Sirius stiffens, eyes narrowing a bit as he fought to keep the hurt from his face at his brother’s sharp words. He was trying, for fuck’s sake — or at least he was trying to try, to do something other than just let Regulus slip away from him completely; or, worse, push him away like he seemed only too good at doing. But he’d be damned if he was going to try, or try to try, only to have it thrown back in his face.
Somewhere along the way it had become impossible to speak to his brother without experiencing that particular cocktail of anger, confusion, weariness, and resignation that was washing over him once again, and for a moment he let himself wonder if there was going to ever be a time when they were able to talk to each other like normal people again. Like fucking brothers, instead of ague acquaintances who irritated each other.
“Fucked if I know,” Sirius responds airily, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one with a showy flourish. “Must have gone mad there a moment. Won’t happen again, I assure you.”