balancing act

Being on stage was an addiction. The roar of the crowd just fed and fed him, and James would never be full of it. He craved it, he loved the way all of the people were there for him, to see him and his best mates because they actually liked the art they were making, it connected with them. Their energy traveled up to him and struck him right in the heart every time, shocking him full of adrenaline and energy.

They weren’t just fans, not really, not to James. They were a part of his soul now, listening to the music he helped create. They all held a part of him, and he had a part of each of them.

His fingers moved swiftly and deftly on the brand new electric guitar, and being surrounded by people chanting his name only inspired him more . It inspired him to give more, to be more. James shared a mic with Sirius for the last verse, the two of them singing closely. He could feel the way the energy was oozing off of Sirius, and it hit James harder than his own. It always did.

As much as James felt the crowd, he always felt Sirius more. Their hearts beat in sync, their minds pulsed as one. They were one.

They were untouchable up on that stage, their music would echo around the music hall for the rest of time, making them permanent, unforgettable.

Everlasting.

They had just played the best show of their lives, and they were on top of the world, getting drunk backstage and waiting for the crowd to clear out. It was the biggest crowd they had played to yet, and it was overseas to where they were from, in a foreign country, foreign continent. James couldn’t believe it, he was still vibrating from all of the adrenaline.

“That was fucking brilliant!” Peter said as they ran off the stage, only one drumstick since he had thrown the other one out into the crowd. They were told not to, but in the moment they were hardly thinking about their management.

“We’ve never played like that before,” Sirius said, running his hands through his hair again. He was sweating, but he was glowing just like the rest of them were. He was the perfect frontman, women loved him, he knew how to entertain the crowd, he knew what to say and when to say it. It just worked.

James felt like his heart was going to fall out of his chest, and he was smiling wide . He didn’t know it was possible to feel like this, like everything was perfect. He never wanted to stop feeling like this, and he understood just how people got addicted to this lifestyle. It was their first night of the tour, and James was already dependent on that feeling.

He was insatiable. He was addicted.

They went out to a pub after, how could they not? It was the biggest night of their lives, and things were only going to get bigger from there, James could feel it, he could sense it. They were going to blow up in the best possible way, and he could not wait.

New York had a lot of clubs, and for once they got in easily, able to bypass the line when one of the bouncers recognized them. He was never going to be used to it, being recognized. It was still such an insane thing to him, when strangers knew his name and knew so much information about him. They knew his birthday, his parents name, where he was born, all of this personal information with one quick search.

It was loud, and it was crowded, and none of them minded one bit. James danced with Sirius, they danced with strangers, and they even got Remus onto the dance floor after he got them all another round of drinks. They stayed out for hours that night, not caring about the consequences or how hungover they were going to be the next morning. They were on top of the world, and there was absolutely nothing that was going to bring them down.

Their big break had been a song Sirius wrote (and he was being incredibly tight-lipped on who it was about) called You Get Me So High . It was that song that had gotten them a fan base, and then a record deal, and then an entire European and American tour that kicked off in New York City that night.

They were on their way to being the new biggest band.

Sirius came back to James’s room with him for a little bit, and they listened to some of their songs, trying to relive the feeling they had felt on stage. They had performed before, but it had never been quite like that, where the whole crowd knew every word to songs that they had written.

He had known Sirius since secondary school, and they had both wanted to make it big in music since as long as they could remember. He never imagined it could be a reality, James pinched himself every two hours at least to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, the spot between his thumb and pointer finger was sore from how often he did so.

His hotel room was a disaster after they had all gotten ready in there earlier. James had ended up getting the penthouse room, and they were all going to share before Peter said he wanted to bring a girl back. James wasn’t sure if he ended up actually doing so, things after the club were still a little bit fuzzy.

“Prongs,” Sirius said again. They had just been going back and forth, saying each other’s names in a sort of awestruck state, eyes glossed over from just how much they were feeling. They’ve performed before, but never like this, never at such a large scale.

“Padfoot.”

“Prongs!”

“Padfoot!”

“James Fleamont Potter!”

“Sirius Orion Black!”

“It was electrifying,” Sirius said after, basically erupting into his emotions, kicking his legs up as if he were trying to expel some of the energy. “I want to do this forever.” Sirius really could do it forever too, he was bred for a life like this, a life where everyone knew his name, a life where everybody wanted a piece of him, a piece of the star that was Sirius Black.

“You can,” James promised him. 

“And you’ll do it with me?”

“Of course I will.”

James continued to listen to music even after Sirius left, and he really felt like he got to be alone for a minute, to just exist and to think about everything that had happened that day. They just played a show in New York City to over a thousand people, and they were going to do that same thing all over the country. It was bloody-

A very harsh and loud knock stopped his train of thought, and he had completely forgotten he was in a hotel.

