Reunions
Regulus is making coffee behind the counter when he hears it—the voice he’s been trying to forget for five years.
He’s facing the entrance with his back, and he’s scared to turn around.
He truly thought that after all this time, he had successfully erased the sound of that voice from his memory, because he tried so badly. He refused to think about the two people who gave him everything and then left him with nothing. He filled their spaces with new hobbies, friends, and flings. He couldn’t—just couldn’t live on with the constant pain. And so, he decided to ignore it, and what better way is there than to forget the whole experience altogether? It made sense to him, because how can you miss something you don’t even remember?
Of course, he let himself wallow for a little while. He wrote his poems and had his little cries. Pages upon pages filled with thoughts about heartbreak and regret, stained with tear marks. But then he decided: enough is enough.
He started pretending like he didn’t know what happiness felt like, making sadness his new normal.
And at least for a while, it worked; in his memory, their faces are blurry, and their voices are only echoes of his own voice, and he hasn’t written poetry about them in ages—hasn’t allowed himself to.
He just—had to forget. Maybe because it hurt to remember. Maybe because he knew that nothing could ever live up to what it felt like to be around his brother and his brother’s best friend.
All those happy childhood memories now remind him of the most painful experience in his life, which he has to be pushing toward the back of his mind at all times because he fears what will happen to him if he acknowledges it. He thinks he might just explode. A burst of pent-up emotions.
But the thing is, he recognizes it—that melodic, honey-sweet voice. After five years, all that effort put into erasing it from his memory is suddenly wasted. Only moments ago, someone entered the little coffee shop where Regulus works, and greeted the room in a painfully familiar voice.
His voice has changed over time, sure, but it’s undeniably his.
James’.
He sounded ever so cheerful, just like in the old days. Regulus never quite understood why he seemed to be in such an everlasting good mood. The only times Regulus felt as happy as James came off, was when he was around him. When he felt butterflies coming to life in his stomach and when smiling suddenly came naturally to him. When he liked waking up as much as going to sleep, because he found James in his real life as well as in his dreams. It had amazed Regulus how much he could feel. He never knew there was so much to live for until James showed him, bringing colour into Regulus’ life.
But then he left, and now, Regulus doesn’t feel anymore. He knows better. He’s become so good at suppressing his emotions, that sometimes, he isn’t even sure they’re still there. But that’s good, isn’t it? A heart that’s hidden away can’t be broken. Though no one even wants his heart anymore. Regulus has made sure of that by driving everyone away who has been stupid enough to want to get close to him at all. He’s cold and distant, a natural at scaring people off. Might be a family trait.
That voice used to remind Regulus of summer. Warm weather and flowers and ice cream on the beach. It used to warm him, even when he heard it through the phone on a cold winter day. Now, five years and one heartbreak later, it makes Regulus go cold.
He feels dread settle into his bones.
No.
No no no, this can’t be happening. He’s not even completely sure that it is happening. James left. James wasn’t supposed to come back.
There was a time when Regulus wished he would. He imagined James showing up at his door, or Sirius magically appearing at his side every time he felt like crying. He would yell at them and send them away because he is a prideful little shit, and they would stay anyway because they loved him, and Regulus would eventually cave, because he's also a pathetic little shit, and they would all live happily ever after, together.
He waited and waited for his fairytale, day after day, year after year, until he gave up.
He doesn’t want them back anymore. They could be dead, for all he cares. He’s already been living without them for five years, and he’ll gladly keep doing it for the rest of his life.
Everything feels a little surreal. He feels detached from his own body, looking down at a faraway dream—one of those dreams that surprises you because you didn't know your mind could come up with such madness. Did he really hear James, or did he just imagine it? It might just be the family madness finally overtaking him, like a final act of cruelty by his parents. As punishment or reward? The cold finger of a ghost slides down his spine, drawing a shiver out of him.
It can’t be true, he thinks.
It’s not true, he hopes.
He waits to be called back to reality, and then that call comes to him unexpectedly in the form of hot coffee burning his skin, making him jolt and curse under his breath. He forgot—just for a second—to switch off the coffee machine in time because he got lost in thought. Great, now he has to remake the coffee.
“Shit,” someone immediately calls out behind him, but all Regulus can focus on is getting to the sink as fast as possible. It feels like his hand is on fire, a perfect distraction from the agony still to come when he inevitably has to turn around. He sighs in relief when he finally reaches the sink and lets the cool water run down his hand. “Are you okay?” the person behind him continues, more quietly this time.
