Chapter Text
Sirius Black had been annoyed for three consecutive weeks.
Not mildly irritated. Not inconvenienced. Not even merely sulking.
Annoyed.
Profoundly, spiritually, catastrophically annoyed.
He had made this clear to everyone within hearing distance, repeatedly, with the sort of dedication other people reserved for actual causes.
“I could be doing anything tonight,” he announced, standing in the hallway with his jacket half on and one boot unlaced. “Literally anything. I could be at James’s. We could be out. We could go somewhere fun. We could find a party. We could—”
“You complained until we bought tickets for all ten of your friends,” Orion said.
“That isn’t the point.”
“It was precisely your point yesterday.”
“It was one of my points.”
Walburga held out an envelope.
Sirius looked at it suspiciously.
“What’s that?”
“Money for food, drinks and travel.”
“You already paid for the tickets.”
“Yes.”
“For everyone.”
“Yes, Sirius.”
“All eleven of us.”
“Twelve,” Regulus corrected from beside the front door.
Sirius looked at him.
Regulus was already dressed. He had been dressed for nearly two hours despite the fact they had not needed to leave for nearly two hours. He wore black jeans, heavy boots, and an oversized dark jacket covered in silver zips. His hair had been fixed, ruined, fixed again, and then ruined deliberately so it looked as though he had not spent twenty minutes fixing it.
He was bouncing faintly on the balls of his feet.
Not enough to be obvious, perhaps, if someone had not been looking at him.
Sirius had been looking at him because Regulus had been doing it all evening and it was getting on his nerves.
“Twelve,” Regulus repeated. “There are twelve of us.”
“You don’t count.”
Regulus’s bouncing stopped for half a second.
Walburga’s expression sharpened.
“Sirius.”
“What? I mean he doesn’t count as one of my friends.”
“No one said he did,” Orion replied. “He counts as a person requiring a ticket, food, a drink and a journey home.”
Sirius took the envelope from Walburga.
It was thicker than he had expected.
He peered inside, then looked up.
“This is loads.”
“There are twelve of you.”
“Eleven,” Sirius muttered.
“Twelve,” Walburga said firmly. “And that money is for all twelve of you. You are not to spend it all in one place, and you are to make sure everyone has enough for the return journey before you buy anything unnecessary.”
“I’m seventeen, not seven.”
“Then behaving responsibly should be considerably easier.”
Regulus made a small sound that might have been a laugh.
Sirius turned his head.
“Do you want to walk to the other city?”
“No.”
“Then stop making noises.”
“I didn’t make a noise.”
“You did.”
“I breathed.”
“Do it more quietly.”
Regulus stared at him for a moment, then looked away, but the excitement returned almost immediately. It seemed physically impossible for him to stay still. His fingers kept tapping against his thighs. His heels kept lifting. Every few seconds, his gaze flicked toward the door as though the concert might somehow begin without him if they did not leave immediately.
Walburga held out a second, smaller envelope.
“This is yours.”
Regulus blinked.
“For what?”
“Merchandise.”
His face changed so quickly that Sirius almost rolled his eyes on instinct.
Almost.
Regulus looked down at the envelope as though she had handed him something precious.
“Really?”
“It is your first concert,” Orion said. “You should have something to remember it by.”
Regulus grinned.
It was wide and immediate and young enough to make the fourteen-year-old look even younger.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What if the hoodies cost more than this?”
“Then choose a shirt.”
“What if the shirts are ugly?”
“Then choose something else.”
“What if they’ve got the tour dates on the back?”
“Regulus,” Sirius groaned.
“What?”
“No one cares.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“You’ve been talking for the last hour.”
“I’m excited.”
“We noticed.”
Regulus looked into the little envelope again, counting the notes even though he had already counted them when Walburga had first passed it to him.
“I might get a hoodie,” he said. “Or a shirt. But probably a hoodie. Unless there’s a really good poster. They usually do signed prints sometimes, but those sell out quickly, and I don’t know if they’re doing them on this tour. There was one at the Manchester show, but the design might have been exclusive because—”
Sirius opened the front door.
“Can we go before he explains the entire merchandise industry?”
Regulus immediately darted through the doorway.
“Make sure he eats,” Walburga called.
“Yes.”
“And drinks something.”
“Yes.”
“And stays with you.”
“Yes.”
“Sirius.”
He turned around, already halfway through the doorway.
“What?”
“Stay together.”
Sirius sighed.
“We’ll stay together.”
Regulus waited outside, bouncing again.
Sirius stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him.
For three seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then Regulus looked at him.
“Do you know what time the doors open?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“The time written on the tickets.”
“I know, but do you remember?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“Regulus.”
“I’m only asking.”
“You have asked me twelve times.”
“I think it was seven.”
“It felt like twelve.”
“Do you know what time the support act starts?”
“No.”
“I told you.”
“I wasn’t listening.”
Regulus’s mouth tightened.
Then, because apparently nothing could defeat his excitement for more than a few seconds, he started walking faster.
“I think they’ll start at half seven. Maybe eight. It depends how long they keep the doors open and whether there are any delays during soundcheck. Sometimes they post about it beforehand, but I checked and they haven’t. I don’t know if there’s one support act or two because one of the bands pulled out of the last show, but that might have only been because their drummer was ill, and—”
Sirius shoved his hands into his pockets and let Regulus talk to the pavement.
By the time they reached the station, the others were already waiting.
James was leaning against a railing, Peter beside him. Remus stood with Frank and Alice while Lily, Mary and Marlene talked near the ticket barriers. Fabian and Gideon were arguing about something loudly enough to turn several heads.
James noticed Sirius first.
“There he is.”
“Finally,” Marlene said. “We thought you’d died.”
“I considered it.”
Regulus appeared from behind him.
James’s smile faded slightly.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Unfortunately.”
Regulus stopped.
He glanced around at all of them, trying to find a friendly expression and apparently failing.
“Hello.”
No one answered at first.
Then Alice gave a stiff nod.
“Hi.”
Regulus’s face brightened immediately.
“Have you been to this venue before?”
Alice blinked.
“No.”
“I’ve seen photos. It looks quite big, but I don’t know what the standing area is like when it’s full. We’ve got general admission, so I think we can stand wherever we want unless they split the floor into sections. Sometimes venues do that if—”
“Alice,” Frank interrupted, touching her arm. “The train.”
It was not there yet.
Alice turned away anyway.
Regulus looked at Frank, then at Sirius.
Sirius was already handing out tickets.
“Don’t lose these,” he said. “I’m not dealing with anyone getting stranded.”
Regulus held out his hand.
Sirius gave tickets to James, Peter, Remus, Lily, Mary, Marlene, Alice, Frank, Fabian and Gideon.
Then he tucked the final two back into his pocket.
Regulus’s hand remained out.
“Mine?”
“I’ve got it.”
“I can hold it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll lose it.”
“I won’t.”
“You lose everything.”
“I don’t.”
“You lost your keys yesterday.”
“They were in my jacket.”
“You lost the jacket.”
“I left it upstairs.”
“You spent half an hour looking for it.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“Sirius,” James called. “Is that the train?”
This time, it was.
The others began moving toward the platform.
Regulus followed.
Sirius caught the back of his jacket.
“Stay where I can see you.”
Regulus looked over his shoulder.
“You’re behind me.”
“Then don’t move so fast.”
“You were the one who said—”
“Just walk.”
The train was crowded enough that none of them could sit together properly.
James, Sirius, Remus and Peter took four seats around a table. Lily and Mary sat opposite Alice and Frank farther down the carriage. Marlene squeezed in beside Fabian and Gideon, who had immediately begun arguing over who got the window.
Regulus stood in the aisle.
He waited.
No one moved.
There was an empty seat beside Peter, but James had stretched one leg across it.
Regulus looked at Sirius.
Sirius was laughing at something Remus had said.
Regulus waited another moment.
“Can I sit there?”
James looked toward the empty seat.
“My leg’s there.”
“I can see.”
“So it’s taken.”
“By your leg?”
“Yes.”
Regulus stared at him.
Peter snorted.
James grinned.
Regulus looked around the carriage. There were no other seats nearby.
He reached for the overhead rail instead.
The train jerked into motion.
Regulus stumbled, catching himself against the back of Sirius’s seat.
Sirius immediately twisted around.
“Watch it.”
“I nearly fell.”
“Then hold on properly.”
“I am.”
Regulus tightened his grip on the rail.
For a while, he said nothing.
Sirius relaxed again, relieved by the silence.
It lasted less than two minutes.
“Do any of you play instruments?”
Remus glanced up at him.
“A bit.”
“What do you play?”
“Guitar.”
Regulus brightened.
“So do I.”
Remus looked back at Sirius.
Regulus waited.
“How long have you played?”
Remus shrugged.
“A few years.”
“I started when I was eight, but I didn’t take it seriously until I was about ten. I started on acoustic, but electric’s better for most of the music I like. I’ve got two at home. One’s older and the wiring’s a bit—”
James leaned toward Sirius.
“Do you know where we’re going after?”
Regulus stopped talking.
Sirius frowned.
“After?”
“Yeah. Concert won’t finish that late, will it?”
“It finishes after eleven.”
“Still time to do something.”
“We’ve got him.”
James glanced up at Regulus.
“Can’t he go home?”
“He has to go home with us.”
“Why?”
“Because my parents are insane.”
Regulus’s expression flickered.
“They’re worried because it’s in another city.”
“No one asked.”
“I was explaining.”
“No one needed you to.”
Regulus looked down.
The train swayed beneath them.
He shifted his grip on the rail.
A few minutes later, he tried again.
“Have any of you listened to the newest album?”
“What album?” Peter asked.
“The—”
“Peter,” Sirius said sharply.
“What?”
“Don’t encourage him.”
Peter laughed.
Regulus pressed his lips together.
Across the carriage, Fabian shouted something at Gideon, and Marlene burst out laughing.
Regulus turned toward them.
“Are you two twins?”
Fabian looked at him as though the question had been offensive.
Gideon squinted.
“Why?”
“You look similar.”
“We’re brothers.”
“I know. Sirius said. I just wondered if—”
“None of your business,” Fabian said.
“All right.”
Regulus stared out through the dark window.
Lights rushed past in long, broken streaks. His reflection floated faintly against the glass: pale face, wide eyes, hair falling untidily over his forehead.
He lasted nearly ten minutes before speaking again.
“Does anyone want to see the setlist from the last show?”
Lily looked up from her phone.
“No.”
“It might not be the same tonight, but they normally keep most of the main songs and change two or three depending on—”
“We said no,” Mary replied.
“Oh.”
Regulus slid his phone back into his pocket.
Sirius watched him from the corner of his eye.
His brother’s shoulders had drawn inward slightly, but one foot was still tapping against the floor in time with a rhythm no one else could hear.
By the time the train reached their stop, Regulus had tried to join the conversation six more times.
He asked Remus what guitar he owned.
Remus pretended not to hear.
He asked James whether he liked live music.
James stared at him until Regulus looked away.
He asked Alice if she wanted a drink from the trolley.
Alice said she was fine, then bought one herself when the trolley reached them.
He tried to tell Peter something about the venue.
Peter put his headphones on.
When the doors opened, Regulus was the first one standing on the platform.
He turned in a quick circle, searching for signs.
“I think it’s this way.”
Sirius stepped past him.
“No, it isn’t.”
“It says the city centre is—”
“We’re following the crowd.”
“The venue’s not in the city centre.”
Sirius kept walking.
Regulus hurried after him.
“I looked at the map.”
“So?”
“So it’s left.”
“The crowd’s going right.”
“They might not be going to the concert.”
“Half of them are wearing black.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“Regulus, shut up.”
Regulus did.
The crowd led them right.
Three minutes later, Sirius stopped beneath a street sign.
Regulus stood beside him.
“The venue is left.”
No one spoke.
Sirius turned around.
“We know.”
“You said—”
“We know.”
They walked back the other way.
Regulus kept close behind them, his excitement gradually returning as the streets became busier.
There were more people now wearing tour shirts and patched jackets. Groups moved in the same direction, laughing and shouting. Someone had dyed their hair bright green. Someone else had a leather jacket covered with painted lyrics.
Regulus stared at everyone.
He smiled when he spotted a shirt from an older tour.
“That one’s rare.”
No one answered.
“I think they only sold those for the European dates. The design changed after because the original artist—”
“Can you stop giving us a lecture?” Marlene asked.
“I’m not.”
“You haven’t shut up since we left.”
Regulus’s smile slipped.
“I’m sorry.”
“Just walk,” Sirius said.
The venue appeared at the end of the street, all dark brick and blazing lights, with a queue curling around metal barriers.
Regulus stopped dead.
Someone walked into the back of him and swore.
He did not seem to notice.
His eyes had gone enormous.
The venue’s name burned above the entrance. Posters covered the walls. Music from inside trembled faintly through the pavement, barely audible beneath the noise of the crowd.
“We’re here,” Regulus whispered.
Sirius grabbed his arm and pulled him onward.
“Yes. Brilliant observation.”
Regulus almost tripped over his own feet trying to keep up.
The queue moved slowly.
For Sirius, it moved unbearably slowly.
For Regulus, every second seemed to provide something new to look at.
He studied the posters.
He watched people trade bracelets.
He tried to read the shirts of everyone nearby without staring too obviously.
He checked the tickets on Sirius’s phone three times.
He looked at the venue doors, then at the queue ahead, then back at the doors.
“Do you think they’ll search our bags?”
“Yes,” Lily said.
“I don’t have one.”
“Then you won’t have a bag searched.”
“I know. I was just wondering.”
“You wonder aloud a lot,” Mary muttered.
Regulus tucked his hands into his pockets.
When they finally reached security, tickets were scanned one by one.
Sirius went through first.
James followed, then Peter and Remus.
Regulus tried to step forward, but Sirius held an arm across him until Lily, Mary, Marlene, Alice, Frank, Fabian and Gideon had gone through.
“You’re last.”
“Why?”
“So I know where you are.”
“You’re already through.”
“And I can see you.”
Regulus frowned.
The security guard waved him forward.
Regulus held very still while the scanner passed over him, then immediately held out his wrist when another guard reached for a band.
The man caught the strip between two fingers.
“You excited, mate?”
Regulus nodded rapidly.
“It’s my first concert.”
“First one?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve picked a quiet little evening for it.”
Regulus laughed.
The guard grinned as he wrapped the band around Regulus’s wrist.
Regulus watched with intense concentration.