“Fuck,” he said, turning his music down to a much more appropriate volume and making his way to the door. He hoped it wasn’t management kicking him out or something. He had truly just forgotten that he was in a building with a bunch of other people.

He opened the door, leaning against it for stability, and for a moment he thought it was Sirius, and that maybe he had forgotten something. But the moment his eyes focused he realized it wasn’t Sirius at all, just someone who looked scarily like him. He had shorter hair, and his eyes were grayer than Sirius’s bright blue ones. Plus his feet seemed to be very beat up, which sent off a couple red flags in his brain. But for a moment he swore it was his best friend looking back at him and not a stranger.

“Hi,” James said first, since the man in front of him hadn’t spoken yet.

The second thing James noticed, after realizing that it was a stranger, was that he was a very beautiful stranger. James had always been a mess around beautiful people. He was alluring, and maybe it was just James being more than slightly drunk, but he wanted to know more.

“Turn the music down.”

Well, he did that already. Yes, it was after he had heard the knock, but the music was playing much quieter now. “Aren’t you going to say please?” James asked.

Selfishly, he didn’t want him to go yet. Whoever it was hadn’t recognized him, and nobody had ever been this harsh or cruel to him before, not really. So, it was purely for self gain when he asked him if he liked the music, since James knew it was his, but the stranger didn’t.

He tried not to pout when he didn’t get an answer, and instead went back into his room. He was too drunk to properly make music, but he was full of too much energy to not do something. He tried to play some things that he had already written on the guitar, as quietly as he possibly could. Something in the back of his brain told him that if he played loud again then the cute stranger would come back to yell at him some more, but he really didn’t want to be rude.

James’ heart and soul was music, it had been since he was little and listening to his dad’s Beatles records. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Him and Remus wrote a lot of the songs for the band, and most of them were pretty good. Peter had been slowly starting to dabble in more songwriting, but he was still too shy to share any of it with them just yet. Sirius didn’t write often, but when he did… He did it big. 

Which is how James knew that the song Sirius wrote was important for one reason or another. It was about someone . Someone important enough to warrant a song written by Sirius Black. James let it go for now, because obviously he did not want to talk about it. But, he couldn’t help but be curious. Sirius hadn’t really talked about any guys in a while, so it was hard to imagine who it was about.

Their band had gotten together in a way that appeared seamless from the outside. They were just four lads who happened to be musically inclined. But really, it had been a lot of hard work on Sirius’ part. James and Sirius had practiced the guitar until their fingers were bleeding and their hands were naturally calloused, until they could change chords with their eyes closed. They wrote song after song that would never see the light of day because they had just been teenagers, their feelings had been surface level and cliche.

Still, it was Sirius that had kept them motivated. He had gotten them small gigs at pubs in London, and slowly but surely those gigs became bigger and bigger. Sirius was their lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist. He was the frontman, even though they had long ago decided that they were a democracy, they still needed a face to show the masses, and Sirius had a very, very pretty face. He demanded attention, and he got attention. Plus, he had that little rasp in his voice that made the fans absolutely wild, he used that to his advantage whenever they were performing.

Peter, to everyone’s surprise, was a fantastic drummer. Him and Remus were the best at keeping time, but it ended up being Pete who blew everyone out of the water. On the outside, he had a much more mellow demeanor, but he was a beast once he was sat in front of a drum kit. They had songs they had written purely to give Peter more opportunities for drum solos.

Remus was the bass player, and he sang but only when he felt like it. Really, he had a heavenly smooth voice that drove everyone (including James) absolutely crazy. But he said he was fine leaving the singing to James and Sirius, and he never liked being in the spotlight that much. He shone anyway, whether he liked it or not, he had an almost haunting presence on stage, it was hard to tear your eyes away from him.

James was the lead guitarist and sometimes a vocalist. Really, Sirius sang the most, but every once in a while James or Remus took lead in a song. He had taken to guitar very quickly, and once he started learning, he couldn’t stop. He also loved to write songs, it was a sort of therapy for him.

The four of them had been together since school, although not always as a band. They were friends first, and they had absolutely adored causing trouble at school. Sirius held the record for most detentions given to a singular student, and he kept that title proudly. He once asked their favorite teacher to give him a plaque, representing his accomplishment. On their graduation, she presented it to him and now Sirius kept it on display in the flat they shared in London.

Music originally wasn’t all that serious, not for most of them. It was just something they did when they went over to James’ house and were bored, messing around a little bit and occasionally sounding good. But it became more frequent and soon they were just…practicing. Like a real band, they were making music together and they loved it.

They would probably still be in James’ house if it wasn’t for Sirius. He had gone behind all of their backs the summer after graduation and signed them up at the Leaky Cauldron, a pub in London. Peter thought they weren’t ready, that he was far from ready to play the drums in front of actual people. But it was a local pub, there were no real stakes in it.