He turns around after turning the tap off, and then he’s suddenly face to face with James Potter. In all his haste, Regulus forgot about James—just for a moment, just for a second—and he is not enjoying the reminder.
It’s immediate recognition for both of them. James’ eyes widen as he whispers, “Regulus.”
Regulus needs more time. Though, in all honesty, he’ll likely need forever to prepare himself for this moment. He’s not ready. He didn’t think he ever needed to be.
And yet, here they are. After five years of creating new lives for themselves and letting life mold them into new people. After five years of finding themselves, they now find each other. Regulus is almost surprised James recognized him, since he feels like he has changed drastically in the past few years, though apparently mostly on the inside.
Everything seems to come to a halt—everything but James. The gentle background noise of people chatting and eating fades away, the birds outside forget their song, and even Regulus’ heart skips a beat, his breath hitching in his throat. And then his heart comes back to him, racing inside his chest. He feels it throbbing in his ears, beating to a continuous chant of James’ name.
James James James.
He’s all Regulus can see, and Regulus thinks this would still be the case if the world around them was on fire. Maybe it is. He isn’t sure about anything anymore now that he’s looking into James’ brown eyes. All he knows is that James is here, and he’s not supposed to be. Regulus would look away if he could, just to check if the rest of the world is still there, because it doesn’t feel like it is, but he can’t find the strength. So, for this one moment, he lets himself be weak.
Regulus takes him in. James is taller and broader than he used to be, looking a little less awkward now that he’s out of puberty, though Regulus always thought he was already the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Regulus realizes he’s wearing new glasses, having discarded his black frames in favor of gold ones.
But it’s still—James. James with his dark hair still messy, his lips still looking just as soft, and his clothes still in bright colors. Suddenly, Regulus feels like a little boy again. An eleven-year-old with a big heart filled with love for his favorite two people in the whole world, looking up at his brother’s best friend, feeling giddy all over. Oh, what a nightmare.
Then Regulus remembers, and he’s a miserable 20-year-old looking at the one person he trusted with his heart the most, only to have him break it. Regulus doesn’t love James anymore. How could he? Instead, he can feel hatred spring to life in the empty pit inside of him that James and Sirius created.
But still, Regulus can’t look away. He has no idea how long they stand there just staring at each other. James’ lips are parted, his eyes still wide. Regulus isn't aware in the slightest of his own facial expression. He can only hope that it's not as stupid as James'.
Seconds or hours or years later, James blinks and shakes his head, as if awakening from a trance and remembering something. He frowns. “Wait—are you okay?” He looks down at Regulus’ hand, worry written all over his face. Regulus doesn’t buy it, though. “That was a really bad burn, Regulus. We should—”
Regulus cuts him off, “It’s fine.”
His hand still hurts, but he doesn’t want James’ pity—doesn’t want James to pretend like he feels anything for him at all. All he wants is to turn back time to when it didn't hurt to look at this beautiful man in front of him. But he can't, tragically, and so, Regulus needs James to leave. Is he even still the same person Regulus used to adore so much? Probably not, right? Too much has happened. Too much has changed. Regulus has changed, for one thing. So why wouldn't James have, too?
“No, Regulus—” James starts again, now reaching out for Regulus’ hand.
But Regulus pulls back immediately, a little too quick, and he swats James away with his good hand. He breathes in sharply through his nose, now glaring. “I said it’s fine, James. Leave it.”
“I—” James opens and closes his mouth. His frown deepens, and then he sighs in resignation, lifting his hands to his face to start tapping at his cheeks in distress. He responds, his voice higher than before, “Alright, if you say so, but shouldn’t you at least put it under the tap a little longer?”
“Now what did I just say?” Regulus raises an eyebrow. “It’s none of your business.”
And it's truly not James' business. Who does he think he is, barging into Regulus' life and promptly starting to tell him what to do?
James continues sputtering, but every time, he doesn't get past the first two words until Regulus interrupts him, eyes sharp, tone cold.
James drops his hands eventually, defeated. “I—yeah, right,” he says. He’s still frowning a little, but after a moment, his eyes soften, his lips curling up into a small, sad smile. Softly, he tells Regulus, “I can’t believe you’re here… It’s—well, it’s good to see you again.”
