Regulus angst, Jegulus implied
Regulus wasn’t brave.
That’s what he told himself. Sirius was brave.
Brave enough to stand up to their parents, to say what he meant—truly meant. Brave enough to leave.
Regulus wasn’t Sirius.
He couldn’t tell his parents that he hated what they stood for, hated that they force him to stand for the same, hated that he would be excommunicated if he rebelled, hated that he was the favorite, hated that he wasn’t Sirius…hated himself.
Because some twisted part of himself needed them. Needed to still be a kid, still needed a safety net, needed to pretend he was in a regular loving family.
So, no, he wasn’t brave because if he had been, he would never be this incredibly selfish. To stand next to such bigotry and let it fly because he wanted his mommy.
This was something he had begun to come to terms with: his cowardice.
But then Sirius’s arm was around James and James laughed like there was only good in the world, and that good had an arm around him.
And suddenly he had a deeper urge to be that good, rather than be in his family’s favor.
He found himself picturing what it might be like; to be like Sirius. To unabashedly reject his parents ideals, to be sorted into Gryffindor, to have Sirius love him again, to spend his breaks at (what he could only assume was) the warm Potter house, to be the one with his arm around James. To be the one who left.
To Regulus, staying was the lesser evil, but this churning in his gut at the sight of his brother and his—his nothing, had to be far more evil.
His arm started to burn with a phantom kiss. The knowledge of what would be permanently etched there in two weeks haunted him, and the churning got worse. He shot to his feet to find a suitable place to dump the pumpkin pastie he just ate.
Can’t even vomit bravely, his brain supplied unhelpfully.
To tell the truth, Regulus didn’t think he would be able to change, to be brave.
Better the devil you know.
All he could do was bite his tongue and pretend like his mothers voice wasn’t like nails on a chalkboard, like he didn’t have nightmares about receiving the mark, like he didn’t cry about losing his brother, like he didn’t have dreams about his brother’s best friend.
Regulus was not brave.
