i don't want to be your muse

Sometimes Sirius couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t for lack of trying, he’d gone through every trick in the book: he bought every lavender scented product, drank every concoction of milk, tea, and honey, did every breathing exercise imaginable, but his eyes couldn’t stay closed. His skin would grow itchy under his bedsheets and the air would become thick, stale, and unbearably cold. 

He felt his head slip from his pillow, stretching his neck to an uncomfortable position and decided fuck it. Wrapping his duvet and blankets around himself, he stood, feeling the cold floorboards under his feet, sending shivers through his legs. Taking a deep breath, he walked toward his door, hoping he would make it to the sofa before the icy floors forced him back into bed. 

“No, no, I am going to sit on the sofa” he mumbled to himself, trying to boost his confidence. He hoped that if he had the TV on in the background he would eventually doze off. 

He threw himself onto the sofa, his head thankfully hitting a pillow and not the armrest. Braving the cool air outside his blanket cocoon, Sirius reached for the TV remote, only to see it wasn’t where it usually was, but instead, in front of the TV. Sirius groaned, burrowing further into his cocoon. 

It would really be helpful if his body would catch up to his mind in fatigue. There was nothing he wanted more than to rest. 

His mouth tasted of dust, and he added cleaning the apartment to his mental list of things to do tomorrow, as well as go shopping, text Remus, figure out what to get James for his birthday, find a recipe for James’ birthday cake, wonder if he should book a haircut, find his hair bobbles, read the book Remus lent to him, and practise guitar. So all in all, a quiet day. 

Sighing, Sirius opened his eyes, finally deciding that sleep was not on his side, and wouldn’t be for quite a while, when he heard James’ door creak. He sat up, more on instinct than because he wanted James to maybe bore him to sleep by talking about the latest rugby game, though that was a good idea.

However, it wasn’t James. 

Sirius blinked as Lily turned the kitchen light on. “Hey,” she smiled, tilting her head. “I’m sure your bed is more comfortable than that sofa, you know,” she joked. 

Sirius groaned. “Can’t sleep.”

Humming Lily opened a few cupboards, trying to find something. “Where do you keep your glasses?”

“Third cupboard on the left, top shelf,” he replied, standing from the sofa to sit at the breakfast bar whilst he spoke. 

“Well, that’s just wrong,” she frowned, and Sirius couldn’t help but chuckle. “Tried counting sheep?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes as she innocently turned the tap on. “Ha ha,” he said, resting his head against the countertop. “And I got to a hundred and forty-seven,” he mumbled, ignoring Lily as she snorted. 

“You never know, maybe at two hundred,” she smirked, sipping her water. 

“Evans, your advice is awful,” Sirius declared, lifting the cup of water from her hands to take a sip. He scrunched his face. “Tap water in Manchester is grim.”

“S’what you get for stealing my water, you git,” she frowned, taking the cup back. “You’re right though, tastes like dirt.”

Sirius snorted. “How do you know what dirt tastes like Evans?” 

“Fuck you,” she grinned, shaking her head. “You know,” she began, placing the glass on the counter with a soft clatter. “When I can’t sleep, usually means something’s on my mind.”

Sighing, Sirius ran a hand through his hair. She was right, Lily usually was, and she was one of the few people he felt he could talk to about it. “Got a letter from dear old Mum.”

Lily’s fingers twitched, as if she wanted to reach out to him. “Well shit.”

“I know.” 

As much as Sirius loved the people in his life, there were very few he spoke to about his family, and even though he loved James half to death, he couldn’t understand most of Sirius’ feelings toward his family; Lily was different, she understood, and as much as Sirius hates that she understands, he’s also very grateful that she’s in his life. They found their common ground by accident, toward the beginning of James and Lily’s relationship, with Lily letting out some frustrations about her sister and Sirius about his mother. Turns out they both hated feeling inadequate for reasons out of their control, and shared trauma is amazing for starting friendships. 

“Tell me you burnt it,” Lily asked, leaning against the side. 

“Don’t have a fireplace, but I did rip it to shreds,” he shrugged, tugging at his hair. 