That gig became a regular one, and soon they were playing there every Friday night. James is glad that he gets to look back on those days fondly.

Anyway, they had only broken up once, when Remus just sort of quit without giving them any sort of reason. It had been a miserable couple of months, and they tried to find a replacement bassist, but it just wasn’t working and they had to stop altogether.

James is pretty sure that Remus has still only told Sirius the real reason behind his absence, but he was back now and he was happy and that was what mattered.

———

He didn’t know how long he had been asleep for when Sirius just waltzed into his hotel room, apparently scamming the lady at the front desk for a key to his room. 

“What time is it?” James asked, sitting up in the hotel bed. Sirius shook him awake, still shaking him even after James opened his eyes. He was generally a heavy sleeper, actually, but still. He had to swat at Sirius to get him to step back.

It was still pretty dark out, like maybe the sun was just starting to rise. His body was still partly on London time, and his natural clock felt very out of order.

Sirius ignored his questions though, just slipping into the bed with him. “Prongs,” he said quietly. Usually, when he spoke like this it meant something, it meant he was thinking.

“Yeah, Pads?” he asked, a bit concerned. 

“My brother’s in town.”

“What? In this town?” he asked. In the back of his mind James remembered the stranger that had shown up at his door last night, although he thought it might have been a dream. A person like that could only ever exist in his dreams.

Sirius turned his head to look at James like he was dumb. “What other town would I mean?”

James turned over in the bed so he was facing Sirius, smiling at him through the sleepiness. “Spain, of course.”

“Spain isn’t a town, and you’re just saying that because you want to go there.”

“So? Is it wishful thinking that maybe if your brother happened to be in the town of Spain-”

“Not a town.”

“-then we could go visit.”

“Right, well he isn’t in Spain.”

James brought his mind back to the conversation they were having and not his literal dream destination (for a vacation, a wedding, a house? He simply did not know and did not care, just that he longed to go).

“So, Regulus is in New York,” James said slowly. Most conversations regarding Sirius’ brother needed to be dealt with very carefully. Sometimes he would curse his name, other times he would sing his praises. Either way, James wasn’t allowed to agree or disagree, so he found it best to just stay mostly silent.

“Yeah, he is.”

“What for?”

“Ballet.”

“He traveled all the way to New York to see a ballet?” James asked. He knew the Black’s were rich, but from what Sirius had told him, Regulus didn’t associate with them anymore. And London had a very good ballet itself, incredibly prestigious and posh, the kind of thing he was sure Sirius’ brother would love.

Sirius gave him that look again, the one where he was definitely wondering if James was slow in the head. To be fair, he had just woken up after very little sleep, he wasn’t entirely sure of anything going on at that moment.

“James, he’s in the ballet.”

It rang a faint bell in James’s head, like maybe Sirius had mentioned before that Regulus danced ballet, but again he hardly spoke of his brother. Or to his brother. James once tried to convince him to talk to Regulus more often and he was treated with the silent treatment for over a week.

“Oh yeah, right right. Regulus, ballet, dance, in New York, got it,” he said, catching up on everything to at least pretend like he understood what was going on. Truthfully, James was so confused. 

“I think I have to go see him.”

“Really?” James asked, he couldn’t help it, the words had just sort of tumbled out of their mouth. He literally had not seen his brother in years, and while they were slightly better at staying in touch over the phone, it was different in person.

Sirius, at least, didn’t seem to mind. He knew that James really didn’t have a filter most of the time, and he navigated it better than most in the same way James navigated the same thing about Sirius. Really, both of them just said the first thing that came to mind and didn’t recognize the repercussions until after the fact. 

“Yeah, I want to see him.”

“I think it’s a good idea, then.”

“Honest?”

“Always.”

For self-preservation, James did not mention the fact that Regulus was probably his current neighbor who clearly didn't like him very much. He sort of wished he had left a better first impression, if he was Sirius’ brother and everything. Too late now, he supposed a second impression would have to do.

Hours later, after James had slept more and Sirius had come back from visiting his brother, James realized his second chance was going to be a lot sooner than he had expected. 

“We’re going to the ballet!” Sirius said excitedly. They had all found their way to his hotel room because he told them he had very important news to share. They had to drag Remus out of bed, actually, since he simply was refusing to get up. Normally, they all knew better than to mess with Remus while he was sleeping, but this was about Sirius so he could get over it.

Remus practically lit up anyway, but it was cute how he had tried to hide it. He was probably glad that James pulled him off of the bed now. “Oh, the ballet?” he asked in an attempt to be casual. He started twisting his fingers though, giving away his ‘secret’ excitement.

Sirius rolled his eyes fondly. “Yes, Moony, the ballet. My brother invited us.”

“Your brother?” Peter asked, eyes almost dropping out of their sockets. James tried to subtly shake his head to not make a big deal of it, but it was too late. Well, he couldn’t say he didn’t try.

