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Look. Regulus is not what anyone would call a positive person.
Optimism is for people who post sunrise selfies with captions like “new day, new me ;) ”. Regulus would rather choke.
But—miraculously—life is kind of going well for him.
He’s out of his childhood house (and let’s be very clear, it was a house, not a home—that place had all the warmth of a morgue freezer), he’s at university studying graphic design—something he’s always secretly wanted to do—and, somehow, he even reconciled with his brother.
And honestly? That last bit wasn’t nearly as dramatic as he expected.
Sirius had run away at sixteen to live with his “best friend.” James fucking Potter. Jesus Christ, Regulus hates that guy. He hasn’t even met him yet and he already knows he hates him. Just on principle.
Anyway, Sirius left, Regulus stayed. Maybe the smart choice would’ve been to go with him, okay? Regulus knows that. But at the time he was fourteen, scared shitless, and absolutely not ready to abandon the only life he’d ever known.
So he didn’t. And he’s regretted it ever since.
By eighteen, though, Regulus had a trust fund and a spine. So he packed his shit and bolted. Money doesn’t buy happiness, sure, but it does pay for rent and instant ramen, which is basically the same thing.
Now he lives with his best friends, Evan and Barty. Because yes, Sirius, he can do that too, fuck you very much. The three of them had been plotting their great escape for years, bonded by the universal experience of having shit parents. The very second Regulus got access to his vault of dirty old Black money, the trio was out the door.
Did they know how to function as adults? Absolutely not.
Did that stop them? Absolutely not.
It was…an adjustment. Growing up with family wealth meant Regulus never had to worry about groceries or bills or why the landlord is suddenly at the door “checking the water pressure” when in fact he just wants the rent. But Regulus adjusted. They all did. Mostly.
Reconciling with Sirius was also very much a planned move. Regulus had been stewing in guilt for four years, replaying that night like a broken record: Sirius screaming, their mother shrieking, and Regulus frozen, fourteen years old and useless, just standing there while Sirius begged him to do something. Anything.
He didn’t. And it haunted him.
So one day he did what any self-respecting young adult with unresolved family trauma would do: he stalked his brother on the internet.
And surprise—“Sirius Orion Black” is not exactly the hardest name to track down.
Which is how Regulus found himself standing outside a flat door that smelled faintly of weed and dog hair. The door opened, and a tall guy with floppy hair and suspiciously kind eyes blinked down at him.
“You’re Regulus, aren’t you?” the stranger asked, looking mildly surprised.
Regulus, caught between fight, flight, and punch the bastard for being polite, muttered, “Depends who’s asking.”
“Remus Lupin,” the man said with the calm patience of someone used to Black family dramatics. “Sirius’s boyfriend. Come in before one of the neighbors thinks you’re casing the place.”
And just like that, the Black brothers were in each other’s orbits again.
There were a lot of dramatic conversations and accusations. Tears, yelling, the occasional death glare that could have melted paint. Then, eventually, some hugging. Even a laugh or two once the air wasn’t thick enough to suffocate in. Honestly, it played out exactly how you’d imagine two Black brothers trying to “reconcile” would: messy, loud, and vaguely terrifying to any innocent bystanders (namely Remus Lupin who eventually left to go get coffee).
But somehow, it worked. It took time, but Sirius and Regulus are brothers again. Not the kind of brothers shaped by their parents’ warped idea of loyalty, but actual brothers. Ones who know each other as people, not chess pieces in Walburga Black’s deranged little war games.
And Regulus… well. He thinks he might even be happy. Which is disgusting, frankly.
If sixteen-year-old him could see this now, he’d probably sneer and say, “Pathetic. You’ve gone soft.”
And maybe Regulus has. But you know what? It’s kind of nice.
So yes. Regulus has his own life now. His own flat, his own friends, his own future that doesn’t involve the career his parents wanted for him (law, ew). Everything is great.
Except, of course, reconciling with Sirius comes with one deeply unfortunate side effect: he now has to meet Sirius’s friends.
“No, Sirius. I don’t want to meet that bastard.”
