carpe diem

2

Regulus remembers the day he formed the plan to finally escape his parents. Despite it being six years ago, when he had just turned 17, he remembers it like it happened only yesterday. 

Him and his parents been in France for two years by the time Regulus reached his breaking point. It had been two long, painful, soul-crushing years, but that was all the time it took to drain the last of the life out of Regulus. 

Regulus always thought his home life was as bad as it could get when Sirius was there, but when his older brother decided enough was enough and he was going to save himself, he left Regulus to burn in the fire he left behind. His parents were awful to the both of them when Sirius was there, fuelled by their own anger and antagonised by Sirius’ growing desire to break the mould they’d wanted them to form into, and when Sirius ran away, they turned all their anger and frustration to the single target left in their reach: Regulus. 

The pressure of being their son catapulted to the maximum. Their expectations and demands to be not only the son they’d desired, but now better because they wanted to prove to themselves that they created at least one perfect child. They failed with Sirius, and it was shoved clear as day in their faces because Sirius was brave enough to run away from it all, or at least, he’d been able to to as he had somewhere to run too. 

Regulus didn’t have that. He had no where to go, and after Sirius left, he had no one to confide in either. Life simply became worthless without his older brother around. Even if they didn’t get along all the time in the last year before Sirius left, he was the only person Regulus had in that house. The only person in his life that didn't treat him like an object to be moulded was his older brother, the only person who could comfort him and selflessly take the punches and hits when he messed up as a child was gone suddenly. 

Regulus saw a very dark outlook on life when they upped suddenly and moved to France. Home-schooled so he could never do was Sirius did and make friends to run away too, Regulus spent every second of his days trapped inside the four walls of the Black's new French home. Two years of mentally living in a dark hole, wishing everyday for life to end so he'd be out of his misery lead him to doing something so drastic that if Mr Kreacher, their butler, hadn't found him that gloomy Sunday morning two weeks after he turned 17, Sirius would have become an only child. 

But Mr Kreacher had found him. 

After those two years in France, it was Mr Kreacher, who had tried so hard to help keep Regulus afloat while the teenager was drowning in the eternal misery of his years in France alone with his parents. It was Mr Kreacher who was the reason that Regulus decided enough was enough, much like his brother had two years before. Mr Kreacher told him if he wanted to get out, if he wanted to live, the only way he was going to do that was by being brave. 

Regulus wasn't brave though, which is why he never ran after his brother when he came home to find Sirius had left without so much as a goodbye, or why he never stood up to his parents, or why he stopped fighting back to defend Sirius' honour after his brother finally made it out of the cruel household. 

Regulus wasn’t brave, but having Mr Kreacher collapse on the bathroom floor in front of him, frantically sewing up the self-made slashes on his wrists, proved to be enough to light a spark inside of Regulus. 

He realised that day that he needed to be brave, because if wasn't, his parents were one way or another going to kill him. 

A week after the 'incident', Regulus formulated his way of escape. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to do it like Sirius. He couldn't just run away. He didn't have anywhere to go, didn’t have anyone to run too that wouldn't send him straight back into his parents suffocating arms. He had to be smarter, more patient, more cunning. He had to allow for Walburga and Orion to practically hand him the key to unlock the way out. 

And he did exactly that. 

He fed into their desires for him to go to law school, to become a flawless business man like Orion, respected and feared and skilled enough to carry on the toxic family business. He played along with their games, feigned interest and ambition. He became the person they’d always wanted their son to be, all the while inside he was like a caged animal biding his time to finally be free. 

They didn't wave him off when he got the flight from Paris to Edinburg when he was 18 to start his university degree in law. Mr Kreacher took him to the airport, hugged him tight and told good luck. Mr Kreacher didn't know the details of what was about to happen, but Regulus knew that the older man was saying goodbye for good. Mr Kreacher knew something was going to change for Regulus. He knew Regulus wasn’t really going into to law to become a pre-version of his father, because Mr Kreacher more frequently checked in on Regulus after that night to make sure his pretend 'interest' in his parents goals for him were still only pretend. 

So, Regulus boarded the flight to Edinburg. He spent two weeks in the most expensive dorm room with people pretentious enough that it made to make Regulus want to slam his head through the dorm wall.

Two weeks in, he drew all the money he had in his bank out in cash, changed his name from Rasalas Arcturus Black to Regulus Arcturus Black, and sent a hand written letter to his mother and father, posting it all the way to France, to say that he doesn't want to be a lawyer, never did and never will, and that he's dropping out and not telling them where he's going. 

