The Unforgiven (Sirius Black x Regulus Black)
— summary: A love like this doesn't bloom. It bleeds.
— pairing: Sirius Black x Regulus Black
— word count: ~1k
— content: Angst — Incest — Forbidden Love — Hurt No Comfort — Dark Romance — Family Drama — Open Ending — Part 1/?.
english is not my first language ♡
— What are you doing in the corridors so late, Potter?
Sirius turns sharply, squints, and for a moment loses the ability to speak when he sees Regulus standing there. A different Regulus. A Regulus who makes Sirius physically ache the moment he notices how his brother has changed. A dry, brittle smirk on his lips. An unfamiliar look in his eyes: desperate, angry, thorny. Cheekbones sharp with illness. Skin deathly pale.
“Where did you see James?”
Sirius wants to shake Regulus. Wants to make him stop copying Rosier's disgusting smirk—that bastard Reg follows around like a loyal dog. Sirius wants to scream at him. Knock some sense back into his head. But instead, he just looks his brother in the eyes, pretending to hate him. When in truth, he blames himself every second for continuing to love him in a way that isn't brotherly at all. Madly. Desperately. Craving his touch, his breath, lips on lips on the edge of something unforgivable. Those burning-cold fingers racing across his skin like a complex sonata, as if his body were a piano.
“I was asking about you. You ran away from us to them. So you're a Potter now, aren't you?”
Regulus spits the words out, laced with venom. Sirius desperately tries to find hurt in his voice. Grasps at straws. Hopes for a reason—any reason—to justify Reg, to hold him, to simply touch his skin. To whisper in his ear like he did when they were children: It'll be all right. We'll get through this. For it to work as easily and simply as it used to. So his gaze wouldn't accidentally drop to that wrist, hidden beneath a shirtsleeve.
“Don't pretend you don't understand why I ran. Don't you dare blame me for that when you're walking around with the Dark Mark on your arm. Who betrayed whom, Regulus?”
Sirius tells himself he has the right to be angry. The right to lash out. To throw accusations back. His whole body tenses. He forces himself to look at Reg like an enemy, because that's what he should do. That would be the right thing. Regulus isn't who he used to be. They're on opposite sides now.
“I didn't want it to be like this.”
Reg's voice breaks. And with it, Sirius's will breaks too. No, no, no—don't give in. Sirius looks away.
“I only wanted you. I would have followed you to the ends of the earth.”
The bitterness in Regulus's words tastes like wormwood. Sirius cannot make himself look his brother in the eye. He's fighting himself.
“It could have been different, Sirius.”
“It could have been. But nothing can be fixed now, can it?” He gathers every shred of courage, finally lifts his eyes to meet his brother's gaze. To cross swords. It turns out to be the hardest thing in the world. “This is real life. You don't get a reset when you make a mistake. So what do you want from me?”
Sirius feels like he's about to break. To sink to his knees in front of Regulus like a marionette with its strings cut, unable to get back up.
He echoes, tilting his head slightly. Steps closer—smooth, unhurried, as if in a dream. Places his palm on Sirius's chest. Right where the four-chambered heart is hammering out the rhythm of a machine-gun fire. Deliberately slow. Eyes unreadable. Breathing steady.
Sirius clenches his teeth. Curls his hands into fists. Wraps his desire in imaginary rusted chains—the desire to surrender to the touch.
He stands like a stone statue as Regulus carefully leans forward, rising onto his toes. Sirius sees his expression: wary, like a frightened animal, and suddenly resolute. Feels the heat of his body a thousand times brighter, sharper. He makes no move. Doesn't agree. Doesn't reject. Just breathes—too raggedly.
Reg grips his shirt and surges forward, closing the distance, burying his nose in Sirius's neck. Trembling. Burning Sirius's collarbone with every exhale.
Sirius curses silently on an exhale, eyes fluttering shut. He knows he's about to lose it completely. Won't be long now. One second. Two. Because Reg is reaching higher, brushing his lips along Sirius's jaw. Because he lifts his feverishly bright gaze. Because he looks at Sirius with wide eyes and breathes in unison.
“Do you still love me? Like before?”
Sirius is ready to lose everything right now, just to let out a hoarse:
Regulus smiles. And God—Sirius hasn't seen him smile in so long. So fucking long.
“Then I want you to know,” Regulus says, “this is all your fault. I hate you, Sirius.”
He steps back. Turns away.
Regulus tells himself this is better for both of them. That this is right. Necessary.
Sirius watches his brother walk away, feeling himself shatter into pieces from that one sentence.
Please turn around, Regulus. Just turn around, and I'll know it wasn't true.
Turn around, and I'll fight for you.
Call out to me, Sirius. Call my name, and I'll stay.
Call out, and I'll know you need me.
