April 2nd
Regulus never felt more alive than when he was singing in front of a packed crowd, lights blaring in front of him, blinding him to anything but shadows and making it easier to forget that he wasn't singing alone in his room.
There was nothing like the rush he felt after finishing a set, when the lights were dim and he was breathing hard, and then the cheering came flooding in. The audience was an ocean, their waves crashing over him as they praised him.
Regulus never felt empty when he was singing. That had been the thing that had sealed the deal for him, the string that tied him to the world of music. Just that feeling, just for a moment.
It was enough to keep him coming back for more.
"Reg, put some goddamn pants on!" Barty screamed from the front door.
Regulus, having just taken a shower and currently on the hunt for something clean to wear, froze. Caught red-handed. He slowly put his hands down, covering his nether regions as he gave his bandmate a glare. "I didn't think you'd be back so early."
Barty let out a cackle. "No, I bet you didn't. Care to tell me why you don't have pants on?"
"Not particularly," Regulus said, sounding every bit the snotty brat he was.
"Okay then," Barty said slowly, closing the door behind him equally slowly. "I'll just be...going to my room then."
Regulus said nothing, watching him go.
Once Barty was out of sight down the long hallway that connected the small front room that held only the entrance to the house, Regulus's room, and a small closet, to the rest of the apartment, Regulus was back in action. He swiftly found a pair of clean pants—Evan's, he decided—and went to the kitchen to make tea.
"Regulus," Evan cheered from the couch. Football was playing on the TV. "Come watch the game with me."
"Sure, why not? Do you want some tea?"
Evan's nose scrunched in disgust. "Not any of yours, thanks."
Regulus, already used to this reaction to his tea, shrugged. "Suit yourself."
As he made tea, he was sure to put a little salt in his tea. It was a strange thing to do, yes, but for Regulus, it was the only way he could drink tea.
Discovering this strange love of salt in tea had been funny once, but now the edges of the memory were tinged with blue, a sadness that slowly crept forward, getting closer and closer to taking all of the joy from that memory.
He could remember it so easily, and as he sipped his tea it played in his head.
Two children sat at a table, close in age and similar in looks. Both had the darkest black hair, although one's was curled and a mess atop his head and the other's was a little longer, almost to his chin and wavy, sweeping back from his face elegantly.
The younger one, with hazel-green eyes and a mess of curls, was sipping his drink, and when he looked up, he smiled. The older one, with blue eyes and long hair, suddenly began to laugh hysterically, clutching his stomach and hunching over in his seat.
"Sirius, what did you do to it? It's delicious!" He exclaimed, staring down at it in wonder.
Sirius reigned himself in enough to answer him. "I put salt in it. I thought you'd hate it and it would be horrible but you like it? Merlin, you're weird."
The rest of the memory was distorted, almost as if someone had dropped them underwater. Regulus knew it was probably not his fault he couldn't remember everything from his childhood perfectly; it hadn't exactly been the best. But he still felt guilty sometimes, as if he was forgetting who he used to be before...
Shaking his head, Regulus finished his tea and stood from the couch.
He slapped Evan's knee, which apparently made him fair game to get kicked.
Hissing, Regulus glared at his friend. "OW? What the fuck, bro?"
Evan flashed him a grin. "You hit me first. My mama always said to never hit first but always hit harder. That's how I lived on the farm, and that's how I'll live off the farm. "
Regulus shook his head slowly, as if in disbelief.
"I'm living with a fucking REDNECK?"
"You already knew that bud," Evan said. "You're so dramatic, stop it."
"I am absolutely—" he stomped a foot, "—not going to—" the other foot went down, "—stop it! I want to die the way I lived; dramatic and fabulous."
And so you shall, darling." Evan's voice took on the tone of a rich 40-year-old mother talking to her spoiled daughter. "I'm going to put that on your gravestone."
Regulus had to stop the small smile that was trying to rise at the thought of that. Oh, he'd absolutely love it. For everyone to know, forever, that he was a dramatic and fabulous git.
"Where are you going?" Evan asked when Regulus grabbed his keys. "Can I come?"
"No."
"Why not?" Evan whined, pouting. "Promise I'll be good."
"No, because I don't feel like babysitting you when you get blackout drunk at the bar, like you do at every bar we go to. So, no, you're not coming."
Regulus slipped on his shoes and slipped out the door before Evan could argue in his defense.
Regulus also loved driving. It was one of the only times when he could belt out as loud as he wanted to David Bowie—something he never would have found without Sirius—without worrying about getting a noise complaint.