Regulus posted the letter from the train station the day he travelled down to London. The last memory he has in Edinburg was posting that letter and boarding the train with a whole new identity.

The money in Regulus’ bank didn’t last long once he started studying, but Barty, once he’d become suspicious enough of Regulus’ home life that he refused to ever talk about and the clear loneliness in Regulus’ attitude, told him about funds people apply for to help pay for tuition and accommodation. Regulus is going to be in debt for the next 20 years of his life, but it was more than worth it. 

To be honest, Regulus still surprised he managed to get away with it all. 

The first six months in London, he was more paranoid and scatty than a war soldier fresh from the battlefields with PTSD. Despite changing his first name, he still felt like every shadow and movement was his parents about to jump about at him. Anytime he was out of the dorm, alone or even with people, he spent more time looking over his shoulder than he did looking ahead. He changed his phone number every six weeks, and when people questioned him about it, he came up with as many reasonable excuses as possible. 

Barty was convinced that Regulus was hiding from the police, Evan became scarily convinced that Regulus was hiding from a stalker to the point that he was prepared to contact his father to get Regulus a lawyer ready. In a way, he was hiding from both. 

Walburga and Orion never came looking for him. Or at least, if they did, they never found him. Regulus wishes sometimes he was able to keep in contact with Mr Kreacher, but no matter how much he missed the man, any contact with anything in that house would have been a potential risk to lead his parents right to him.  

Regulus doesn’t know what it was inside him that decided he wanted to be a doctor. A part of him wanted to choose a career that would disappoint his parents if they ever found him, but the larger part of him figured the enormous waste of time that would have been. Not going into law and cutting all ties would be disappointing enough, he didn’t have to sabotage the next 10 years of his life as well. 

So, he chose to do something worth while. Regulus has always been smart, and he’s always enjoyed medicine and biology, so he figured a doctor was the best avenue to take the next part of his life down. 

Attending university was easily the best decision Regulus ever made. He was terrified of going back to London at first. To be surrounded with the daily reminder of being back in the city where he was brought up, where some of his most raw childhood trauma would be there for constant torment. Regulus also didn’t know where Sirius went when he ran away, and it crossed his mind more than once before he came back if he would one day run into his long-lost brother. But it’s been five years, so Regulus figures wherever Sirius went, he went far away enough that none of them, not even Regulus, would be able to bump into him. 

Adjusting to London took a while, the fresh paranoia, the brutal reminder of Grimmauld place still standing, and also getting used to living without his mother and fathers cruel and watchful eyes on him. 

If Regulus is honest, he wouldn’t have survived the last five years if it wasn’t for Barty, Evan and Pandora keeping him through. 

"Daydreaming again, Doctor Black?"

Regulus blinks. The neuro mess room comes into focussed view.

"Break over already?" He asks, rolling his head against the wall he’s sitting up against to look up. His ass has gone dead from sitting on the hard linoleum. 

Dorcas crouches down on the floor in front of him. Her pristine white trainers are stark against her deep navy blue scrubs. Regulus will always be confused why she choses to wear such a colour shoe inside a hospital where they spend a minimum of half the days hours surrounded by the risk of bodily fluids. 

No," she replies, "Just came to ask if you want to come out for a smoke with me."

Regulus narrows his eyes. "Does Marlene know you’re smoking again?"

"I’m not smoking again," Dorcas rolls her eyes, a hint of a smug smirk pulling at her lips. "I’m a social smoker. And if you’re there smoking too, it counts as social smoking."

"I only smoke when I’m drunk or stressed."

"Well, you’re always stressed, and when you’re not stressed, it’s normally because you’re drunk," Dorcas grins, "So, come on. You’re too posh to be sitting on the floor anyways."

She’s on her feet with a bounce, holding a hand out for Regulus. He takes it, allowing Dorcas to pull all his weight up. 

They grab a coffee on their way down to the area that all the staff go to smoke. 

It's empty, thankfully, because Regulus isn't in the mood for people today. Not that he's in the mood for people ever, but today less than normal. He's on his third shift and still has another two more, because he clearly doesn't know how to say no to Euphemia when they're short staffed and sacrificed one of his precious four days off to cover some staff that phoned in sick. 

Regulus leans against the barrier as Dorcas hands him a cigarette and the lighter. 

It's true that Regulus only smokes when he's stressed, so contrary to Dorcas' statement, isn't actually that often. He has an emergency pack in the glove box of his car for the end of super stressful and late running shifts. The only other time he smokes is when he's drunk, something Barty and Evan got him into during their partying years at university. 