Sirius sighs like Regulus has just declared a personal vendetta against oxygen.
“Hey, that’s my best friend you’re talking about.”
“Exactly,” Regulus deadpans. “Which means he’s either insufferable, codependent, or both. And considering you’ve been joined at the hip since you were, like, eleven, I’m betting on both.”
Sirius throws his head back and groans like Regulus has just confessed he’s never heard of The Beatles. “Jesus, Reg, you haven’t even met him!”
“I don’t need to,” Regulus says, folding his arms like a barrier. “I’ve seen the way you talk about him. Nobody’s that good. If James Potter is half as charming as you claim, I’ll be forced to kill him on principle.”
“Relax,” Sirius smirks, because of course he smirks. “He’s not half as charming. He’s twice as charming. And you’ve been back in my life for months now, Reggie—”
“Don’t. Call. Me. That.”
“—and if this is going to work, you need to meet my best friend.”
Regulus scowls, already plotting exit strategies. Window. Fire escape. Faked medical emergency. There are options. But the irritating truth is that Sirius has a point. (Regulus despises when Sirius has a point.) And fine—Remus turned out to be disgustingly lovely, which means Sirius isn’t always wrong about people.
“…Fine,” Regulus mutters at last, like the word has been wrenched out of him with pliers.
Sirius lights up instantly, grinning like a man who’s just been promised free leather jackets for life. “Perfect! I’ll let James know. He’s been dying to meet you, ever since I told him you came and found me—”
“Yes, Sirius, I know,” Regulus interrupts, voice sharp enough to cut. Because he does know, Sirius has been insufferable about this for weeks.
“—he’s really excited—”
“Sirius.”
“—to finally—”
“Sirius.”
Sirius shuts up, but the grin stays plastered across his face, smug and wolfish.
Regulus sighs, long and theatrical. He reminds himself that he’s an adult now. Grown. Mature. Entirely too dignified to throw a tantrum about meeting the golden boy who allegedly “saved” his brother.
…He’ll try not to, at least. No promises.
🧃🧃🧃
So. Regulus is going to meet James Potter today.
He’s not exactly thrilled about that fact, but, you know—the things you do for your brother.
First, though, he has to survive a full day of uni. And then it’s his turn to get groceries, which feels like an even crueler punishment than meeting Sirius’s obnoxious best friend. Basically, he’s mentally preparing himself for the longest day of his life.
“You look awful today.”
“Gee. Thanks,” Regulus mutters without looking up.
It’s him. Orange Juice Guy with Glasses. Regulus calls him that because, well, the name is self-explanatory: he always strolls into class with a carton of orange juice in one hand and those stupidly flattering glasses perched on his nose. And Regulus is, against his better judgment, a little bit in love with him. Not that he would ever admit it. To anyone. Ever.
Orange Juice Guy drops into the seat in front of him, grinning like he owns the place. “So, what’s going on? Why are you looking at me like you’re planning my murder?”
Why are you looking at me at all? Regulus thinks.
What he actually says is: “Maybe I am planning it.”
The guy laughs—of course he laughs—and Regulus feels his knees go a little traitorous. Great. Perfect. Fantastic.
“No, seriously, what’s wrong?”
Regulus sighs, closes his sketchbook, and meets his gaze with a flat expression. “If I was a bird, I know exactly who I’d shit on.”
The guy blinks, caught off guard, then snorts. “Wait—do you mean me? You’d shit on me? Because I was really just trying to ask what’s wrong, not sign up for avian warfare.”
He looks thrown, but he’s still smiling, which is good. Regulus doesn’t actually want to wound him. Just… mildly confuse him.
“No,” Regulus says, “for once, I didn’t mean you. Obnoxious as you are with your constant orange juice—”
“Hey!”
“—it’s someone else.”
“Who?” Orange Juice Guy leans in, actually curious.
Regulus waves a hand. “Just someone I’m meeting later. I’m not exactly in the mood.”
“Hmm.” He narrows his eyes like he’s solving a riddle. “What kind of ‘someone’? Like your landlord? Debt collector? Nemesis?”
