8
Walking around the hospital in the dead of night is sort of calming.
Some would say it’s scary, the corridors empty, the quietness of it all, the stillness. But, to James, he can walk around looking miserable. He isn’t worried someone will pop up and see him with tear stained cheeks and red eyes. They won’t be able to notice something off about him or view him as anything different. James cherishes that.
After the whole thing with Regulus, James felt defeated. He was stunned, really. The elevator moved downwards, and he was stuck in the same place, tears threatening to spill over as anger bubbled in his stomach mixed with sadness and hurt.
James respected Regulus’ wishes. He stayed away, not bothering to try and look for him. He even stayed on a whole different floor, straying away from his room and any place Regulus might go to in hopes of peace and quiet. James respected it and hid himself from Regulus.
Though, one gets tired of being camped out in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar faces. So, now with the moon fully in the sky with stars scattering the dark vast open area, James moves around, swinging his arms, not bothering to stray away from their floor.
He lets himself be hurt from the words that exited Regulus’ mouth and processes them, letting them linger in his mind until it hurts. James replays the whole scenario wondering where he went wrong, and he nitpicks every little thing. He also allows himself to be angry, the bubble of rage finally being released.
Though, his thought process is interrupted when his phone buzzes noisily in his pocket, making itself known and present. James almost ignores it, wanting to let it ring out and send the caller to voicemail. But, with the tiny bit of hope he still has left, thinking Regulus will unblock him and call him, he grabs his phone.
It’s Sirius.
James puts his phone to his ear, clearing his throat. “Hey, everything alright?”
He hears sniffling from the other end. “No, uh-” Sirius starts, his voice quiet. “No, not really.”
James enters the atrium, the place quiet and empty. “What’s wrong, Sirius? I’ll come find you, just-”
His eyes land on a boy in the corner of the atrium, tucked away from the view of passing staff. James hangs up, making his way over.
When he reaches Sirius, James can’t help but let out a small noise, worry filling his entire body. Sirius has his legs tucked to his chest, chin sitting on his knees. His eyes are puffy and red, his eyelids almost closed from the swollen skin. Tears flow down his face, slowly dropping off onto the couch.
“Oh,” James mumbles, sitting down a few feet away. It takes everything in him to not reach out and wrap Sirius in his arms, tight and shield him away from the world. James’ hands tingle, wanting nothing more but to fucking hug and comfort his best friend. “Sirius.”
“I never should have left.” Is all he says, so quiet James barely catches it.
“What?”
“Regulus.”
A frown instantly appears on James’ lips, the corners aiming downwards. He can feel his own eyes prick and become blurrier by the second.
“Did you two fight?” James asks, Sirius immediately shaking his head.
“He’s going into surgery tomorrow.”
That one sentence with five words rings around James’ head. He furrows his brows, opening his mouth before closing it once more.
“What?” He repeats himself, his throat tight.
Sirius lets out a deep breath, blinking rapidly. “I saw Minnie and him enter his room. When Minnie came out, I cornered her, asking what’s wrong with him. She said he’s at risk for sepsis.”
James leans back onto the couch, letting the words sink in. He rakes a trembling hand through his hair. “Shit.”
Sirius scoffs. “Yeah. Shit.”
Silence crowds around them, tension in the air. James sits there, stunned. He can’t process what he just heard. Regulus, going in for surgery, tomorrow. And James can’t help but feel so guilty for ending on that note with Regulus. He never should have tried to say sorry; he should have just asked what’s wrong and help him.
Sirius makes a small noise, bringing James’ attention back over to him. “I never should have left him.”
“Sirius,” James gently puts, tilting his head at him. “You were a child with no escape. It’s not your fault.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.” James firmly says, keeping his eyes on Sirius. “How does this relate to Regulus going in for surgery?”
“It doesn’t,” Sirius whispers, a hand going up to swipe at his nose. “You should have just seen him, James.”
“I did.”
Sirius looks at him, an eyebrow raised. “When?”
“In the NICU. He was crying in the corner of the room.” James admits quietly. “I should have helped him but I…” He trails off.
Sirius shrugs. “It isn’t fair.”
James tilts his head at him.
“He shouldn’t have to go through this alone,” Sirius mumbles, tears flowing down his face at a rapid pace. “I should be with him, and help him and comfort him but-”
“Sirius.” James cuts in, trying his best to sound soothing. “Hey, stop. You can’t-”
“I shouldn’t-” He cuts himself off, a hand going up to cover his mouth.