Oh, this idiot is unbelievable. Regulus simply cannot believe his own ears. In every little fantasy he’s had about James returning—and he's had many, the first thing James said was sorry, every single time. Regulus deserves a heartfelt apology, doesn't he? Is James expecting a warm welcome or something? Does he expect Regulus to smile and tell him it’s good to see you too? Because in that case, he can forget it, as it is in fact, not good to see him at all.
And why did James say that he can’t believe Regulus is here? What else was he expecting? This is Regulus’ town. Just because Sirius and James left, doesn’t mean Regulus followed their example.
Regulus runs his tongue along his teeth and blows out another deep breath through his nose, feeling a storm approaching inside of him. He tries to convey said storm through his gaze, and he asks, “What’s your order?”
James starts blinking rapidly, looking terribly confused. “Sorry, what?”
“What’s your order?” Regulus repeats.
“You’re asking me about my order?” James is back to frowning now.
Regulus rolls his eyes. “That is my job, yes.”
“Regulus, you—I haven’t seen you in years. I couldn’t care less about my coffee right now. You can’t just—”
“Oh really, years? I hadn’t noticed.”
James huffs out a weak laugh. “Look, we can’t just forget about our past, so why don’t we talk about it? I understand you’re working right now, but afterward, maybe we could—”
“I’m not doing anything with you, actually. And yes, we can forget the past. In fact, I already have,” Regulus states with a shrug.
James’ shoulders slump. “Alright, I can see you’re not too happy with me right now, and I understand, and I’m sorry, but please just hear me out at some point, yeah? I’m staying here for a while anyway, so you could just, when you're ready...” he trails off.
“Oh, thank god you're staying,” Regulus adds sarcastically.
“Reg,” James whines, dropping his head. And oh, that's just—great. No one has called Regulus by that nickname in five years. Has he missed it? No, absolutely not.
Regulus cannot do this. He simply can’t—Finally, he manages to rip his gaze away from James. Staring at the wall, the world comes back into focus. And as it turns out, it’s not on fire. The hustle and bustle of the shop welcome him back to the life he’s accustomed to. On a shelf rests a plant he needs to water, the daughter of the local supermarket owner, whose order he still has to remake, sits at her usual table by the window, and her dog tries to stuff its snout into another customer's purse. Regulus gathers himself, taking a few moments to just breathe. In and out, like usual.
Right, okay, he can do this. A plan—he needs a plan to get James away from him.
He focuses on James again after taking a moment and repeats his question one more time, “What’s your order, James? I won’t ask you again.”
When James responds, he does so quickly, his eyes big and earnest, and he talks fast too, like he needs Regulus to know what he has to say as soon as possible, “That’s alright, I really don’t need the coffee anymore.” He keeps eyeing Regulus' burned hand, worry lingering in his expression.
“That was not the right answer.”
Regulus regards James for a moment before raising his voice so that the other customers can hear him too. “Sir, as I told you before—” He pauses for dramatic effect—“we don’t sell tacos here.” He quirks his head. “Have you been drinking?”
The other customers all turn their attention toward them. A few of them gasp. One of them drops their fork and it goes clattering down to the ground. Oh yes, everyone here lives for the small-town drama. Due to the lack of excitement in this small town, everyone gets excited about the smallest happenings. Regulus isn't usually one for gossip, but at the moment, he's a fan. And since he sees most of these people every day, he knows exactly how to play into his kind-hearted customers.
James seems to be lost for words. “I—No, I—What are you saying?” he stutters.
“Oh god.” Regulus waves his hand in front of his nose and scrunches up his face. “Your breath, sir—it’s way too early to be drinking.”
James opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Regulus is already continuing his act. This time, he makes his voice come out trembling, and he starts blinking rapidly as if he’s about to cry. “Please don’t ask for tacos again… We don’t have them here. And—and you’re scaring me.”
More gasps.
Regulus doesn’t even need to speak up anymore. Everyone in the room is watching him intently, hanging onto his every word. He can feel them staring, but he holds James’ gaze. With a small voice, he continues, “Please don’t get mad again.”
One thing you should never do is underestimate Regulus’ acting skills, or what he'll do to get James out of here, because here he is, summoning tears out of thin air.
James isn’t even trying to defend himself anymore, just staring at Regulus with wide eyes, perplexed, though for a whole different reason than before.
