Way Enough

Remus

Remus had always been a realist.
He understood people—understood their motivations, their insecurities, their carefully constructed walls.
He wasn’t naïve.
He knew exactly who Sirius Black was.

And yet—

When they kissed for the first time, he let himself hope.
When they met again at the hockey party, he let himself believe.
When they exchanged texts, when Sirius agreed to meet him, even though it was secret, even though it was private—he let himself want.

And now?

Now, he was sitting on a stranger’s bed, his lips still tingling, his skin still burning with the memory of Regulus’ hands—

Regulus.

Not Sirius.
Regulus.

And yet, in the most intimate of moments, in the split second where Remus’ brain should have been consumed with nothing but bliss—

It had betrayed him.

Because instead of moaning the name of the boy who was actually with him, the boy that had whispered against his lips, sighed into his mouth—

He had moaned Sirius.

And Regulus had jumped away like he had been burned.

“What the actual fuck.”

The words still rang in Remus’ ears, even now, even after Regulus had stormed out.

Because fuck.
Fuck.
He felt so shitty.
Because he knew.
He knew Sirius was repressed and angry and kind of an asshole.
He knew Sirius wasn’t true to himself, that he lived his life behind a carefully constructed mask, too afraid to crack even the smallest bit.

And yet.

He had the chance to be with someone real.
Someone who wasn’t afraid to be himself.
Someone who actually wanted to be with him.

And his brain—his traitorous, masochistic brain— had decided to make him think about the one person he couldn’t have.

Not only that, but he had hurt Regulus.

Not only had he made himself miserable, but he had pulled Regulus into the wreckage.

Remus sighed, running a shaky hand through his curls.
He wanted to chase after him, to find him, to explain—

But what could he even say?

Sorry, your brother has been rotting in my brain like a virus for years?
Sorry, I thought I could move on, but I’m apparently incapable of making good decisions?
Sorry, I used you as a distraction and ended up humiliating you instead?

None of it was enough.

But then—

The door slammed open.

Remus jumped, whipping around—

Regulus.

He had come back.

Still shirtless, his hair still messy from where Remus had ran his fingers through it, his lips still kiss-bruised—

But his expression?

Fucking murderous.

Remus barely had time to brace himself before—

“No. Actually—” Regulus snapped, his voice like a whip. “Fucking explain yourself.”

Remus swallowed. Hard.

"Reg, I—"

"Are you some kind of fucking stalker or what?!"

Remus exhaled, running a hand down his face. "No—Jesus, Reg, I—I'm sorry. I swear, I’ll explain myself, but it still won’t be worthy."

Regulus stared at him. Expression unimpressed.

"I don’t give a single fuck about anything out of your mouth that isn’t a direct explanation,” he snapped. “Start talking. Now.”

Remus sighed, nodding, because—yeah. Fair.

“Okay.”

Deep breath.

“I first met Sirius in our Intro to Philosophy class," he said, carefully. "And… I was kind of smitten."

Regulus' eye-roll could have sent him into another dimension.

“Bullshit.”

Remus huffed out a tired laugh. “Yeah, okay. But I never thought I had a chance—until we met at a regatta. And we… kissed.”

Regulus scoffed. “Still bullshit.”

“He wasn’t out,” Remus continued, “so I played it safe. I followed him on Instagram—he didn’t follow me back. I kind of took the hint.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes. “…That’s more realistic.”

Remus let out a short breath. “Anyway. I let it go. Until we saw each other again at the party at the hockey house.”

Regulus' brow furrowed. “I never saw you together.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “You were a little busy upstairs with James.”

Regulus' mouth snapped shut.

“…Touché.”

Remus exhaled. “We talked. Shared a cigarette. He said he didn’t really understand himself, but he wanted to hang out again.”

Regulus frowned slightly. “Didn’t understand himself?”

He wasn’t really asking Remus—he was repeating the words, processing them.

Remus just nodded, continuing. “I got his number from James.”

Regulus’ eyes snapped up. “James knows about this?!”

“Well—no. I found the number on his phone.”

Regulus blinked. Then—

“Stalker! I fucking knew it.”

Remus sighed. “We texted to meet up. He didn’t want to be seen with me in public because of the implication—”

And for the first time since he had walked back in, something close to sympathy crossed Regulus' face.

But just as quickly, it was gone.

“Remus, look,” he sighed. “My brother clearly has things to figure out, but you are an idiot.”