“Not too tight,” the man said. “Need enough room to keep the hand attached.”
“I’d rather keep it.”
“Usually recommended.”
“Does it come off if it gets wet?”
“Planning on swimming?”
“No, but people throw drinks.”
“True.”
“And sometimes the singer sprays water into the crowd.”
“Also true.”
“And I don’t want it to rip because I’m keeping it.”
The guard glanced up, amused.
“Keeping the wristband?”
“It’s my first one.”
“Then we’d better make it perfect.”
He adjusted the strip carefully before fastening it.
Regulus beamed down at it.
“That all right?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“You know who you’re seeing tonight?”
Regulus looked delighted by the question.
“Yes. I’ve been listening to them since their first EP, but I’ve never seen them live because they didn’t come near us on the last tour, and before that I was too young, but I watched the recordings people uploaded and there’s this part during—”
Sirius’s hand closed around the back of his jacket.
“Come on.”
Regulus lurched backward.
“I was talking.”
“And now you’re not.”
The security guard lifted his eyebrows.
Regulus stumbled after Sirius.
“Bye,” he called over his shoulder.
“Have a good first show, mate.”
“I will!”
Sirius pulled him through the entrance.
Inside, noise swallowed them.
Music pounded from hidden speakers. People streamed through corridors and crowded around bars, food counters and merchandise stands. The air smelled of hot food, spilled drinks and the sharp electrical heat of equipment.
Regulus froze again.
His entire face lit.
“There’s the merch.”
“We’re not stopping yet,” Sirius said.
“I only want to look.”
“You can look later.”
“What if things sell out?”
“What if I don’t care?”
Regulus looked toward the merchandise stand anyway.
Black hoodies hung behind the counter. Shirts were pinned along the wall. Posters, patches, caps and wristbands filled the displays.
He took half a step toward it.
Sirius grabbed his shoulder.
“The floor is this way.”
“I know, but—”
“This way.”
The others followed the signs into the main hall.
They stepped through the doors and collectively stopped.
The stage rose ahead of them beneath a forest of lights. Amplifiers towered at either side. A drum kit sat on a platform at the back, its bass drum painted with a snarling mouth. Red banners hung above the stage, slashed with black lettering.
The support act had already finished, but recorded punk music thundered through the speakers while crew members moved across the stage.
The crowd stretched from the barricade to the back wall.
Leather jackets.
Ripped denim.
Studded belts.
Heavy boots.
Chains.
Dyed hair.
Smudged eyeliner.
Tour shirts layered over striped sleeves.
Sirius stared.
James stared.
Marlene’s mouth fell open.
“This is a rock concert,” she said.
Regulus glanced at her.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t say that.”
“I tried.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I asked if you’d listened to the album.”
“You didn’t say it was this.”
“What did you think it was?”
“Something terrible,” Peter said.
Regulus looked at him.
Peter gestured vaguely toward the stage.
“This is actually good.”
“You haven’t heard anything yet.”
“The look of it is good.”
Fabian grinned.
“All right. This might not be awful.”
“It won’t be awful,” Regulus said. “They’re brilliant live.”
Gideon looked at him.
“You’ve never seen them live.”
“I’ve watched recordings.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It does a bit.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Regulus frowned.
James was already moving closer to the crowd.
“Come on. We need to get near the front.”
Regulus followed instantly.
“You won’t get to the front now. People have been queuing since this afternoon, and the first few rows will already be—”
James stopped.
Regulus nearly walked into him.
“We know how concerts work.”
Regulus blinked.
“You didn’t know it was a rock concert.”
“That doesn’t mean we don’t know how they work.”
“But you don’t know the band.”
Sirius folded his arms.
“And?”
“So you don’t know where the best place is to stand.”
“The front.”
“Not always. It depends if you want to be near the pit, and the sound can be better a bit farther back because—”
“God,” Marlene said. “He really doesn’t stop.”
Regulus looked around at them.
“I’m only trying to help.”
“We don’t need help,” James said.
“I know this concert better than you.”
Peter laughed.
“You haven’t even been to a concert.”
“I know the band.”
“Same thing,” Gideon said.
“No, it isn’t.”
Sirius pointed toward the side of the hall.
“Go over there.”
Regulus stared at him.
“What?”
“Go.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re trying to have fun.”
“So am I.”
“Then have fun somewhere else.”
Regulus looked from Sirius to the others.
None of them disagreed.
Alice shifted awkwardly but said nothing.
Frank looked over Regulus’s head.
Lily’s expression was impatient.
Regulus’s fingers closed around the edge of his jacket.
“Mum and Dad said we had to stay together.”
“They said you had to stay with us,” Sirius replied. “They didn’t say you had to stand on top of us.”
“I’m not standing on top of you.”
“You’re annoying everyone.”
Regulus swallowed.
“I can be quiet.”
“You haven’t managed it yet,” Mary said.
“I will.”
“We don’t want you ruining the concert,” James told him.
Regulus’s face went still.
“I won’t ruin it.”
“You already are,” Sirius said. “Just go stand somewhere else. Don’t bother us.”
For a moment, Regulus did not move.
The music continued pounding around them. People pushed past on either side. A burst of feedback screamed from the stage, followed by cheers from the crowd.
Regulus looked toward the stage.
Then back at his brother.
“You said you had to keep an eye on me.”
“I can see you if you stay around this side.”
“There are loads of people.”
“You’re not five.”
“I know.”
“So go.”
Sirius turned away.
James clapped him on the shoulder and started talking about getting closer to the middle.
The others followed.
Regulus remained where he was as the group disappeared into the crowd.
For several seconds, he stood entirely still.
Then someone bumped his shoulder.
“Sorry, darling.”
Regulus looked up.
A woman in a patched denim jacket had turned back toward him. She was with three other adults, all wearing old tour shirts and black wristbands.
“You all right?” she asked.
Regulus nodded.
“Yes.”
She looked in the direction Sirius and the others had gone.
“With that lot?”
Regulus hesitated.
“My brother.”
“Ah.”
The single syllable carried a great deal.
A man beside her glanced down at Regulus’s wrist.
“First show?”
Regulus looked surprised.
“How do you know?”
“You’ve still got the wristband turned the right way.”
Regulus immediately looked at it.
“Is it supposed to be turned?”
“No.” The man smiled. “But it will be by the end.”
The woman looked at the empty space around Regulus.
“You standing alone?”
“My brother’s over there.”
“Can he see you?”
Regulus looked toward the crowd.
He could not see Sirius.
“Yes,” he lied.
The woman’s expression softened.
“We’re heading farther in. You can stand with us, if you like.”
Regulus glanced toward where the others had disappeared.
Then toward the stage.
“All right.”
“Come on, then.”
The four adults made space around him as they moved through the crowd.
One went ahead, one stayed behind, and the other two remained at either side of him so he did not get separated.
They stopped in a place with a clear view of the stage, close enough to feel the heat of the lights but far enough from the centre that the crowd was not crushing them.
Regulus stared upward.
“This is perfect.”
“Told you,” the woman said.
“The sound’s better here.”
“You know your stuff?”
Regulus nodded.
“I’ve watched lots of live recordings.”
“You know the songs?”
“All of them.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Even the first EP?”
“That’s my favourite.”
The man in the old tour shirt placed a hand over his heart.
“Good lad.”
Regulus laughed.
Behind them, the house lights went out.
The hall exploded.
The sound came from thousands of people at once, a roar so sudden and enormous that Regulus felt it strike through his chest.
He gasped.
Red light flooded the stage.
A distorted guitar screamed from the darkness.
The drummer appeared first, raising both sticks above his head before bringing them down in a violent crash.
The rest of the band ran out beneath the flashing lights.
Then the singer launched himself onto the stage.
Rory Vex was all black boots, ripped trousers, smeared eyeliner and restless limbs, his dark hair falling into his face as he seized the microphone stand and dragged it toward the edge of the stage.
“ARE YOU ALIVE?”
The crowd screamed.
Regulus screamed with them.
Rory cupped one hand to his ear.
“I SAID, ARE YOU FUCKING ALIVE?”
The response was deafening.
The first song detonated.
The stage lights flashed white and red. Guitars thundered. The bass shook through the floor. Rory sprinted from one side of the stage to the other, kicking at the air, dropping to his knees, leaning so far over the edge that security reached instinctively toward him.
Regulus knew every word.
He shouted until his voice cracked.
The adults around him shouted too, laughing whenever he bounced so hard that he almost left the floor.
The woman beside him caught his shoulder when the crowd surged.
“Steady.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise. Just don’t vanish.”
Regulus grinned.
Across the hall, Sirius and the others had found a place nearer the centre.
They were having fun.
They had not expected to.
None of them knew the opening song, but the energy of it was infectious. James jumped with the people around him. Fabian and Gideon shouted nonsense approximations of the chorus. Marlene threw one arm into the air. Sirius laughed as Peter was nearly knocked sideways by someone dancing.
“This is brilliant!” James yelled.
Sirius grinned.
“I told you it wouldn’t be terrible!”
“You said it would be awful!”
“I changed my mind!”
Rory sprinted to their side of the stage.
James shouted up at him.
The singer did not notice.
None of them noticed the looks they were getting from the people nearby.
They shouted over quiet parts.
They shoved forward between songs.
James complained loudly when someone blocked his view despite being in front of him first.
Fabian attempted to start a chant using the wrong words.
Sirius laughed at a fan crying during the beginning of a slower song.
A girl beside Lily turned and stared.
Lily glared back.
“What?”
The girl shook her head and faced the stage again.
“They’re weird,” Lily said.
Mary nodded.
“Very intense.”
“They’ve probably been following the band for years,” Remus said.
“So?” Marlene shouted. “It’s only music.”
A man in front of them glanced over his shoulder.
Sirius raised his eyebrows.
The man turned back around.
“Thought so,” Sirius said.
Meanwhile, Regulus had forgotten Sirius existed.
He had forgotten the train, the glaring, the empty seat and every failed attempt at conversation.
There was only the music.
There was only Rory racing across the stage in a sleeveless shirt, shouting about broken towns and angry children and the right to exist loudly.
There were only lights blazing against Regulus’s face and the crowd moving around him like a single living thing.
During the third song, Rory pointed the microphone toward the audience.
Regulus screamed the lyric with everyone else.
During the fourth, confetti cannons fired silver strips into the air.
Regulus caught one and immediately folded it carefully into his pocket.
During the fifth, the woman beside him passed him a bottle of water.
“Drink.”
“I’m fine.”
“Drink anyway.”
Regulus obeyed.
“Thank you.”
“You eaten?”
“Yes,” he lied.
She gave him a look.
Regulus pretended to be fascinated by the stage.
The concert rolled onward.
Song after song.
Rory spoke between them in bursts, breathless and rapid, pacing as he told the audience they belonged there, that the music was theirs, that no one got to tell them they were too loud or too strange or too much.
Regulus watched him without blinking.
At one point, Rory dropped flat onto his back in the middle of the stage and sang an entire verse toward the ceiling.
At another, he climbed onto the drum platform and leapt off as the chorus hit.
He was chaotic and affectionate and furious all at once, insulting the crowd one second and pressing both hands to his heart the next.
“You lot are fucking beautiful,” he shouted. “Look at you. Look at this. This is ours, yeah? No miserable bastard outside this room gets to touch it.”
The crowd roared.
Regulus’s throat hurt.
He kept shouting.
Near the centre, James had begun pretending he knew the words.
He sang loudly, getting almost every line wrong.
Peter copied him.
Remus knew enough about music to recognise that the band was good, but not enough about the songs to know when the tempo changed. He tried clapping during one transition and stopped when no one else joined him.
Sirius was sweating, laughing and entirely convinced the night had improved because Regulus was nowhere nearby.
“Best babysitting job ever!” he shouted at James.
James laughed.
“You’re not babysitting!”
“Exactly!”
They had not seen Regulus for more than an hour.
None of them looked.
The set moved into its middle section.
Rory changed shirts onstage by dragging the first one over his head and throwing it into the crowd. The audience fought over it.
Fabian stared.
“Imagine selling that.”
“It’d be worth loads,” Gideon said.
“I’d wear it.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“You’d wear it.”
“I’d sell it.”
Rory took a guitar from a stagehand and slung the strap over his shoulder.
He played the opening bars of a song.
The crowd recognised it immediately.
Regulus shouted in delight.
Rory stopped after the first few notes.
“Oh, no,” he said into the microphone. “No, no, no. I’ve done this one too many times.”
The crowd booed playfully.
Rory grinned.
“Fuck off.”
The booing became cheers.
He looked down at the guitar, then back toward the audience.
“I need somebody else.”
The noise rose.
Rory walked to the edge of the stage.
“Who here can play?”
Hundreds of hands shot into the air.
Sirius raised both of his.
James grabbed his arm and lifted it higher.
“You can’t play this!”
“I can play guitar!”
“You know three chords!”
“That’s enough!”
Rory prowled along the edge of the stage, pointing into different sections of the crowd.
“Not pretending, either. I mean properly play. You need to know the song. Don’t come up here and make me look like a prick.”
Sirius jumped.
“ME!”
James began pointing at him.
“HIM! THIS ONE!”
Peter joined in.
“SIRIUS!”
Rory was looking toward the opposite side.
Sirius pushed farther forward.
“I COULD DO IT!”
Remus grabbed the back of his jacket.
“You don’t know the song.”
“I’ll work it out.”
“Onstage?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t even know what key it’s in.”
“I know keys.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
Sirius ignored him.
“This could make me famous.”
Lily stared at him.
“For ruining a concert?”
“For being brilliant.”
“You don’t know the song.”
“I don’t need to.”
Across the hall, Regulus’s hand had gone up automatically.
Then he lowered it.
The woman beside him saw.
“You play?”
Regulus nodded.
“Do you know this one?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“I know all of it.”
The man in the old tour shirt looked at the others.
“Well, then.”
Before Regulus could protest, they began shouting.
“HERE!”
Regulus’s eyes widened.
The woman caught his wrist and lifted his arm.
“He can play!”
“No, don’t—”
“You said you know it.”
“I do, but—”
The adults around him started pointing.
People nearby noticed.
They joined in.
A small space opened around Regulus as hands turned toward him.
Rory looked over.
His eyes narrowed against the lights.
He pointed.
“You there?”
Regulus froze.
The camera swung through the crowd.
For one dizzying second, the huge screens beside the stage showed blurred faces and raised hands.
Then Regulus’s face filled both screens.
His mouth fell open.