The first inhale makes his throat feel hot, makes his heart race a little instantly. 

"You’re quiet today, little star," Dorcas says. 

Regulus sighs, taking a long drag. "Just having a quiet day."

Dorcas hums next to him, blowing out her own cloud of smoke. "If you ask me—"

"I’m not."

"— I’d say Doctor Black is in need of some action."

Regulus looks at her blankly. "Is that your professional diagnosis?"

"Always," Dorcas winks. "What happened to that guy the other week? The cute blonde who you went home with."

"We shagged," Regulus answers simply.

"Was it good?"

"Standard," Regulus nods. "Worth risking being kidnapped for drunkenly taking home a guy from a pub."

Dorcas laughs, shaking her head. "Not good enough to date though?"

"You know I don’t do that kind of stuff."

"Seriously, Black, when are you going to fall in love?"

Regulus scoffs. "I can barely get a full nights sleep, Meadows."

"Don’t be so cold, little star," Dorcas nudges him with her shoulder. "You deserve someone to love, and someone to love you."

"Have you been talking to Pandora?" Regulus raises his eyebrow at her. "Because that is exactly what she says at least twice a week when she takes a routine interest in my love life."

"You don’t have a love life."

Regulus nods. "Good, glad we agree so we can stop talking about it."

Dorcas groans, and Regulus has to hold back a smirk. He hates everyone meddling in his life, but he does sometimes feel warmed when they get a bit concerned. It’s nice, having people worry about him every once in a while. He’s making up for years of living without it, as long as they don’t get overbearing.

"I enjoy having no ties," Regulus shrugs, taking a toke and breathing it out. "Plus, if I got a boyfriend, you’d see less of me because I’d be sharing my already little amount of spare time with them and not with you. Is that what you want?"

Dorcas grins widely, "You’re right. You’re going to be single forever. You will never be able to put anyone before your job."

"Sounds about right."

His pager bleeps on his scrub trouser pocket. He looks down at it.

"You just enjoy being a little whore don’t you?" Dorcas laughs, flicking ash.

"Always a pleasure, Meadows," he replies, tossing the almost finished cigarette in the bucket and heading towards the doors.

"Hey!" She shouts, "You’ve got another 10 minutes of break!"

"Not according to this," Regulus jiggles the pager as he walks backwards towards the automatic doors. "They want me in 406."

"They need you more like," Dorcas teases. "Go get 'em, Doctor Black!"

Regulus salutes as he makes his way in. The elevator up to neurology takes a while as it’s on the 12th floor, but it wasn’t an SOS bleep, so he doesn’t worry about sprinting up the stairs to save time. 

His phone buzzes on its way up.

Barty (13:12) regulus if someone does not kill me in the next 5 minutes I fear I am going to commit murder

Regulus smiles. Barty is having a good time with his parents then. He juggles his coffee in one hand and types out a reply with the other.

Regulus (13:12) kill yourself kind of murder or kill your dad kind of murder?

Barty (13:13) whichever one is easiest

Barty (13:13) I swear to fuck man i’ve been here for less than a day and I can already feel my hair going grey

Regulus (13:13) don’t worry mate, your hair was going grey before you left

Barty’s reply buzzes in his pocket as he sends Regulus a multiple of texts after that, but the elevator doors slide open so he slides the phone in his pocket and steps out. Barty has been texting him non-stop since he arrived in Bath for his mothers birthday weekend the day before. Regulus has found his typed out commentary of the weekend immensely amusing. 

Making his way through the neurology ward, Regulus places his coffee cup down at the reception desk before he bursts through room 406.

Euphemia is standing beside a bed currently cradling a young lad who doesn't look like he can be any older than 16. He also looks like absolute crap, eyes sunken and skin a washed out white. Regulus has called time of death for people looking for healthy than this guy. 

"Regulus," Euphemia greets, smiling. 

Regulus nods. "Euphemia. Who have we got here today?"

She hands him the chart to look through as she begins the handover. 

"This is Connor Reynolds. 17 years old, was found at home today by his mother having a tonic clonic seizure. It went on for a total of seven minutes, by then she'd already phoned an ambulance and had him in the recovery position. She thought he'd finished after approximately seven minutes but apparently he never came around and in less than a minute he was having another tonic clonic. Paramedics said he stayed in status for 15 minutes on the way to the hospital. He's suffered with diagnosed epilepsy since he was seven, takes regular medication for it and has seizures between 2-3 days as routine. He's never had a seizure longer than four minutes, and never had a status fit as he has today."