An elderly woman appears at James’ side, calling for his attention by putting a hand on his shoulder, making James look over at her, still in a daze. Like this, he does actually look a little drunk, or just extremely confused. Sternly, the woman speaks, “I think it’s time for you to leave, boy.”
When James doesn’t respond immediately, she raises both eyebrows and inclines her head in the direction of the door.
He blinks. “Right. Wait—what?”
She sighs and looks at him sadly. “You’re confused, poor boy, let me escort you.”
With that, she starts walking him toward the door, keeping her hand on his shoulder in case he tries to resist. James doesn’t. He goes stumbling backward, looking at Regulus with something Regulus can’t make sense of, and before she urges him out, she takes his cheek in her hand, and she sounds truly pitiful when she says, “My oh my, I can’t imagine what happened to you that has you needing drinks this early in the day, lad, but we can’t have you bothering our dear boy Regulus.”
She closes the door and goes back to her seat, mumbling something about kids these days.
James stands outside the shop, wary eyes watching him from behind the window. He rubs his hands over his face, and when he drops them, he looks right at Regulus with a bright smile.
As they stare at each other, Regulus wipes the tears from his face. If he's feeling smug, he doesn’t show it. He knows his gaze is cold. Still, James' smile is warm, early morning sun in his eyes.
Then James turns to leave.
There, mission succesful. He’s gone, and Regulus tells himself he won’t come back again.
Miraculously, Sirius wakes up early. He never does, but today, his bed isn’t as comfortable as usual. It takes him a moment to realise why; it’s an unfamiliar bed.
He groans, fighting the urge to throw his pillow at the window, aka the source of the evil light.
When he and James arrived yesterday evening, they were both exhausted from the travel, so they immediately threw themselves onto their beds and promptly fell asleep. Apparently, Sirius didn’t even take his shoes off.
It’s only now that Sirius takes the time to check the room out. It’s small but lovely, though the many flowers on the wallpaper and curtains are a little too much for his taste. There are two beds on either side of the room, with the door to the bathroom in between. James’ suitcase lies open on his bed where clothes are strewn about, and Sirius’ suitcase is right where he left it by the doorway.
Speaking of James, where is he? Sirius doesn’t hear any noise coming from the bathroom, and he would if James was here, because his best friend can’t do anything quietly. When he starts looking around, he finds a note on his nightstand with a lot of exclamation marks and a smiley face telling him that James went out to get them both some coffee. Thankful, Sirius kisses the note with a smack. Mornings are always a little more bearable after a good cup of coffee. Maybe he could even enjoy the birds chirping outside. At the moment, he can’t stand the little devils.
He allows himself another few minutes of laying about in bed—though those few minutes quickly turn into an hour—before he drags himself out of bed to get ready for the day. He cringes internally when he discovers the paintings of sea views and shells in the bathroom. Could this place get any tackier? He starts digging through his suitcase, throwing things out until he finds the right clothes for today: his favorite jeans and a random band shirt, obviously paired with his docs and leather jacket.
He can’t be bothered to put on jewelry, though. Now that he’s up, he is overtaken by a strong urge to go outside and do something, anything.
Never did he think he would be this excited to be back here, but the sun’s out, and honestly, he’s curious. Will this place look different—feel different after all those years? After he’s changed—after he’s gotten the closest to peace that he’ll ever be able to?
He walks down the stairs of the little inn and greets the receptionist, an old lady who smells strongly of mint, and then he finds himself on the streets of the town he grew up in.
He’s expecting a sudden flood of memories, or a drastic change in his mood, or for dramatic music to start playing out of the blue, but really, it’s just a street. However, it is a lovely street. It certainly has the small-town charm, with flowerboxes hanging from windowsills, roads paved with old cobblestones, old benches, bushes, and even some cherry blossom trees, though most of them have blossomed out already, now decorating the pavements with pink and brown confetti-like petals.
He starts making his way to the center of town. Maybe he’ll be a good mate to James and get the both of them some breakfast.
He passes the supermarket he used to steal cigarettes from and the park where he spent god knows how many nights wandering with his mates. And it’s like he’s walking through a nostalgic dream. Though what he’s nostalgic for, he doesn’t know, because he’s much happier now than he was back then.
He recognizes these houses, and they feel familiar, and yet they’re nothing like in his memories. This town used to be his whole world. It was all he knew. Now, after his world has expanded, everything seems much smaller than it used to seem.