Regulus snorts. “What? No. Just… forget it. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got a long day ahead, that’s all.”
Orange Juice Guy nods, thoughtful, like he really gets it. Which is irritating, because Regulus would prefer to stay mysterious and unknowable.
“You know,” he says, smirking (and looking annoyingly good while doing it), “there’s a quote I always think of when I have days like that. Something my mum used to say to me.”
Regulus raises an eyebrow. “…And what’s the quote?”
“At the end of the day…” He pauses, dramatically.
“…At the end of the day what?” Regulus asks, exasperated.
“At the end of the day, it’s night.”
Regulus stares at him. “…Seriously?”
He just grins and winks—actually winks—like he’s just delivered divine wisdom instead of the world’s worst dad joke. Regulus’s heart has the audacity to flutter.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “I thought you were going to cheer me up or something.”
“…I can do that too,” the guy says suddenly, a little more nervous now—but still holding eye contact.
“How?”
“Well, um—I know we don’t, like, know each other exactly, but we sort of do, I mean—”
“Make your point.”
“Right, yeah, so… would you—”
“Alright, everyone!” the professor cuts in, loud and unforgiving. “We’re continuing with our calligraphy project today, so quiet down and get on with it.”
Orange Juice Guy looks like someone just kicked his puppy: annoyed at being interrupted, but also vaguely relieved. Huh.
He shrugs, shoots Regulus a look, and mouths later. Then he spins back around like nothing happened, leaving Regulus staring after him with a stomach full of question marks.
Orange Juice Guy was…unexpected.
They only share two classes—calligraphy and design—but Regulus noticed him immediately on the first day. He walked in with his stupid orange juice carton and glasses, looking both obnoxious and irritatingly attractive. Straight guy energy, obviously, but still—hot.
Then he plopped down right in front of Regulus. Close enough that Regulus could see the curve of his neck, the back of his hair…hell, he even smelled good. Ridiculous.
They spent the first few weeks like this: two classes a week, sitting near each other, not talking. But every single day, without fail, he carried that orange juice. Every. Single. Time.
One particularly awful day, Regulus snapped. “Why the fuck would you bring orange juice to class literally every single time? It’s ridiculous.”
The guy turned. Their eyes met for the first time ever. Well, as far as Regulus knew, it was the first time Orange Juice Guy had looked at him. Sitting in front of him, no one expects eyes in the back of their head, after all.
And then…well. It felt like one of those moments. You know the kind—the kind in books or movies where everything slows down and your brain goes on strike.
Regulus noticed: deep brown eyes behind glasses. Like hot chocolate. Kind, comforting, too-damn-good eyes. Soft black curls. A mouth that looked…soft. Way too soft.
“It’s not,” the guy interrupted, and Regulus almost swore for relief. Low, smooth voice. Lovely.
“What?”
“It’s not ridiculous.”
Ah, right. They’re talking about orange juice.
“Yes, it is.”
“Why?” he asked, still holding eye contact like he was daring Regulus to disagree.
“Who brings orange juice to class? Every day?”
“Uhm…” He tilted his head, slightly confused but definitely entertained. “I do?”
“Exactly.”
“Huh?”
“Only you. Because it’s ridiculous.”
“But it’s not?”
“Yes, it is.”
“What’s it to you?”
“I don’t know,” Regulus muttered, defeated. “Nothing.”
“Good. Glad we agree on that at least,” he said, smirking, and then added, “I just happen to like orange juice. That’s all. Not ridiculous, is it?”
“No,” Regulus glared, “but bringing it to class is.”
“Why? If I can like it at home, why not in class too?”
“Fuck if I know,” Regulus admitted, giving in. “Just…not the usual, I guess. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. Had a bad day.”
Orange Juice Guy smiled at him. Really smiled. Warm, easy, too-fucking-charming smile. “It’s alright.” He held out the juice. “You want some?”
“Ew, no. I’m not sharing a straw with a stranger,” Regulus said, exasperated already. “Especially not orange juice in class.”
The guy shrugged, sipped his juice, winked, and turned back around.