Remus let out a dry laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

Regulus exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You’re an only child, right?”

“…Yeah,” Remus admitted, guilty.

Regulus nodded, almost like he was confirming something to himself.

“Then you probably wouldn’t understand that this—” he gestured between them “—is every sibling’s worst nightmare.”

Remus opened his mouth. “Reg, I’m—”

“I’m not finished.”

Remus promptly shut his mouth.

“I never would have gotten with you if I knew you had—” Regulus made a vague, irritated gesture “—anything with Sirius.”

Remus sighed. “He said some pretty nasty things when we met up, and I told him off. I don’t think we’ll ever have something again.”

Regulus scoffed. Laughless.

“First off—I don’t care.” His voice was sharp, cutting. “All that tells me is that I was a second choice.”

Remus flinched.

“And second?” Regulus' expression darkened. “Considering the fact that you moaned his name in the throes of passion, I’d say that ‘we’ll never have something again’ is a big fat fucking lie.”

Remus couldn’t argue.

Because fuck.

He wasn’t wrong.

So he just swallowed, nodding—guilty.

Regulus exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re lucky this was just a rebound for me too," he muttered. “Because if I had real feelings for you?”

He let out a sharp, cold laugh.

“This would have been my last fucking straw.”

And with that, he turned on his heel—

But, he didn’t leave.

Not immediately.

He made it to the doorway, gripping the frame so tightly his knuckles turned white—then, like something compelled him, he hesitated.

Remus watched his tense shoulders, the way his back was rigid, the way his breath shook just slightly as he exhaled.

Then, slowly—against all better judgment— Regulus turned back around.

His jaw was tight. His eyes were stormy.

But he stayed.

Remus swallowed, sitting up slightly, bracing himself for another verbal lashing.

Instead—

“You know,” Regulus muttered, arms crossing over his bare chest, eyes flicking to the floor, “It’d actually be kind of funny if it wasn’t so sad.”

Remus blinked. “Uh. What?”

Regulus huffed a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You and me,” he said, voice almost bitter. “We’re in the exact same situation.”

Remus stayed quiet.

Regulus exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy curls.

“We both got caught up with a closeted hockey player,” he muttered. “And they both—what? Shut us out? Pretended they don’t want us? Like we don’t exist?”

Remus swallowed hard. Because—fuck.

He wasn’t wrong.

“I spent years pining after James Potter,” Regulus continued, shaking his head. “Years convincing myself that maybe—just maybe—he’d wake up one day and look at me the way I looked at him.” He let out a sharp breath. “And then he finally—finally—did. And for the smallest moment, I thought—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching.

Remus knew exactly what he meant.

Because he had felt the same way.

That flicker of hope. That fleeting moment where it felt real. Like maybe it could happen. Like maybe they weren’t fucking delusional.

And then—nothing.

Ripped away. Shut out.

Denied.

Regulus scoffed. “And Sirius—God, Sirius.” He shook his head, exasperated. “He was always the son I couldn’t be. Everyone loved him. And for all the fucking confidence he had, for all the reckless shit he pulled, he’s still—” He cut himself off, shaking his head.

Remus swallowed. “Terrified.”

Regulus’ eyes flicked to his.

Remus held his gaze. “He’s still terrified.”

Regulus let out another short, sharp laugh. “Yeah,” he muttered, “but instead of just admitting it, he acts like none of it exists. Like it doesn’t matter or that it’s not real.”

Remus exhaled slowly. “James does the same thing.”

Regulus nodded once. “Because he’s just like him.”

Silence settled between them.

It wasn’t comfortable.

It wasn’t forgiving.

But it was understanding.

Raw.

Tentative.

The mutual ache of two people who knew what it was like to be wanted only in secret.

After a long moment, Regulus exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “God,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “This is pathetic.”

Remus let out a dry laugh. “A little.”

Regulus looked at him, his expression unreadable. “I still don’t forgive you.”

Remus nodded, swallowing. “That’s fair.”

Regulus tilted his head. “And I still think you’re a fucking idiot.”

Remus let out a small, tired smirk. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I think you might be right.”

Regulus just huffed, shaking his head again, then pushed off the doorframe.

“Good,” he muttered. “At least you’re self-aware.”

And with that—he finally left.

For real this time.

Leaving Remus alone in the dark, staring at the ceiling, his heart still pounding, his skin still burning.

But at least now, he wasn’t the only one.