But above all, the town is way prettier than he remembered. Whenever he thought of this place, he thought of parents yelling at him and brothers ignoring him. But the town is actually beautiful—he knew this, he did, but his memories were tainted with the pain and regret of his childhood. He rediscovers its beauty now, though, while a seagull flies overhead, and a local shoots him a smile and a good morning to you, sir. The epitome of peace, still it reminds Sirius of a war.
But something manages to change his mind soon enough. He comes to the conclusion that this town—sucks, when he is reminded of another thing he forgot: the unpredictable weather.
He’s regretting every single decision he made that brought him to this point as suddenly, rain comes pouring from the sky, and it just keeps on coming. A dark cloud stretches out past the horizon, and Sirius curses himself for thinking he was too cool for raincoats.
In only seconds, he’s completely soaked.
He takes off in a run, water sloshing inside his boots with every step, in search of a shop—any shop—to take shelter in.
Eventually, finally, he finds one. Not even caring to look at its sign, he hurries inside. Immediately, he’s blessed with warm air and a sweet smell hitting him.
“God fucking damnit,” he wheezes, “That’s why I bloody left this place.”
Another voice. “And here I was, thinking you left because you wanted to travel the world or something.”
Sirius jolts in place. He wipes the hair out of his face and—there. Remus Lupin standing behind the counter, grinning at him. Remus fucking Lupin.
Like this isn’t just the most insane situation ever, Remus continues, “I truly thought Sirius Black had more depth to him, but apparently, it was all about the weather, huh?”
“Remus,” Sirius blurts out, like an idiot. Obviously, it’s Remus—there’s no need to point it out. It’s just—Sirius is so not ready for this. He never was ready when it came to Remus.
Here he stands, completely drenched in his black leather jacket, his long hair sticking to his skin, dripping water onto the floor, in front of his childhood crush.
Before he can think about it—which he really should have—Sirius asks, “How did you get even taller?”
He immediately clamps his jaw shut. Stupid, stupid. After all this time, he's still being stupid in front of Remus.
It's a genuine question, though, and a fair one at that. He did get even taller , the jerk. How is that possible? Even when they were just kids, Remus towered out above every other kid, and Sirius dares to bet he's now grown into one of the tallest adults he knows.
Despite Sirius’ stupidity, Remus looks absolutely delighted. His grin stretches, eyes sparkling with humour.
“Good question.” He chuckles. “Well, as the baker’s son, I am obligated to tell everyone that it's because of our magic pastries.” He gestures at the counter between them, which displays various baked goods. “But personally, I believe it has something to do with a spell a friend of mine put on me.”
Sirius frowns. “A spell?”
He nods. “She gave me some kind of potion a few years ago. Wouldn’t tell me what was in it, though it tasted oddly like cinnamon, and somehow—broccoli? And then she started dancing around me and singing a song about toads. To this day, I have no idea what it was for.”
Sirius nods slowly. How did he end up here, talking to someone he wasn't supposed to ever see again about—toads? “Well, I sure know which explanation sounds more believable.” He shoots Remus a grin. “So toads it is.”
This earns him another chuckle from Remus.
Then Remus asks, with a raise of his eyebrow, a little more severe this time, “So, you’re back, then?”
Sirius rocks himself on the balls of his heels—a nervous habit. “Yeah, well, just for a while.” He grimaces. “Holiday, you know?”
“Didn't think this to be a vacation spot you’d choose. But then again, I didn’t think you’d come back at all.”
Sirius hums. "No, not really, and I’m certainly never coming back after this ." He looks over his shoulder at the street where rain is still pouring from the sky like there's no tomorrow.
When he looks back at Remus, the latter offers him a weak smile. Right, this is a tiny little bit awkward. It appears that Remus unfortunately hasn’t forgotten about what happened the last time they saw each other.
“Understandable,” says Remus. Then, with a gesture at the door behind him, presumably leading upstairs, “I could try to make your stay more enjoyable, though, if you want to come upstairs.”
Sirius opens and closes his mouth. He honestly feels like he’s malfunctioning a bit, because honestly—what is happening right now?
When he speaks, his voice comes out a little high, “What?”
Remus’ eyes widen. “Oh!” He starts shaking his head. “Oh, no, not—I didn’t mean—” He clears his throat and looks away. “Yeah, no, upstairs so I could get you a towel and dry clothes or something. Not—that.”