From that day on, they greeted each other. Sometimes they bickered. Classmates? Sort of friends? Regulus didn’t know.
But he did know one thing: he had a massive crush on him.
He still has that crush. Four months later. Which sucks, because Orange Juice Guy is the physical embodiment of a straight jock with messy hair and an obnoxious grin. And also, it’s ridiculous, because Regulus doesn’t even know his name.
Sometimes they pass little notes in class, like idiots. Notes to mock their professor, notes for project questions, notes that make Regulus secretly look forward to lectures. It’s…nice.
One time, Sirius was mad at him because he couldn’t hang out. Regulus texted back: literally in class. Sirius didn’t believe him. Wanted proof. So Regulus took a selfie, flipped him off, and sent it.
Apparently, Orange Juice Guy had seen it. A minute later, a note appeared on his desk:
What was the selfie for? Who pissed you off this time? Do I have competition?
Regulus snorted. He scribbled back:
No. You’re still the most obnoxious person I know. And the selfie was for NASA, because I’m a star. They don’t accept me though :(
Orange Juice Guy just shook his head and laughed quietly. Regulus knew he’d killed the joke slightly—if only the guy knew that, in fact, he was a star. Would’ve landed better.
And yet…for some mysterious reason, they still hadn’t exchanged names. And now it feels like they have missed the chance (a load of bullshit, Regulus is just overthinking).
But the notes? They had become a habit somehow.
After the professor rudely interrupted their conversation, the lesson drags on. Regulus is half-listening, doodling in his sketchbook, when a note lands on his desk:
This project is insane! How tf do I do that?
Regulus grins and scribbles back:
I don’t know about you, but I’ll succeed because I’m insane too. It’s a fit.
He passes it back and watches as Orange Juice Guy grins down at it. There’s a dimple on the left side of his cheek when he smiles like that. Regulus wants to kiss it. And probably everything around it.
A few minutes pass. Regulus decides to throw caution to the wind. He scribbles a note:
What did you want to ask earlier? Something about cheering me up?
He passes it over. Orange Juice Guy blushes—just a little, but enough to make Regulus’ heart do something idiotic. He fiddles with his pen, scribbles, erases, fiddles some more. Finally, he passes it back, eyes locked on Regulus as he reads.
What could possibly be so embarrassing? It’s just…notes.
The note reads:
Will you go out with me? ;)
Yes = smile
No = backflip
Oh. My. God.
Regulus is fucking stunned. Of course. It’s exactly the kind of ridiculous, obnoxious thing Orange Juice Guy would do. Brave, confident, obnoxiously cute. So not straight, then. Definitely insane in all the right ways, though.
He looks up. The guy is staring back, very, very nervous, biting his lip, almost like he’s about to implode.
Regulus shakes his head and… smiles. Puts him out of his misery.
Orange Juice Guy smiles back. And it’s the kind of smile that could break someone’s brain in the best possible way.
Regulus whispers, “But only because I don’t know how to do a backflip.”
Orange Juice Guy smiles wider. How is that even possible? “Of course. No other reason.”
They smile at each other for seconds, minutes, hours—time does weird things—until he finally turns back around.
The rest of the lesson drags. Regulus feels giddy the entire time, incredulous. A guy like him isn’t straight and is into him? Regulus can’t believe how good his life turned out to be, after all.
When the lesson finally ends and Regulus is about to explode or scream or something, Orange Juice Guy turns back around. Bashful. Nervous. Smiling like he’s hiding the world’s best secret.
“I didn’t think it would work, y’know?”
“No? Why?”
He shrugs. “I dunno… it’s—well, first, I wasn’t sure you were even into guys. That could’ve caused problems. You could’ve been a homophobe for all I know and never talked to me again after this, which,” he smiles again, “would’ve been awful, because I like the dynamic with you in class.”
“But you still decided to do it?” Regulus asks incredulously. Yeah, awful as it is, that held him back from making a move too. Not bravery, that’s for sure.