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Did you talk to Regulus about it?”

Sirius shrugged. “Kind of? I mean, he said he was sick and tired and wanted to visit, so maybe Mum was upset that her golden child hates her as much as I do.” He watched as Lily seemed to have a million different things to say, before she went still, deciding to say none of them. “How do you manage it?” he asked, referencing the hateful letters her sister would send. 

“Honestly?” Lily began, tilting her head back. “I don’t. I’ll spiral so bad I forget to eat, I’ll forget to breathe, James is good at helping when I’m like that.” Sirius knew first-hand how good James was in an emotional crisis. “But so is Remus, he’s got this calming, steady influence, I can’t describe it really.”

“I know what you mean,” Sirius nodded. “Like an old, wise, oak tree.”

Lily snorted. “Best way to describe it I suppose, though I was thinking more like… a fact you know will never change; the sky is blue, Remus makes you calm, grass is green.”

With a yawn, Sirius nodded. “Makes sense, Remus is nice.”

“Nice?” Lily asked, a tone in her voice Sirius couldn’t quite place.

“Like the smell of rain,” he explained, yawning again. Maybe he was beginning to get tired. “He’s just - I don’t know - nice.”

Lily hummed, though Sirius was sure she didn’t quite see his point. “We’ve been best friends since we were sixteen, I love the guy dearly,” she smiled, glancing at Sirius. “So don’t break his heart, yeah?” she added, her smile making Sirius’ blood run cold. 

He couldn’t nod fast enough. “I haven’t known him very long, but it’s difficult to think of him not being in my life - I don’t think I could hurt him if I tried,” he shrugged. 

This seemed to be enough for Lily, who laughed. “Good.” 

“But we’re not dating you know,” he clarified, realising what it was Lily had said. 

“I know,” Lily said softly, her voice lulling Sirius asleep like a child. “But you don’t only break someone's heart romantically.”

Sirius thought of all the heartache his family had caused him, of all the heartache Lily’s family had caused her; he thought about the loss of life behind James’ eyes when he received that phone call, when he realised he would never speak to his parents again. “I suppose that sort of heartache can hurt more,” he chuckled, though it was anything but a pleasant thought. 

Lily smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Maybe you should try sleeping again, but this time don’t try counting sheep.”

“Don’t hurt yourself with the late-night thoughts Lils,” Sirius mumbled, rubbing at his eyes as he stood. “You deserve sleep too.”

Lily laughed, throwing her head forward . “Don’t we all?”

-----

Sirius doesn’t hate themselves, don’t get them wrong. They were used to wanting to be elsewhere, to be someone else for little bits of time, usually when they didn’t like what they were feeling, or what was happening. Confrontation was never easy, it was never fun, but Sirius had long accepted that sometimes it was necessary; similar to how a plant needs to lose a few leaves to grow healthier, confrontation is needed to avoid sticky, uncomfortable, unwanted situations, much more horrific than the confrontation would be. That didn’t change that sometimes Sirius wished they could be someone else, someone who didn’t have to deal with that issue. 

Sometimes, however, the confrontation was about something good, but Sirius wasn’t sure how to bring it up. How were they supposed to tell Remus that they might be a tinsy-tiny bit in love with him? Was it the same as bringing up the weather? `Looks like it’s going to rain later, I love you, we’d better bring an umbrella’... Sirius thought that was a ridiculous way of telling him, but their feelings were as commonplace as the weather at this point. 

Sirius chewed at their thumb, trying to stop themselves by wiping their sleeves across their face, but it didn’t work. They tried to pass their guitar pick between their fingers to stop feeling fidgety, but it really wasn’t helping as much as they hoped it would. They sighed, running a hand through their hair as they took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling as it slowed their heart rate a little. 

At least they knew now why they got so restless waiting for Remus, but it only made them wonder if it made their feelings obvious. It seemed by this point, everyone knew except Remus. It’s sort of funny.