The entire venue could see him.
Near the centre, Sirius stopped jumping.
James lowered his arm.
Peter stared at the screen.
“That’s Regulus.”
“No,” Sirius said.
“It is,” Alice replied.
The camera zoomed closer.
Regulus’s dark hair fell over his forehead. His eyes were wide. The woman beside him was pointing enthusiastically toward him.
Sirius looked toward the distant section of the crowd.
“What the fuck is he doing?”
Rory crouched at the edge of the stage, looking directly toward Regulus.
“You play guitar?”
Regulus nodded.
Rory held the microphone toward the audience.
“What?”
“Yes!” Regulus shouted.
The crowd carried his answer.
Rory grinned.
“You know this song?”
“Yes!”
“All of it?”
Regulus nodded again.
Rory laughed.
“Look at him. He’s terrified.”
Regulus shook his head immediately.
The crowd laughed.
Rory pointed at him.
“You’re not terrified?”
“No!”
“Get him up here, then!”
The hall erupted.
Sirius’s face went blank.
James looked horrified.
“He’s going onstage.”
“He’ll embarrass himself,” Mary said.
Marlene laughed sharply.
“Oh, this is going to be terrible.”
“He can’t play in front of all these people,” Sirius said.
Remus looked at him.
“Can he play?”
“He messes around at home.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“He’ll freeze,” Sirius insisted.
Security moved toward Regulus’s section.
The adults around him shouted with delight, pushing him gently through the space opening in the crowd.
Regulus stumbled forward.
His whole body seemed to have turned into nervous energy. He kept glancing at the stage, then at the people guiding him, then back at the stage.
A security guard reached over the barricade.
Regulus took his hand.
Another caught him under the arm.
Together they lifted him over.
The crowd cheered as his boots hit the floor on the other side.
Regulus looked back.
The woman in the denim jacket gave him two thumbs up.
“GO!”
Regulus grinned.
A crew member led him toward the side stairs.
Rory was waiting at the top.
Regulus climbed the first step too quickly and nearly tripped.
Rory caught his arm.
“Easy, mate.”
Regulus laughed breathlessly.
The camera followed them.
Sirius could see every second.
Rory pulled Regulus fully onto the stage and threw an arm around his shoulders.
Regulus looked tiny beside him.
The stage lights hit his face.
He stared out at the crowd.
Thousands of people stared back.
His expression shifted from shock to wonder.
Rory held the microphone between them.
“What’s your name?”
“Regulus.”
Rory blinked.
“What?”
“Regulus.”
Rory pulled back and looked at him.
“Your actual name?”
Regulus nodded.
Rory stared for another second.
“That is the most rock-star name I’ve ever heard in my life.”
The crowd cheered.
Regulus laughed, ducking his head.
“Regulus!” Rory shouted, turning back to the audience. “Fucking Regulus!”
The crowd began chanting it.
“REG-U-LUS! REG-U-LUS! REG-U-LUS!”
Sirius looked around in disbelief.
“They don’t even know him.”
James’s jaw was tight.
“This is ridiculous.”
Onstage, Regulus was still grinning.
Rory stepped back and lifted the guitar strap over his own head.
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
Rory stopped.
The crowd made a collective sound.
“Fourteen?”
Regulus nodded.
“First gig?”
“Yes.”
Rory pressed one hand against his chest.
“First gig, fourteen years old, and you’re coming onstage to steal my job.”
Regulus laughed again.
Rory held the guitar out.
“You sure you know this?”
“Yes.”
“No lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Because there are a lot of people watching.”
“I noticed.”
Rory barked a laugh.
“All right. Cocky little bastard.”
He helped settle the strap over Regulus’s shoulder.
The instrument looked enormous against him.
Regulus adjusted it immediately, one hand finding the neck, the other resting near the strings.
His nervousness changed shape.
It did not disappear.
It sharpened.
He looked down at the frets with sudden concentration.
Rory stepped beside him.
“Show me.”
Regulus glanced up.
“What part?”
Rory’s eyebrows rose.
“What part?”
“Yes.”
“The opening.”
Regulus nodded.
He shifted his fingers.
Sirius folded his arms.
“He’s going to mess it up.”
Remus watched the screen.
Regulus played.
The first notes rang cleanly through the venue.
Not hesitant.
Not approximate.
Exact.
The riff tore out through the amplifiers, loud and sharp and instantly recognisable.
The crowd exploded.
Rory’s entire face lit.
“FUCK YES!”
Regulus kept playing.
He reached the end of the opening passage, added the short transition that followed, then stopped cleanly.
Rory grabbed both sides of Regulus’s head and shouted directly into his hair.
“YOU KNOW IT!”
Regulus doubled over laughing.
Rory spun toward the band.
“He knows it!”
The guitarist behind them raised his fist.
The drummer struck the cymbals in approval.
Regulus straightened, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing.
Rory seized the microphone.
“You ready?”
Regulus nodded.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes!”
Rory turned toward the audience.
“IS HE READY?”
The crowd screamed.
The drummer counted them in.
The song began.
Regulus hit the opening perfectly.
The full band crashed in behind him.
For the first few seconds, Regulus stared only at the guitar.
Then Rory ran up beside him, singing the first verse with one hand wrapped around the microphone and the other thrown across Regulus’s shoulders.
Regulus looked up.
Rory grinned at him.
Regulus grinned back.
Something loosened.
He started moving.
Not much at first. A bounce through his knees. A quick step in time with the beat.
Then more.
He crossed toward the centre of the stage while playing, the guitar hanging against his narrow frame. He hit each chord cleanly, fingers moving with ease over the fretboard.
He knew the song.
He knew every pause, every shift, every change in rhythm.
Rory knew it too.
He kept glancing toward Regulus, visibly delighted each time the boy caught a transition without needing a cue.
At the first chorus, Rory pointed the microphone toward the crowd.
Regulus shouted the words without a microphone.
Rory saw.
During the next line, he swung the microphone toward him.
Regulus startled.
Then he leaned in and sang.
His voice burst through the speakers.
Young, roughened by shouting, but steady.
The crowd roared.
Rory laughed into the next lyric.
Regulus nearly missed a chord because he was laughing too, but recovered before the beat landed.
Near the centre of the hall, Sirius was no longer smiling.
James stood stiffly beside him.
Peter looked between the screen and Sirius.
“He’s actually good.”
Sirius glared at him.
“I can see that.”
“You said he only messed around.”
“I don’t watch him every second of the day.”
Remus’s eyes remained on the stage.
“He’s better than me.”
“No, he isn’t,” Sirius snapped.
Remus looked at him.
“He is.”
Fabian scoffed.
“It’s probably an easy song.”
“You don’t play guitar,” Remus said.
“I know music.”
“You were clapping in the wrong place earlier.”
“That was one time.”
Onstage, Regulus moved toward the drummer as the second verse began.
The bassist stepped beside him, leaning down to play close.
Regulus looked over and matched the rhythm.
The bassist laughed and nodded.
Rory sprinted back across the stage, skidding on his knees during the final line of the verse.
He sprang up in front of Regulus just before the chorus.
Regulus played the rising transition.
Rory shouted, “COME ON!”
The chorus hit.
Lights burst white above them.
The audience jumped.
Regulus jumped too.
He landed without losing the beat.
Rory grabbed his shoulder and sang beside him.
At the end of the chorus, Rory held the microphone toward Regulus again.
This time, Regulus did not hesitate.
He sang the line directly into it.
The crowd sang back.
The huge screens showed his face: flushed, grinning, hair falling into his eyes, entirely transformed beneath the lights.
He looked happy.
Not politely pleased.
Not quietly excited.
Happy in a way Sirius had not seen all evening.
Happy in a way none of the others had bothered to imagine him capable of being.
James folded his arms.
“He thinks he’s amazing now.”
“He is doing quite well,” Alice said quietly.
Marlene looked at her.
“Whose side are you on?”
Alice frowned.
“There aren’t sides.”
“There clearly are,” Mary said.
Sirius watched Rory crouch beside Regulus during the bridge.
The song dropped lower.
Regulus played alone for several bars.
The crowd clapped in time.
Rory pointed toward him, encouraging the audience to get louder.
Regulus’s fingers flew through the part.
Remus stared.
“That isn’t easy.”
Sirius’s jaw tightened.
“Can everyone stop talking about it?”
“You wanted to get onstage,” Peter said.
“I still could have.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I could have worked it out.”
“Not like that,” Remus replied.
The final chorus crashed into life.
Rory and Regulus stood side by side at the front of the stage.
Rory sang.
Regulus played.
The rest of the band thundered behind them.
At the final repeated line, Rory held the microphone between them.
Regulus sang every word with him.
The audience screamed the words back.
The song ended on one final violent chord.
Regulus struck it.
The drummer brought both sticks down.
The lights went dark.
For half a second, there was silence.
Then the hall erupted.
Regulus stood frozen in the sudden roar.
Rory threw both arms around him.
Regulus laughed into his shoulder.
Rory lifted his microphone.
“REGULUS!”
The crowd chanted again.
“REG-U-LUS! REG-U-LUS! REG-U-LUS!”
Regulus buried his face in one hand.
Rory grabbed his wrist and raised his arm above his head like he had won something.
Regulus shook his head, still laughing.
Rory leaned close.
“You were fucking brilliant.”
“Thank you.”
“No, seriously.”
Rory pointed toward the guitar.
“You actually play.”
Regulus nodded.
“I told you.”
“You did tell me.”
Rory pulled the strap over Regulus’s head and handed the guitar to a stagehand.
Then he turned back to Regulus.
“First concert.”
“Yes.”
“Good one?”
Regulus’s grin softened.
“The best.”
Rory’s expression changed for a moment.
He squeezed the back of Regulus’s neck.
“Good.”
Then he pointed toward the side stairs.
“Get back down there before I adopt you into the band and get arrested.”
Regulus laughed.
Rory walked him to the side of the stage.
Before Regulus disappeared down the stairs, Rory shouted his name again.
The crowd answered.
Regulus glanced back one final time and waved.
Security helped him over the barricade.
The four adults immediately surrounded him.
The woman in the denim jacket seized both his arms.
“You little liar!”
Regulus looked startled.
“What?”
“You said you could play.”
“I can.”
“You did not say you could do that.”
Regulus laughed.
The man in the old tour shirt slapped both hands onto Regulus’s shoulders.
“That was unbelievable.”
“I nearly missed the second chorus.”
“No one noticed.”
“I noticed.”
“You were onstage with Rory Vex!”
“I know.”
“You sang!”
“I know!”
“You played the whole song!”
“I know!”
Regulus was breathless again.
His hands shook.
The woman pulled him into a quick hug.
“You all right?”
Regulus nodded against her shoulder.
“Yes.”
“You look like you’re about to explode.”
“I might.”
“Try not to. It’ll ruin everyone’s shoes.”
Regulus laughed until he had to wipe his eyes.
The concert continued.
For the rest of it, strangers recognised him.
People clapped his shoulder.
Someone shouted, “Fucking Regulus!” between songs.
A girl asked for a photo with him.
Regulus stared at her.
“Why?”
“You were brilliant.”
“I’m not famous.”
“You are tonight.”
The adults laughed.
Regulus agreed to the photo.
By the encore, his voice was almost gone.
He sang anyway.
When the final song ended, Rory stood at the edge of the stage, drenched in sweat, staring out over the crowd.
“Look after each other,” he said. “Get home safe. Don’t leave anyone behind.”
Regulus clapped until his palms hurt.
The lights came up.
Reality returned gradually.
The crowd began to move toward the exits. People searched the floor for dropped belongings and gathered empty cups. The air felt colder without the stage lights burning.
The woman in the denim jacket touched Regulus’s shoulder.
“You need to find your brother?”
Regulus nodded.
“He’ll be near the food area, probably.”
“You know where you’re going?”
“Yes.”
“You certain?”
Regulus looked around.
The venue seemed different now that it was bright and emptying.
“Yes.”
The man in the old tour shirt held out the half-full water bottle.
“Take that.”
Regulus shook his head.
“It’s yours.”
“You need it more.”
“I’m getting food and a drink in a minute.”
“You sure?”
“My brother has the money.”
The adults exchanged a glance.
Regulus noticed.
“He does.”
“All right,” the woman said. “Keep your phone out. Don’t go outside alone.”
“I won’t.”
“And tell your brother he owes us a thank-you for keeping you alive.”
Regulus smiled.
“I will.”
“Good luck, rock star.”
Regulus’s face warmed.
He looked down.
“Thank you.”
They disappeared into the crowd.
Regulus stood alone for only a few seconds before another group recognised him and congratulated him.
He thanked them.
Then he began searching.
The others were no longer where he had last seen them.
Regulus moved carefully through the thinning crowd, looking between faces.
He checked near the main doors.
Nothing.
He checked beside the merchandise stand.
Nothing.
The queue there was still long.
Regulus slowed as he passed it.
Several hoodie designs hung behind the counter.
One was black with red writing down both sleeves. Another had the album cover across the back and the tour dates beneath it.
Regulus stopped.
He stared at the second one.
It was perfect.
He reached into his jacket for the small envelope.
His fingers found empty fabric.
He checked the other pocket.
Nothing.
Then he remembered.
Sirius had taken both envelopes earlier.
Regulus had handed him the merchandise money at the station because Sirius had said it would be safer if he kept everything together.
Regulus looked at the hoodie again.
Then toward the food area.
He had not eaten since before they left.
His stomach felt hollow.
His throat was dry despite the water.
He moved faster.
The food area was crowded with people buying chips, burgers and drinks before leaving.
Regulus spotted Fabian first.
He was leaning against a counter, eating chips from a cardboard tray.
Gideon stood beside him with a burger.
James was drinking something from a large cup.
The rest were gathered around two tables covered in wrappers, empty trays and bottles.
Sirius sat on the edge of one table, counting money.
Regulus hurried toward them.
“There you are.”
No one answered.
He reached the table.
His smile returned despite their expressions.
“Did you see?”
James took another drink.
“See what?”
Regulus stared at him.
“Me.”
“Oh,” James said. “That.”
“I played with Rory.”
“We noticed,” Mary replied.
Regulus looked at Sirius.
“He picked me out of the crowd.”
“I know.”
“And I played the whole song.”
“I was there.”
Regulus waited for something else.
Nothing came.
He swallowed.
“It was brilliant.”
“Good for you,” Marlene said.
Regulus’s smile faded slightly.
“He said I was really good.”