James watches, helpless from the sidelines. He blinks away tears, the lump in his throat feeling heavy. All he can do is watch. And nothing more. James wants to comfort Sirius with every cell in his body, wanting so badly just to walk up to him and hold his hand and brush his tears away, muttering soft meaningless words and bring him close. But James can’t fucking do that. He can’t. He can try and sooth Sirius from six feet away, but has it helped? Nope.
“I’m so worried.” Sirius whispers in a rush. James watches as Sirius begins to tremble.
“It’ll be alright,” James tries, knowing those words mean nothing.
Sirius doesn’t respond.
“He’s stubborn as fuck. He’s a little prick.” James says, trying to get Sirius to laugh. “He’ll be okay. There’s nothing that fucker couldn’t endure.”
Sirius wipes his eyes, nodding slightly.
James’ legs bounce, now finally processing the fact Regulus is going to be in surgery tomorrow. Or, today, really. Concern and doubts fill his mind, spreading around like a rash. He tries to take deep breaths, trying to fucking calm himself but nothing seems to be helping.
“I got to talk to him.”
James blinks. “Well, that’s good, no?”
“I guess.” Sirius sniffs, mouth twitching.
A beat goes by.
“I wanna hug you so fucking badly.”
“Just imagine it,” Sirius says, voice cracking. He offers James a small smile before slowly closing his eyes. James follows suit once he realizes what Sirius is doing and quickly forms a mental image of the two of them, healthy and happy, not a nasal cannula or oxygen tank in sight. They hug with touch, finally being happy to embrace the other with joy and no tears.
“I can almost feel it.”
“Same.”
James opens his eyes, a few tears escaping.
“This fucking illness is so cruel.”
Sirius doesn’t say anything. He still has his eyes closed.
-
Regulus is awakened from bed in the morning.
He hadn’t slept last night, anxiety keeping him up and mental images of his death clouding his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see his casket or dried lungs. Sometimes he would see his friends, dressed in black. Sometimes he saw himself, in third person, watching as life drained from his body.
Poppy was the one to wake him and bring him the dressing gown plus a pair of paper shoes and a paper cap. They were the most irritating clothes he’s ever had to wear.
She escorted him to the room, pushing him around in a wheelchair. He told her he could walk but Poppy insisted, her eyes filled with something Regulus couldn’t pinpoint. She was quiet, the only sound between them was her breathing and the squeak of the wheelchair.
Now, Regulus lay on a table, alone. He hadn’t arrived at the operation room yet, just in a holding room. But, nevertheless, Regulus wanted to cry.
Doubt continues to flood into his mind and mental pictures of him dead plague his head, causing Regulus to squeeze his eyes shut and feel bile climb up his throat. His chest feels as though it’s compressing down on him, trying to squeeze the last bit of oxygen out of his sickly lungs. His entire body trembles and Regulus feels hot from embarrassment, knowing nothing could calm him down. His fingers constantly tap at the tubes of his nasal cannula.
There was a curtain around him, blocking out the windows of the room. Regulus fought every bone in his body to not launch up from the table and run out the room.
He hears the door open and Regulus has to suck in a deep breath to avoid throwing up. His head began pounding, his brain rattling around.
A person pushes the curtains open, their back to Regulus. His bottom lip quivers and tears prick his eyes, wanting nothing more but to escape from his eyes and travel down his face as silent sobs wracked his body. Regulus bites down hard on his lip and scratches at his arm, the itch arriving in its usual spot.
The person finally turns around, dressed in thick scrubs. A plastic cap was over their hair and had plastic goggles over their real glasses. A mask was placed over their mouth and nose, preventing Regulus from recognizing the person.
Regulus squints at the doctor or nurse. The person reaches up and pulls the mask down.
“Oh, you have to be fucking serious.”
“I’m James, actually.”
Regulus places both his hands over his eyes, scrubbing furiously. His face burns, wanting very much for someone to come in and escort James out.
“Fuck off.”
He pulls his hands off his face, glaring at James. He’s got a goofy grin on and he’s, very poorly, hiding a laugh.
“Can’t you see I’m about to have surgery?”
“Yep.”
Regulus rolls his eyes. “So, piss off.”
He hears James tsks. “You're incredibly rude to your guests.”
“You aren’t a fucking guest. You’re a fucking idiot.” Regulus cries out, “Go before someone sees you.”
James points to the curtains surrounding the windows. “Who the fuck is gonna see me?”