The plan was to finish their song today. Sirius was excited, but they really didn’t like waiting for Remus to text that he was outside; they had offered to go to Remus’ apartment, but Remus reminded them that he only needed to bring himself, whereas Sirius would have to lug their guitar halfway across Manchester. They put their phone on the other side of the room so they’d stop glancing at the time every five seconds as if it would change, but that didn’t stop them from wanting to stare at the screen until Remus sent a message.

The speed at which they stumbled toward their phone when the screen lit up was embarrassing for Sirius to admit, and they almost tripped over a shoe that was in the middle of the floor. 

It was Remus, and Sirius sent a reply saying they’d be down in a few seconds. 

After hopping around to get their shoes on, Sirius felt as if the elevator couldn’t go any slower than it was in that moment, but as soon as the doors opened, they practically ran through reception, entering the code to allow Remus in, and their heart was beating in their mouth, pressing down their tongue so they almost couldn’t speak and - 

“Hi,” Remus grinned, and Sirius could do nothing but stare back with a smile. “You gonna let me in, or?”

Sirius blinked. “Yes!” they exclaimed, their face feeling warm as they moved out of the way for Remus. 

He chuckled. “You seem dazed,” he observed, his voice soft, and pleasant, as he lifted a hand ruffle their hair. “You don’t have to run here you know?”

“I didn’t run,” Sirius tried to defend, huffing. “I just walked - quickly.”

Remus chuckled, again, his hand yet to leave Sirius’ hair. “And whilst I’m flattered, your face is bright red.”

Sirius didn’t think it was running here that did that. “Yeah, yeah,” they laughed, wafting away Remus’ hand so they could cool their face down. “It’s just cold outside is all.” 

“I think I’ll survive England’s shitty February for a few minutes,” Remus deadpanned, knowing the way to the elevator by now. 

Sirius had to walk quickly to catch up. “Well if you get a cold, you can’t blame me.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “And you say James is the dramatic one.” Sirius stuck out their tongue. “And the childish one too.”

“Alright Mr, tone down the sass there,” Sirius smiled, shaking their head. “Ready to write some more?”

“Always.”

-----

I watched you grow taller

Held you when you felt smaller

I noticed the crackles in your voice my love

You scrap your knees too much

Your mind is full of wonder

Starlight in your eyes by choice

You drink from the rivers that pull at your clothes

My love, when will you leave

Did you get enough love?

Did you feel loved enough?

Do your fingers feel warmer than they did before?

You don’t deserve to cry 

My love, please don’t cry

I’m holding on to you my dear

I’m sure it’s too tight

You said you love that I love you

That I see a version of you to admire

But do I not suffocate you too?

With a hand so close to your heart

Do I not make you squirm?

-----

Remus was amazing at finding poetry that fit to the rhythm of what Sirius had already written. Sometimes they wondered what these writing sessions were exactly, as Remus was usually the one writing, but they eventually realised that Remus was constantly asking them questions: how did they feel about spring? Was there a moment they remember vividly that makes them happy? Do they like the flow of this stanza? Do they like how this word feels? Remus may have been the one writing the words down, organising the emotions and thoughts into something that could be conveyed, but Sirius was the one who was discovering those emotions. 

It was a strange feeling, like opening their ribcage and having someone trace the bones in a way that tickled. They didn’t feel nauseous as they sometimes did when being vulnerable, but as Lily said, Remus was a very calming influence. 

Sirius loved asking Remus questions as he wrote too: what made him connect those? Does he always know what he’s writing about? Has he ever written something only to burn it because it’s too personal? Will he always want to keep his poetry to himself when it’s about himself? They smiled when Remus didn’t want to answer certain questions, and smiled wider when Remus decided he would answer one. 

They knew everyone opened up to others in different ways, at different paces, and Sirius loved that every second he spent with Remus allowed them to know more about him, even if it was something simple. Sirius had memorised how Remus took his tea, and they held back a laugh when Remus did something out of habit, like sticking out his tongue whilst trying to balance something in his hands, or rubbing at his hair when he got frustrated. There was something about Remus that Sirius could watch for hours. 

“What do you think?” Remus asked, passing over the scribbled, crinkled paper of his notebook. 