Orange Juice Guy nods. “Yeah. I thought about it a lot. If you were a homophobe, I wouldn’t want you as a friend or anything else anyway. Could’ve been uncomfortable. I’d have been hurt. But I could’ve just moved seats and known for sure. Doesn’t matter now. I had a feeling you’re not like that because, well…we get along, I guess? So I thought, nah, you can’t be like that. I never get along with homophobes—I can always tell. And then I thought—” He trails off, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Sorry, I’m talking a lot.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s cute.” Regulus says it before he even realizes it, eyes wide. Where the fuck did that come from?
The guy blushes. Cute. “You think so?”
“…Well.” Regulus shrugs. He already said it so might as well own it. “Yeah.”
He smiles. “Alright, then I’ll tell you the rest, yeah?”
Regulus nods, encouraging.
“So, uhm, where was I? Right. I figured, why not? I like you. I think you’re…quite the stunner. If I want a shot, I have to try, right? After mulling it over again and again, I just asked. You could still have been straight or not into me at all, which would’ve been totally fine. But it might’ve messed up our dynamic a bit. Maybe. So I thought…backflip idea is funny, and if you said no, we could’ve just laughed about it.” He sighs. “Sorry, I’m probably not making any sense.”
“No, no.” Regulus smiles. “I get it. I just…wouldn’t have been brave enough for something like this.”
“Hm. That’s just me, I guess. If I want something—or someone,” he waggles his eyebrows, making Regulus flush, “I have to take a step. Otherwise I never find out what might’ve been.”
Regulus is impressed. “Yeah, I know that too…only, you know? In theory.”
“Yeah. Can be scary.” He grins shyly. “But let’s skip to the good part. I asked you out. You said yes—or well, you didn’t actually say it. But you did, right?”
“Yeah. It’s a yes.” Regulus laughs, heart pounding.
“Cool. Cool cool. So…what? You said you have a long day today? Can’t today?”
“No, not today. Unfortunately. Though, honestly, it would’ve been a better way to spend my time.”
“That sucks.” He smiles emphatically. “But I can’t either. Not today… So then how about you just give me your number and I’ll text you?”
Regulus could almost swoon. “Yes. That’d be great.”
They smile stupidly at each other until he holds out his phone. Regulus types in his number and hands it back.
“Alright, I really have to go now. You’ll text me?”
“Yeah. I definitely will.” He smiles again. “Hope your day won’t be too bad. Did I at least manage to cheer you up?”
Regulus bites his lip, bashful. “I really didn’t think you could, but…you really fucking did.”
With that, he gets up and leaves. Long day ahead, but somehow, none of it matters.
🧃🧃🧃
Regulus is in a much better mood.
Not even grocery shopping brings him down. In fact, he kind of likes it today. He’s going on a date soon. With a very hot, funny, respectful guy. What the fuck?
It’s just…he feels happy. And James Potter is not going to ruin that. No matter how annoying or stupid that guy turns out to be, nothing could touch this mood right now.
Regulus is so giddy he buys orange juice in the store. Just because.
After that, he drives home, puts the groceries away, gets ready, and leaves again. Time to meet the best friend of his idiot brother.
When he arrives at the flat, it’s Remus who opens the door. As always.
“Regulus, you look like you’re in a good mood,” Remus observes immediately. “How come? I thought you dreaded this moment with every fiber of your being. Your words, by the way.”
Regulus can’t even pretend to glare. “Just a good day, is all.”
Remus narrows his eyes but doesn’t press further. This is why Regulus likes him. Well, that, and because they have the same taste in books.
Remus steps aside. “Come in. And don’t murder James. He’s a good guy. Really.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Regulus mutters as he steps inside.
While he hangs up his jacket and slips off his shoes, he hears the screeching voice of his brother from the living room.
“He said yes, Prongs?!”
Apparently, “Prongs” nods or something, because Sirius screeches again: “Oh my god, I can’t believe that worked! That’s like the dumbest way to ask someone out, what the fuck?!”
Ah. So apparently James “Asshole” Potter asked someone out, and it worked. Makes sense—he’s double as charming, obviously. Against all odds, Regulus feels his mood dip slightly. He really doesn’t want to meet him.