“Yes, my brother,” Sirius said sharply. From his tone it was clear that it was all he was willing to say on the subject.

“So, what’s the dress code for this?” James asked in his best attempt to drive the conversation to something else. It worked, because if there was something that Sirius absolutely loved talking about, it was clothes. Same with Peter, the two of them often tried way too hard on their outfits and this was no exception.

The dress code, apparently, was suits. None of them had brought suits with them on their tour, they hadn’t even thought about it. Why would they? They weren’t exactly the most comfortable fashion statement they could make on stage. Sirius offered to buy all of them one, using his inherited fortune to pay for it. James himself had a bit of money saved up, plus as more time passed they made more money from their music. So, between the two of them they fronted the cost of the suits without much trouble. After this tour they were going to be rich anyway, it was going to make them a household name.

Sirius helped Remus do up his tie, although James was quite sure he knew how to do it himself, so it was amusing to watch him ask Sirius for help. Sometimes, it was hard to tell whether they were actually flirting, or if it was just the way their personalities clashed. Either way, Sirius would never do anything with Remus, he thought it would jeopardize the integrity of the band, and there wasn’t much that Sirius cared more about than the band. It was his baby, essentially.

“Excited Moony?” Peter teased, doing up his own tie by himself. If Wormtail could tie a tie, then so could Remus, James was almost certain of it.

Remus pretended like he had no idea what Peter was referring to, feigning nonchalance. But even Sirius had taken to teasing him over it. 

“Oh, Moony absolutely loves ballets,” he said like he was sure. “Pretty sure Tchaikovsky makes him horny.”

“I hate all of you,” Remus said after they all laughed. “No, really. You need to find a new bass player.”

James smiled wider, knowing that Remus would never even think about leaving them again. “But who are all the women going to absolutely fawn over?”

“They do not fawn over-”

Remus cut himself off when he saw the way James was grinning like he was absolutely mad. Truthfully, he probably was, but he had only said it to get a reaction out of Sirius, and it had worked. He was hellbent on proving his theories correct. The score was 1-0, and he was winning. 2-0 if he counted the tie incident.

The ballet was fancy. They arrived in a car that Sirius’ brother sent for them, and they were dropped off right at the front door. There were a couple of people taking pictures of people as they walked up, something that none of them really prepared for but knew how to handle.

“Holy shit,” Peter said, looking out the car window in awe. 

The building was lit up in yellows and whites, showcasing the ballet. It was opening weekend for Swan Lake, and it was crowded. Women were wearing floor length gowns and heels, men were wearing freshly tailored suits, and everybody just screamed elegance.

It was such a stark contrast to their show. It was sweaty and dirty and chaotic. It was rock ‘n’ roll.

The seats they had were really good. There was a perfect view of the entire stage, and Sirius told them he was sure Regulus had gotten them literally the best seats in the house on purpose. 

“He’s so fucking pretentious,” Sirius mumbled.

James was excited though. He didn’t entirely know why, seeing as he knew almost nothing about the ballet, but everyone there was dressed to the aces, ready for a show.

“So, what’s gonna happen?” Peter asked, just as confused as James was.

He shrugged. “I suppose they dance.”

“They tell a story,” Remus interjected, and then he looked away like he hadn’t been the one to say that. Sirius looked incredibly fond, probably glad that somebody else in their band was enjoying the fine arts.

“Moony’s right. This one’s Swan Lake,” Sirius told them. Of course, James had heard of Swan Lake, everyone had heard of it. He just, well he didn’t entirely know what it meant. “Rothbart casts a spell on Odette and turns her into a swan-”

“Why?” Peter interjected.

“Because, Wormtail. He’s evil and it’s a story. Siegfried falls in love with the Swan Queen, Odette, who because of the curse is only a human at night.”

Remus stopped Sirius from explaining there, saying it wasn’t kind to spoil the story for Peter and James, who were going to apparently love the ending. James wasn’t sure how he was supposed to get much of a story from just some people dancing ballet, but Remus was very insistent that they quote ‘shut their mouths because it was about to begin’.

James noticed him right away. He was drawn to him, he couldn’t help it. Regulus was smack dab in the middle of the stage, holding a very pretty girl in a very low dip. James had been right, Regulus was the person who had come to his door and asked him to turn down the music, and this explained the bloodied and bruised feet. Even still, James thought he was flawless. He didn’t need to know anything about ballet to be able to tell that Regulus? Oh, Regulus was a fantastic dancer.

James got a bit sad every time Regulus left the stage, and his heart picked up a little bit each time he came back. He was like one of Pavlov’s dogs, waiting for a little treat and reacting the moment he got it. The bell went off and he was waiting for his reward each and every time.

