okay i’ve never written anything but i thought i’d give it a shot :) would love feedback and constructive criticism. maybe i’ll continue writing this maybe i’ll give up who knows.
word count: 701
warning: mention of wrapping something around someone’s neck.
Regulus was in hell. Not really, but considering his company, one would beg to differ. Band rehearsal has seriously got to be some form of torture, not that he’s in the band or anything. Regulus would rather drown himself than perform in front of a crowd. His brother, on the other hand, thrives in the spotlight (assuming it stems from attention deprivation as a child, but enough on that). Regulus will stick to the sidelines, and cameras, thank you very much.
Click.
“Fucking hell I can’t get this riff right! Prongs, how does it go again?”
Click.
“Oh, right! Like this?”
Click.
“Oh for fucks sake put the camera down!”
“Alright damn Sirius, it’s not like i was gonna capture your good side anyway,” Regulus says monotonously with his hands up defensively.
“What was that? Couldn’t hear you over the goddamn camera shutter.” Sirius barks back.
Literal hell. Regulus makes his way backstage cause his presence clearly isn’t wanted at the moment. When he took this deal to tour with The Marauders as their photographer, he knew it would come with backlash, but he didn’t expect it from his brother. His parents definitely, but not Sirius. They had made progress since he had left home all those years ago, but the forced proximity had put stress on the both of them. The rest of the band doesn’t help, either. Especially Saint James Potter. Regulus wished he’d get a microphone cord caught around his neck. He also really wishes he’d lay him out and have his way with him, but that’s neither here nor there.
Regulus had settled in the lounge backstage and could hear the ruckus of the band making their way back, too. Remus and Peter, the only tolerable ones, make themselves known first. Which relieves the tension from Regulus’ shoulders immediately.
“Hey, Reg,” Remus said sheepishly, considering the interaction Regulus just had with his boyfriend.
“Hey Lupin.” Cringing at the way the words come out. Regulus has never had a conversation between any of the boys that hasn’t been awkward as fuck.
“Sorry about-“
“No! I mean, don’t apologize on his behalf; he’s grown enough to do it himself.” He muttered the rest of the sentence and settled his gaze on Lupin.
“Alright. Noted.” Remus counters, turning to face the other boy in the room. “Pete! What’ve we got to snack on?”
Peter perks up from where he is sitting, opposite of Regulus.
“I know we have crisps and water. Not sure what else.” Peter replies.
“The chocolate is in the bowl over there.” Regulus points to the table set up against the wall.
Remus smirks a bit. “Thanks, mate!” As he beelines for the bowl.
Okay, yes, Regulus acts like he doesn’t know a single thing about these boys, but of course, he’s picked up on a few things. For starters, Remus Lupin, chocolate connoisseur, bass player, avid romantasy reader, and dates his prick of a brother. Next, Peter Pettigrew, drummer, has the best comedic timing, agrees on everything to avoid conflict, and would have made a hell of a therapist if drumming didn’t work out (Regulus has never shared his feelings because who would do that? He gathered this from watching Peter comfort others). Everyone’s favorite James Potter, lead singer, sunshine incarnate, body of a literal Greek god (What Regulus wouldn’t give to lick every ab.) and unfortunately, he’s his brother's other half, which means he's off limits. Last but not least, Sirius Black, lead guitarist, older brother, drama queen, his way or the highway, and the leading cause of Regulus’ problems.
“Oi! Oi!” Sirius and James make their way into the lounge area. Very loudly might he add.
James seems to take in Regulus’ rigid form on the couch. “You alright?” He asks.
“Mhm, fine.” Regulus nodded, taking that as his cue to sink into the couch, tuning the rest of the room out and pretending he didn’t exist. This tour can’t get any worse, he thinks. Yes he is doing what he loves but at what cost? He feels as though he’s at rock bottom, an emotional block if you will. That means the rest of the tour can only look up from here. Right?
snowghoul
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
areudirty
titsay
tangentwithtanner
romaincrisis