to love you."

Sirius didn’t say anything. Remus knew not to press it in further, so he just kissed the top of his partner’s head and closed his eyes.

“It’ll be okay. It’ll get better. You’ll feel better.” Remus whispered.

Sirius was asleep by the time those words had escaped from his mouth.

——————

09:38. Tuesday

They stood side by side against the wall, all alone in the back of that dark room. There was some crotchety old wizard at the front of the room, reading from a slip of paper in his hands. He was tall, with sharp features that seemed to only be more illuminated by age. He stood behind the podium next to the table which contained a fancy container—an urn. She had already been cremated.

“Isn’t he one of our great uncles?” Sirius turned towards Regulus.

”They’re all one of our great uncles. It’s just a matter on how many times they’re removed,” Regulus whispered back. “I’m pretty sure he’s one of Mother’s second cousins who tried to marry her.”

“He’s a member of the Black Family, he’s tried to marry all of his cousins,” Sirius joked. Regulus bit back a grin. It was in total character for Sirius to try and make their brother laugh at their mother’s funeral.

“You’re mental.”

“I’m right.” Sirius adjusted the sunglasses atop their head.

——————

11:01. Tuesday.

There wasn’t a single person at the reception after the funeral who didn’t give both of the brothers a dirty glance except for Andromeda and Ted. Andromeda had immediately given both of the brothers tight hugs, reminding them that she loves them and she’s glad they’re safe, and even though they weren’t technically a part of the family, they were still family to her and they were always welcome to stay with her and ted if they ever needed anything.

She introduced her daughter, Nymphadora, to the two of them, who smiled and showed them that she could change the color of her hair. Sirius made a show of being overly impressed, asking her to transform herself into a goose and run around the banquet hall. Andromeda made sure she couldn’t and playfully scolded Sirius for ‘being a bad role model.’ Sirius responded with the fact that at least they weren't among the rest of those ‘bloody prats.’

Regulus watched the whole exchange from afar.

”You changed your hair!” 

Regulus turned around, recognizing that the voice came from none other than his best friend, Barty Crouch Jr. Barty was gangly and tall, his dark hair newly highlighted with frosted tips of bleach. Regulus didn’t know if it was from magic or some salon. From the way it looked, it was probably an impulse 4am Barty choice.

”You changed yours too,” Regulus responded. 

“Yeah, although mine’s probably not as shocking as yours. You’ve had the same haircut since before first year.” Barty went in for an arm around Regulus’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about your mum.”

”Thanks. I didn't see you during the service."

"Only came here for the free drinks and the afterparty."

"Wouldn't call this an afterparty."

”You weren’t living with your mum anymore, weren't you? You’re with the Potters and your brother now, right?” He asked.

”Right.”

”How’s that working out for you?”

”Fine.”

“You gonna keep giving me one word responses?” Barty raised an eyebrow. 

“Probably.”

”There’s the Reggie I know,” Barty ruffled Regulus’s hair. “See, you’re still the same person under that haircut and suntan. Little Reggie B.”

”Quit that,” Regulus slid out from Barry’s touch, brushing his arm off his shoulders.

”Oh, now I’ve upgraded to two word responses. What an achievement!” 

“Stop it.”

”You’re so predictable, Reg. You know that, right?” 

“Leave me alone, Barty. Please. Just stop. Please. We’re at my mother’s funeral, for Merlin’s sake.”

”Jesus, someone’s getting emotional.” Barty rolled his eyes. 

“My mother is dead. I think I’m allowed to be a little upset,” Regulus deadpanned. “I’ll see you at school.”

He left to find Sirius, who was talking to Pandora. She was wearing a long black skirt with a matching top made of delicate lace. Her hair was braided into neat sections and pinned up. Regulus always thought she looked beautiful. 

”Where have you been?” Sirius asked.

”Barty cornered me. Dickhead.” 

“Are we surprised?” Pandora retorted. “Don’t know what anyone sees in him.”

”Where’s Evan?” Sirius asked.