Regulus nods. "Obs?"

"All normal. Pupils as well. Diazepam sent him under about 20 minutes ago down in emergency before they sent him up here."

"They got him up here quick," Regulus quickly scans over the observations the paramedics and A&E staff have recorded. "Blood works?" 

"Sent off, haven't come back yet."

"MRI? CT?"

"They should be coming through now."

Regulus looks up from the chart. The kid does looks bloody awful. He’s asleep, thankfully, for all their sakes. Wires are attached to his chest, a high-flow oxygen mask cradled on his face. His heartbeat is steady and stable, blood pressure reasonable for a teenager who’s suffered a hefty sounding status fit. Regulus looks at him closely, eyes zeroing in on the young lads bare feet poking out beneath the blue hospital blanket draped over his prone body.

"You done a urine sample?" Regulus asks.

Euphemia shakes her head. "Do you—"

Regulus cuts her off by stepping up and tilting the boys foot. On the base of his foot, between the flesh of his toes, are bruises and track marks. 

Euphemia face falls. The usual for fuck sake expression takes over face. "Brilliant."

"Drug user and epileptic," Regulus muses. "A concoction for carnage."

Euphemia sighs, nodding. "I'll request a urine sample. Let's take a look at the scans, see if we can find anything before we bring mum up here."

"Might be an idea to speak to him first about it, be a lot easier if we can get him to admit it," Regulus answers as they step out. "Having his mother in the room and fearing she's going to blow up because she already knows what he's done might make him reluctant to tell us exactly what he's been taking."

Euphemia nods. "Gain his trust before we allow his mother to rip into him for being a silly teenager?"

"Exactly. When did the status fit finish exactly?"

"Approximately 30 minutes after mother found him," Euphemia answers after she's asked one of the junior nurses to get them a urine sample from Connor. "She doesn't know how long it was going on before. She was at work all morning. He was on his own for hours."

Both of them take seat on the wheel desk chairs. 

"Does he have any history?" Regulus asks, flicking through the file again. 

Euphemia shakes her head as she grabs the scans from the folder and begins to place them on the light board behind them. 

"Just standard, what you'd expect from an epileptic."

Spinning around, arms crossed over his chest, Regulus looks at the scans. 

"Everything looks normal," he observes, chewing the end of his pen (a habit that he has never kicked since he started studying). 

Euphemia hums almost disappointedly. "They do appear as expected. Diagnosed epileptic, not surprised. We just wanted to rule out any potential bleeds to cause such a status fit."

"Head injuries and all that jazz," Regulus agrees. His phone buzzes twice in his pocket again. "I’m surprised the kid doesn’t have some kind of brain trauma though. Not from a fall, but a status fit lasting over 30 or 40 minutes? He’s lucky the only potential trauma he’s going to get after today is after his mother beats his ass for taking drugs."

Euphemia smiles beside him. "He’s a lucky boy. Stupid, perhaps, but lucky none the less. Can you check if the blood work has come back? I’m going to go and speak to the mother, maybe—" Euphemia cuts off, "Darling! What are you doing here?"

Regulus looks over his shoulder with curiosity. Euphemia’s tone just completely changed, but when he see’s her hugging a tall bloke on the other side of reception with the same dark hair as her, Regulus turns back to the computer.

His phone buzzes again. He finally caves and takes a look.

Barty (13:14) fuck you reg I am not going grey

Barty (13:16) oi! reply to me you fuckwit !!

Barty (13:38) he’s started up about the facial hair again

Barty (13:39) seriously I can NOT DO THIS

Barty (13:40) I haven’t shaved my face for two days because I’ve been working 50+ hour weeks in a hospital before I had to travel six hours to see these ungrateful cunts and he’s having a go at me for STUBBLE

Barty (13:45) regulus black someone is going to die tonight unless you drive here asap and get me away from them

Regulus smirks to himself. 

Regulus (13:47) you didn’t shave on purpose didn’t you?

Barty (13:48) why would I make this weekend harder than it already is????

Barty (13:48) you’re supposed to be the smart friend why are you making this more difficult for me

Regulus (13:49) you live to disappoint your father. bet you fifty you won’t grow it out like a yeti for his birthday in march

Barty (13:49) I bet you 50 you won’t make it through the rest of the weekend cos i’m coming back right now to whip your tiny ass

Regulus (13:49) so kinky. don’t do that to me you know i’m at work

Regulus picks up his coffee off the desk, putting his phone down long enough to check the blood works that ping through on the computer. Standard results, nothing showing any drugs in the boys system, but Regulus isn’t surprised about that. Routine blood tests don’t show any drugs lurking around, not unless they asked for a specific blood drug test - which Regulus strongly assumes is a no considering Euphemia didn’t notice his foot before the bloods were taken. 