“Someone could. Just- leave James.”
James sits down in a chair a few feet away. He observes Regulus, his eyes roaming over his body. Regulus’ chest becomes impossibly tighter.
“Look,” James says. “I only came to make sure you’ll be okay.”
“I’m fucking fantastic.”
“I saw your face when I walked in,” James simply puts. He shrugs. “I know you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.” Regulus scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sixteen. I’m practically an adult.”
“I get scared too,” James mumbles. “I know your fear.”
“I’m not fucking scared James.”
“Regulus.”
He tilts his head over at James, facing him fully. James gives him a small smile.
“I brought something.”
“A gun? To end my suffering?”
“Regulus,” James looks at him, eyes wide but a chuckle escaping from his mouth. “Christ- no? I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
He stands up, going back behind the curtain. Regulus furrows his brows as James appears once more, something behind his back.
James brings whatever’s behind him around, letting Regulus view it fully.
Regulus quietly gasps when he sees it.
It’s a battered old black cat- a stuffed animal. The fur is all matted, sticking close to the body instead of outwards. There’s a bit of lint stuck on one of the ears and a patch of red fabric has been sewed onto the body. The cat has green eyes, looking straight ahead with a sewed in piece of white yarn to fix a small ripe right above its eye.
His vision becomes blurry, memories overtaking his mind and slowly easing out the worry and concerns and letting happiness and nostalgia enter his pounding head.
“Where’d-”
“Sirius.” James instantly cuts in.
Regulus blinks, the tears falling down his cheeks and leaving wet trails behind them.
“How- When-”
“Sirius was telling me all about you,” James mumbles. His gaze is fixed on the ground. “He felt incredibly shitty and he told me to visit you and give you this.”
“Why couldn’t he just come?”
“He’s ill. Didn’t wanna spread anything.”
Regulus’ mouth parts open, sucking in a deep breath. “Can I-”
“We washed it and ensured it’ll be kept away from our germs and bacteria,” James informs, taking a small step forward. “You can have it.”
Regulus reaches a hand forward, instantly forgetting his fears of James’ B. Cepacia. He grips onto the toy with immense strength, wanting nothing more but to bury his nose in it and keep it close, allowing him to remember his childhood and times where he was happy and joyful.
He lets it sit on his chest, inspecting every angle of the cat. Tears continue to roll down, falling into his plastic cap and onto the table he’s laying on. James stands awkwardly at the side, observing Regulus.
“I don’t know what-” Regulus starts but James waves a hand, cutting him off.
“Regulus, it’s nothing.”
“No- James-”
“Regulus.” He speaks, gentle with a laugh at the end. “I promise. You don’t have to say or do anything.”
Regulus nods, sniffing loudly. He turns his head back, taking the stuffed cat in. He views the small piece of red fabric sitting on his body. His mother had to sew it when Regulus had accidentally caught the stuffed animal on something sharp, causing a big hole with stuffing pooling out. Mother was not happy.
He travels back up, viewing the scar above the toy’s eye. He traces it with his finger, feeling the string. Regulus was wandering around the household’s library when the cat had caught a sharp edge and a small cut appeared on its forehead. Regulus had cried and mother refused to fix it. Regulus that night had taught himself to repair it, choosing his own string and needle and closed the rip.
“Sirius has a stuffed dog. It came with this one, as a pair.” Regulus blurts out, tilting his head to look at James. James had moved back to the seat he was previously in.
James nods. “He sleeps with it almost every night. Sirius calls the toy, Padfoot.”
Regulus chuckles, remembering the stupid name. “He had a small lisp when he was younger. He was trying to say "Pawfoot.”
James smiles, stifling a small laugh. Regulus views him, watching as he relaxes back into the chair, the smile soft and kind, not forced. It’s natural and fits his lips, forming the perfect shape.
Regulus turns back to the stuffed animal, burying his fingers into the matted fur. “I’m sorry, James.”
“What for?”
“Everything,” Regulus mutters, face burning hot. “I was being mean, yesterday.”
“Regulus, it’s fine.”
“It’s-”
The door opens. Regulus snaps his head over to James, seeing the rush of fear enter his face. He quickly masks back up, giving Regulus a small thumbs up before winking and rushing under the curtains.
Regulus blinks and he’s met with doctors and nurses, all covered in protective gear. He swallows roughly, the fear returning as everything catches back to him. He hugs his toy close, letting it provide warmth and grounding him.