By the time he got to the bar, which was actually a little gay stripper bar around the corner, his throat was raw.
If he was someone looking for a booty call, he could easily find it, but, seeing as he wasn't, he only ever went there if he was invited by someone.
He loved that little bar though. It felt like a safe haven from the mean straight guys and the homophobic judgy girls—which, you may not see on the surface, but if you go to the right places, shit can and will happen.
It was easy to spot Pandora. She was so bright against the dimly lit room. The walls were purple, and the lights were blacklights. She was chatting with the bartender, a young man—twink, Regulus couldn't help but think—with slicked-back ginger hair.
He was grinning at her, then laughing at something she said, then pouring her another drink.
Regulus took a few breaths before approaching.
Pandora's smile shone almost as brightly as her golden hair. She was his oldest friend, saw things no one else had, knew him as no one else could, and he'd always have a soft spot for her, no matter what.
"Dora," Regulus said warmly. "How are you?"
"I'm good, really good," she said sarcastically. "Can you hand me that?" She pointed to her purse on the floor. Regulus, who wasn't perched atop a very tall chair or stuck behind the bar, bent to pick up the bag. He handed it to her.
"Where are you living now? I heard about you and Jason breaking up, I'm sorry. Where are you going to go?"
Pandora pressed her lips into a thin line for a moment before answering. "I'm living with my sister for now, but I'm looking for apartments."
"Well, you remember how Ivan stormed out of practice and quit the band? Well, it's time for us to renew the lease and he's not signing it again so we need a new roommate. You could come live with us. We all know you already, it would be better than a stranger."
Her mouth fell open in shock for a moment before she snapped it shut and smiled. "Absolutely, I would love to. I can actually add a much-needed feminine touch to you boys' lives for once."
Regulus rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks. What would we do without you?"
She pressed a hand to her heart and said in a weepy voice, "Thank you, truly. It is a blessing to hear that from you, the grumpiest of the grumpies."
Raising an eyebrow, he decided to ignore that last part. "Right, well. When do you want to move in? The soonest you can sign is next Thursday, and the latest is in three weeks. March 8th, I believe."
"Got it. I'll let you know what I decide as soon as possible." She scratched the back of her hand nervously. "And could I maybe come over to take a look at the room what would be mine?"
"Of course. It has its own bathroom, with a shower and a tub. It's rather luxurious, if I do say so myself."
"You've never told me why you're life is so centered around your work." Pandora rested her head on her hand. "You should tell me now."
"Let's drink first, and I'll tell you the story after," Regulus said, taking the drink from the bartender politely. He sipped it and then looked at Pandora with wide eyes. "Dora, what is this? This is absolutely amazing."
She laughed. "It's something special that I'll never tell you. You can't steal it away from me, no sir."
He frowned. "That's not fair."
In a singsong voice she said, "You'll have you come through me to get them from now on!"
Regulus could admit to himself that he wasn't the least bit mad about it, considering he'd never even order one if he wasn't with her. He never went alone.
The first time he'd gone alone, there'd been three failed molestation attempts, and one success.
He wasn't a fan of it repeating.
He was used to it, though.
Regulus had always been told he was pretty. Not in a 'pretty flower' kind of way, but in a deadly way. He had to admit, he kind of liked the attention he got because of it. The stares, the way they would find themselves mesmerized into giving him whatever he wanted, it was addicting. Yes, he was pretty, but he was not someone who liked to be messed with. He tried his best to avoid confrontation.
As he took another sip of his drink, he smiled. Oh, how he loved drinking. It was his saving grace, his holy grail, the only thing that really helped. There was no other way to say it;
He was an alcoholic.
All of his friends knew it, but they didn't dare say anything. It would make them hypocrites.
For example, the way that Pandora downed her drink in one go and politely asked for another told him that he wasn't the only one trying to avoid something. Concern etched itself into his features. Was she trying to ignore the breakup? It was the most likely, and Regulus could hardly blame her; he'd done it himself after a few nasty breakups. Riker had been the first to break his heart, when he was 16. His first love had taken his heart and crushed it to pieces by cheating on him. A few weeks later he'd found out that it had been more than once, with multiple people.
Regulus cried like nothing else, sobbing his entire heart out like he needed. Sure, he'd hidden when he cried, but he was still crying. That was more than he was able to do at home.
"Pandoraa, would you like to dance with me?" Regulus asked, extending a hand.