“Can we go?” Peter asked.
Regulus looked at the food covering the tables.
“You’ve eaten.”
“Yes,” Sirius said.
“Without me?”
“You weren’t here.”
“You told me to go away.”
“And you did.”
Regulus looked at the discarded wrappers.
A half-finished portion of chips sat near James.
“Can I have some?”
James picked up the tray and dropped it into the bin beside him.
“They’re cold.”
“I don’t mind.”
“They’re gone now.”
Regulus stared at the bin.
Then he looked back at Sirius.
“Can I have my money?”
Sirius folded the notes in his hand.
“What money?”
“My money.”
“You don’t have any.”
Regulus frowned.
“The money Mum and Dad gave us.”
“That was group money.”
“Yes. I need some for food.”
“There isn’t any left.”
Regulus’s face went blank.
“What?”
“We spent it.”
“All of it?”
“Not all of it.”
Sirius tucked the remaining notes into his own wallet.
Regulus watched.
“How much is left?”
“Enough.”
“For what?”
“To get home.”
Regulus relaxed slightly.
“All right. Can I have money for food first? I haven’t eaten.”
“No.”
Regulus stared at him.
“Sirius.”
“What?”
“I haven’t eaten or had a proper drink.”
“Not my problem.”
“Mum said—”
“Mum says lots of things.”
“She gave you money for all of us.”
“And we used it.”
“For all of you.”
“We were hungry.”
“So am I.”
Sirius shrugged.
Regulus looked around the group.
Every one of them had food or had already eaten.
Alice lowered her eyes.
Frank wiped his hands on a napkin.
Remus stood with his arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Regulus looked back at Sirius.
“What about my extra money?”
“What extra money?”
“For merchandise.”
Sirius did not answer immediately.
Regulus’s stomach dropped.
“You spent that too?”
“You weren’t using it.”
“I was going to.”
“You were busy.”
“I was onstage for one song.”
“And then we were hungry.”
“That was mine.”
Sirius rolled his eyes.
“It’s all money.”
“No, it wasn’t. Mum gave it to me.”
“And I was holding it.”
“To keep it safe.”
“It paid for food.”
Regulus stared at him.
“I wanted a hoodie.”
“You don’t need one.”
“It was for my first concert.”
“You’ve got the wristband.”
Regulus’s fingers curled around the band instinctively.
“That isn’t the same.”
“You’ll survive.”
Regulus looked toward the merchandise stand.
The black hoodie with red sleeves was still hanging there.
His voice came out quieter.
“I really wanted one.”
“Then you should’ve bought it before disappearing.”
“You sent me away.”
Sirius’s expression hardened.
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything.”
“You are.”
“I only want the money that was mine.”
“It’s gone.”
Regulus’s eyes stung.
He blinked hard.
“Can I at least have something to eat?”
“No.”
“A drink?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because we only have enough left to get home.”
Regulus looked at the wallet Sirius had tucked away.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“For twelve tickets?”
Sirius paused.
The silence changed.
Regulus slowly looked around the group.
James stopped drinking.
Peter glanced at the floor.
Remus’s jaw tightened.
Regulus counted faces automatically.
Sirius.
James.
Peter.
Remus.
Lily.
Mary.
Marlene.
Alice.
Frank.
Fabian.
Gideon.
Eleven.
His eyes returned to Sirius.
“You have enough for twelve people to get home.”
Sirius said nothing.
Regulus’s heartbeat began to thud harder.
“Sirius.”
“We’re leaving.”
Sirius stepped away from the table.
The others gathered their things.
Regulus moved with them instinctively.
They walked toward the exit.
Regulus followed.
Sirius stopped so suddenly that Regulus almost collided with his back.
He turned around.
“What are you doing?”
Regulus blinked.
“Going home.”
“No.”
Regulus waited.
Sirius stared at him.
“No, what?”
“You’re not coming with us.”
Regulus laughed once, confused.
“What?”
“We only have enough money for the eleven of us.”
Regulus did not seem to understand.
He looked around as though someone else might explain.
No one did.
“But there are twelve of us.”
“We know.”
“So—”
“So you don’t have any money.”
“You spent it.”
“Yes.”
“You spent my travel money.”
“We spent the group money.”
“It was for all of us.”
“And now there’s only enough for us.”
Regulus’s face drained of colour.
“You said there was enough to get home.”
“There is.”
“For you.”
“For us.”
Regulus looked at Sirius.
“I’m part of us.”
Sirius’s expression did not change.
“No, you’re not.”
The venue continued emptying around them.
Staff moved between abandoned tables, clearing rubbish. The merchandise queue had shortened. Music still played through the speakers, but it was lower now, distant beneath the sound of hundreds of conversations.
Regulus stared at his brother.
“You have to take me home.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“Mum and Dad said—”
“They’re not here.”
“You promised.”
“I said we’d stay together. You left.”
“You told me to leave.”
“You didn’t have to go that far.”
“I stayed in the same room.”
“We couldn’t see you.”
“You didn’t look.”
Sirius stepped closer.
“Don’t blame me because you wandered off.”
Regulus’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
James shifted impatiently.
“We’re going to miss the train.”
Regulus turned toward him.
“You knew?”
James frowned.
“Knew what?”
“That there wasn’t enough money for me.”
No one answered.
Regulus looked at Lily.
“You knew?”
Lily crossed her arms.
“You should have stayed with the group.”
“You told me to go away.”
“We didn’t tell you to disappear completely.”
“I didn’t disappear. I was near the side.”
Mary sighed.
“Can we not do this here?”
Regulus stared at her.
“Do what?”
“Make a scene.”
“I’m not making a scene.”
His voice cracked.
Marlene grimaced.
“Lower your voice, then.”
“I’m not shouting.”
People passing nearby had begun to glance over.
Sirius noticed.
His expression sharpened.
“We’re not babysitting you all night.”
“You’re supposed to.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re my brother.”
“So?”
Regulus flinched.
Sirius looked away first.
Frank cleared his throat.
“Maybe he could call someone.”
Regulus reached for his phone automatically.
The battery symbol glowed red in the corner.
Four percent.
He looked at Sirius again.
“I don’t know where we are.”
“You know the city.”
“I know the name of it.”
“Use a map.”
“My phone’s nearly dead.”
“Not our problem,” Gideon said.
Regulus stared at him.
Fabian shoved the last of his chips into his mouth.
“There’ll be staff around.”
“They’re closing,” Regulus said.
“Then ask quickly.”
Regulus looked from face to face.
He seemed to be searching for the moment one of them would laugh and reveal it was a joke.
Peter avoided his eyes.
Alice pressed her lips together.
Remus stared toward the doors.
Regulus looked at Sirius once more.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Sirius shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Find your own way home.”
“I don’t have money.”
“Then call someone.”
“Who?”
“Our parents.”
“They think I’m with you.”
“Tell them you’re not.”
“They’ll ask why.”
“Make something up.”
Regulus’s eyes widened.
“You want me to lie?”
“I don’t care what you do.”
“Sirius.”
“We’re leaving.”
Regulus reached for his sleeve.
Sirius jerked away.
“Don’t.”
“Please.”
The word was quiet.
Sirius looked at him.
Regulus’s excitement was gone.
Every trace of it.
He no longer looked like the boy who had bounced beside the front door. He no longer looked like the boy who had grinned at the security guard or stood beneath the stage lights with a guitar in his hands while thousands of people shouted his name.
He looked fourteen.
Only fourteen.
Small beneath the harsh venue lights, with an almost-dead phone, an empty stomach and a wristband carefully fastened around his wrist.
“I don’t know how to get home,” he said.
Sirius glanced toward the exit.
“You’ll work it out.”
“What if I can’t?”
“You can.”
“But what if—”
“Sirius,” James said. “Train.”
Sirius nodded.
He turned away.
Regulus followed one step.
Sirius spun back around.
“Stop following us.”
Regulus halted.
“You can’t leave me here.”
“We just told you we can.”
“You’re actually leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“In another city?”
“Yes, Regulus.”
The name came out with exhausted irritation.
As though Regulus were being difficult.
As though he had created the problem by still standing there.
Regulus looked toward the doors.
Then at the food counters closing one by one.
Then at the merchandise stand, where a member of staff was already taking down one of the hoodie displays.
He looked back at Sirius.
“Mum gave you enough.”
“And now it’s gone.”
“That was my money.”
“I know.”
“I haven’t eaten.”
“I know.”
“I’m thirsty.”
“I know.”
“My phone’s dying.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know where the station is.”
“You found the venue.”
“With you.”
“Use the signs.”
“It’s dark.”
“There are streetlights.”
Regulus stood absolutely still.
Sirius stared at him for one final second.
Then he turned away.
James went with him.
Peter followed James.
Remus followed Peter.
Lily, Mary and Marlene fell into step behind them.
Alice and Frank went next.
Fabian and Gideon brought up the rear, still talking quietly to each other as though nothing had happened.
Regulus watched all eleven of them walk toward the doors.
No one turned around.
Not Sirius.
Not James.
Not Alice.
Not Remus.
No one.
The doors opened.
Cold night air swept briefly into the venue.
Then the group passed through.
The doors swung shut behind them.
Regulus remained beside the abandoned tables.
For several seconds, he did not move.
His ears were still ringing from the concert.
The fading echo made the emptying venue feel strangely unreal, as though the music had never properly stopped, as though some part of the crowd was still roaring just beyond the walls.
Less than an hour earlier, thousands of people had shouted his name.
Now no one said it.
A worker pulled a rubbish bag from a bin and tied it closed.
Another stacked chairs.
The lights above the merchandise stand went dark.
Regulus looked down at his wrist.
The band was still perfectly fastened.
The security guard had made sure of that.
Regulus turned it slowly around with his fingers.
His phone buzzed once in his pocket.
He pulled it out.
Three percent.
No new message.
No missed call.
He opened the map, but the screen dimmed almost immediately. A route appeared in thin blue lines, twisting through unfamiliar streets toward a station he did not recognise.
He stared at it.
The route required a train ticket.
He had no money.
The food counter behind him shut its metal screen.
Regulus looked up at the sound.
The last few concertgoers were leaving now. Small groups disappeared through the doors, still laughing, still singing fragments of songs, still carrying bags of merchandise and unfinished drinks.
Regulus stood among the wrappers and empty tables with nothing in his hands.
No food.
No drink.
No hoodie.
No ticket.
No brother.
His phone dropped to two percent.
He turned toward the closed doors.
Beyond them waited a city he did not know.
Behind him, the venue was shutting down.
Regulus swallowed.
Then the screen in his hand went black.
Regulus did not move.
The doors had shut.
His phone had gone black.
The venue lights were painfully bright now, stripping away every trace of the warm red glow that had filled the room during the concert. Without the band onstage and the crowd pressed together beneath the lights, the place looked enormous and empty, its floor scattered with crushed cups, torn wristbands and scraps of silver confetti.
Regulus stood in the middle of it with his dead phone clutched in both hands.
He stared at the blank screen.
Pressed the button.
Nothing.
Pressed it again.
Still nothing.
His reflection hovered faintly in the glass.
For one helpless moment, he thought perhaps he could find a charger somewhere. Then he remembered he did not have one. He had not brought a bag. Sirius had said he would not need anything because they would only be out for the evening and he could keep whatever mattered in his pockets.
Regulus looked towards the doors again.
Maybe Sirius would come back.
Maybe he had only gone outside to frighten him.
Maybe James or Remus or Alice would say something once they reached the street. Maybe one of them would realise that it was not funny anymore. Maybe they would turn around before they reached the station.
Regulus waited.
A minute passed.
Then another.
The doors remained closed.
No one came back through them.
He tried to think.
He needed to call his parents.
His phone was dead.
He could ask to borrow someone else’s, but he did not know either of their numbers. Their contacts were saved beneath Mum and Dad. He had never needed to type the numbers himself. He could remember parts of them, perhaps, but the digits slid apart whenever he tried to arrange them.
His mother’s began with a seven.
Or perhaps that was his father’s.
There had been two fours somewhere.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Nothing came.
He could get to the station.
He did not know where it was.
He could follow the map.
The map was on his dead phone.
Even if he found the station, he could not buy a ticket.
He had no money.
He could try walking home.
He did not know how far away home was from this city, only that the train journey had taken long enough that Orion had worried about Regulus coming at all.
Regulus’s breathing became faster.
He looked around the venue.
The last few people were leaving.
A pair of cleaners pushed wide brooms along the floor. Somewhere behind the closed food stalls, metal trays clattered. Staff members in black shirts walked between sections, checking beneath seats and collecting abandoned belongings.
No one was looking at him.
Regulus had the sudden, irrational thought that if everyone finished cleaning before he worked out what to do, they would turn off the lights and lock him inside.
His chest tightened.
He stepped towards the nearest doors.
Then stopped.
Outside was worse.
The streets would be dark now.
The crowds would be thinning.
He did not know which direction led to the station or which train he needed. He did not know whether the station would stay open all night. He did not know what happened if someone without money tried to get onto a train. He did not know if he would be arrested or thrown out or simply left standing there too.
His phone remained lifeless in his hand.
Regulus pressed the button again.
Nothing.
“Come on,” he whispered.
He held the button down.
“Please.”
The screen did not light.
Regulus’s fingers began to shake.
He slid the phone into one pocket, immediately pulled it back out, then put it into the other as though changing pockets might somehow give it power.
His eyes burned.
He looked at the doors again.
Sirius was not coming back.
He had left him.
He had taken Regulus’s food money.
His drink money.
His travel money.
The extra money Walburga had given him for something to remember his first concert by.
Then Sirius had looked directly at him and walked away.
Regulus’s breathing caught painfully in his throat.
“Mum,” he whispered.
She did not hear him.
She was in another city.
She thought he was with Sirius.
She thought he had eaten.
She thought her eldest son was taking her youngest home.
Regulus wrapped both arms around himself.
A cleaner walked past several metres away.
Regulus nearly called out.
His voice did not work.
He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. His throat hurt from singing and shouting. His stomach cramped sharply enough to make him bend forward for a second.
He had eaten before leaving home, but that had been hours ago. He had refused to eat much because he had been too excited, and he had been sure there would be food at the venue.
Walburga had given Sirius more than enough.
There had been enough.
There should still have been enough.
Regulus looked down at his wristband.
The security guard had fastened it carefully.
Perfect for his first show.
Regulus twisted it around his wrist, then twisted it back again.
His fingers slipped.
His vision blurred.
He blinked hard.