Sirius’ eyes scanned over each word, feeling it sink into their brain. “It’s like a tragic love story,” Sirius smiled, loving every word Remus had written. “You know those ones where it's ‘right person but wrong time’?”

“I know what you mean,” Remus nodded. “Those ones are always the most painful too.”

“Right?” Sirius exclaimed, reading through the poem again. “I always found that sort of story fascinating, something about the idea that you could learn to love someone, someday, it just won’t be who you want to be, when you want it to be, was oddly comforting.”

Remus hummed. “Especially when you were a little shit as a teenager, and people found you… difficult.”

Sirius felt their stomach drop; for a second, they thought it was a dig at them, but Remus had his eyes closed, and looked pained by his own words. “Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and tell myself it feels nicer to try to be content than it does to please others.”

Sighing, Remus dropped his head on Sirius’ shoulder - they felt blessed. “I don’t think my younger self would listen to me.”

“I find that hard to see,” Sirius replied softly, running their fingers through Remus’ hair; it was softer than their own, and Sirius loved it. 

“I don’t think I’d listen to God themselves, back then,” Remus chuckled, seeming to try to pull himself closer to Sirius, who felt their arm tingle. 

Sirius sighed, placing a hand on their forehead to add flair. “Too bad, I was going to try.”

Remus snorted. “You’re not God, Sirius.”

“Oh yeah?” they questioned. “Says who?”

“Me,” Remus replied, tilting his head slightly, so that he could (Sirius imagined) look at them, but all it did was tickle Sirius’ neck. 

They squirmed. “Your hair is tickling me,” they mumbled, hand still tangled in it. 

“If you ask politely, I’m sure it will stop,” Remus drawled, laughing when Sirius flicked their ear. 

“Alright clever-clogs, see how you like it,” Sirius grinned, tickling Remus’ neck. 

With a squeak that made Sirius burst into laughter, Remus jumped, throwing himself backward, away from Sirius. “That’s cruel cariad.”

Sirius felt their heart skip a beat. “I like that one,” Sirius blurted, their face feeling hot. 

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. “That one?”

“You keep saying things in Welsh, and I like that one,” they mumbled, hiding their face in their hands. “It’s nice when you say it.”

They heard Remus take a deep breath, chuckling. “Cariad,” he said, again, as if just to tease Sirius. 

“Remus,” Sirius complained, pressing their hands closer to their face as if it might help stop them from blushing. “Chut, tu te fous de moi?” they added, wanting to get back at Remus by speaking in French. “Tu es une merveille,” they said, biting back a laugh. 

It was only when they glanced back at Remus they realised their mild revenge might have worked - he was bright red. 

“You look like a tomato!” Sirius observed, laughing. This only made Remus turn a darker shade of red. 

He groaned. “Well I don’t know what you said,” he explained. “But French always sounds nice,” he shrugged, turning away from Sirius, who was trying their best not to laugh. “You can’t laugh, you turned red with a single word!”

“But it’s too endearing, Remus,” Sirius smiled, unable to take their eyes off Remus, who rolled his own. 

Remus shook his head. “You’re a right git you know,” he muttered, his voice so soft that Sirius wondered if they had hearts in their eyes. 

“Difficult to take your insults to heart when you're smiling, Remus,” Sirius chuckled, watching Remus’ hair move as he leaned his head back, laughing. 

He raised an arm, his hand resting against Sirius’ cheek; he brushed a thumb under their eye, his eyes watching Sirius as they were certain their face was about to melt. They leaned into the touch without much thought, feeling a smile pushing its way onto their face as Remus didn’t show any signs of lowering his hand. It was a gesture that made Sirius’ heart slow as his muscles relaxed; each breath they took was deep and as slow as their heart, as if they were being lulled to sleep. 

Without Sirius noticing, Remus seemed to have inched closer, his eyes now watching his own hand, as if he was both surprised and happy with the situation he had created. He chuckled, watching Sirius in a way that made them feel dizzy; his eyes were warm and soft, filled with something Sirius couldn’t quite place, and when he shifted his hand, tucking Sirius’ hair behind their ears, Sirius was certain their face couldn’t be anything other than bright red. 