The dance floor was barely being used, with only two couples and three children dancing and twirling about the hardwood floor. Regulus and Pandora joined them, smiling and laughing when they stepped on each other's toes. They danced for at least three songs before taking a break and sitting back down at the bar.
"Regulusss, do you everr think that you might never find loove?" Pandora asked, words slurred.
"I don't want to be in love." He sniffed. "It's not worth it. Everything is temporary, I won't make promises that I know I can't keep again."
She looked at him sadly, setting a hand gently on his arm. "That's...very depressing, Reg."
"The truth often is." He shrugged, gesturing for the bartender to come to them. When he did, Regulus ordered another round of Pandora's special drink before turning back to her. "It's just fact. Everything will end one day, so why bother loving someone only to feel that pain?"
"Regulus," Pandora said, her voice breaking a little. "Love is worth the pain. Loving is living. Without it, existence is just a boring walk towards death." She smiled drunkenly. "I'm going to go out fighting for life, but I have to have something to fight for, you know? Otherwise, what's the point?"
"What is the point, indeed," Regulus echoed solemnly.
<<O>>
April 3rd
A pounding headache started the moment Regulus opened his eyes.
It started at the base of his skull, then slowly crept over the entirety of his head, causing him to squint in his bedroom, trying to lessen the pain of the bright light filtering through his window. It was far too bright to be morning, he must have slept through his alarm. How unfortunate, but it wasn't that big of a deal; Regulus didn't have anything scheduled until five-thirty. Mornings weren't his favorite, so he generally stayed away from things that started before ten, as a rule of thumb. He knew that even if he did sign up for them, he wouldn't wake up, so he was strictly a 'nighttime activities' person.
He heard his name called from down the hall, unable to decipher who it was. "Yes?"
"Come here!" The voice said, excited. It could easily have been either of them; they sounded somewhat similar, although Evan used a singsong voice so often that Regulus was surprised his voice wasn't stuck that way. "You gotta see this!"
Groaning, Regulus tore off the heavy bedcovers that felt like they were crushing him when he slept—which he very much enjoyed—and slipped on his fuzzy slippers. They'd been given to him as a gag gift two birthdays ago, but he loved the rubber duck-themed slippers, though he'd never tell Dorcas that. No, that was something that would go with him to the grave.
As he made his way down the hallway, the eyes of him and his friends stared at him from the walls. Pausing to admire his favorite picture—him, Evan, and Barty, drunk out of their minds and watching an equally drunk Dorcas dance atop a table with a genuine smile on her face—Regulus smiled to himself. If there was ever a fire, or a break-in, he would always come to get this picture before leaving.
Of all the things he'd guessed would be waiting for him—Barty or Evan injured, someone tied to a chair in their living room, the kitchen on fire—he didn't expect to find a small black puppy bouncing around at Evan's feet, jaws snapping playfully.
When he entered the room, the puppy stopped bouncing and turned its full attention on Regulus. Then, it bounded towards him with purpose.
Lifting its front paws, it balanced against Regulus's leg and yapped up at him. He knelt, scratching it behind the ears for a moment before turning a glare on Evan.
"No," He said firmly. "Our landlord doesn't allow pets, you know that."
Evan's bottom lip stuck out. "Please? Farman doesn't even have to know! I promise I'll feed it, and walk it, and take care of it. Pleeeease?"
Regulus frowned, looking at the dog for a long moment. He sighed. "You have a week to prove that to me, otherwise it's gone."
Evan's face lit up, and he pumped both fists into the air. "Fuck yeah! You won't regret this."
"I already do," Regulus grumbled under his breath, but his bad mood slowly disappeared as he petted the puppy. That was the thing about dogs; they always made things better.
Regulus couldn't help but think of his childhood dog when the pup put its paws on his shoulder and licked his face. God, did he miss that dog. Maybe a new one wouldn't be so bad.
Maybe.
Regulus still wasn't fully convinced, but as promised, for the next two days Evan was with the dog 24/7, taking care of her and cleaning up after her. He named her Sweetcheeks, which seemed inappropriate to Regulus, but made Evan and Bartyburst out laughing every time someone called her name.
After four bouts of laughter, Regulus made a decree.
"From now on, you will refer to her as Sweetie, and there will be no more of that nonsense," he said, meeting eyes with both boys before scowling disapprovingly at them. "She is a lady, not a whore. Be more respectful."
"You like her!" Evan exclaimed, hitting Barty on the shoulder and laughing. "Pay up, Crouch!"
Barty groaned, shot a glare at Regulus, and pulled a bill out of his pockets. He handed it to Evan with a sour expression.