“No,” he muttered.
Crying would not help.
He needed to think.
He was fourteen, not four.
That was what Sirius always said.
He was not a baby.
He could work this out.
He could—
His breath hitched.
He could not.
He did not know what to do.
He did not know how to get home.
He did not know anyone in this city.
His friends were all at home, probably waiting for him to tell them about the concert. Barty had made him promise to send photographs. Pandora had demanded a full description of the lighting equipment. Evan had asked him to record his favourite song if he could. Dorcas had told him to buy the largest hoodie available and wear it to school even if it reached his knees.
They thought he was having the best night of his life.
They did not know he had been left behind.
Regulus pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
A broken sound escaped him.
He tried to bite it back.
Another followed.
Then another.
The panic came all at once.
It flooded his chest and caught beneath his ribs, turning each breath shallow and useless. His hands went numb. The room seemed to stretch away from him, the doors impossibly distant, the ceiling too high, the lights too bright.
Regulus took one unsteady step backwards.
His heel struck an abandoned cup.
It cracked beneath his boot.
He flinched violently.
A member of security near the side doors looked over.
The man had been speaking to another guard while checking the cleared sections. He paused, peering across the floor.
Regulus did not notice.
He was staring at his dead phone again.
He held the button.
Pressed it.
Held it longer.
“No, no, no.”
The first security guard said something quietly to his colleague.
Both men looked towards Regulus.
The second guard frowned.
“Is that kid still here?”
“Looks like it.”
“Thought he was with that group.”
“What group?”
“The lot that came in together. Older teenagers.”
The first man straightened.
Regulus was standing alone now, visibly trembling, with tears streaking down his face.
The two guards began walking towards him.
Regulus noticed their boots first.
He looked up sharply.
One of the guards raised both hands slightly, keeping his posture relaxed.
“All right, mate?”
Regulus stared at him.
The other man looked around.
“Where’s your group?”
That was enough.
Regulus’s face crumpled.
The phone slipped from his fingers and struck the floor.
“I don’t know.”
His voice broke so badly that the words were almost incomprehensible.
Both guards stopped.
“Hey,” the first one said quickly. “It’s all right. You’re all right.”
Regulus shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
The second guard bent to pick up the phone.
“It’s dead,” Regulus gasped. “It’s dead, and I can’t—I don’t know—I don’t know what to do.”
“Okay. That’s okay. We’ll sort something out.”
The guard held the phone out, but Regulus’s hands were shaking too violently to take it properly. The man caught it before it fell again.
“What’s your name?”
“Regulus.”
“Regulus,” the first guard repeated gently. “All right. How old are you?”
Regulus’s breath caught.
“Fourteen.”
The two men exchanged a look.
The first guard’s expression changed immediately.
“Fourteen?”
Regulus nodded.
“Who did you come here with?”
“My brother.”
“Where is he?”
Regulus tried to answer.
His mouth opened, but the word would not come.
The security guard crouched slightly so that he was no longer towering over him.
“Regulus, where’s your brother?”
“He left.”
The answer dissolved into a sob.
“He left me.”
The guard’s face went still.
“What do you mean, he left you?”
“He went home.”
“Without you?”
Regulus nodded frantically.
“He said—he said they didn’t have enough money, but they did. They did have enough. Mum gave him enough for everyone, but he spent mine, and he said there was only enough for them, and they all left.”
The second guard stared at him.
“All of them?”
“There were eleven of them.”
“Eleven people left a fourteen-year-old here?”
Regulus wrapped his arms around himself again.
“They don’t like me.”
The first guard lowered his voice.
“Who doesn’t?”
“My brother’s friends. They’ve never liked me. They don’t know me, but they don’t like me. They ignored me all day and told me to go away, and then they spent all the money.”
His speech came faster as the panic tore the words from him.
“They took my food money and my drink money, and I didn’t eat anything, and they took the extra money for the hoodie too. My mum gave me extra because it was my first concert and I wanted a hoodie, but Sirius had it because he said it would be safer, and then he spent it, and I asked for food and he said no.”
The first guard’s eyes widened.
“You haven’t eaten?”
Regulus shook his head.
“Not here.”
“Have you had anything to drink?”
“A little water. Someone gave me some during the concert, but I don’t know them. They were nice. They helped me get to the stage.”
The second guard looked at his colleague.
Regulus dragged in a breath that turned into another sob.
“I want to go home.”
“We’ll get you home.”
“I don’t know how.”
“We’ll help you.”
“I don’t know where the station is, and I don’t have any money, and my phone’s dead, and I don’t know Mum’s number.”
“That’s all right.”
“I should know it.”
“You don’t have to know it.”
“I do. I should. I’m sorry.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Regulus—”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do.”
His knees buckled.
The guard reached for him before he could fall.
Regulus caught a fistful of the man’s sleeve and began sobbing in earnest.
The sound tore out of him, loud and broken.
“I want my mum.”
“I know.”
“I want my dad.”
“We’re going to find them.”
“I want to go home.”
“We’ll get you there.”
“My brother hates me.”
The guard’s hand hovered uncertainly near his shoulder before settling there.
“Did he say that?”
“He always has. He’s always mean to me. He doesn’t want me around him. He told me I didn’t count, and he told me to go away, and then he left me here.”
Regulus’s voice rose into a wail.
“He knew I didn’t have money. He knew I didn’t know how to get home. I told him I didn’t know, and he left anyway.”
Both guards looked horrified now.
The second man lifted his radio.
“I need a supervisor on the main floor.”
His colleague looked up sharply.
“And get somebody from welfare.”
The radio crackled.
The second guard turned away slightly to speak into it, keeping his voice low.
Regulus clung to the first man’s sleeve as though he might disappear too.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologising, mate.”
“I’m being annoying.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m crying.”
“You’re allowed to cry.”
“I’m making noise.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It does. Sirius gets angry when I make noise.”
The guard’s jaw tightened.
“No one here is angry with you.”
Regulus shook his head, breathing hard.
“I was supposed to stay with him.”
“You said he told you to go away.”
“Yes.”
“Then this isn’t your fault.”
“But Mum and Dad told us to stay together.”
“That was your brother’s responsibility too.”
“He’s seventeen.”
The guard glanced at the other man.
“Right.”
“They said he had to keep an eye on me.”
“And instead he went home.”
Regulus nodded.
The guard muttered something under his breath that Regulus could not hear.
Another member of staff hurried over, a woman wearing a venue lanyard and carrying a radio.
“What’s happened?”
The second guard stepped aside with her.
The conversation was quiet, but Regulus heard fragments.
“Fourteen.”
“Brother left him.”
“No money.”
“Phone dead.”
“Hasn’t eaten.”
The woman’s face shifted from confusion to shock.
She looked at Regulus.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Regulus cried harder.
The security guard guided him carefully towards one of the remaining benches.
“Come and sit down.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything right now.”
“I need to get home.”
“We are going to work that out.”
“What if I can’t?”
“You will.”
“What if Mum and Dad don’t know where I am?”
“We’ll contact them.”
“I don’t know their numbers.”
“We’ll find another way.”
“How?”
The staff members exchanged uncertain looks.
Regulus saw them.
His panic immediately surged.
“You don’t know either.”
“We’re thinking,” the woman said quickly. “That’s all. We’re going to find a way.”
“My phone won’t turn on.”
“We can charge it.”
“Where?”
“Back here somewhere. We’ll find a charger.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“Then we’ll do something else.”
“What?”
No one answered quickly enough.
Regulus folded forward, pressing both hands to his face.
“I want my mum.”
The sound became a broken chant between sobs.
“I want my mum. I want my mum. I want my mum.”
The woman sat beside him.
“I know, darling.”
“I want to go home.”
“I know.”
“Please.”
“We’re helping you.”
“Please, I want to go home.”
His crying echoed through the nearly empty hall.
Somewhere beyond the main room, a door opened.
Footsteps approached from the corridor leading backstage.
A man in a sleeveless shirt came around the corner carrying a towel around his neck.
It was the drummer.
His hair was still damp with sweat from the performance, and he had changed out of his stage jacket but still wore the same black jeans and boots.
He slowed at the sound of Regulus crying.
“What’s all that noise?”
The staff woman glanced up.
The drummer peered towards the bench.
“Come on,” he called lightly. “You can’t be sad at a concert. That’s against the rules.”
Regulus did not look up.
He was too busy gasping for breath between sobs.
The drummer walked closer.
“What happened?”
The first security guard rose.
The drummer’s expression altered when he caught sight of Regulus’s face.
Then recognition struck.
“Wait.”
He looked closer.
“That’s the guitar kid.”
The staff woman nodded grimly.
The drummer stepped forward.
“Regulus?”
Regulus did not react to his name.
His face remained buried in his hands.
The drummer looked at the guards.
“What happened to him?”
The second guard moved him a few steps away.
“He’s fourteen. Came with his brother and ten of the brother’s friends. They’ve gone home without him.”
The drummer stared.
“What?”
“They spent the money his parents gave them for his food, drinks, transport and merchandise. Left only enough for themselves to get home.”
The drummer’s mouth fell open.
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I was.”
“He hasn’t eaten. His phone’s dead, he doesn’t know his parents’ numbers, and he has no idea how to get home.”
The drummer looked back at Regulus.
The boy was rocking slightly now, shoulders jerking with every sob.
“They just fucking left him?”
“That’s what he says.”
“Fourteen?”
“Fourteen.”
The drummer’s face hardened.
“Jesus Christ.”
He turned abruptly and ran back towards the backstage corridor.
The security guard watched him go.
“Where’s he going?”
The staff woman shook her head.
“No idea.”
Regulus continued crying.
The woman tried to pass him a tissue.
His hands shook so badly that she had to help him hold it.
“Can you try taking a slower breath for me?”
“I can’t.”
“You can. Just a little one.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re doing it now.”
“It hurts.”
“I know.”
“I feel sick.”
“That might be because you haven’t eaten.”
“I don’t want to be sick.”
“You’re not going to be in trouble if you are.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Okay. You don’t have to.”
Regulus pressed the tissue beneath his nose.
His whole face was wet. Tears had soaked the collar of his jacket. His eyeliner had smudged beneath his eyes, and his cheeks were blotched red.
The backstage doors opened again.
This time several people came through at once.
The drummer was first.
Rory Vex was directly behind him.
The rest of the band followed: the bassist, Noah Pike; the lead guitarist, Mina Hart; and the rhythm guitarist, Callum Vale. All four looked as though they had been dragged away in the middle of changing and cleaning up. Rory wore a loose black shirt and trousers, with a towel still hanging around his shoulders. Mina had one boot on and was carrying the other in her hand. Noah’s hair was half tied back. Callum still had streaks of stage makeup across one cheek.
They all rushed across the floor.
Rory saw Regulus and stopped dead.
“Oh, no.”
The drummer pointed towards him.
“That’s him.”
“I know that’s him.”
“No, I mean that’s the kid they left.”
Rory’s face twisted in disbelief.
“What?”
“They left him here.”
Rory strode forward.
The venue staff rose slightly, but the drummer had already explained what had happened.
Rory crouched in front of Regulus.
“Regulus.”
Regulus did not lift his head.
Rory looked up at the staff woman.
“How long’s he been like this?”
“We only found him a few minutes ago.”
“Has anyone got him anything?”
“We were trying to work out—”
“He hasn’t eaten,” the drummer said.
Rory stared.
“He hasn’t eaten at all?”
“Not since before he came,” the guard answered. “His brother spent the money.”
Rory swore.
Mina set her boot on the floor and knelt beside the bench.
“Can he hear us?”
Regulus’s shoulders hitched.
The woman beside him touched his arm.
“Regulus, the band are here.”
He shook his head as though the words did not make sense.
Rory leaned closer.
“Hey. It’s Rory.”
Regulus lifted his face.
His eyes were swollen and unfocused.
For a moment, he only stared.
Then his mouth trembled.
“I’m sorry.”
Rory’s expression broke.
“What are you apologising to me for?”
“I’m crying.”
“So?”
“I ruined it.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.”
“I’m being loud.”
“You were louder when you sang with me.”
Regulus let out a cracked sound that was almost a laugh and immediately turned into another sob.
Rory reached carefully for his hands.
“Can I hold those?”
Regulus looked down at their joined hands.
Rory’s fingers were warm.
“You’re freezing,” Rory said.
Regulus’s voice was barely there.
“I want my mum.”
“I know.”
“I want to go home.”
“We’re going to get you home.”
“I don’t know how.”
“You don’t need to know. There are about twelve adults around you now. One of us will work it out.”
The drummer glanced at the others.
“I count nine.”
Rory looked at him.
“Not the time, Wes.”
“I was trying to lighten it.”
“Go find food.”
Wes nodded immediately.
“Right.”
Noah pointed towards the closed concessions.
“They’ve shut.”
“Backstage catering,” Mina said. “There’s still food.”
“I’ll get it.”
“I’m coming.”
Noah and Mina hurried towards the backstage corridor.
Callum followed them for two steps, then turned back.
“Hot food?”
“Yes,” Rory said.
“How much?”
“All of it.”
Callum nodded and ran after them.
Rory stayed crouched in front of Regulus.
The drummer, Wes, sat on the floor beside the bench.
“Do you like hot dogs?”
Regulus looked at him through tears.
“Yes.”
“Burgers?”
A tiny nod.
“Chips?”
Another nod.
“Good. We’ve got a menu.”
“I don’t have money.”
Every adult within hearing distance went still.
Rory’s grip tightened around his hands.
“You do not need money.”
“But I can’t—”
“You’re not paying for anything.”
“I don’t want to steal.”
“You’re not stealing. We’re giving it to you.”
Regulus swallowed.
“My brother said there wasn’t enough.”
“Well, your brother’s not in charge here.”
“He took it.”
“I know.”
“He took the hoodie money too.”
Rory’s eyebrows pulled together.
“What hoodie money?”
Regulus’s lower lip shook again.
“My mum gave me extra. For merch. Because it was my first concert. I wanted the black hoodie with the red writing on the sleeves, but Sirius spent it on food for himself and his friends.”
The drummer stared at Rory.
Rory’s face went completely blank.
“He spent your merchandise money?”
Regulus nodded.
“And your food money.”
Another nod.
“And then left you here.”
Regulus began crying again.
Rory turned his head slowly towards the drummer.
Wes muttered, “I’m going to commit a crime.”
“Later,” Rory said.
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
Regulus wiped at his face with the damp tissue.