His phone buzzes against the desk.

Barty (13:49) regulus i swear to god if you don’t pick me up tonight I will never speak to you again

Regulus (13:50) it was a pleasure knowing you then

"Blood works?"

Regulus looks up. Euphemia is still standing on the other side, the lad beside her. 

Regulus shakes his head. "Nothing to be suspicious about. Everything has come back normal. Whatever caused the status fit isn’t showing up in this."

"We thinking drugs?"

"I think they need to hurry up with that urine sample," Regulus mutters before he takes a large gulp of his rapidly cooling coffee. His eyes flit from Euphemia to the boy standing just over her shoulder. He’s got Euphemia’s gentle brown hair, curly and ridiculously messy. His hazel eyes are vibrant behind a set of round glasses as they linger on Regulus for a moment too long, and Regulus instantly knows who this is. 

"I’ll see you later, mum," the boy smiles, hugging Euphemia again. As he’s walking away, he turns around and shouts, "Enjoy the coffee. It’s Mrs Pettigrew’s finest!"

"Bye, love!" Euphemia beams, giving him a small wave. She rounds the desk again and sits down next to Regulus. 

"I’m guessing he’s one of yours," Regulus muses, eyes trained on the retreating back.

Euphemia is still slightly beaming as she leans back with a happy sigh. She’s got a flask of coffee in her hand now, courtesy of the tall lad. "He’s my boy. Well, one of my boys. He’s been away for four years, studying up in Scotland."

Regulus hums. He finishes the coffee and tosses the cardboard cup in the bin behind them. 

"I’m going to go and do the rounds," Regulus announces, standing up. "Have you had a chance to discharge 402?"

"No, not yet," Euphemia shakes her head. "Sorry, love. I was going to but then Connor came up. The papers are all signed, I think her husband is here too so just give them the green light and we can have the bed back."

"Aye captain," Regulus replies. "Page me when those urine samples come back."

The urine samples take far too long for a simple task. By the time they come back, Regulus has done another trauma call, four MRI scans, diagnosed someone for a surgery, discharged three people and had a very lengthy conversation with an elderly gentleman about literally every single detail of TIA's strokes so he knows what to look out for with his wife next time. Regulus should find it sweet how concerned the man was, but in reality, he found it incredibly annoying and he would have happily swapped places with Barty to avoid having to do it. 

The urine samples come back as positive for cocaine and ecstasy. Regulus volunteers to talk to the kid, asking Euphemia to give him 15 minutes before they tell mum. He's surprised when the kids admit it upfront, claiming he's struggling with school and all his friends do it so he gave it a try. That was six months ago. Regulus is more shocked it’s taken this long for the class A drugs to land his epileptic riddled ass in hospital. 

"You’re going to tell my mum, aren’t you?"

Regulus takes a deep breath. "You’re underage, we legally have no choice. Regardless of that, I’d be pushing you very much to telling your mother aways. You clearly are in the beginnings of what could turn into a very serious problem. I’m sure you’ve heard plenty in schools about the consequences of drug addiction?"

The boy nods.

"Good," Regulus flashes a smile, and then drops it as he says, "then you don’t need me to remind you that what you’re doing is stupid."

At that, the boy looks up, face strikes and anger slowly tightening his eyebrows. "What the fu—"

"Look, kid. I refuse to beat around the bush about this, drug use is not smart and drug use while you’re taking epilepsy medication? You don’t need to be a doctor to know what you have been doing is brainless," Regulus replies. "You’re not addicted yet. So, we’re going to tell your mother, and you’re going to listen to her scream and shout and cry and if that doesn’t break your heart, then listening to Doctor Potter going through the list of help you’re going to be signed up to stop this addiction will."

The boy shakes his head. "I’m not addicted."

"I don’t think you are," Regulus nods. "I think you’re a teenager with a shit epilepsy diagnosis and you more than anyone in your school, is desperate to fit in. So desperate, in fact, that you’re willing to throw your health and life down the drain before you even get to university. You can live with epilepsy, you’re living with epilepsy, but good luck living with a drug addiction."

"You don’t understand what it’s like."

