DECEMBER 24, 2030. 12 grimmauld place w. sirius @nsirius
Even though his eyes were wide open, Regulus saw the world turn black. The pressure coming from all sides at once, the ability to breath stolen from his lungs. He was everywhere and nowhere at all. Folding into himself and unmaking the very fabric of what made him Regulus, just to reappear somewhere else. Truth to be told, he had always been at awe with the concept of apparition. It was suffocating, terrifying, and downright sickening. But it was also the closest he had ever been to existing in two places at the same time. To uncovering whatever dwelled in between the things he could see.
At some point, he even thought this was the answer to his own problem. The place where he could find a way to remove the Dark Mark. Shame that, this time, he used it to hide himself from all the noise he could hear inside the house, all the people. Ironic that he didn't even think about the in-between as he apparated to the family tapestry room. He didn't want to leave just yet. Not as he navigated the odd comfort he got from Remus, or the slight unease that came along with it. So he hid himself. In plain sight, in the most Black place in the whole of Grimmauld.
As a kid, those faces in the family tree unnerved him. Like ghosts looking back at him, demanding, ruling over his life. Now, he couldn't help the desire to just be one of them. To become the skull above his name. Or the burned mark above Sirius'. Anything, but this. The not knowing, the misplaced feeling, the tremors and the nightmares. "You're alive. Your name is Regulus Arcturus Black, and you're fucking alive," he whispered under his breath, eyes closing as he drowned in the sound of his own heartbeat. He needed to hold on to the facts. Assure himself that Remus wouldn't lie. That, somehow, he actually trusted that man to give him this truth.
Regulus took a deep breath, the sound of the door opening wrenching him out of his own mind. At this point, he didn't even bother to reach for his wand. Just resigned himself to the scrutiny of whomever came to him in this twisted room. And when he saw who it was closing the door behind them, Regulus felt his heart stop. His lungs compress. His eardrums explode. "No", he commanded. And it hurt. Merlin, it hurt. Destroyed whatever was left of him as he shook his head in denial. "You should be dead... I need you to be dead, Sirius", otherwise, Voldermort would have control over him. Regulus would once again have something to lose. And he couldn't, for the life of him, lose Sirius again.