“I really wanted the hoodie.”
Rory looked back at him.
“Which one?”
“The black one.”
“They’re all black.”
“It had red writing on the sleeves. And the tour dates on the back.”
Rory nodded gravely.
“Good choice.”
“It was sold out online.”
“You know that?”
“I checked.”
“Course you did.”
Regulus sniffed.
“They took it down already.”
Rory glanced towards the closed merchandise stall.
“Forget the stall.”
Regulus stared at him.
Rory squeezed his fingers once.
“We’ve got you.”
The food arrived in waves.
Noah returned first carrying two foil-wrapped hot dogs balanced along one arm and a paper tray piled with chips in the other hand.
Mina followed with two burgers, several packets of crisps, napkins and small tubs of sauce.
Callum came behind them holding bottles of water, fruit juice, fizzy drinks and a mug of something steaming.
“We didn’t know what he wanted,” Noah said.
“So you brought the building?” Wes asked.
“There’s more coming.”
Regulus stared at the food.
Rory shifted aside so they could place it on the bench.
“Pick something.”
“I can’t eat all that.”
“No one said you had to.”
“I don’t know.”
“Hot dog first,” Wes suggested. “You said you liked them.”
Regulus looked at the wrapped food.
Mina opened one and held it out.
“Plain. You can add sauce.”
Regulus took it carefully.
His hands were still trembling.
Rory helped guide the wrapper so it would not spill.
“Small bites,” Mina said. “You’ve been crying.”
Regulus bit into it.
Everyone watched him.
He stopped chewing.
Wes immediately looked away.
“Right, everyone stop staring at him.”
“I wasn’t staring,” Callum said.
“You absolutely were.”
“I was checking if he liked it.”
Regulus swallowed.
“It’s good.”
Callum looked vindicated.
“He likes it.”
“Still staring,” Wes said.
Regulus took another bite.
The warmth seemed to bring his body back to him little by little. His shivering eased. His breathing remained uneven, but the sobs became less constant.
Rory opened the bottle of water and passed it over.
“Drink slowly.”
Regulus obeyed.
Noah crouched nearby.
“Do you want chips?”
Regulus nodded.
Noah placed the tray beside him.
Mina pushed the sauces closer.
“Ketchup?”
“Yes, please.”
She opened the packet for him.
Regulus whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No more apologising,” Rory said.
Regulus looked at him uncertainly.
“I can’t help it.”
“Then every time you apologise, Wes has to do ten press-ups.”
The drummer sat upright.
“Why me?”
“Motivation.”
“That’s cruel.”
Regulus’s mouth twitched.
Rory saw it.
“There. Better.”
Wes pointed at Regulus.
“Please don’t apologise. I’m exhausted.”
A fragile laugh escaped him.
It was small and wet and unsteady, but it was a laugh.
Rory smiled.
“Good lad.”
Regulus ate the whole hot dog.
Then some chips.
Then half a burger after insisting he was too full and being told he could stop whenever he wanted. He drank water, then a little juice. The hot drink turned out to be chocolate, which he held between both palms even when he was not drinking it.
While he ate, the venue staff tried to decide what came next.
“We need his parents,” the woman said.
“His phone needs charging,” one of the guards replied. “We found a cable.”
“Where?”
“Backstage office.”
“Bring him back there,” Rory said. “He shouldn’t be sitting in the middle of the venue.”
The staff woman hesitated.
Rory looked at her.
“He’s fourteen, upset and surrounded by people he doesn’t know. We’re not taking him out of the building. You can come with us.”
She nodded.
“Fine.”
Regulus’s eyes widened when they told him they were moving.
“Where?”
“Backstage,” Rory said.
“Why?”
“It’s warmer. There are sofas. Your phone can charge.”
“You’re not making me leave?”
“No.”
“You’re not sending me outside?”
“Absolutely not.”
Regulus looked towards the main doors.
“They might come back.”
The silence lasted half a beat too long.
Rory kept his voice gentle.
“Your brother?”
Regulus nodded.
“Do you want to wait here in case he does?”
Regulus looked at the empty floor.
Then at the doors.
Then down at his food.
“No.”
“All right.”
“He won’t.”
Rory did not contradict him.
Regulus was escorted backstage with the entire band around him and three members of venue staff following behind.
He clutched the unfinished hot chocolate in one hand and the dead phone in the other until the guard reminded him that the phone needed charging.
The room backstage was warm and cluttered.
Half-open bags covered the floor. Towels hung over chairs. Bottles of water stood on tables beside makeup wipes, spare strings, cables and pieces of equipment. A long grey sofa ran along one wall, with two armchairs opposite it and a low table between them.
Photographs and stickers covered one side of the room.
Regulus stopped in the doorway.
Rory glanced back.
“All right?”
“This is your room.”
“Temporarily.”
“I’m backstage.”
“You’ve been backstage for nearly a full minute.”
Regulus looked around again.
His eyes were still red, but wonder had begun to creep through the panic.
“You all stay in here?”
“When they let us.”
Wes walked over to a black equipment case.
“Sometimes Rory gets kicked out.”
“I do not.”
“You threw a banana at Callum.”
“He deserved it.”
“I asked you to pass it,” Callum said.
“And I passed it quickly.”
“You hit me in the face.”
“Skill issue.”
Regulus made another tiny laughing sound.
The staff woman settled his phone on a table beside a charging cable.
“It’s charging now.”
Regulus hurried over.
A small battery symbol appeared on the black screen.
He stared at it.
“It works.”
“It works,” she confirmed.
“How long until it turns on?”
“A few minutes.”
“What if Mum’s called?”
“She probably has.”
Regulus’s eyes filled again.
Rory noticed.
“Don’t start frightening yourself.”
“She’ll be worried.”
“Then the best thing we can do is let it charge.”
“She doesn’t know where I am.”
“She’ll know soon.”
“My dad too.”
“He’ll know too.”
Regulus set the hot chocolate down and remained standing beside the phone as though watching it would make it charge faster.
Mina found a packet of makeup wipes and approached carefully.
“Can I clean your face?”
Regulus touched beneath one eye.
“Is it bad?”
“You’ve got a bit of eyeliner everywhere.”
“I was crying.”
“We noticed.”
“I’m sorry.”
Wes groaned and dropped onto the floor.
“Ten press-ups.”
Regulus looked alarmed.
“No, I didn’t mean—”
Wes placed both hands on the carpet.
“One.”
Rory laughed.
“You’re actually doing it?”
“You made a binding agreement.”
“Two,” Noah counted.
Regulus stared, then laughed despite himself as the band loudly counted every press-up.
“Three!”
“Four!”
“Five!”
Wes glared at them from the floor.
“You’re all enjoying this too much.”
“Six!”
“Your form’s terrible,” Mina said.
“Seven!”
“Shut up.”
“Eight!”
Regulus’s laughter became easier.
“Nine!”
Wes forced himself through the last one and collapsed dramatically.
“Ten. I forgive you, Regulus.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“Rory did.”
“That was a mistake,” Rory said solemnly.
Wes rolled onto his back.
“Everything you do is a mistake.”
Mina sat Regulus in one of the armchairs and gently cleaned the smudged makeup from beneath his eyes.
He flinched once when the wipe touched a sore patch of skin.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“It’s fine.”
“Tell me if it hurts.”
“It doesn’t.”
Rory watched from the sofa.
Callum disappeared into a smaller adjoining room and returned carrying a comb.
“Hair too?”
Regulus frowned.
“What’s wrong with my hair?”
Callum looked at Rory.
“Nothing.”
Rory nodded.
“Perfect.”
“It looks bad, doesn’t it?”
“No,” Mina said. “It looks like you were at a concert.”
“I was onstage.”
“You were,” Noah said. “In case you’d forgotten.”
Regulus’s face warmed.
“I nearly fell over getting up there.”
“We saw,” Wes said from the floor.
Rory threw a rolled-up towel at him.
“Don’t tell him that.”
“He knows. He was there.”
Rory looked at Regulus.
“You recovered brilliantly.”
“I nearly missed a chord too.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I did. Almost.”
“Almost is imaginary.”
Regulus considered that.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Most things Rory says don’t,” Mina replied.
Callum held up the comb again.
Regulus reluctantly allowed him to fix the worst of his hair, though he reached up twice to adjust it afterwards.
Wes eventually dragged himself off the carpet and crossed to a pile of gear.
He rummaged for a moment.
Then he pulled out a drumstick.
It was scuffed from use, with several shallow dents along the wood and black tape wrapped near the base.
He held it out.
Regulus stared.
“What’s that?”
“A spoon.”
Regulus gave him a wet, disbelieving look.
Wes grinned.
“It’s one of mine from tonight.”
“From the concert?”
“Yes.”
“You used it?”
“For the first half.”
“What happened in the second half?”
“I hit things too hard.”
Regulus took the stick reverently.
The wood was warm from the room.
“You’re giving it to me?”
“No, I’m letting you hold it forever.”
Regulus’s fingers closed around it.
His eyes shone again, but differently now.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You have to sign it.”
Wes blinked.
“Bossy.”
“Please.”
“Better.”
He found a marker and signed along the side of the stick, adding a crooked star beside his name.
Noah watched.
“Well, now we all need to find something.”
“You don’t have to,” Regulus said quickly.
“We do,” Callum replied. “It’s band law.”
“There’s no band law.”
“There is now.”
Noah removed a chain bracelet from his wrist.
It was simple, made of dark metal with a small bass-clef charm hanging from it.
He handed it over.
“This was mine.”
Regulus looked uncertain.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve got another one.”
“You’re lying.”
Noah smiled.
“Maybe. Take it.”
Regulus held out his wrist.
Noah fastened it beside the concert band.
Mina disappeared into one of the equipment bags and returned with a small enamel pin shaped like a red heart split by a black lightning bolt.
“This was supposed to go on my jacket,” she said. “But your jacket needs it more.”
She pinned it carefully to the lapel.
Callum searched through his own bag and found a packet of guitar picks.
He tipped several into his palm.
“Pick one.”
Regulus examined them.
There were black picks, white picks and red ones printed with the band’s snarling-mouth logo.
He chose a red one.
“Only one?” Callum asked.
“You said pick one.”
“I didn’t expect you to listen.”
Regulus hesitated.
Callum poured the whole packet into his hand.
“Keep them.”
“That’s loads.”
“You’ll lose half.”
“I don’t lose things.”
Rory snorted.
Regulus glared at him.
“You don’t know me.”
“I watched you nearly leave your phone on the venue floor.”
“I was panicking.”
“Fair.”
Regulus tucked the picks carefully into his pocket.
Rory had been quiet since the gifts began.
He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, looking at Regulus’s jacket.
Then he looked down at his own.
It was the same one he had worn onto the stage before changing shirts halfway through the set: battered black leather, soft with age, covered in small painted marks, metal pins and scraps of red stitching. It had been thrown over the back of the sofa when they entered.
Rory reached for it.
Regulus watched him.
“What?”
Rory stood.
“Take yours off.”
Regulus immediately gripped the front of his jacket.
“Why?”
“So I can rob you.”
“No.”
Rory laughed.
“I’m joking. Take it off for a second.”
Regulus hesitated, then shrugged out of his oversized jacket.
Rory held up his own.
It was much larger.
“Put this on.”
Regulus stared.
“That’s yours.”
“Very observant.”
“You wore it tonight.”
“I did.”
“You wore it onstage.”
“Also true.”
“You can’t give me that.”
“I can. Watch.”
Rory draped it around Regulus’s shoulders.
The jacket swallowed him.
The sleeves fell beyond his fingertips. The shoulders were far too broad, and the hem reached almost to his thighs.
Regulus went completely still.
Rory pulled the collar into place.
“There.”
Regulus looked down.
“This is your jacket.”
“You’ve said.”
“Your actual jacket.”
“It would be worrying if it were someone else’s.”
“You can’t give me your actual jacket.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s yours.”
“And now it’s yours.”
Regulus stared at him.
His eyes filled.
Rory immediately pointed a warning finger at him.
“No.”
Regulus’s mouth trembled.
“No crying.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I can’t help it.”
Rory crouched in front of him again.
“These had better be good tears.”
Regulus nodded quickly.
“I wanted a hoodie.”
“I heard.”
“This is better than a hoodie.”
“Obviously.”
“You wore it during the first song.”
“I wore it during three songs.”
“And during the speech before ‘Rotten Youth.’”
Rory raised his eyebrows.
“You remember that?”
“I remember everything.”
“Then you should have it.”
Regulus looked down at the sleeves covering his hands.
“It’s too big.”
“You’ll grow.”
“I don’t think I’ll grow that much.”
“Then it’ll always look brilliant.”
Regulus touched one of the pins.
Rory stood and reached for a silver marker.
“Take it off again.”
Regulus looked horrified.
“I’m giving it back.”
“You’re not. I’m signing it.”
“Oh.”
Regulus carefully removed the jacket and held it as though it might shatter.
Rory turned it inside out.
He signed his name in large silver letters across the inner lining.
Then he passed the marker to Wes.
Wes signed beneath him.
Mina added her name and drew a small heart beside it.
Noah signed near the inside pocket.
Callum added his signature last, followed by a tiny guitar.
Rory wrote a final line beneath all of them.
FOR REGULUS — YOU BELONG ON THE STAGE.
Regulus read it.
His face crumpled again.
Rory caught him before the tears could become another full breakdown, pulling him into a hug.
Regulus grabbed the back of Rory’s shirt.
“Thank you.”
“You’re all right.”
“Thank you.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Rory rested one hand against the back of his head.
“All right. Tell me.”
“It’s the best thing anyone’s ever given me.”
The room went quiet.
Rory held him tighter.
“Well,” he said softly. “That’s not enough, then.”
Regulus pulled back.
“What?”
Rory released him and looked towards the others.
“Keep him here.”
Wes frowned.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
“That’s suspicious.”
Rory walked out.
Regulus watched the door close.
“Is he coming back?”
“Yes,” Mina said.
“How do you know?”
“Because he left his boots.”
Regulus looked down.
Rory was wearing socks.
He returned several minutes later carrying a huge black plastic bag over one shoulder.
A member of the merchandise crew followed him with another.
Then another worker came behind them carrying two boxes.
Regulus stared.
“What’s that?”
Rory dropped the bag onto the floor.
“Nothing.”
The contents spilled halfway out.
A folded hoodie slid across the carpet.
It was black with red writing down the sleeves.
Regulus’s eyes widened.
Rory pulled it free and tossed it into his lap.