Sirius looked proud of what his brother had achieved, at what he was doing. One of the stars in the most popular ballets in one of the biggest performing centers in all of the world. Remus was giddy, his eyes darting all over, trying to take everything in as quickly as he could. He tended not to show when he was excited about most things, but there was no hiding it. Peter mostly looked confused, but he had a sort of dazed smile on his face as he watched the ballet dancers spin and leap. He didn’t know what was going on, but it was fantastic to watch. He kept looking back down at the program, trying to figure out which part they were at and what was going on, but that only seemed to make him more confused.

Everything had felt so real, that when Regulus went down, at first it had seemed like part of the dance. The other person on stage with him didn’t react immediately, still dancing. But once she noticed, everything paused, everyone paused as Regulus laid on the ground, completely unconscious with his wrist twisted in an uncomfortable position.

James had never seen Sirius move so fast.

***

Regulus lifted his partner up into the final leap, holding her in the air above his head for a long time and soaking in all of the applause. Pandora smiled down at him, telling him to enjoy this moment with her eyes, but he remained stoic until the curtains came to their final close. Still, he didn’t quite let his guard down, he hadn’t properly been able to in years.

Gently, he let Pandora down onto the ground now that they could no longer see them, and the sound of the crowd was almost deafening. There were a lot of people that night, like there always was. It was the most popular ballet in New York, in the world almost, and much bigger than anywhere back at home in London. People traveled here from different continents just to see one show.

“Oh my God, Reg! That was amazing,” Pandora said excitedly, somehow full of energy after they had just performed for almost two hours. She shook his shoulders, trying to get him to join in on some of her celebrating. It wasn’t celebrating time yet though, not when there was still another show left tomorrow. Maybe after that he could let go.

He smiled weakly, nodding his head. He was tired and hungry and just wanted to go to bed, even if it was in a hotel and not in his comfortable flat overseas. Being a ballet dancer meant a lot of long hours and a very limited quantity of anything actually fun. But, most of his coworkers were buzzing from performing at the New York City Ballet, and they all had plans of going out that night.

Slowly, he could feel the pressure creeping in on all of them. Plenty of people aged out, or got injuries, or simply cracked under the weight of it all. Ballet was an ugly world behind the scenes, and plenty of ballet dancers had vices in drugs and alcohol. At times they were the only way to get through it, Regulus could understand that.

He was invited out, they always invited him, but he said no every time. He had a certain standard he needed to keep, and going out and getting hammered would not do him or his image any good. If he was photographed going out and getting drunk he would be dead, his parents would hate him, his agent would have a bit of a mess to clean up, and Regulus would be left even more alone. So, he kindly declined and went back to his hotel room alone.

Regulus was always alone these days. He was either practicing, or traveling, or he was stretching in his room, or he was sleeping. Alone. Always alone.

He got dressed back into his regular clothes and hailed a cab, something he hated doing but was entirely necessary in New York. His feet were killing him too, literally, so walking would have been miserable anyway.

The night after a performance he always looked at the reviews, looked at the ways he could better himself, where he made mistakes and the things he needed to fix. Usually it took at least a day for the more detailed reviews to be published, but at the very least he could see how the general public reacted to it. He knew it was horrible for his self-esteem, but that had been shot to death after his first year in ballet when he was four, so what did it really matter? There wasn’t much left to save.

After almost nodding off in the backseat a couple of times, the taxi pulled up to the hotel he was staying at. Regulus paid him more than he needed to, he was far too tired to count out any of his bills and he had no interest in remembering the conversion rate of pounds to american dollars. Although, he thought 200$ was probably still far too much.

His room was in the penthouse, and he fought hard not to fall asleep in the elevator. There was another man in there with him, he was blonde and clearly very drunk. His cheeks had the brightest blush on them that Regulus had ever seen, and he was giggling at his phone.

Regulus tried to ignore him, and he kept himself composed for the entire ride up the elevator, but really he just wanted him to shut up. Everyone was always so loud, he just wanted silence. For once, he wanted silence.

Of course, why would he ever get what he wanted?

“You seem stressed,” he said. He also had an English accent, although it wasn’t exactly a London one. He could place it if he tried, he just didn’t feel like it.

“I’m fine,” Regulus said. 

The man hummed. “Your shoulders are taut. Do you want a massage?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m Peter,” he said, thinking that introducing himself was a good idea when Regulus was so very clearly not interested. Really, he was trying to be kinder to people these days, less of an asshole, like Pandora said, but they made it really difficult.

Luckily, the doors opened to the penthouse and Regulus left as quickly as he could without another word. He just needed to sink his feet into an ice bath and close his eyes.

He had been in the process of putting his feet in the ice bath, the cold water no longer stinging like it used to and instead calming his muscles, when his phone rang. He knew who it was, the same person who called him after every single performance without fail. Regulus could appreciate the consistency of it all, even if most of the time he didn’t feel like answering the phone.

