Sirius was leaving.
Regulus had known it was coming, known he’d leave one day, but he still- he still found himself shocked.
Sirius was leaving, without him.
Maybe he would take him, if he asked. Take him to the blood-traitor’s home, because Regulus knew that’s the first place Sirius would go, to the boy he called brother more freely and readily than Regulus. Nowadays, when he called Regulus brother, it was with disdain, hatred for his affiliation with their family dripping from each syllable. Sometimes, however, it just sounded sad.
But Regulus said nothing and watched silently as Sirius angrily rammed his belongings into a single trunk. He was trembling slightly from the after-effects of the curse, and there was a wild, fearful look in his eyes. Blood dripped from the scratches on his arms, courtesy of their mother. It had been her who screamed the words, nothing but pure fury in her eyes as she looked at her disgrace of a son and heir. And it had been their father who watched his eldest son scream and writhe on the floor apathetically, still glancing at the newspaper clutched in his hands. And it had been Regulus who hid from behind the large, ornate door and witnessed it all. And now it was Regulus who stood at the door as his brother went to leave.
Part of him was almost jealous. It was always Sirius who got the strong emotions: the love, the pride, the hate, the rage. He was truly the brightest star, taking away all the attention, good and bad, until there was nothing left over for his quiet, obedient, shadow of a brother. No matter how hard he tried to be the good son, the perfect heir, the respectable Slytherin, he seemed to have just been born forgettable, as if all of the memorable attributes his brother possessed had somehow skipped over him. The rest of him, the more rational side, was relieved to be spared the pain.
“Regulus.”
He said nothing, staring resolutely at the hardwood floor. He counted the cracks in the ground. Will Kreacher fix it tonight? He didn't have to wonder how they got there. His mother's fury was quite destructive.
“Come with me. Please.”
Regulus looked at him silently. Sirius looked the most like their mother. Sometimes, Regulus thinks he inherited more than just her looks. He wondered idly, who was guilty here? The one leaving? The one hiding?
Sirius started to pace, lifting a still shaking hand to brush back his hair. “Godammit Regulus. They’ll ruin you, you know that.”
Regulus remained silent. He pinched his lips together and stared down at his feet resolutely. He couldn’t leave. This wasn’t their parents’ fault. It was Sirius who was guilty and Regulus who had spent the last several years of his life cleaning after his mistakes. If Sirius just obeyed them, just did what he was told, this wouldn’t have happened. But no, Sirius had fucked things up like usual and now it was up to Regulus to stay and fix them the best he could. He couldn’t be selfish like him, gallivanting off to his blood-traitor friend abandoning his real family. Traitors, dirt, mudblood-loving filth. He wouldn’t be like them. He wouldn’t break Mother’s heart. He wasn't guilty or afraid, he was the one making the smart decisions, he was the one in the right.
“Coward.”
Regulus flinched.
His brother shouldered past him and left, not once looking back. Regulus watched, and tried to convince himself he made the right choice.