”I think talking to someone else. One of our cousins. Well…someone. We’re practically all related. At least the Rosiers and the Blacks,” She answered. “How are you feeling?”

”I want to get stupidly drunk,” Regulus replied. “Blacked out. I don’t want to remember this tomorrow.”

”We’ll see if Effie and Monty have anything we can raid when we get home.”

”Are you liking the Potters?” Pandora asked Regulus.

”I do. They’re sweet. James is nice too.”

”Yeah, and you’re stealing him from me!” Sirius teased, a hand going out to playfully shove his shoulder. “I swear they’re always hanging out. They go for morning beach walks all the time. And splitting food. And sharing clothes—well, that might just be because Regulus doesn’t have a lot right now, but it’s still something.”

”Are you guys shagging?” Pandora grinned.

”What? No! Definitely not!” Regulus felt his face turn into an embarrassingly hot shade of red. “Absolutely not.”

“You guys would be sweet though,” Sirius protested. “Can I talk to him for you?”

”No, Sirius. It’s not like that. He wouldn’t like me like that. And…no. Just no,” Regulus sputtered. “It’d never work. New subject. I don’t want to talk about shagging anyone at a funeral anyways," -- especially James Potter.

“Whatever you say…” Sirius winked at Regulus. They were so going to talk to James later.

And in some fucked-up way, Regulus hoped maybe James saw something in him.

——————

00:03. Wednesday.

”It should have been me instead,” Regulus whispered to himself in the bathroom mirror. He couldn’t stop staring at the cold-eye familiar glaring back at him. His hair was messed up from tossing and turning in bed, trying to fall asleep. He went up to use the bathroom, and couldn’t pull himself away from the mirror after drying his hands on the towel hook.

”It’s my fault. This is my fault. It’s all my fucking fault. It’s my fault,” His voice was starting to come out in choked sobs, hot tears stinging his face. His eyes were aching. He pressed his lips together, trying to still his shaking hands gripping the bathroom sink. 

He had been the golden child, but now he wasn’t anyone’s.

There was a knock on the bathroom door that sent Regulus jumping out of his skin. He wiped his eyes with his unbearably lingering not-still hands, trying to make the red in his eyes disappear. He opened the door to see Sirius.

”Regulus,” Sirius whispered. “Hey, what’s wrong?” They stepped into the bathroom, pushing past Regulus.

”I don’t know how to deal with this.” Regulus sniffed. “It’s my fault. If I hadn't left-”

”It’s not.”

”It is though. It is my fault.” Regulus’s voice was becoming high-pitched again, the lump in his throat becoming heavier and harder to talk around. He began to cry again.

"Regulus, listen to me. It's not your fault." Sirius stepped forward and cupped his cheeks.

"Shut up." Regulus's eyes were cold.

"It's not your fault."

"Stop that right now," Regulus argued back, completely choked up. "Shut the fuck up."

"It's not your fault."

"Don't fucking say that shit, Sirius."

"It's not your fault."

"Stop. Please, stop. Just stop," Regulus tried to wipe his face, but he couldn't get past Sirius's hands. "Please stop saying that."

”Come here.” Sirius wrapped Regulus in their arms, holding him tight into them. Regulus couldn’t remember the last time Sirius had hugged him, and he latched onto Sirius as if they were the last thing they’d ever feel. The last warmth of fire they’d ever know. It would be easier so sleep now.

”I’m sorry,” Regulus whispered.

”I am too. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry she couldn’t love you.” Sirius kissed the side of Regulus’s hair. “It’ll be okay, Reg. You’ll be okay.”

Regulus lost complete control and sobbed into Sirius’s shoulder, tears soaking their nightshirt.

”You’ll be okay. It’s not your fault she was mean to you. It’s not your fault she passed away, you didn’t do anything. You couldn’t have controlled that. It’s okay. You’re okay,” They were whispering.

Regulus closed his eyes, feeling himself calm down bit by bit.

”You can sleep in my bed tonight.”