Regulus didn’t mind though, not when it was her. Dorcas Meadowes, one of his only friends as well as his manager. She was lovely, and she actually put up with all of his moodiness in a way that made him want to actually be nice.

“Hey Cas,” he said, sighing as he put his feet back in. 

They really fucking hurt.

“Hi, love. How was it?” she asked. She was still in London, who knew what time it was for her there, probably far too early to justify being awake. Dorcas was probably the person closest to a saint that Regulus had ever met.

“It was fine,” he said. It was what he always said, because it was always just fine. He couldn’t really remember a time when ballet brought him real and true joy. It brought him fame, and it brought him more than enough money simply because of how well known he was, but it wasn’t what he was passionate about. It was just what his parents wanted him to do.

Dorcas was always telling him that he needed to take a break, to take a step back and remember why he loved it in the first place. Sometimes, he thought he could love it. He did love dancing, and all of the people it had brought him closer to, but everything else that came with it? Yeah, he wasn’t so sure he loved that. He didn’t care for performing, or all of the fanfare. He didn’t need women screaming his name, salivating over the man they thought he was.

“Fine? Reg, you performed at the New York City Ballet!”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” he said. He was starting to lose feeling in his feet, and he knew it was almost time to take them out. He also knew they were just going to start hurting again, and he didn’t want to feel it anymore. 

“You don’t sound like you know.”

He sighed. “I’m tired. You know how it is,” he said, even though she didn’t, not really. Dorcas didn’t dance, she managed. She listened to dancers tell her what it was like, watched ballerinas smile through the pain and act like nothing was wrong. Regulus knew plenty of people who had danced through injuries because it was easier than having someone substitute in for them. Regulus himself had done it before. Ballet dancers couldn’t take time off, not if they wanted to have their jobs.

They talked for a little while longer, long enough for Regulus to wrap his feet up again and put on his pajamas, getting ready to call it a night. He wore a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, like he did most nights, and he tried to get some sleep. Whoever was next door to him was being incredibly loud though, and he had to listen to their loud music for over an hour before he had enough and decided to ask them to turn it down.

He really was in no mood to deal with it, and he didn’t even bother to put on shoes, only barely remembering to grab his room key before walking down the hallway with a mission.

He knocked once and then waited. The music didn’t stop, and it didn’t get quieter, so he knocked again, repeatedly, as loud as he could.

The music got turned down this time, and he heard the lock start to click open.

He had every intention of just simply asking them to keep it down, that some people were trying to sleep and didn’t want to feel as though they were in a club, but he felt the wind get knocked out of him when the door actually opened.

A man with messy dark curls opened the door, his glasses a little bit crooked on his face and an easy smile on his lips as he leaned against the door and looked at Regulus. Whoever he was… well, he was just so fucking bright, so human. Regulus had never seen someone who looked so real.

“Hi,” he said. Another English accent. Regulus assumed he was probably with the blonde he had seen earlier, Pat or something. He didn’t care to ask.

Regulus gathered his thoughts, cleared his throat, and looked the man straight in his eyes. “Turn the music down,” he said, not leaving any room for outside interpretation, not even asking, but telling. It wasn’t a request.

He pouted, Regulus almost crumbled right there. He really used to be stronger than this. “Aren’t you going to say please?”

“No.”

“Do you wanna hang out?” the man asked him rather suddenly.

There was an instinct in him that wanted to say yes, and he had no idea where it came from. Regulus didn’t ‘hang out’, especially not with strangers, and especially not when he was tired.

“No, thanks. Just the music.”

Regulus was about to turn on his heel and leave, but the man called out to him. “Wait, did you like it?”

“Like what?”

He smiled. “The music, of course.”

If he was honest, he had no idea. He hadn’t heard it in that way, as something that was enjoyable and that he could use to relax. It was more just a nuisance that was stopping him from being able to fall asleep. 

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree. Just, come inside for like ten minutes and tell me if you like it,” he said, opening his door wider and trying to get Regulus to come inside.

“No, thanks,” he said, and this time he didn’t stop when the man tried again, and the music didn’t get turned back on.

He set his alarm for five in the morning and he did his best to fall asleep now that there was the silence he had been craving.

———

Ballet was so many things. It was beauty and grace, it was pain and torture. It was presenting a seamless dance to the masses, making everything look easy, like each spin and leap was something he could do in his sleep. From position to position with no evidence of a struggle.

He was always physically exhausted. Most days he would spend anywhere from seven to ten hours just practicing, doing turn after turn until he got them right, stretching his body into impossible positions so that he looked like the embodiment of art.

His parents had pressured him into ballet, that much was true. They put him in classes as a kid, they pushed him and pushed him until he was simply too broken to fight back. And now ballet was all he knew, all that he knew how to know.