Doctor McGonagall steps forward, her eyes roaming over Regulus. She points to the toy.
“Something to ease the worry?”
Regulus nods, slightly. “You could say that.”
-
“Mr. Potter!”
James curses at himself, the adrenaline wearing off. He thought he was slick, disappearing behind all the operators. But, of course, Poppy has eyes everywhere.
Turning around, James comes face to face with Poppy. She’s livid, her eyes filled with nothing but anger. There’s not an ounce of remorse or kindness, just daggers.
“Hey, Poppy!” James tries, pulling down his mask and giving her a toothy smile.
“In the elevator. Now.”
She ushers him in, closing the doors and glaring at him. She doesn’t even blink, just letting James be under her gaze with embarrassment and fear. James stands still, trying his best to not make a sound.
The doors open however, and James steps out, Poppy’s hand behind his back, almost forcing him out. They walk down the hallway as James hears Poppy mutter something.
“Poppy,” James says, wanting her to understand. “He was scared. I wanted to help.”
“You wanted to help?” She swings around, eyes wide.
James’ mouth has gone dry. He’s lost for words, feeling as though Poppy might strangle him. “I didn’t do anything-”
“Yeah, okay.”
She continues down the hallway, making a beeline straight to James’ room. James follows, knowing better than to argue or try to run away.
As he walks in, the door slams behind him.
“Do you know how much danger you put yourself and Regulus’ life in?!” Poppy loudly asks, almost shouting. James cringes, biting down on his lip.
“Poppy, I-”
“You know who you remind me of?” She asks, placing a hand on her hip. “Frank Longbottom and Alice Fortescue.”
James looks down at the floor, toeing his shoe into the ground.
“They were just a little older than you. But they were in the same situation as you and Regulus. They both were CFers but Frank had B. Cepacia,” Poppy explained, her voice weak. “They were in love. Madly in love. I remember catching them doing their treatments together and eating all their meals together.”
“I’m not in love with Regulus.”
“That’s not the point, James.”
Poppy takes a quick breath followed by silence.
“Did they die?” James asks, finally looking up at Poppy. Her eyes are glossy, tears ready to spill over.
“Yes, James.” Poppy confirms, her voice cracking. “They died. On my watch. Because I let them get close and ignore the safety rules.”
“Poppy-”
“Don’t.” She whispers, looking sharply at him. She finally blinks and tears fall over, sliding down her face. “James, nothing can convince me you won’t end up like them.”
James stays quiet.
Poppy wipes her tears, sniffling. She opens her mouth, as if she were going to say something but then at the last moment, she closes it, leaving James hanging.
Without another beat, she turns on her heel and slips out of his room.
-
Regulus has finally moved to the operating room.
His stomach is twisted with nerves, head spinning with doubts and death. They had taken off his nasal cannula and placed his stuffed animal to the side, leaving Regulus’ fingers empty. He results to tapping on the table, feeling the cloth under the pads of his fingers.
The table finally slots, clicking and leaving Regulus breathless. The bright lights blind him, leaving him directing his vision elsewhere. His tapping increases, fastening with every second that goes by, eyes squinting and his body trembling with nerves. And then-
His eyes land on the ceiling. A small area that the lights don't block out. His mouth parts open and Regulus softly gasps, tears gathering at his waterline.
A face comes into his eye view, blocking the ceiling.
“Ready?” They ask, voice slightly muffled from the thick mask they’re wearing. In their hand, they hold the anesthesia mask.
Regulus stares at it, knowing that this very mask could strip away his ability to breathe. This mask with this drug puts him under, the world turning to darkness around him, creating a sort of timeless reality where he’s stuck in, dreaming. It can be calming for someone, knowing they’ll wake up when everything's over and be in a funny mood with giggles and drug induced thoughts.
But for Regulus, this very thing could keep him under, forever. He may not wake up with the giggles and a dry mouth. He may stay in darkness, trapped there with nothing but the dark and shadows, with death finally reaching him.
He nods.
The mask is placed over his nose and mouth, snug. “You know what to do.”
Regulus blinks, hearing the wheezing of the machine startup and he begins to hear the anesthesiologist count down from ten. Regulus copies them. His eyes scan around the room, blinded by the lights and his fear pipes up again, surrounding his thoughts and mind.
But then, his eyes find that spot on the ceiling. And Regulus chuckles, the sound muted by the mask.