"No, but I’ve seen it enough patients to know what you’ve lived with has been tough. You’ve been restricted in your living since you were eight years old, Connor. You can’t do what normal kids can do, can’t participate in certain things, have to jump through so many hoops to prove you qualify for things your friends will never have to do because they don’t live with your diagnosis. It’s shit, I won’t lie to you, and you have every right to be an angry lad about it. But what you’ve been doing, even your friends without epilepsy are harming themselves."

"Drugs are cool though."

"No, taking cocaine on weekends at parties and smoking pot in school is cool. Getting so addicted that you live on the streets, sell your body to buy shit drugs and inject yourself with literally anything possible to chase a high, is not cool. And if you keep going the way your going, you will end up like that."

"I’ll stop before that happens."

"You didn’t manage to stop before you almost killed yourself with brain damage," Regulus challenges, "so how do you know you’ll stop before you start giving up anything and everything for a hit?"

Connor is quiet for a long time, staring down at his lap. He woke up an hour ago, and after some more tests they have deemed him to have made it through the status fit without any brain damage. Whatever the kid thinks of them, he clearly has a guardian angel looking over him today.

Finally, Connor looks up.

"I get it," he murmurs, fingers picking at the blanket over his legs. "I just. . . can I see my mum please?"

Regulus nods. "Doctor Potter should be finished speaking to her now. I’ll let them know you’re ready to see her."

Connor nods so Regulus heads for the door.

"Doctor Black?"

Half way out, Regulus stops and looks over his shoulder.

Connor licks his lips nervously. 

"Thank you," he says, voice small, childlike. 

Regulus smiles, nodding his head. "You’re welcome, Connor."

Regulus finishes an hour and a half late off the shift. He doesn’t get home till 9:50pm, and by then he’s dragging his feet up to his apartment. He barely has enough energy to feed his cat and shower, so instead of cooking dinner he munches on an apple and calls it a night.

Despite doing his degree for a year, and four years before that going to placements at the hospital as a student, Regulus never gets used to switching from day shifts to night shifts. It’s a horrific adjustment to ones natural body clockwork, but Regulus’ last two shifts on his run of five are night shifts, as often are his last two shifts on every stretch. He doesn’t do specific hours every time, but the standard of four shifts on, four days off stays the same, and Regulus more often than not cops at least one night on a run of shifts.

He sleeps through most of Saturday, waking up around three o’clock in the afternoon to his cat, Sylvester, curled up on the other side of his double bed, the cats black and bushy tail inches from his nose. His phone is filled with spam texts from Barty updating him on his second day in Bath, and reading them is more entertaining than watching TV as he drinks his first cup of coffee of the day. 

The Saturday night shift blurs into Sunday. Another 12 hour shift that stretched into 14 because he couldn’t walk away from the c-spine trauma case that came flying in at 6am. The guy was only 35 years old, driving to work on his motorcycle when he unfocused for just a second and ran a red light. It wasn’t hitting the car at 40 miles per hour that broke the third and forth vertebrae of his spine, but the force of him colliding with the edge of the pavement at the most unfortunate angle that shattered his quality of life into pieces. Only 35 years old and Regulus had to be the one to diagnose him to never be able to walk again. 

He ended that night shift with a very large pineapple flavoured gin and tonic at 11am on Sunday morning with only a breakfast croissant in his stomach. 

The Sunday night shift was easier. Or at least, less mentally draining than diagnosing a man with paralysis at the end of the shift. Euphemia and Dorcas aren’t on the ward with him, as their rotas aren’t exactly the same, but Evan is down in the children's department, so they meet at 3AM for their breaks in the paediatric mess room and laugh over Barty’s current torture at his parents house. Barty has been bombarding Evan with just as many texts as he has Regulus, but by 3AM he’s stopping replying to him so they assume the birthday celebrations have ended and Barty has managed to escape the wrath of his overbearing parents for the night. 

It’s the most unusual luck that Regulus manages to finish his last shift of five on time. He hands over at 8AM Monday morning, eyes blurry and body drove to the purest exhaustion he’s felt since he covered a manic two weeks back in August when he did a 90 hour week because he was the only doctor on neurology that didn’t catch the nasty summer flu that spread through the hospital like wild-fire. How he makes it home Monday morning without t-boning his car is a miracle he doesn’t wish to investigate. Instead, he crashes as soon as he gets in after throwing some cat food down for Sylvester. 

Regulus wakes up to tapping. 

It takes him a moment to realise that said tapping is something hitting him in the forehead. 