It was his passion, his art. He hated how much he loved it, how he couldn’t live with and simultaneously couldn’t live without it.

There was one more performance in New York and then he would go back home for at least a couple of weeks, probably take a couple of days off and try to give his body a break. It was due to snap at any moment, Regulus had never known his limits.

He practiced with Pandora for a couple of hours that morning, although she wasn’t exactly giving it her full energy, so Regulus didn’t mind when she left. It just meant it was more time alone.

He knew it didn’t make any sense. That he craved silence but was tired of always being alone. The thing was, he was alone even when he was surrounded by people. They never saw him for who he really was, just as what they could do for him. His parents saw him as a way to get fame, a way to make money. People saw him as a way to get some clout, his last name carried enough notoriety by itself.

Regulus didn’t dance to Swan Lake, he danced to something angrier, something that was forcing him to feel his feelings the only way he knew how, through dance.

So, he couldn’t be blamed for not realizing someone had walked in. He was too focused on the music, on what his body was doing and where his mind was going to actually be aware of his surroundings.

The music ended and he was breathing heavily, but he was ready to go again until he saw a reflection move in the mirror.

He was too practiced, too in control of his body to jump. So, he turned simply, arms crossed as he prepared himself for whatever it was that he wanted. He hadn’t even known Sirius was in the states, and he had no idea why either.

Sirius didn’t say anything at first, he was still staring at the spot that Regulus had been dancing in with a sort of awestruck expression. He was used to seeing it on strangers, not on people he knew. Although, Sirius was practically a stranger these days. They hadn’t seen each other properly in years for one reason or another.

So, seeing Sirius felt a bit like seeing a ghost. He looked the same, and yet he looked different. He had grown his hair out and had a nose piercing now, but his eyes hadn’t changed. In all of the years that passed his eyes were the one thing that were always the same.

“Reg, that was-”

“Spare me,” he interrupted, not needing to hear Sirius sing his praises. Regulus knew he was good, he wouldn’t be where he was if he wasn’t incredible at what he did. 

There was a long moment of tension between them, both of them waiting for the other to say or do something, to decide how this was going to go. 

Regulus had lost most of the fight in him years ago.

“Come to the show tonight,” he said quietly. Sirius had always hated the life their parents wanted them to have, he always acted out and he was basically fired from every ballet class he took because the teachers couldn’t deal with him.

“Yeah? Can I bring a few friends?” Sirius asked hopefully.

Just because they hadn’t seen each other didn’t mean they hadn’t spoken. It had taken a lot of time for them to mend what was broken, especially over the phone. They would go months at a time avoiding the other, using the fact that they were busy to justify it.

He doubted he would be up for meeting anybody who Sirius chose to spend time with, but he nodded anyway. They would probably find the ballet boring, whereas he had always found it fascinating. The atmosphere, the stories, the music, the way all of it came together on stage. It was life, until you were actually living it. Then it was death.

“Are you up for lunch?”

“Can’t,” he said simply. He needed to practice. Practice, practice, practice until he could do the dance with his eyes closed. He practically could, already. They had been performing Swan Lake for over three months now, and this was the last one of the season. Although he would be right back at it, learning the new ballet with even more rigor.

He was glad that Sirius didn’t try to hug him, he really did not like to be touched. It was a miracle he had warmed up to Pandora when he did, because they interacted a lot throughout the dance and that was something he had definitely needed to get over. It was impossible not to feel comfortable around her though, she emanated such a pure energy. At times he thought she was too pure for the harsh world of ballet, but she handled it with more poise than Regulus did, than anybody actually.

“I’ll send you the tickets,” he told Sirius, walking him out.

“Four, if you can.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can.”

They stopped at the door, nobody else in the lobby of the studio paying them any attention. “Thank you. I’ll see you tonight.”

For it being the first time in years since he had seen his brother, the reunion had been slightly underwhelming. Neither of them showed much emotion, never in the right way. Regulus kept his emotions passive, never letting anyone know what was going on inside, whether it was positive or negative. Sirius pushed away the negative ones, hid them until they blew up, pretended to always be happy and smiling no matter how much he was feeling the opposite.

So, the short words and tight smiles were normal for the Black brothers. They didn’t know how to show affection in the normal way. Regulus inviting Sirius though? That was basically him saying the words ‘I love you’, and Sirius knew it.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had invited somebody to come watch him. He had a couple of friends, mainly Barty and Evan who he hadn’t seen in far too long. They were bodyguards, and they were always working together, usually on tours and with celebrities. And there was Dorcas, who was basically paid to be friends with him. He knew it wasn’t really like that with her, that even if she were no longer his manager they would still be friends, but would they talk nearly as often?