He opens the door to the living room—
And immediately freezes.
The noise of the door opening halts Sirius and James mid-conversation. They both turn to look at him.
James freezes instantly.
Sirius, of course, is oblivious. He bounds forward and hugs Regulus. “Hey, Reggie. I’m so excited for you to finally meet James, you know?”
Regulus is still frozen. He doesn’t even protest the nickname. Sirius notices.
“Reggie?” He frowns and waves a hand over Regulus’ face. “Reeeegulus? Are you here?”
Regulus clears his throat. “Um…yes. Hi.”
Sirius frowns harder. “Okay…what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Suuure. But alright, I won’t push.” He releases Regulus and grabs James by the arm, dragging him forward.
“Reggie, this is my best friend, James. James, this is Regulus, my little brother.” Sirius beams like he’s just solved world peace.
Regulus can only stare.
James, apparently, can do more than stare. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, runs a hand through his hair nervously. “Uh…hi.”
“Hi,” Regulus replies stiffly. Still staring. What the fuck is happening?
“Um, I—” James begins, fumbling. “So…um…It’s me? I’m the one you would shit on if you were a bird? The one you didn’t want to meet?” He looks like he might dissolve into embarrassed sparks at any second.
“Um…” Sirius looks utterly baffled. “What the fuck is happening? James, what? That’s not how someone introduces themselves! If he were a bird—”
“Yes,” Regulus interrupts. “But…”
Okay. Regulus has two options:
One: Hate James Potter and ruin his good mood.
Two: Be the mature one for once and let it go. Clearly, James Potter is not the monster he imagined.
For once in his life, Regulus makes the mature choice.
He laughs. “What the fuck? You’re Orange Juice Guy with glasses?”
James laughs too, cheeks pink. “That’s what you called me?”
Regulus blushes. “Yeah. It made sense. Why? What did you call me?”
James stammers. “Um…uh, well, I called you ‘sarcastic pretty guy with freckles’…but I—what the fuck?” He laughs, flustered.
Sirius, being ignored, mutters to himself: “Yeah…what the fuck?”
“You’re…” James starts, eyes widening in sudden realization. “Oh. My. God. That’s why you made that star joke? With NASA? Your name is Regulus, oh my god! Because it was so out of context I didn’t get—Oh god, I’m so dumb.” He covers his face with both hands.
Regulus just laughs at him.
“Okay, James, Reggie,” Sirius screeches, practically vibrating. “Explain. Because I do not like where this is going. You two know each other? Wait—you’re—Regulus, you’re sarcastic pretty guy who James asked out today? Oh god, no! Absolutely not!”
Regulus shrugs helplessly. “…Sorry?”
“Are you?”
“…Well, no.”
Sirius groans.
James smiles.
Regulus smiles.
“So, just to make sure,” James says, “you’ll still go out with me, right?”
“James, really?” Sirius asks, exasperated.
“Shut up, Sirius!” they both snap in unison. Sirius gapes at them, caught between disbelief and horror.
James turns back to Regulus, eyes soft but serious. “So…will you? Because I was genuinely very fucking happy, and I’d like for it to stay that way.”
Regulus thinks about it. Yes, it’s his brother’s best friend. Yes, it could cause problems. But it’s his life, isn’t it? And fate—or whatever ridiculous cosmic joke brought them together—seems to want this. You don’t mess with fate.
“Yes. Yeah, I’ll still go out with you.”
James lights up like a Christmas tree. Honestly, that alone makes saying yes worth it. For good measure, he adds, “That is…if I still like you after today. Don’t mess it up.”
James grins. “I won’t.”
And he doesn’t.
🧃🧃🧃
Years later, the story gets a slightly exaggerated retelling. Over the top, of course—what do you expect? It’s Sirius Black. Naturally, he spices it up for ~the drama~. He earns plenty of laughs and gasps, and Regulus and James don’t complain. Nothing could dampen their mood today.
It’s their wedding day, after all. And Sirius? He’s doing an excellent job with his best man’s speech.