It felt like his whole life was flashing before his eyes.
Pale shaking hands went up to cradle his head in vicious, hair-yanking claws. It was too much. He was too much. Everything wrong with him, everything wrong with his life, was his fucking fault. Regulus was right.
His mind flashed back to their conversation. It had been just a few hours ago. Conversation was a generous word for it, or no, that was what it had been. They’d been talking for what felt like the first time in a long time, for what was the first time in a long time if he didn’t count the few times in the past year that they’d had the misfortune of stumbling upon each other and acknowledging each other enough for it to escalate into a fight.
This hadn’t been a fight. Not at first. Maybe it was because it happened over the enchanted parchment the shared sending messages to the other's parchment, the one he hadn’t burnt. He couldn't remember if he’d burned it after their conversation- fight; there were too many things rolling around in his head.
There’d been a wall between them. Thinner than the usual one, the one that began construction when Sirius started Hogwarts and never seemed to stop growing bigger since. It kept them safe from each other, kept Sirius half sane. So, they hadn’t fought. They’d just talked. About what, Sirius couldn’t remember, something stupid probably. He must have been towing the line, plucking at Regulus’ last straw for the entirety of the conversation. He always did that, even when he didn’t want to. It was his fault. All his fault
“You snide, rude little ingrate1” Regulus’ writing, usually so pristine, had grown quick and sloppy. Or maybe that had just been Sirius’ vision, clouded with anger and fucking idiocy. ALways so stupid. “You! Talking to me! About getting over myself??? When all you talk about is how you're such a victim and how our family has wronged you and how you want to be free. We get it!! You're rebellious and don't play by the rules and think they don't apply to you! Get over your stupid pride and arrogance and narcissism! You are not better than any of us, you are at the heart of you one of us.” He’d never not be one of them. He’d always have the bad parts of his family, and Jesus christ were the bad parts evil. God he wanted it out of him. Wished he could wash away all of it, all his ties to his pureblood ancestors. He wished bloodletting worked the way he wanted it to, wish it took from him all that was them with a fountain of blood. He’d tried it. It didn't work, he knew it wouldn’t work, but it hurt and it burned, and he deserved that. Mother always punished him when he’d done something wrong, and now he was free of her, he’d do it himself. God, he deserved it. .
“You do what you want, all the time, without thought for the consequences for anyone else. Time and time again, you choose the selfish decision. And when confronted with the truth of it, the fact that all you ever do is for yourself and yourself alone.”
He was right. He was so fucking right. He didn’t even know how fucking right he was. How’d it even start? Because Sirius was a selfish little prick with no thought for anyone else. He’d wanted a fight. Snape and Regulus and professors and everything had set him off, and he didn’t have anywhere to bite but at Reg.
And it all came back to him. Werewolves, he’d mentioned werewolves. He wanted to adopt little werewolf children, and he knew that would get the biggest reaction out of Reg so he’d said it. He hadn’t said that to anyone, not even Rem. Because it was stupid and shitty and selfish like everything Sirius did and thought and felt. God, what had he done. Reg was going to find out. Everyone was going to find out. Snape had already found out, and how much more would he ruin his boyfriend’s life? Jesus fucking christ.
His nails dug into his skull and when they couldn't get a good grip there, his fingers warped around chunks of hair and pulled as hard as they could. And there it was again, the thing that always came back to haunt him. One of the things that always came back to haunt him.
What the fuck was wrong with him. He’d turned his best friend, the person he claimed to love into a weapon, exploited the thing he hated most about himself so he could shut Snape’s little bitch ass up. What had he been thinking. He really couldn’t remember. All he could remember of last year was the isolation and hot blood and anger and nothing. God he wished he were nothing. He was an awful friend, an awful boyfriend. Awful didn’t come close to describing him. He didn’t have a word bad enough for himself. Bad as Snape. Yeah that fit.
And what had he even done to Snape? Nothing. He’d done nothing, and he’d stabbed all his friends in the back for it. God, he wanted to kill that greasy little shit. Almost as much as he wanted to kill himself. Murder suicide. That felt like a good plan. He could stop Snape from doing his evil awful Snape things, and he could stop himself from doing his evil awful him things. From ruining everything he touched. From hurting his friends. From hurting his family. Or, maybe it would hurt them. He hoped it would for his parents at least. The disgrace of having borne a shit heir too cowardly to go on with his life. Maybe it’d hurt Reg too/ He didn’t want that. No, he did. At least a little. THen REg could be happy without Sirius picking fights with him all the time. He could be the proper heir that he was always meant to be. He wouldn’t have Sirius to challenge his way of thinking and frustrate him and drive him up the walls with madness.
He’d be leaving Reg again. Like he had last Christmas, in a barrage of cursing and cussing and blood. He’d be hurting him again. God, he couldn't even think of fixing things right could he. Everything he did, everything he wanted was selfish shit. He never fucking learned. He hated himself, every last bit of himself. Everything he hated about Snape and his Mother and Reg was just him. It was all him. All his fault. He wanted it to stop, wanted the thoughts, the feelings, the everything to stop. HIs body was buzzing with burning pain and sundering anger, hate.
He wanted to scream and kill and be killed, but that would just make everything worse, wouldn’t it. Just like everything else he did and thought and felt. Just like Sirius.
He wished there was a way he could just to do nothing. He wished he was nothing.