His parents hadn’t come to watch in years, they just reaped the benefit of him being literally the most popular ballet dancer in the world at that moment. He didn’t mind, he didn’t really want them to come anyway. It had been a long time since he had even thought about them in a positive way. He would just send them the checks, mindlessly signing and not really caring about how much it was, and then forget about them. They hadn’t really been his parents in years, not when they signed his life away for him.

After Sirius left, he practiced and practiced some more, until it was time to go to the ballet and get ready. He had a whole team that would do his makeup, fix his hair, tie his shoes, etc. It was frankly, kind of ridiculous, the only thing he really got to do himself was get dressed, and even then he had somebody lacing up the back of the shirts or puffing the sleeves out more.

Pandora chatted excitedly while she was getting her makeup done. Truthfully, she was the only ballerina that he had ever met that stayed so happy. Most everyone else had a neutral look on their face while they got powdered, or while their hair got sprayed. The act they put on the stage was just that. An act,

“Did you invite anyone?” she asked, like she always did. Sometimes Pandora would invite a few of her friends, and Regulus would spend ten-twenty minutes after the show meeting them and being a real human for a little bit. He hated it.

“Yes,” he said for the first time.

Her head fully swiveled from where she sat next to him, and the man doing her makeup had to forcibly reposition her properly. “You’re joking. Who?”

“My brother.”

“You have a brother?”

“Sometimes.”

Pandora smiled at him through the mirror. “Well, I’m glad you have someone coming. It’s completely sold out tonight,” she told him.

Although, he already knew that. Trying to secure four good tickets had been difficult. He got two automatically, because he was in the show, and from there he had to go asking his coworkers if they had any extras to spare, which was mildly humiliating when he realized how many names he didn’t know.

Pandora started humming the scores quietly to herself, going through the motions in her head, dancing with only her hands. She was visualizing, something almost all of them did before a performance. It helped to keep the choreo fresh in their minds, but they had been drilling it over and over for months it was all but impossible to forget.

A stage manager called out to them that it was time to get in their places, which caused everyone to start moving at ten times the speed. There were girls who had been throwing up in the bathroom that came running out for touch ups, people fixing their clothes one last time, or another quick spritz of hairspray. He saw one of the girls do a line of coke before she had even laced up her shoes.

“Ready?” Pandora asked, grabbing his hand as they stood on the wings of the stage. The curtains were still drawn and everyone was starting to get into position.

He nodded and walked her out to the middle, the two of them standing there for a moment while they waited for the countdown. She had a bit of a pre-show ritual that she roped him into, somehow. She kissed his hand, he kissed hers, and then they jumped together once, twice, before touching their heart, touching the ground, and then holding their pointer and middle fingers up to the sky.

There was someone off to the sides that was starting to count down, and he got Pandora into position, holding her in a dip that looked more effortless than it really was. He was holding all of her body weight, for the most part, and she was supposed to stay perfectly still, one leg raised high in the air in what was an uncomfortable position to hold for more than a couple of seconds.

All around them various dancers were doing the same or similar things, holding positions for far longer than was safe or healthy for their bodies, but they did it anyway. Anybody would die to be in their positions and they all knew it, so they endured what they needed to because this was their craft. This was the life they had all signed their souls to the devil for.

Strangely, Regulus didn’t feel any extra pressure knowing that Sirius was in the crowd. Sirius, despite his many many flaws, supported the fact that ballet was his life. Just like Regulus supported that music was Sirius’s life. He didn’t have to understand it, he just had to respect it. And, over time, they had found that sort of mutual respect for the other and what they decided was their livelihood.

The music had kickstarted Regulus’s brain, and soon all he knew was dance. All he remembered were the steps to the routine. He knew how to do this, and he knew how to do it well. He danced on pointe with ease, he made his movements flow seamlessly. He became merely a puppet, an entertainer for the hundreds of people watching.

He could feel that something was off as they ran off stage after act one. Like usual, a couple people rushed to the bathrooms, some chugged water, others tried to catch their breath or stretch their legs. He ignored the feeling, ate some of Pandora’s trail mix before he forgot to eat completely for the day, and went right back out for act two.

It was his solo, and it was his favorite part of the entire ballet. He didn’t pay attention to anything except for how elongated his legs were and where his fingers were pointing. The crowd didn’t exist, his brother wasn’t there, Regulus was in his happy place where he was able to forget about his life, about how all consuming the loneliness had started to get.

Pandora joined him after, and the two of them danced together like they had been doing it their whole life. It came easy to them, the performing and the pretending. Their characters were falling in love, there was passion and a story that they had to execute, and they did so. Never mind that they were both gay and would never feel that way for each other, because they were acting, pretending. They were always good at pretending.

That feeling in the pit of his stomach came back as the music crescendoed, as he spun round and round on stage with Pandora. There was nothing he could do to stop it when his vision got spotty, the blood rushed to his head, and he felt himself start to float. 

Float or fall. He couldn’t tell the difference.