Regulus enjoyed every moment of it, if he was being honest. Barty won far too many bets and had taken far too much of his money for him not to feel satisfaction seeping into his bones, settling in deep. He smirked subconsciously.
"What are you smiling at, huh?" Barty snapped, glaring.
Regulus gave him a sickly sweet smile. "I like it when you lose, that's all."
Barty huffed, sinking back into the couch, and crossed his arms.
After that, Regulus started spending a little more time with the dog, taking her for a walk when Evan couldn't, feeding her when Evan forgot. She even slept in his room.
Evan was furious about that last one.
Regulus, again, couldn't help the satisfaction he felt when Sweetie chose to sleep in his room instead of Evan's, but he didn't let Evan see it. He only shrugged and said, "It's not my fault she likes me better than you."
With the new dog, Regulus was easily distracted and forgot what day of the week it was, so when Pandora showed up at his door on Wednesday, he was shocked.
"What are you doing here?" He exclaimed.
She rolled her eyes. "Oh goodness, I looove being welcomed that way."
The corners of his mouth twitched. "Sorry. But seriously, what are you doing here?"
"I'm here to sign the lease," She said, now looking uncertain. "If I still can?"
"Of course you can," Regulus replied instantly. "The documents are in my room, hold on. Why don't you go ahead and look around, I know you came by to see it a while ago, but..."
Pandora nodded. "Yeah, I'd like to make sure, although this is rlly kind of all I can afford right now."
"Me too." He chuckled. "But at least we can afford to live somewhere."
He knew personally how important that was. Having run away with Sirius, he'd been homeless for two years, and it had been some of the hardest times he'd ever been through. Living like that, it wasn't easy, but they'd made do, they'd survived it.
Regulus never lost the belief that they would, that Sirius would pull them out of it—and he did. Sure, Regulus had helped, but it had been his older brother who'd rlly saved them.
Grabbing the papers off his desk, he found Pandora talking with Barty in the kitchen. They seemed to be getting along, talking passionately with hands waving about and smiles on their faces. It seemed they had found a common interest. As he got closer, he figured out what it was.
The Hobbit.
"It's such a beautifully crafted world," Pandora was saying. "So much thought put into it. It's amazing that one mind can do that, that any mind can do that.
Barty was nodding along. "You're right, you're so right. And the way he wrote the dragon? Oh, the dragon was my favorite part!"
Pandora laughed. "Yes, the dragon is pretty cool. Although, I would say the languages and songs are the best part. He made an entire culture, which is honestly just fascinating, and then he wrote it down, which is even harder than coming up with it in the first place. I really am impressed; I think every writer is."
"Yeah, that would do it," Barty agreed, nodding. "If there's one thing that impresses authors, it's another author actually finishing their work."
Pandora chuckled. "You sound like you know what you're talking about. Do you write?"
Barty rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Uhm, no. I used to, but I haven't written anything in years. Guess it just wasn't my calling."
For a moment, a heartbroken look crossed his face before he smirked and became himself again. "I'm better at shredding anyway."
"Hell yeah, you are!" Regulus heard Evan, but couldn't see him yet.
He finally exited the hallway and went to the kettle sitting atop the stove. The handle was warm to the touch, but not burning. Regulus dropped a teabag in his mug, poured water over it, and went to grab the salt. When he opened the cupboard that usually had the salt, it wasn't there. He frowned. "Where's the salt?"
"I took it away," Barty replied, raising a brow at him judgily. "Your monstrous acts are over, villain. No more tea shall be harmed by your filthy salt-loving hands."
Regulus turned the full intensity of his eyes on him. Barty held for three seconds before sighing and moving to grab the salt from where he'd hidden it. Regulus smirked, secretly proud that it worked every single time. Barty, Evan, Pandora, Dorcus, Sirius, even strangers would crumble under his gaze if he wanted them to. And why wouldn't he want them to? It was fun to watch. He'd learned the skill from his mother, and his mother's stare could kill a moose. His friends never had a chance.
Staring into Barty's eyes, Regulus slowly tipped the salt shaker down, delighting in the horrified expression on his friend's face.
<<O>>
April 5th
Tapping his foot against the tiled floor, Regulus listened with his eyes closed to the sound of drums. It wasn't a bad performance; the tempo was good and the beats were all hit, but there was something missing, something important.
Passion.