“The one you wanted.”
Regulus caught it.
The tour dates covered the back.
His fingers moved over the print.
“It’s my size.”
“We’ve got eyes.”
The merchandise worker placed the boxes on the table.
Rory opened the first.
Inside were stacks of folded shirts.
“All this didn’t sell tonight,” he said. “So you’re taking it.”
Regulus looked up sharply.
“What?”
Rory began pulling things out.
The black hoodie with red sleeves.
A second oversized grey hoodie with the band’s logo stitched across the chest.
A zip-up jacket with a small embroidered mouth on the pocket.
Three black tour shirts with different front designs.
A white shirt printed with red lyrics across the back.
A long-sleeved striped top bearing the title of the newest album.
A sleeveless shirt from the summer festival range.
Two caps, one black and one dark red.
A knitted beanie.
A black-and-red scarf.
A set of patches.
A packet of badges.
Three posters.
A folded fabric banner.
A tote bag.
A drawstring bag.
A lanyard.
Several wristbands.
A pair of fingerless gloves.
A necklace bearing the same snarling-mouth symbol from the drum kit.
A small notebook printed with the album artwork.
A sheet of stickers.
A tour programme.
A limited-edition photo booklet.
A bundle of postcards.
A black water bottle.
A travel mug.
Two keyrings.
A phone case.
A pair of socks printed with tiny red hearts.
Regulus stared as the pile grew around him.
Rory reached into the bottom of the bag.
“And this.”
He pulled out a plush version of the snarling mouth logo, complete with soft white teeth.
Wes took it from him.
“We sell these?”
“Apparently.”
“It’s hideous.”
Regulus reached for it.
“I love it.”
“Of course you do,” Rory said.
Regulus held the plush against his chest.
“I can’t take all this.”
“You can.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“It’s too much.”
“Good.”
“I only wanted one hoodie.”
“And someone took that away from you.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“It means we’re correcting the night.”
“You already gave me your jacket.”
“That was personal. This is merchandise.”
“It’s still loads.”
Rory sat opposite him.
“Regulus.”
Regulus fell quiet.
“You came here for your first concert. You got ignored, pushed away, left hungry, had your money spent, and then got abandoned in a city you don’t know.”
Regulus stared at the plush.
Rory continued gently.
“We can’t undo that.”
Regulus’s fingers tightened around it.
“But we can make sure that when you look back at tonight, that isn’t all you remember.”
The tears returned silently this time.
Regulus wiped them away with the sleeve of Rory’s jacket.
“I’ll remember playing.”
“Good.”
“And you saying my name.”
“Good.”
“And everyone cheering.”
“Very good.”
“And this.”
He touched the signature inside the leather jacket.
Rory nodded.
“And all of that.”
He gestured towards the mountain of merchandise.
Regulus laughed shakily.
“I won’t be able to carry it.”
“We’ll pack it.”
“I’ll look ridiculous.”
“You already look ridiculous,” Wes said.
Mina smacked the back of his head.
“He’s wearing a jacket three sizes too big and holding a plush mouth.”
“Exactly.”
Regulus looked down at himself.
The leather sleeves completely hid his hands.
He started laughing again.
The band and merchandise staff packed everything into the tote, drawstring bag, merchandise bags and one of the boxes. Rory insisted on adding multiples of anything useful.
“Two hoodies?” Regulus asked.
“Three,” Rory corrected.
“I don’t need three.”
“One to wear, one to lose, one to lend.”
“I don’t lend clothes.”
“One to wear, one to lose, one to hide from your brother.”
Regulus’s smile vanished slightly.
Rory immediately regretted the wording.
“Sorry.”
Regulus looked towards his charging phone.
“He’ll be home by now.”
No one answered.
“He probably told them I was coming later.”
Rory’s expression darkened.
“Maybe.”
“He might have said I went with someone else.”
“Your phone will tell us soon.”
Regulus stared at the battery symbol.
The staff woman checked it.
“It should turn on now.”
Regulus stood so quickly that the plush fell from his lap.
Wes caught it.
Regulus crossed the room.
His hands began shaking again as he pressed the power button.
The screen remained black for a second.
Then the logo appeared.
Regulus gasped.
“It’s turning on.”
Everyone went quiet.
The phone took what felt like forever to load.
When the lock screen finally appeared, the device immediately began vibrating.
Once.
Twice.
Again and again.
Notifications filled the screen faster than Regulus could read them.
MISSED CALL — MUM
MISSED CALL — DAD
MISSED CALL — MUM
MISSED CALL — DAD
MISSED CALL — MUM
Twelve missed calls.
Then sixteen.
Then nineteen as the phone finished synchronising.
Messages stacked beneath them.
Mum: Where are you?
Mum: Regulus, answer me please.
Dad: Your train should have arrived.
Dad: Call us immediately.
Mum: Sirius came home without you.
Mum: Where are you?
Dad: We’ve been trying to contact you.
Mum: Baby, please answer your phone.
Mum: Please tell me you’re safe.
Dad: We have called the venue.
Mum: Regulus, please.
His four friends’ names appeared beneath the messages from his parents.
Barty: ARE YOU ALIVE
Barty: DID YOU GET CLOSE TO THE STAGE
Barty: YOU BETTER HAVE VIDEOS
Evan: Let us know when you’re home, Reggie.
Evan: I hope it was as good as you wanted.
Pandora: Was the lighting rig automated?
Pandora: Also did you buy the hoodie?
Dorcas: Tell me everything when you’re back.
Dorcas: Did they play your favourite?
Barty: REGULUS
Barty: HOW WAS IT
Barty: I AM BEING PATIENT
Barty: THIS IS ME BEING PATIENT
They did not know.
They were excited for him.
They thought he was travelling home.
They thought everything had gone exactly as planned.
Regulus’s breath caught.
Rory moved beside him.
“Call your mum.”
Regulus stared at the messages.
“She knows.”
“She knows you’re missing. She doesn’t know you’re safe.”
Regulus tapped her name.
The call rang once.
Walburga answered so quickly that her voice broke over the line.
“Regulus?”
Regulus’s entire face collapsed.
“Mum.”
“Regulus. Oh, thank God. Where are you?”
“I want you.”
His voice rose into a wail.
“I want you, Mum.”
“I know, darling. I know. Tell me where you are.”
“I want to go home.”
“We’re coming to get you. Where are you?”
“The concert.”
“You’re still at the venue?”
“Yes.”
“Are you inside?”
“Yes.”
“Are there adults with you?”
Regulus looked around.
Every member of the band, three venue staff and two merchandise workers were watching him.
“Yes.”
Walburga breathed out shakily.
“All right. You’re safe. Stay with them.”
Regulus started sobbing again.
“Mum, Sirius left me.”
“I know.”
“He left me here.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“He stole my money.”
There was a silence on the other end.
Regulus’s words tumbled out.
“He spent all of it. He spent the food money and the drink money and the train money, and he took the money you gave me for the hoodie too. He spent it on himself and his friends, and I asked him for something to eat, but he said no.”
Walburga’s breathing changed.
“He what?”
“He said there was only enough for them to get home.”
Regulus pressed the phone harder against his ear.
“He said I wasn’t part of them. He told me to find my own way back. I told him I didn’t know how, and I told him my phone was dying, and I didn’t have money, but he left anyway.”
Walburga made a sound that was not quite a word.
Regulus cried harder.
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“You did nothing wrong.”
“I couldn’t call you.”
“You’re calling me now.”
“I don’t know your number.”
“That’s all right.”
“I should.”
“No, darling. You should have been with your brother. You should never have needed to know it tonight.”
“I was scared.”
“I know.”
“I thought they were going to lock the building.”
“Oh, baby.”
“I thought I’d have to go outside, and I didn’t know where the station was, and it was dark, and I didn’t have a ticket.”
“You’re not going outside alone.”
“I want Dad.”
“He’s here.”
There was movement on the other end of the call.
Then Orion’s voice came through, strained and breathless.
“Regulus?”
“Dad.”
“We’re both here.”
“I want to go home.”
“We’re coming.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
“How long?”
“As quickly as we can.”
“Don’t leave.”
“We’re not leaving you.”
“Sirius did.”
Orion went silent.
Regulus’s crying became louder.
“He hates me. He always has. He told me I didn’t count, and he was mean all night, and all his friends were mean too, and they all knew he was leaving me. No one helped me.”
Walburga’s voice returned.
“Listen to me. Stay with the adults at the venue. Do not go anywhere by yourself. We are on our way.”
“They gave me food.”
“Good.”
“And they charged my phone.”
“Good.”
“And Rory’s here.”
There was a confused pause.
“Rory?”
“Rory Vex.”
“The singer?”
Regulus nodded before remembering she could not see him.
“Yes.”
Rory lifted one hand awkwardly.
Regulus’s voice broke again.
“He gave me his jacket.”
Walburga inhaled.
“That was kind of him.”
“And they gave me all the merch.”
“All of it?”
“Nearly.”
Rory mouthed, All of it.
Regulus looked at the packed bags.
“All of it.”
Walburga’s voice softened despite the fear beneath it.
“I’m glad they’re looking after you.”
“They found me crying.”
“You’re safe with them now.”
“I want you.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“I know, darling.”
“Please come quickly.”
“We are.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Regulus gripped the phone with both hands.
“Mum?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t hang up.”
“I won’t.”
“Even while you’re coming?”
“I’ll stay on the phone.”
“The battery isn’t full.”
“Then put me on speaker and leave it charging.”
Regulus looked at the cable.
Rory gently guided him back towards the table.
“Speaker,” he murmured.
Regulus put the call on speaker and connected the phone again.
Walburga’s voice filled the room.
“Are you with one of the venue staff?”
The woman stepped closer.
“Yes. Hello. My name’s Claire. I’m one of the duty managers.”
“Is he safe?”
“Yes. He’s backstage with us and the band. Security are here as well.”
“Please don’t let him leave.”
“We won’t.”
“Can you give me the exact entrance we need?”
Claire began explaining.
Regulus stood beside the phone, crying quietly while she spoke.
Rory stayed next to him.
When Claire finished giving directions, Walburga asked for Regulus again.
“I’m here.”
“We have the address.”
“You’re coming?”
“We’re already leaving.”
“Is Dad driving?”
“Yes.”
“Tell him to be careful.”
Orion’s voice came faintly through the speaker.
“I will.”
Regulus wiped his nose on another tissue.
“Mum?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Sirius stole my money.”
Walburga’s reply was very quiet.
“I know.”
“He knew it was mine.”
“I know.”
“He took everything.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“And then he left me.”
Her voice shook.
“I know.”
Regulus pulled Rory’s leather jacket tighter around himself.
“I want to go home.”
“You’re coming home.”
“I want my bed.”
“You’ll have it.”
“And my blanket.”
“It’s waiting for you.”
“And I want you.”
“I’m coming.”
Regulus closed his eyes.
Walburga kept speaking through the phone, her voice steady even when Regulus could hear how frightened she was.
Rory remained beside him.
The band settled around the room without moving far away. Wes placed the signed drumstick carefully on top of the packed merchandise so it would not be damaged. Mina folded Regulus’s original jacket and tucked it into one of the bags. Noah reheated the chocolate when it went cold. Callum arranged the posters between pieces of cardboard so they would not bend.
Regulus stood beside the charging phone in Rory’s oversized leather jacket, one hand wrapped around the silver-lined collar and the other pressed flat against the table.
His mother’s voice filled the room.
His father’s voice came occasionally from farther away.
They were coming.
They knew where he was.
He was not going to have to walk through the dark city alone.
He was not going to have to find the station without a map.
He was not going to have to beg anyone for a ticket.
Still, each time the backstage door opened, Regulus flinched.
Each time footsteps passed in the corridor, he looked up.
And each time Walburga went silent for longer than a few seconds, he bent closer to the phone.
“Mum?”
“I’m here.”
Regulus’s shoulders loosened by the smallest degree.
“Don’t go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Orion drove as though the road had personally offended him.
Walburga sat rigidly in the passenger seat with Regulus’s voice coming through the speakers, one hand wrapped around her own phone and the other braced against the dashboard whenever Orion took a corner too quickly.
The navigation estimated fifty-eight minutes.
Orion appeared to have taken that as an insult.
“Slow down,” Walburga said, although her eyes remained fixed upon the call timer glowing on her screen.
“I am driving safely.”
“You are driving at the speed of paternal fury.”
“The road is clear.”
“The road will remain clear if you stay on it.”
“I am on it.”
The engine surged as he moved around a slower car.
Walburga closed her eyes.
“Orion.”
“I saw it.”
“You did not see it. You sensed it as you flew past.”
“I’m not flying.”
From the phone on the other end, Regulus made a faint, watery sound that might have been a laugh.
Both parents went quiet immediately.
Walburga leaned closer to the speaker.
“Was that a laugh?”
“No.”
“It sounded like one.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Your father is attempting to turn the motorway into a racetrack.”
“I am attempting to collect our son.”
“You can collect him more effectively if we arrive alive.”
Orion’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“I’m not doing anything dangerous.”
The navigation recalculated.
Fifty-four minutes.
Walburga stared at the new estimate.
“Apparently you have already removed four minutes from the journey.”
“Good.”
“Orion.”
“We will be there sooner.”
Regulus sniffed on the other end of the line.
“Dad?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Don’t crash.”
Orion’s expression altered instantly.
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Properly?”
“Properly. I’m driving carefully.”
Walburga looked pointedly at the speedometer.
Orion eased his foot back slightly.
Regulus remained beside the charging phone in the backstage room.
The device was still connected to the cable on the table, the call on speaker so he did not have to hold it. He had pulled one of the armchairs closer and curled into it beneath Rory’s jacket, with his knees tucked up slightly and the leather sleeves bunched over his hands.
The room had settled around him.
Not into silence—none of the band appeared capable of silence—but into something softer.
Wes was arguing with Callum over which photographs from the concert made Callum look most ridiculous. Mina sat on the arm of the sofa, scrolling through messages. Noah had found another bottle of water and placed it within Regulus’s reach without comment. Rory was pacing between the table and the door, checking on Regulus every time he passed as though he expected him to vanish if he looked away for too long.
Regulus had stopped sobbing continuously.
The tears still came unpredictably. His breath would catch. His face would crumple. He would glance at the charging phone and say, “Mum?” to make sure she was still there.
Every time, Walburga answered.
“I’m here.”
The first time, she had answered quickly.
The seventh time, she answered before he had finished saying the word.