Remus began to brush his fingers through their hair. “Is this okay?” he asked Sirius, who wasn’t sure if they had stopped breathing, or if they were more relaxed than they’d ever been in their whole life. 

They hummed, somewhat aware of the fact that they had nodded. Sirius yawned, feeling the past few days of restless, fitful sleep being pushed to the side, allowing for their exhaustion to hit them at full force. There was a soft clattering of wood and a ringing of strings that told Sirius, Remus had shifted their guitar to safety, before they felt a hand guiding their head; Sirius rested against Remus’ lap, his hands still brushing through their hair. 

“You’ve not been sleeping well.” It wasn’t a question, but something Remus had noticed. “You’re quite easy to read, cariad,” he continued. “And of all people, I know what exhaustion looks like.” Sirius wasn’t sure what that meant, but they were half-asleep by now, with a small part of them wondering how Remus had managed to achieve this in a matter of minutes. “Sleep cariad, and then we can,” Remus took a deep breath, his hand pausing in their hair before continuing. “I don’t know, watch a film, talk more about poetry or music. I’d rather like to see if you’re really as good at cooking as you claim to be.” Sirius let out a soft laugh at that, more like a huff of air than a laugh. 

They let their eyes close.

They weren’t sure how long they slept for; with faint dreams of Remus’ laundry detergent and a hand brushing through their hair, Sirius had the best sleep they’d had for a while. 

Groggy, and feeling confused, Sirius pushed themselves up from the sofa, rubbing the last of their sleep from their eyes and wondering where Remus was - they were amazed that Remus was able to notice Sirius was tired, that they weren’t doing as well as their smile wanted to persuade others they were. It made them only fonder of Remus. 

Sirius knew that Remus also had something he didn’t wish to talk about, or it was something he wasn’t sure how to bring up. They weren’t the best with these things, but they did know how to lift someone's spirits; they knew how to make someone laugh on a bad day, how to give someone the space they didn’t know they wanted, and Sirius knew how to be the normalcy someone desperately clung to. They weren’t sure what Remus needed, or what it was he wanted, if he wanted anything, from Sirius, but they were going to make sure Remus knew they were here when he needed them. 

Afterall, Remus had noticed Sirius; he had noticed there was something tickling in their brain, making it difficult for them to be themselves, and he hadn’t asked Sirius to explain themselves, he had simply given Sirius what it was they needed - sleep. 

It was only fair they tried to do the same. 

There was a faint clattering from the kitchen behind them, and Sirius sat up fully, twisting their neck to see what was happening. Remus was teetering about the place, opening cupboard after cupboard to find what he was looking for (which seemed to be mugs and teabags) and humming to himself, the radio playing a song that sounded vaguely familiar. 

It was as he was adding the milk that Sirius heard it; Remus’ singing. 

Their heart in their throat, Sirius was certain they forgot to breathe for a time. It was faint, and scratchy in a way that made Sirius’ hair stand on end; his accent was more noticeable with each syllable, as if his voice was relaxing around the words he sang, each one becoming his own, and for a brief moment, Sirius full-heartedly believed Remus had created language. Then they blinked, and Remus’ eyes were on them, his singing stopping to offer Sirius a smile, and it was the first time they ever hated that smile. 

“You’re awake I see,” he teased, leaving the soft humming of the radio as he brought over a cup of tea. “I’m quite glad actually, because I made you a cup without thinking,” he admitted, smiling sheepishly. 

Sirius snorted, taking the mug from Remus and finding a thrill shoot through their fingers as they brushed his. “Thank you,” they muttered, feeling a bubble in their throat from having just woken up. “I didn’t know you could sing,” they delighted, unable to contain the awe in their voice and the smile on their lips as they sipped the tea. 

Remus laughed, shaking his head. “That’s because I can’t.”

With a narrow-eyed glance, Sirius quickly scanned Remus’ face, realising the poor man believed what he said. “Remus my dear, you have a wonderful voice,” they marvelled, but noticed Remus shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t believe me?”