For a long moment, Sirius doesn’t blink. “Right.” He would very much like to sink into the ground now, thank you. He runs a hand through his hair as he responds, “Thanks, but you really don’t have to.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Remus tells him earnestly.
Sirius considers the offer with another glance over his shoulder out at the street. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself any more than he already has, but on the other hand, dry clothes sound absolutely fantastic at the moment. He focuses back on Remus, and then it’s decided, because Remus is looking at him patiently with those pretty green eyes, and Sirius feels nervous under his gaze, but also incredibly precious, admired, and like he doesn’t want Remus to ever look away. It’s decided, because he’ll gladly keep embarrassing himself for this man.
“Yeah, alright,” Sirius breathes out. “You can entertain me for a while, can’t you?”
“Now I have to entertain you as well?” Remus quirks an eyebrow. “I thought I was already doing you a favor by letting you stay here.”
Sirius gasps dramatically. “No, it’s an honour, not a favour, Remus.”
Remus huffs out a laugh. “Of course.” He waves him over. “Alright, come on.” He turns around, and Sirius takes one last look around the shop before following him.
He remembers this place. Baked goods on display, bread stacked in a high cabinet behind the counter, a few mismatched tables and chairs scattered throughout the space, and pictures of a happy little family on the walls. He used to come here every Saturday morning he was allowed into town, just to see if the cute baker’s son was helping out that day.
Following Remus up creaking stairs, Sirius asks, “So, you took over your parents’ store, I assume?”
“No,” Remus answers, looking at Sirius over his shoulder, “They still own it, but I still help out sometimes.”
“Ah.”
Remus leads him into a narrow hallway and stops in front of a door at the back, rubbing the back of his neck as he explains, “This is my parents’ apartment. I moved out a few years back, but they didn’t change anything about my old room, so, yeah.”
It’s downing on Sirius that he’s about to enter Remus’ room for the first time—something that only used to happen in his wildest dreams. He’s not expecting the giddiness that courses through him at the anticipation. Even though Sirius has long moved on, it’s still Remus Lupin’s room. Remus Lupin’s room!
“As I said, this room hasn’t been changed since I moved out, so don’t judge me, okay?” Remus shoots him a stern look.
“Ohhh.” Sirius wiggles his eyebrows. “Now I’m very curious, Remus. What, do you have some dark secrets hidden behind that door?”
Remus only huffs before leading them both inside. Sirius doesn’t spot any dark secrets—not immediately. He does spot a dead plant by the window, though. He gestures at it. “Ah, yes, I see what you meant now.” He looks over at Remus with a grin. “You’re a monster.”
“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Remus responds dryly, making Sirius bark out a laugh. “I’ll go get you a towel now.”
Remus leaves Sirius alone in his room, and Sirius fights the urge to jump up and down out of excitement because it’s Remus Lupin’s room. Remus Lupin’s room! It’s fairly small, especially compared to the one Sirius had back in the day. A single bed stands against the wall, which is decorated with posters of musicians—David Bowie, Queen, and—oh hey, Sirius didn’t know Remus liked Lana Del Rey, though now that he thinks about it, it makes sense. He can imagine Remus romanticising his days by daydreaming to her mesmerizing melodies and poetic lyrics.
Remus has not one, but two bookcases in his old room, though they’re mostly empty, presumably because Remus took his books with him when he moved out.
Remus returns shortly with a towel as promised, and Sirius takes it gratefully. He dries his hair while Remus starts digging through his closet. After sighing many times, Remus turns around with a raggy sweater and a pair of pajama pants in his arms, grimacing. “These were the only things I could find that might fit you, sorry. But I know you look good no matter what you wear.”
Sirius gives him a cheeky wink in response. “That’s right I do.”
Remus leaves Sirius again so he can change, and when Sirius walks out in his new outfit, doing a little walk and spin like he’s on a catwalk, Remus tells him, exasperated, “I knew it.”
When they’re back downstairs, Sirius comments, “Well, you have indeed made my stay more enjoyable, so thank you.” He walks around the counter and leans up against it, his head propped up in his hands, looking at Remus with a smile.
Remus smiles back at him. “Any time.” He takes him in for a moment, and his smile fades. Sirius knows what he’s going to ask even before any words leave Remus’ lips, just by the way he looks at Sirius—squinting at him while shaking his head. Softly, Remus asks, “Why did you come back?”
