[ just the sight of it, the knowledge of what it meant, what it still means, is like a hot knife in his heart. it stings, and it aches, and sirius feels a hot swirl of emotion churning in his gut and it makes him feel sick, dizzy with shock.
how had it gotten this bad? regulus was always too obedient, malleable, so ready to eat up all the venom that his parents had been trying to feed them both and yet sirius couldn't bring himself to consider that it could have gone this far. that he'd have been so close to it, so deep in it that he's been branded forever with this vile, twisted thing. that he'd allowed it to happen.
a sound moves in sirius' throat, dry and aching like a wounded animal, but he doesn't let up, doesn't release his grip. he's angry, ferociously angry. angry at their parents for poisoning their children with hate, angry with voldemort of being the evil, hateful creature that he is, angry with regulus for being fool enough to allow himself to believe it.
but mostly, sirius realizes, he's angry with himself. regulus had been so young. sirius knew it, knew how he was, knew how soft his brother had been, how desperate he was to feel useful and worthy. he'd known all of that and he'd still run away, left him in the jaws of the beast to fend for himself knowing full well that he couldn't stand a chance against the overwhelming darkness. he'd been so damned selfish. arrogant. he'd been a bloody fool, and his little brother had suffered for it because sirius wasn't there to protect him when he needed it most.
his grip on that wrist is painfully tight, knuckles white, but he can't let up. that awful, ugly mark - he could have prevented this. could have stopped it. there's a tightness in sirius' throat that threatens to choke him, a horrible, grieving fury swallowing him up. ]
Dammit, I - [ his voice feels thick, like he can't force words through a too-tight throat, and sirius' opposite hand moves to grasp at regulus' neck, pulling him in 'til their foreheads touch, long fingers tangling in dark hair and tightening like he's looking for an anchor. ] Reggie, I - I'm -
no subject
how had it gotten this bad? regulus was always too obedient, malleable, so ready to eat up all the venom that his parents had been trying to feed them both and yet sirius couldn't bring himself to consider that it could have gone this far. that he'd have been so close to it, so deep in it that he's been branded forever with this vile, twisted thing. that he'd allowed it to happen.
a sound moves in sirius' throat, dry and aching like a wounded animal, but he doesn't let up, doesn't release his grip. he's angry, ferociously angry. angry at their parents for poisoning their children with hate, angry with voldemort of being the evil, hateful creature that he is, angry with regulus for being fool enough to allow himself to believe it.
but mostly, sirius realizes, he's angry with himself. regulus had been so young. sirius knew it, knew how he was, knew how soft his brother had been, how desperate he was to feel useful and worthy. he'd known all of that and he'd still run away, left him in the jaws of the beast to fend for himself knowing full well that he couldn't stand a chance against the overwhelming darkness. he'd been so damned selfish. arrogant. he'd been a bloody fool, and his little brother had suffered for it because sirius wasn't there to protect him when he needed it most.
his grip on that wrist is painfully tight, knuckles white, but he can't let up. that awful, ugly mark - he could have prevented this. could have stopped it. there's a tightness in sirius' throat that threatens to choke him, a horrible, grieving fury swallowing him up. ]
Dammit, I - [ his voice feels thick, like he can't force words through a too-tight throat, and sirius' opposite hand moves to grasp at regulus' neck, pulling him in 'til their foreheads touch, long fingers tangling in dark hair and tightening like he's looking for an anchor. ] Reggie, I - I'm -
[ sorry, sorry, so bloody sorry. ]