Regulus Black would tell you that he doesn’t really do friends. He would say that he’d rather save himself the inevitable disappointment. He would tell you how he never truly trusts people, how he never lets his guard down, how every vulnerability he shows can be used against him.
Regulus Black is a liar.
Regulus has a village, he has friends that love and care for him enough to make up for every terrible hand he’s been dealt in life. He has friends that he’s utterly terrified of the idea of losing that he never dares to mention them aloud. He never dares to accept them for who they are. He never dares to call them his grounding support system.
He has Pandora, whom he’s sure has the purest heart in existence. He has Evan, who puts up a nonchalant exterior painfully similar to Regulus’s, but would give anything for his friends’ happiness. He has Barty, who is a force to be reckoned with, but beneath the tough guy who always makes jokes exterior, there’s his loving and caring friend. He has Dorcas, who is terrifyingly beautiful and has dedicated herself to being Regulus’s protector.
He has a James, who he can wax poetic about for hours on end, but would never let you witness it. He might not even let James witness it. But James knows, and Regulus is eternally grateful.
What Regulus also has, is a Remus. Remus is not Regulus’s friend. Not because he doesn’t want him to be, not because Regulus is embarrassed to call his menace of a brother’s boyfriend one of his closest friends -he is, but that’s beside the point-, not because Regulus already has enough friends. It’s simply because the word friend doesn’t quite cut it, not when it comes to Remus Lupin.
Remus Lupin is Regulus’s person.
Regulus doesn’t have to speak, he doesn’t have to make an effort, he doesn’t have to perform, Regulus can simply be and Remus would be proud of him for it. Remus and Regulus are not that much of an unlikely duo, setting aside the fact that Remus happens to be dating Sirius, they make perfect sense. Regulus is convinced, though he’d never admit it, that he and Remus are what people would call kindred spirits. He knows, with full certainty, that he and Remus would find each other in every universe, every timeline, every single dimension.
Before Remus, before James, and before his friends, Regulus only knew one kind of love: the love he has for his brother. It’s the only kind of love he ever felt, the only kind he ever got back. But now, Regulus thinks of himself as lucky. Blessed. He thinks of himself as so very rich. He possesses a fortune of love, and the thing is, it’s endless, bottomless, it does not run out, it simply refuses to, and Regulus is filled with so much gratitude, it’s overflowing, spilling over the edges.
Regulus Black is in love with James Potter. He loves him in soft waves, in sweet nothings, in gentle touches, and in little words that are somehow enough. James taught him what it’s like to be truly in love with someone, to want to spend the rest of your life with someone, to want to live for someone. James showed him tenderness, compassion, care, and pure, unconditional, romantic love. James is a flame, an ever-burning fire, and Regulus? Regulus is a moth, and this is he most comfortable he’s ever been, this is his favorite place.
Regulus Black is in love with Remus Lupin. He loves him in intense waves, in I’d help you bury a body, in unwavering trust, and in deafening silence. Remus taught him what it’s like to be in love with your friends. He showed him the true meaning of being in love with someone in a non-romantic way. Remus taught him how to be someone’s rock, how to have someone be your rock. Remus gave Regulus a no-nonsense, no questions asked kind of love and Regulus tried his best to give it back, and is still surprised by how easily he can do just that.
Regulus Black has little pleasures in life, but the gift of being truly and utterly understood is one he didn’t think he’d ever experience. This is why when he texts Remus a simple question and finds him at his side 20 minutes later, he is hit with a blinding sense of gratitude, of belonging, of immense pleasure in the simplicity of someone who just, gets him.
Remus wordlessly takes his spot next to Regulus, who is seated on the floor, knees to his chest, staring up at the sky. He does that sometimes, go outside to his backyard and just sit. It has become a habit whenever things got too much, or whenever his thoughts became too loud, or whenever his desire to be dwindled a little more. He was content sitting there alone, he didn’t mind it, he actually thought it was what he wanted. That is until Remus, who showed up one day and just sat there, he didn’t speak, he didn’t ask questions, he didn’t offer comfort or try to hug him, he just sat there.
Over the years, whenever Regulus disappeared, Remus would just know, and he’d come find him, and they’d just sit together. Occasionally, Remus would bring a snack or alcohol or cigarettes, sometimes he’d bring weed, and as always just wordlessly offer it to Regulus by simply placing it between them, so Regulus would not feel pressured, so he wouldn’t want to do it just because Remus asked. God, Regulus was so in love with him.
This is their thing. The thing that Regulus started to do for Remus as well, the unspoken tradition, the one that they both seemed to seek out now, because they simply could not remember a time when they used to do this alone, they could not recall an existence where they didn’t have each other to rely on. Regulus is simply not capable of picturing the spot next to him on the grass being empty. He is not capable of not seeing Remus’s shoulder be there on the off chance that Regulus needs physical reassurance. He is not capable of imagining a Remus-less existence.
Today, Remus pulls out a sleeve of saltines and places it in the space between them. Regulus raises an amused eyebrow at his choice of snack, but reaches out for one anyways. Remus does too. And they just sit there. And they talk. Without uttering a single word, they talk. They have wordless conversations with every saltine they reach for. They talk and not talk, they eat and they cry. They look up and stare. At the moon, at the sky, at the stars. And they start naming constellations, or more Regulus than Remus, but not out loud, never out loud. Regulus names them all in his head, the ones he sees and the ones he doesn’t, he names him and Remus smiles at him, because somehow, with some unique Remus Lupin brand magic, he hears him, and is, as always, proud.
Regulus Black has a Remus Lupin. Regulus Black has a person. Regulus Black is sad, but he is happy, and he is lucky, and he is in love, and he has a village.