Grunting, he peels his eyes open only to flutter them closed again. The tapping continues, his forehead and nose scrunching as he moves his head away. He’s too tired to care about how someone has potentially broken into his apartment and instead of just breaking and entering, they’re subjecting Regulus to a kind of gentle but annoying torture before they kill him. Regulus does not care, expect for the fact that the poking of his forehead is pushing dreamland further and further out of reach. 

Managing to muster the strength in his feebly weak limbs, he reaches out suddenly and slaps at anything in front of him. His hand collides with something soft, and the sound of slapped skin rings out in the quiet, dark room.

"Ow!" They cry, voice loud and shrill. "You slapped me!"

Without opening his eyes, Regulus sighs loudly. He could recognise that voice in the middle of a coma.

"Barty," he croaks, voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing in my room?"

"I came back early to visit my favourite person," Barty replies cheerfully. The bed dips beside him, and Regulus knows his friend is now laying down beside him where he's curled up on his side. The tapping doesn’t resume, and Regulus is finally inching back towards slumber. 

"Are you going back to sleep?"

"Yes."

"You’re cute when your sleepy."

"Get out."

Barty laughs.

"So grumpy."

Regulus cracks open his eyes. The room is dark, but light still pours in from behind the black-out curtains, giving him enough light to be able to clearly see the face in front of his. Barty is literally inches from him, laying on top of the duvet and blankets in his day clothes. His face is split with a shit-eating grin, and Regulus is seconds away from slapping it right off his stupid head.

Glaring, Regulus asks, "What’s the time?"

Barty hums quizzically as he looks at the watch on his wrist.

"Just gone two o’clock in the afternoon."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Regulus whines shamelessly, scrunching his eyes shut. "You woke me up after I’ve barely had five hours sleep?"

"That’s a whole night sleep in Regulus hours!" Barty laughs.

"Get out," Regulus buries his face in his pillow. "Seriously, get the fuck out."

"But I missed you!"

"I don’t care, go bother someone else," his voice is muffled against the fabric of the expensive pillow.

"Nope!" Barty quips. He sounds so damn smug. "We’re going out for a super late brunch and then to get drunk. I have to drink enough to forget the last 48 hours." 

Without moving, Regulus snaps, "Barty, I just worked almost 65 hours in five days."

"Good idea, I’ll make coffee. You’re always nicer after coffee."

The bed moves as Barty climbs off. Footsteps retreat from Regulus and he knows Barty is going to the kitchen.

Regulus groans again. "Don’t use my expensive pods!"

Silence emerges him again. If he tries hard enough, Regulus reckons he could get back to sleep. Rolling over, he snuggles further under the duvet, cocooning himself in the heavy-tog cover. His head eyes fall shut again. 

Five hours. Barty gifted him only fivehours after five long hospital shifts before he broke into his apartment and woke him up like a toddler prodding him in the forehead. Regulus could kill him, if only he could find the strength in his exhausted, sleep deprived muscles to move that fast.

Regulus is convinced he falls back into a light sleep, because when Barty’s loud voice rings through the flat again, it makes him jump and muscles tense up like he’s fallen. 

"Regulus!" Barty shouts the another room. "Have you fallen back to sleep again?"

Regulus refuses to answer. Maybe if he pretends to sleep, Barty will leave him alone long enough that he will actually be able to get back to sleep.

"Get up or your coffee will get cold, and then I won’t buy you brunch!"

Regulus wants to shout back that as it’s two o’clock in the afternoon it is no longer brunch time, but he doesn’t. He’s known Barty long enough to know his friend isn’t going to give up on this mission to drink away his sorrows.

Dragging himself out of bed, Regulus untwists the sweatshirt he slept in before he throws the covers back so his bed is relatively made. Shuffling into the kitchen, he rubs his eyes to try and get the grit of sleep out of them. He groans at the light that bleeds through the windows of the rest of his apartment. His bedroom was so beautifully dark and warm, perfect for sleeping. 

"There he is!" Barty beams, throwing his arms up. "The light of my life! The brightest star in the sky! He has arisen!"

Regulus blinks lethargically. He glares at Barty as he takes the coffee cup from his hands and drops down heavily on the bar stool.

"I will never stop loving your bed hair, Reggie-kins," Barty smiles sickly sweet, leaning on his elbows on Regulus’ kitchen island and cradling his face in the palms of his hands.

Regulus continues to glare over his coffee cup. 

"How did you get in?" He asks.

"Your spare key," Barty shrugs. "You shouldn’t keep it under your doormat, by the way, it’s a very obvious hiding place. Someone could break in super easily."