Sirius swallows. He knew it was coming, didn’t he? They couldn’t possibly keep talking around it, but Sirius wishes they would have anyway. Remus probably deserves an explanation—maybe even an apology. But Sirius doesn’t know where to start.
Apparently, Remus can tell, because he sighs and takes a step back as he says, “Alright, don’t worry about it, Sirius, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m just surprised, is all. I thought you hated it here.”
Sirius clears his throat, which is very dry all of a sudden. “I did, yeah, I just…” he trails off, avoiding Remus’ gaze.
A long moment of silence follows—way too long if you’d ask Sirius. He hates silences, but he has no idea how to break this one. Luckily, Remus eventually does it for him. “Do you want something to eat?
Sirius looks up at him in surprise. Remus just looks back at him knowingly, and then he offers Sirius a weak smile. “You can wait out the rain here if you'd like.”
Sirius nods. “Yeah, thanks.”
He looks down at the pastries. They look delicious, especially since Sirius still hasn’t had breakfast. He should pick out one for James, too.
He can feel Remus watching him, and he knows exactly what Remus looks like as he does so. He’s been eyeing Sirius curiously ever since he came in—like he can discover all of Sirius’ secrets—why he left and why he came back, just by looking at him. Ridiculously, Sirius is worried Remus will succeed. It always used to feel like Remus saw right through him. When every other kid in town saw Sirius as a heartthrob, Remus saw him for who he really was—a scared, lonely kid looking for the attention and validation that his parents never gave him. For that reason, being around Remus was the scariest thing in the world.
It’s not long until Sirius spots the pastry which he used to order when he was younger—his favourite. “I see you still sell cinnamon rolls.”
“Indeed we do.”
“I’ll have two of those, please. One to go.”
Remus quirks his head. “So you didn’t come here alone?”
Sirius shakes his head. “No, I dragged James along with me. And a few more friends of ours are arriving in a couple of days. You should meet them. I bet Lily would go mental over you.”
“Lily as in—James’ girlfriend?”
“That one, yeah. Though she’s an ex-girlfriend by now.”
Remus considers that for a moment, nodding slowly as he starts packaging James’ cinnamon roll. “I see. Well, I’m not opposed to meeting them, I suppose, unless they’re all maniacs like you. I’d very much like to avoid ending up in another town late at night without any money and having to sleep on a park bench.”
Sirius scoffs. Offended, he exclaims, “Hey!” He points a threatening finger at Remus. “That was one time. And it’s not like you were an innocent party!”
Abruptly, Remus stops packaging. He looks up at Sirius with a wild look in his eyes. “I was high, Sirius.”
“So? Not my fault.”
Now it’s Remus’ turn to scoff. “Oh no, don’t you go there.” He chuckles, exasperated. “It most certainly was your fault. You gave me the spliff!”
Sirius purses his lips. He doesn’t have an argument against that, but he’ll be damned if he lets this go easily now. “Well—” He crosses his arms. “You still took it. I didn’t force you or anything.”
“Oh, honestly!”
“If it makes you feel any better, some of my friends are almost half-ish sane,” Sirius offers.
At that, Remus grins. “That’s reassuring, thanks.”
Remus finishes packaging the order, and then, as he hands Sirius a paper bag with James’ pastry and a plate with Sirius’, he promptly flips Sirius’ world completely upside down by saying, amused, “It’s funny—Regulus always orders the cinnamon roll, too. I guess you two do have something in common after all.”
Sirius’ face falls flat. He blinks. Regulus. He hasn’t heard that name said out loud in a very long time. James knows better, and his other friends don’t even know about his little brother’s existence.
He feels like he’s overflowing with emotions at the insinuation that Regulus is—here. He feels—so much he can’t even comprehend.
A thousand questions start rolling through his mind. Why is he here? Did he never leave? Where is he? Is he okay? With a small voice, Sirius asks the most important one of those questions, “Regulus is here?”
Remus frowns, concerned about Sirius’ sudden change in mood. Quietly, he responds, “You didn’t know?”
That’s all Sirius needs to hear.
At once, he turns on his heels and rushes out the door, into the rain, leaving Remus standing there with two pastries still in his hands.
For the second time in his life, Sirius runs away from Remus Lupin, but he’s way too distracted to see the irony in that at the moment. He needs to get to Regulus. He needs his little brother.