Regulus opened his eyes and watched the drummer play, saw the way his brow was furrowed and his fingers gripped the sticks so tightly his knuckles were white, and knew that this wasn't their new band member. This boy was good-looking, talented, and funny, yes. They'd learned that during the first few minutes of the audition. But, as Regulus watched him, he saw what the boy was hiding; he was scared. If he looked closely, Regulus could even see the boy shaking.
Now, the fear wasn't the problem. Plenty of people would have been nervous for an audition. When he'd started playing, though, it hadn't felt like the boy was enjoying it. It had felt like the boy was going through the motions, as if he'd practiced a thousand times—which he probably had. It was clear that he was playing the music, but he wasn't feeling it.
When he was finished, Regulus gave his most polite smile and said, "One moment."
Leaning over, he whispered to Barty. Barty whispered to Evan, who looked around Barty to nod at Regulus.
Barty cleared his throat. "Okay, thank you for auditioning. If you make it, we'll call you."
The boy smiled and waved as he left. Regulus frowned.
"He was good," Evan said, shaking his head sadly. "Why'd you say no, Reg?"
"He wasn't feeling the music, his motions were mechanical, he was almost shaking with nerves. Do you really think a guy like that could perform in front of one of our audiences and not freeze? Do you think he could keep up if we improved?"
Evan tilted his head to the side, considering for a moment. "No, actually. I didn't notice those things. Regulus, you're terrifying the way you read people. You know that, right?"
Regulus gave him a wolf's grin. "Of course."
The auditions went for almost the entire day, hours and hours of listening to nothing but drums. After a while, they all started sounding the same, and Regulus was looking for something very specific. He would know it when he heard it, he was sure. He kept his eyes closed throughout every performance, listening intently for that special sound.
Regulus, head laid back against the chair, groaned. "How many more?"
"One." Barty flicked him once. "Then we can go home and make a decision."
Regulus already had a few ideas of which of the people auditioning he was going to recommend, even though he hadn't found what he was looking for, frowned. "Let's get this over with already. Come in!"
He heard the door open, and then, "Hey, guys."
Regulus kept his eyes closed, but held up a hand and waved. "Start whenever you're ready."
"Uh, why are your eyes closed?" The voice asked.
"Play," Regulus snapped, grumpy from all of the socializing he'd done today.
He heard a muttered 'geez'. Then, the boy started to play.
Regulus froze in his seat two seconds after the drums began. All of the noise in his head quieted, and he was able to fully submerge himself in the notes that were knocking around the room in a loud and abrasive manner—just as drums were supposed to do. Just as they did when played by someone who felt the music in their soul, their blood, their bones.
That was it. That was what he was looking for.
His eyes snapped open when the drums stopped, finally looking at the person who he had already decided would be their bandmate.
The drummer was Hispanic, dark hair falling out from underneath the cowboy hat nestled atop, sending strands in front of his face and curling at the back of his neck. Glasses sat perched atop his nose, magnifying his warm light brown eyes. His lips were full and curved upward. Regulus took in his boots, jeans, and t-shirt. It took him a moment to tear his attention away.
"How'd I do?" He asked, breathing a little heavier.
Regulus held up a finger and whispered in Barty's ear. Barty once again relayed the message, and Evan once again leaned forward to see Regulus. He gave Regulus an 'are you sure' look, to which Regulus nodded.
Evan cleared his throat. "You're in."
"What?" The drummer's eyes widened comically.
"You're in the band," Regulus repeated, using the voice he reserved for people who weren't Barty, Evan, Pandora, or Dorcas. It was cold and detached, unfeeling. "Practice is at five every day except Monday."
"What's your name?" Barty asked before remembering he had the sign-up sheet. "Oh, right. Hold on. Okay, James Potter, right?"
The drummer nodded.
"Welcome to the band, James."
James stood frozen for a moment before a smile broke out across his face.
For just a moment, Regulus felt a pain in his chest so strong it was debilitating. Consuming. The type of pain that wanted nothing more than to take what it could and leave nothing else behind. Nothing had ever felt like that before, it was so new to him that Regulus almost made Barty call 911 before it faded, just as fast as it had come.
Regulus hated that he didn't know what had just happened to him, but he knew for a fact that he didn't want to experience it ever again.
If James Potter never smiled at him again, it would be a gift.
That was what he told himself, over and over, even as his eyes stayed glued to the drummer, watching as though nothing else existed to see that smile. Just one more time would be enough.
Who was he kidding? One more time wouldn't be near enough.
Hey pookie, thank you for reading this. Don't forget to like, and if there's anything that you want to see in the story just let me know in the comments 💕 —Dobby Daherty