"Yeah," Regulus grumbles, sipping his coffee and quickly realising that Barty did use his fancy coffee pods. "You’ve made that clear enough."

"You know, you’re making me believe you’re not happy to see me."

"I’m not," Regulus replies easily. "You broke into my apartment, woke me up, dragged me out of bed and are now going to subject me to listen to you whine and bitch for hours on end about your parents."

Barty grabs his chest. "Reggie! You’re breaking my heart."

"Cry me a river."

"Drink your coffee, sugar plum. We’ve got reservations at Leaky in an hour and you, my beautiful friend, seriously need to shower."

"Can’t you subject someone else to this today?" Regulus rolls his eyes. "Pandora? Evan? A homeless man on the street?"

"Pandora has classes till five and then she’s going out for dinner with her dad because he’s home for the week, Evan is sleeping before his night shift so drinking is off the table for him, and while you smell on par with a homeless man right now, I would much rather bask in your glorious company instead," Barty grins. "Plus! A homeless man can’t afford his own drinks, and I may be filthy rich, but I draw the line at buying all the rounds for a whole night."

Regulus rolls his eyes, which only makes Barty cackle.

"You’re not going to let me get out of this, are you?"

"Absolutely not," Barty smiles. "We have lots of catching up to do."

"You were gone for three days and you spammed me with so many messages I felt like I was there with you," Regulus snaps dryly.

"I’m going to make you another coffee while you shower," Barty says as he takes the empty cup from Regulus’ hands. "You’re still being more mean than normal." 

Regulus does shower. He takes a long, hot stand under the spray, letting the warm water roll over him. When he gets out, Barty woof-whistles at him as he goes into his bedroom with the towel wrapped around his waist. Regulus throws him a middle finger over his shoulder and slams the bedroom door.

An hour and a half after Barty broke into his apartment, they’re on the train travelling towards the Leaky Cauldron - a place they discovered when they were students and have claimed as they’re regular ever since. Cafe and restaurant by day, bar and borderline club by night. Versatile, which is why Barty loves it so much. 

Once they’re seated and have ordered food and coffee, Regulus threads his hands together and leans back in the booth.

"Go on then," he says. "Catch me up on your traumatising weekend at your parents."

"You sure you're awake enough to take in what I'm about to say?"

Regulus rolls his eyes. "Just spit it out so you'll stop vibrating with annoying energy."

"Still cranky but not as mean as earlier," Barty states with a satisfied nod. 

Regulus eyes the clear tension in his friends shoulders. He’s playing it off as if it was funny, but Regulus knows deep down the weekend has taken its toll on Barty. He’s a stiff wall of agitated tension and burning desire to talk about what’s bothering him.

"Barty, talk and then we can drink. You said you wanted to drown your sorrows? So talk and then we can drink our body weight in tequila later."

Barty grins.

He rants for 40 minutes without stopping. Coffee arrives, then it’s drank, and Barty’s even talking as he’s munching through his food. His father started on him as soon as he arrived, calling him lazy for getting the train with other 'commoners' as he likes to call anyone who earns a salary smaller than £40,000 a year. He commented on Barty’s travel clothes, which Regulus has to laugh at that because he knows Barty definitely travelled down to Bath in sweats and a hoodie because he left so early in the morning and despite Barty being very pompous about his clothing and dressing to impress - much like Regulus and Evan - he definitely put no effort into getting a train in the early AM. His father apparently brought up his future a total of 14 times over the weekend, managing to squeeze in countless digs about how being a successful cardiology doctor should not be what Barty settles for. 

It reminds Regulus too much of his own parents. He doesn’t want to imagine what Walburga and Orion would say to him about his career. If there was anything certain about his parents, it’s that there was nothing Regulus or Sirius could ever do to please them. Even if Regulus was the most richest, smartest, successful person in the world, he knows his parents still wouldn’t be satisfied. Good thing they don’t know what Regulus has done since he disappeared from them five years ago, because he knows even him qualifying to train to be a neurosurgeon two years earlier than others, they would still think he could be doing better.

Barty does in fact pay for brunch, and Regulus’ first two coffees at the Leaky Cauldron. By four o’clock, Barty has switched them from lattes to beer and martinis. 

They don’t leave the Leaky Cauldron until gone midnight, and Regulus knows the hangover in the morning is going to catapult him into his own form of personal hell, but it’s okay. It’s worth it, because Barty needs this and as his friend, Regulus will sacrifice his liver for him.

That’s what friends do.

— tbc.