He sighed, sipping his tea. “My emotion is in poetry, in words,” he explained. “There’s no emotion in the words I sing.”

Sirius furrowed their eyebrows. “But I could feel it,” they insisted. 

“I know I sing in tune, but singing is more than hitting the right notes,” Remus continued, seeming to ignore what Sirius said. “I don’t have the energy to put everything into singing, into pouring my emotions across each word.”

Sirius stretched their fingers. “Is that tiring?”

“Mentally,” Remus shrugged. “I don’t,” he curled in on himself, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to pry him open again. “I’m always tired as it is, always aching, never seeming to get enough sleep whilst always having too much time to sleep.”

“Always aching?” Sirius pressed, a part of them wondering if this was Remus trying to create that opening to talk about what was happening in his life. 

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. “Yeah, you know ‘cause…” he trailed off, his eyes widening. “Fuck,” he mumbled to himself, smiling. “I never told you.”

Sirius tilted their head, analysing Remus with everything they could, as if that would help them figure out what Remus was on about. “Told me what?” they pressed once more. 

“I have chronic fatigue,” he replied, and Sirius blinked, making a quick mental note to research everything they could about what that was and how to be helpful to Remus regarding it. “Most of the time it’s just annoying, really, never having the energy to really do I want to, a dull ache in my joint and muscles, other inconveniences I’ve learnt to live with,” he sighed, and Sirius wasn’t sure if Remus wanted it, but they really wanted to hug him. “Sometimes I have ‘flare ups’, I suppose, where it’s worse, if I’ve been exerting myself too much,” he shrugged, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“That sounds like more than an inconvenience,” Sirius replied, their eyes never leaving Remus, who grinned. 

“I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I’m some sort of super being, capable of handling more than others or whatever,” he sighed, shaking his head. “It means the complete opposite most days, but it does mean I don’t think about it much, I guess. It’s just a part of my life.”

It was a part of Remus’ life. “Well,” Sirius began, staring at their cup of tea. “I’m here if you need me,” they grinned. “For anything at all, just to vent, or someone to help if the pain is too much, if you - I’m just - I’ll be here, okay?”

“Thanks Sirius,” Remus said, offering them a smile. They understood another part of Remus and his life, furthering that they adored this man with every fibre of their being, unsure if it was pure admiration or a deeper more painfully obvious sort of love, one that would be impossible to remove the longer it grew. 

That look Sirius couldn’t place was back in Remus’ eyes, making them feel as if they were swimming in static, and they flexed their hand, taking a swig of tea. “So I seem to remember you questioning my cooking skills?”

-----

Sirius was never sure what to think when Regulus called. It was never quite as comforting as she wanted it to be, never quite as easy-going as she wished it could be, like when they were children. There was a part of Regulus she could help but feel irked by, the part of him that clung to their parents, and she knew it was more complicated than simply cutting ties with them (as she had done) for Regulus. There were times when she felt this was an excuse of his, one Regulus used to excuse his back and forth between Sirius, Walburga, and Orion, but she knew that Walburga had her claws tight around Regulus, ever since it became clear Sirius wouldn’t be the son she wanted her to be. 

Blackmail, emotional blackmail. 

Sirius had tried on multiple occasions to pry Walburga’s claws out of Regulus, but she was rather adamant on him staying within the close confines of the family. 

So his calls were never easy, whether it was that Sirius had managed to piss their parents off without even speaking to them, or if Regulus had had enough of them slandering his sibling, it usually didn’t mean something good. 

She picked up his call with a speed she was surprised she had. There was a broken breathing at the other end of the line, and Sirius felt her heart rate increase drastically. “Reggie?” she asked softly, not sure if he was upset or angry, but certain that something had happened. She had been certain after her mother’s letter. “Reggie are you there?”

“Sirius,” he replied, his voice shattering from more than a bad phone signal. 