Right on that spot, there’s stars. Hand drawn stars that were cut out and taped on the ceiling, right in Regulus’ eye view. Some are different colors, some are just plain white, some are shaped weirdly whilst some are cut out perfectly.
The darkness begins to creep around the edges of his vision and Regulus sees glowing stars pop out right in front of him. If he raised a hand, he could touch one, and be the first person to ever touch a star and survive. As it gets darker, they shine brighter, forming into little dots of light, becoming real stars in the dark sky.
The last thing he sees is Regulus escaping into the darkness, with the lights.
-
“I’m sure everything will go smoothly.”
Sirius had called Remus in a hurry last night, after speaking with Regulus. He had meant to call James, but he clicked on Remus and just let it ring. On the third ring, Remus picked up, and listened.
He hadn’t thought that Remus would just show up the next day. It’s a Wednesday. Remus should be at Hogwarts, studying for an exam or doing his homework. But no. When Sirius woke up the next morning, Remus was in his room, Hogwarts uniform on and looking through his vinyl's.
Sirius bites on his fingernail, trying to ignore the nagging thought of Regulus struggling to breathe or the thought of his lungs collapsing. Every time the intercom goes off, Sirius perks his head up, listening closely for the sound of ‘Code Blue.” Thankfully, nothing like that has been said yet or a sound hasn’t blasted through the entire building, but it could still happen.
“You don’t know that.” Sirius answers, almost forgetting Remus had said something to him.
Remus swats at his hand, knocking it out of Sirius’ reach for him to continue gnawing on the nail. Sirius glares at him.
He tilts his head at him, fixing the blanket over the two of them. “Yeah, I haven’t a clue if he’ll be okay.”
“Then why’d you say it?”
“Because I know Regulus is a little bastard who wouldn’t dare outlive me or you.”
Sirius laughs at that, his head coming down to lean against Remus’ shoulder. He smells of smoke and chocolate.
The smell of chocolate triggers a memory of younger Sirius and Regulus and instantly, his mood is brought down again. His mouth turns back into a frown, the thoughts and images coming right back. “I just wish I could have seen him before he went into the room, y’know?”
“Just means you’ll see him after the operation.”
Sirius picks his head up, looking at Remus. “But, what if I don’t?”
“Sirius.” Remus gently says, giving him a lazy smile. “But, what if you do?”
“Well, then I’ll talk to him,” Sirius says, leaning his back onto the pillows. “He’ll probably insult my existence but that’s nothing new.”
“He’ll be drugged up though,” Remus notes, “Might actually say something sweet for once.”
Sirius snorts. “I should record it then. Blackmail material.”
“Now you’re thinking.”
Sirius smiles, his arm tingling from the constant touch of Remus’ arm. He doesn’t know how they ended up in his bed again, but he doesn’t mind. He likes it. He’s comfortable and the feeling of Remus close helps him. His presence brings him back down to earth from all his constant worrying.
He turns his head to look at him, meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry for bringing you here and putting all this on you, by the way.”
Remus sighs, nudging his knee against Sirius’. “I don’t mind. I like being with you and talking with you.”
“Yeah, but it’s gotta be annoying, righ-”
“Sirius.”
His face feels warm. “Sorry.”
Remus snorts, bumping his head against Sirius’ shoulder. His hair tickles Sirius’ cheek.
“Oh, what am I gonna do with you?” He says, fondly.
Sirius shrugs, his entire body feeling warm and tingly. And it’s not because of the everlasting fever.
Remus pokes at the stuffed dog sitting on Sirius’ lap. After Sirius had given James Regulus’ childhood toy, he snuggled with his, burying his nose in the fur and trying to relive all the memories this small toy has. When Remus had joined him on his bed, Sirius had kept Padfoot close.
“Childhood toy?” Remus asks, switching topics.
“He’s not a toy, Remus.”
Remus hums, resting his head against Sirius’ shoulder. “Does he sing and talk?”
“Sometimes,” Sirius grumbles, “When he feels like it.”
“Does he have a name?” Remus brushes down fur that's sticking up.
“Padfoot.”
Remus lifts his head, looking straight at Sirius. He’s trying to stifle a laugh but it’s incredibly obvious. “Padfoot?”
Sirius groans, smiling because he can’t help it. He can already feel the embarrassment flush onto his face, his cheeks glowing pink. “I was three! Don’t start judging.”
“I’m not judging!” Remus laughs, picking up Padfoot and holding it close, inspecting him.