“I need you to breathe Reggie, can you do that for me?” she asked, sitting herself at the edge of her bed, wishing he wasn’t on the end of a phone call and was with her instead. “It’s okay, you’re alright,” she assured, her voice barely above a whisper. She hoped it carried down the phone. 

She could hear Regulus make a few attempts at breathing in and out with regular intervals, only interrupted by the occasional choked sob, which prompted Sirius to assure her brother even more. 

“You’re doing good, I’m proud of you Reggie, it’s alright, you’re okay, you’re okay,” she assured, making sure to emphasise that he was safe on the phone with her. 

With each breath, and each muffled cry, Sirius could only feel her heart sink further and further into her chest. Regulus hadn’t had an anxiety attack in months. He had found multiple ways of coping with the smaller anxieties to avoid them piling up into one uncontrollable anxiety, and it broke her heart to know that something had affected Regulus this badly. 

“Sirius,” Regulus began, his voice cracking. “Sirius I think I need to - I think I need to leave, I just - I can’t - I can’t do it anymore, I don’t want them in my life anymore… what do I do?” he managed to say, despite the tears clogging his voice. 

“You come and stay with me,” Sirius said, not about to let Regulus feel more trapped than he did. “You pack a bag, get on a train, and stay with me until we figure this out, yeah?” 

Regulus sniffed, and he sounded so much like the child she remembered that she felt sick. Something wasn’t right, something was worse than a simple argument. “Yeah,” he mumbled, and Sirius heard a ruffling of fabric, meaning Regulus was trying to stand up.

“Stay sat for a moment Reggie, you’ll exhaust yourself,” she insisted, and even though she heard his scoff, she knew he would listen. “Do you want to buy the train ticket, or should I?” she asked, and knew Regulus would catch what she really was asking. Did he want their parents to know that he had bought a train ticket? 

He took a shaky breath. “Can you?”

She smiled, even though he wouldn’t be able to see it. “‘Course I can Reggie, don’t worry.”

“Can you get one as soon as possible Sirius? Please, I don’t want to spend another second in this fucking city,” he cursed, venom in his voice, and Sirius wondered how badly he was shaking. 

“Will do,” she replied. “Whilst I do, do you think you can try to take deep breaths? Make sure you’re not shaking too badly?”

She heard Reggie snort. “Of course you’d know I’m shaking.”

“I’ve seen your anxiety attacks before Reggie,” she reminded him. “I know you’ll be shaking,” she said softly, opening the train app on her phone after making sure Regulus was on speaker. “Okay the first train is at 7:02, is that okay?” It was still two hours away.

“It’ll have to be,” Regulus responded, taking another deep breath. It sounded more stable. 

“I’ll send you the email and a screenshot of the ticket, okay?” Sirius said, feeling her anxiety start to bubble. It was too similar to the conversation she had with James when she left, even if that was almost nine years ago. Which would mean Walburga would send everything she could toward getting Reggie back. 

Regulus sighed. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Reggie, you’re my brother,” she smiled, hoping Regulus could tell that she was trying to offer him a smile. 

“Oh god,” Regulus groaned, trying once again to take control over his breathing. “What do I even bring?”

“Make sure you grab important documents,” Sirius answered, remembering the list she had when she left. “Your passport, if you can, your birth certificate, but I never got mine and I haven’t needed it so far, bank receipts, sentimental items; clothes we can always buy so don’t worry too much about them,” she continued, hoping her list was helping him to stay calm. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah that’s a good start.”

“Do you want me to stay on the phone?” 

Regulus’ voice caught, creating an almost garbled sound. “Please.”

“I’m here,” she assured, wishing once again she could hug him. “And I’ll stay on the phone until you’re in Manchester if you need me to.”

Regulus chuckled. “Don’t think I’ll need that,” he muttered. “But thank you.”

“I’ll be there at the station to meet you okay?” 

Sirius knew they would be okay. Together the two of them were always okay, but for now, she did the only thing she could think of, and spoke of the most trivial, mundane aspects of her life until she heard him begin to scoff and groan at every dramatic retelling, every over-the-top anecdote, and that was when she knew without a shadow of a doubt. 

They’d be okay.