Sirius’ hands twitch, almost reaching out and grabbing Padfoot away from Remus, afraid he might be rough with him. But then he remembers back to when he was suffering from chills and horrible body aches, seeming to be ripping apart every muscle and joint in his body. Remus was incredibly gentle with him, treating him like he was a thin piece of glass.
He folds his hands together, letting his fears ease.
“Padfoot came as a package deal,” Sirius points out, Remus turning to meet his eye. “He came with a black cat with green eyes.”
“Do you have that one around too?”
He shakes his head. “That one went to Regulus.”
Remus raises his eyebrows slightly, letting Padfoot go limp in his hands. He stays quiet for a bit, looking as though he’s choosing his words carefully.
“I don’t ever remember seeing a stuffed animal with Regulus at school.”
“That’s because I stole it from him.”
Remus snorts at that, “You stole it from him?”
“Well, ‘stole’ might have been the wrong word,” Sirius lightly chuckles. “I kind of just took it from him.”
“How come?” He asks.
“To remember him.” Sirius admits, turning away from Remus’ gaze. “When I ran away, I wanted something of Regulus’ so I could still have him with me, if that makes sense.”
“Yeah, it does.” Remus reassures, nudging his shoulder slightly.
“I made James give it to him,” Sirius continues, his eyes flickering back over to Remus. “Do you think it helped? Or-”
“Regulus always liked cats.” Remus shrugs. “He’s always hanging around the stray cats at Hogwarts when he’s stressed out. I’d say it probably provided some comfort.”
Sirius nods, allowing himself to think about what Remus had just said. He hopes it provides some sort of comfort for Regulus, something he can hold onto and ground himself on. Sirius knows how freaked out Regulus is about the anesthesia. He’s always been freaked out about it, even when they were younger and had surgeries all the time. But, now it’s a greater deal, with them being older and all.
Remus nudges into Sirius, causing him to come back from his thoughts.
“Stop thinking.” Remus softly says. “Just relax, Sirius.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
Sirius leans his head back, letting it fall on the pillows. “I can’t. I just want to know if Regulus is alright.”
“If he wasn’t alright, then you probably could tell,” Remus says, leaning his head back as well and meeting Sirius’ eyes again. His hair lightly falls across his forehead, the curls loose and wavy.
A beat of silence goes by. Sirius bites his lip.
“Do you think Regulus will ever forgive me?” Sirius whispers, so quiet he can’t even hear himself. Tears prick at his eyes, wanting to fall but Sirius won’t give in, biting down hard on his cheek. He watches Remus and looks closely, examining the tiny details of his face.
“Want the real truth or a false truth?” Remus asks, keeping his voice low and breathy.
“Real.”
“One day,” Remus says, bringing a hand up to brush some hair out of his eyes. “He will. But, Regulus has strong feelings about the situation you guys have. It’ll take time, Sirius.”
“I just want to be brothers again.” He confesses, his chest tight with anxiety of letting Remus know his inner, deepest thoughts. “I want to feel like brothers and act like brothers.”
“Brothers fight,” Remus half shrugs. “You guys fight all the time.”
“That’s different,” Sirius closes his eyes. “Brothers don’t fight with pure hatred.”
“You hate Regulus?”
Remus’ fingerpads lightly graze Sirius’ arm. It’s the ghost of a touch, just an ask. Sirius slightly nods, inviting Remus to touch him.
“No, I don’t hate Regulus.” Sirius flutters his eyes open, gazing at Remus’ soft face. The light touch of his fingertips gently create circles on the skin of his arm. “Regulus hates me.”
“Regulus doesn’t hate you.”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at me, Remus.” Sirius swallows, throat dry. “There isn’t forgiveness in his eyes or tolerance. Nor is there any sort of sign for a truce. It’s always hatred and anger. Sometimes bitter and resentment.”
“Regulus guards his real emotions. You must know that.”
Sirius doesn’t say anything. He focuses on the touch, making his stomach jump in a variety of ways and his head spin, causing him to almost feel dizzy. His heart pounds against his chest, waiting for more.
“I’ve heard the way he talks about you,” Remus mumbles, looking half asleep. Sirius knows he’s actively listening though. Remus is always listening to him. “Sure, he talks shit about you but I’ve heard his tone. It’s never filled with resentment. It’s always plain, straight forward. But if you really listen, you can hear sorrow.”
“You think he dislikes me then?”
“Sure.”
Sirius rolls his eyes, quirking a smile.
“You asked for the real truth.” Remus says, hiding a small snicker.