“I’m here, darling.”
Regulus rested the side of his head against the chair.
“How long now?”
Walburga checked the map.
“About fifty minutes.”
“That’s ages.”
“I know.”
“It feels longer.”
“I know.”
Rory, who was standing near the table, crouched beside the armchair.
“We’ll keep you entertained.”
Regulus peered at him.
“With what?”
Rory looked over his shoulder.
“Anybody know any tricks?”
Wes lifted both hands.
“I can make an entire packet of biscuits disappear.”
“That isn’t a trick,” Mina said. “That’s why you’re banned from the catering table.”
“I can also make Callum angry with one sentence.”
Callum looked up.
“You do that by existing.”
“See?”
Regulus smiled faintly.
Rory pointed at him.
“There. We’ve got movement.”
“I was already moving.”
“You looked like a haunted painting for ten minutes.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’ve had a complicated night.”
Regulus lowered his eyes.
The smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
Rory immediately softened.
“Too soon?”
Regulus shook his head.
“No.”
“You can say yes.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to be polite to us.”
Regulus looked at him.
“I’m not always polite.”
“You called me a cocky bastard onstage.”
Regulus’s eyes widened in offense.
“You called me that.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like me.”
“You said I was a cocky little bastard.”
“That was affectionate.”
“It didn’t sound affectionate.”
“It was incredibly affectionate.”
Wes leaned back on the sofa.
“That’s practically a marriage proposal from him.”
Rory threw a cushion at his head.
Wes ducked, and the cushion struck Callum instead.
Callum looked slowly towards Rory.
Rory pointed at Wes.
“He moved.”
“You threw it.”
“And he moved.”
Regulus laughed again.
This time, the sound was clearer.
Walburga heard it through the phone.
“Are they making you laugh?”
Regulus leaned towards the table.
“They’re fighting.”
“We are not fighting,” Callum said.
“You were hit in the face with a cushion,” Regulus replied.
“That is a normal professional disagreement.”
“You all seem very professional.”
Mina covered her mouth to hide a laugh.
Rory placed a hand against his chest.
“We are respected musicians.”
“You gave me a plush mouth.”
“A respected plush mouth.”
Regulus glanced towards the packed merchandise bags lined along one wall.
There were so many that the sight still seemed impossible.
Every few minutes, he looked at them again to make sure they had not disappeared.
Rory followed his gaze.
“All still there.”
“I know.”
“You keep checking.”
“I’m allowed.”
“Never said you weren’t.”
Regulus tucked his hands more deeply into the jacket sleeves.
After a moment, Rory looked at Mina.
“We should get the pictures now.”
Mina nodded.
“Before his parents arrive.”
Regulus looked between them.
“What pictures?”
“The photographs with us,” Rory said.
Regulus blinked.
“You already gave me everything.”
“We didn’t give you photographs.”
“There’ll be videos from the audience.”
“Blurry videos taken by strangers who were jumping.”
“They’re still videos.”
“Our social team filmed your whole song from three cameras,” Mina said.
Regulus stared at her.
“What?”
“Three cameras.”
“The whole thing?”
“Yes.”
“Even when I almost fell coming up the steps?”
Rory pointed towards her.
“That part gets deleted.”
“It doesn’t,” Mina said. “It’s adorable.”
Regulus’s face heated.
“Don’t post that.”
“We might crop it.”
“Crop me falling?”
“Crop the stairs.”
“You can’t crop stairs out of a video.”
“We have people.”
Regulus narrowed his eyes.
Rory grinned.
“Our social media team are already working through the footage. They’ll put up clips of you playing.”
“Tonight?”
“Probably.”
Regulus glanced at the charging phone.
“But I can’t use that.”
“You don’t need to.” Rory took his own phone from his pocket. “We have phones.”
Regulus looked doubtful.
“You’re going to take pictures on your phone?”
“Yes.”
“With me?”
“No, with the wall behind you.”
Regulus gave him a flat look.
“You’re very annoying.”
Rory gasped.
“After everything I’ve done for you.”
“You keep saying stupid things.”
“Cruel.”
Walburga’s voice came gently through the speaker.
“Take the photographs, darling.”
Regulus leaned closer.
“I look horrible.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I’ve been crying.”
Mina rose from the sofa.
“We cleaned you up.”
“My eyes are red.”
Rory examined him.
“Very rock and roll.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means you look like you’ve had a night.”
“I have.”
“Exactly.”
Regulus touched his hair.
“Is it still bad?”
Callum looked offended.
“I fixed it.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“It looks good.”
“You’re lying because you fixed it.”
“I would never.”
Everyone stared at him.
Callum sighed.
“I would often. I am not lying now.”
Regulus looked towards the dark television mounted on the opposite wall, trying to use the reflection to check himself.
The image was too dim.
Mina took out her phone and turned on the front-facing camera.
“Here.”
Regulus leaned towards the screen.
He examined himself with painful seriousness.
His hair was still messy, but deliberately so now rather than sweat-soaked and tangled. His face was clean. His eyes were puffy and pink around the edges, but the worst of the tears had been wiped away.
Rory’s jacket hung around his shoulders like armour borrowed from a giant.
The pins and painted marks caught the light.
Regulus touched the collar.
“I look small.”
“You are small,” Wes said.
Regulus turned.
“I’m fourteen.”
“That doesn’t make you tall.”
“I’m not that short.”
Rory stood beside him and looked down.
Regulus looked up.
Rory looked farther down.
Regulus’s expression darkened.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I can’t be held responsible for my thoughts.”
“You can.”
Mina raised her phone.
“Right. Before Rory gets punched by a fourteen-year-old.”
Regulus stood from the chair.
The jacket settled around him, nearly reaching his knees.
Rory guided him towards a clear section of wall covered with venue stickers and old band signatures.
“No,” Mina said. “That background’s messy.”
“It’s backstage,” Rory replied. “It’s supposed to be messy.”
“It looks like a bin exploded.”
“That’s atmosphere.”
“That’s three towels and a broken cable.”
Wes lifted the towels from the floor.
“There. Art.”
Mina pointed towards the sofa instead.
“Sit there.”
Regulus sat in the centre.
The band arranged themselves around him.
Rory dropped onto one side, one arm stretching along the back of the sofa behind Regulus. Mina sat on the other. Noah and Callum crouched in front, while Wes leaned over the back with his chin near Regulus’s shoulder.
Regulus froze as soon as Mina lifted the phone.
She lowered it.
“What?”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Smile.”
“I know that.”
“Then smile.”
“It feels strange when someone tells me to.”
Rory leaned closer.
“Think about being better at guitar than Callum.”
Callum straightened.
“He isn’t.”
Regulus immediately looked at him.
“I played your part perfectly.”
“You played one song.”
“I played it perfectly.”
“You played it very well.”
“Perfectly.”
Callum stared.
Regulus stared back.
Mina snapped the photograph.
The shutter sound made both of them turn.
“There,” she said. “That one’s brilliant.”
Regulus reached for the phone.
“Let me see.”
The picture caught him halfway through the argument, eyes bright and mouth curved into a sharp little grin. Rory was laughing beside him. Wes looked delighted. Noah was trying not to smile. Callum appeared personally insulted.
Regulus looked at it for several seconds.
“I like that.”
“Good.”
“Can we take a normal one too?”
“Of course.”
They took a normal photograph.
Then another because Wes blinked.
Then another because Rory deliberately crossed his eyes.
Then another because Regulus laughed when Mina scolded him.
They took one with everyone standing.
One with Regulus in the centre holding both sides of Rory’s jacket out to display it.
One with Rory pointing at Regulus as though presenting him to the world.
One with Regulus and Callum holding imaginary guitars while the others pretended to scream.
One with Wes holding two cushions like drums.
One with Mina linking her arm through Regulus’s.
One with Noah kneeling beside him and throwing up a peace sign.
One in which the entire band crowded around Regulus so tightly that only his face and the collar of the jacket were visible.
Regulus began laughing before that photograph was taken.
“Move,” he complained. “I can’t breathe.”
“You survived a concert crowd,” Wes said.
“This is worse.”
“We smell better.”
“No, you don’t.”
Everyone shouted at once.
Regulus doubled over laughing.
Mina captured that too.
Rory reached for her phone.
“Send me those.”
“I will.”
“And send them to him.”
Regulus glanced at his own phone.
“It’s still on the call.”
“We’re not touching your phone,” Rory said. “Tell us your Instagram.”
Regulus went still.
“My Instagram?”
“Yes.”
“You want my Instagram?”
“We need somewhere to send them.”
“You could email them.”
“What are you, forty?”
“I use email.”
“Tragic.”
Regulus frowned.
“What if I don’t want you looking at it?”
Rory’s eyebrows lifted.
“Are you hiding crimes?”
“No.”
“Embarrassing fan edits?”
“No.”
“Poetry?”
Regulus hesitated.
Rory pointed triumphantly.
“Poetry.”
“It’s not embarrassing.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“You sounded like you thought it was.”
“I write songs. I’m not allowed to mock poetry.”
“You mock everything.”
“That’s true.”
Regulus pulled the sleeves over his hands again.
“My username is @regulusinorbit.”
For a second, no one spoke.
Then Wes made a strangled sound.
Regulus glared at him.
“What?”
“That is adorable.”
“It isn’t.”
“It absolutely is.”
“It’s because my name’s Regulus.”
“We got it.”
“And Regulus is a star.”
“We got that too.”
“And it sounded better than—”
“Regulus,” Mina interrupted gently, already typing. “You don’t have to defend it. It’s good.”
Rory opened Instagram on his own phone and searched.
The profile appeared immediately.
@regulusinorbit
The profile picture was an illustration rather than a photograph: a dark-haired figure sitting on the edge of a crescent moon, with silver stars scattered around him.
The biography beneath it read:
fourteen | london
guitar, ink, noise & constellations
i make things because silence gets boring
Rory read it aloud.
Regulus’s face turned red.
“Don’t.”
“That’s good.”
“You’re saying it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re mocking it.”
“I’m not.”
Mina found the profile on her own phone.
“He’s got a proper art page.”
Regulus leaned forward.
“It’s not an art page.”
“It’s mostly art.”
“It’s my normal account.”
“You post better things than Rory.”
“That’s not difficult,” Noah said.
Rory ignored him and began scrolling.
The newest post was a photograph of a charcoal drawing spread across a desk. It showed a city skyline dissolving into birds, each building breaking apart near the roof until the shapes became wings.
The caption was short.
won regionals. didn’t expect to. still got charcoal under my nails.
The second photograph showed Regulus holding a certificate beside a display board while Barty leaned into frame from the side, making a face. Evan stood behind them with one hand on Regulus’s shoulder. Pandora held what appeared to be a tiny handmade mechanical bird. Dorcas had crossed her arms and looked deeply unimpressed by the camera.
Mina zoomed in.
“These are your friends?”
Regulus nodded.
“Barty, Evan, Pandora and Dorcas.”
“The ones messaging you?”
“Yes.”
Rory looked between the photograph and Regulus.
“Which one’s Barty?”
“The one ruining the picture.”
“Excellent energy.”
“He thinks so.”
“And Evan?”
“The tall one.”
Noah glanced at him.
“They’re all taller than you.”
Regulus looked offended.
“Evan’s the tallest.”
“That narrowed it down.”
“The one with his hand on my shoulder.”
“What’s he like?”
Regulus considered it.
“He pretends he doesn’t care about anything.”
“Does he?”
“He cares about loads.”
“Sounds familiar,” Mina said, glancing at Rory.
Rory ignored that too.
“And Pandora?”
“The one with the bird.”
“Did she make it?”
“Yes. It flaps.”
“Does it fly?”
“Sometimes. Mostly into walls.”
“And Dorcas?”
Regulus pointed.
“She looks terrifying,” Wes said approvingly.
“She is.”
The next post was a short video of Regulus playing guitar in his bedroom.
He sat cross-legged on the floor beside an amplifier, hair falling into his face, fingers moving steadily across the fretboard while a notebook lay open near one knee.
Rory turned the volume up.
Regulus lunged towards the phone.
“No.”
Rory held it out of reach.
“You posted it publicly.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to play it in front of me.”
“You’re good.”
“I know.”
Rory grinned.
“There he is.”
Regulus folded his arms.
“It was an original.”
“You wrote it?”
“Yes.”
“The whole thing?”
“Yes.”
Rory replayed the beginning.
Regulus groaned and hid his face in the leather collar.
Mina leaned over to listen.
“That’s properly good.”
“It’s unfinished.”
“How unfinished?”
“There isn’t a bridge.”
“Bridges are overrated,” Wes said.
“You’re a drummer,” Regulus replied. “You don’t get an opinion.”
Wes gasped.
“I like him more every minute.”
Rory moved to the next post.
It showed a painted canvas of a storm-dark sea beneath an orange sky. White waves struck black rocks, and a tiny red figure stood on the cliff edge.
The caption said:
painted this instead of revising. got 96% anyway.
Rory looked up.
“Ninety-six percent in what?”
“Maths.”
“You paint like this and get ninety-six in maths?”
Regulus shrugged.
“It wasn’t difficult.”
Callum stared at him.
“I hate you.”
“You don’t know anything about maths.”
“I know ninety-six is upsettingly close to a hundred.”
“I lost marks because I didn’t show enough working.”
“Did you know the answer?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s stupid.”
“Exactly.”
Walburga’s amused voice drifted through the speaker.
“He has been making that argument for three weeks.”
Regulus leaned towards the phone.
“It is stupid.”
“You still have to show your method.”
“My method was doing it in my head.”
“Your teacher cannot mark the inside of your head.”
“They should learn.”
Rory laughed.
“Can we keep him?”
“No,” Walburga said immediately.
Regulus smiled.
They kept scrolling.
There was a photograph of Regulus onstage at a school awards evening, holding two certificates and a small glass trophy.
A photograph of a short story printed in a literary magazine, the first page displaying his name beneath the title.
A photograph of an art prize ribbon.
A video of Pandora attempting to balance a spoon on Barty’s nose while Regulus laughed so hard behind the camera that the image shook.
A photograph of Evan asleep on a sofa with Regulus’s trainers balanced along his back.
A photograph of Dorcas and Regulus sitting on the floor of an art gallery, both staring solemnly into the camera while Barty lay dramatically across their laps.
There were sketches of musicians.
Paintings of constellations.
Fragments of handwritten lyrics.
Photographs of books with notes spilling from between the pages.
A post showing a mathematics competition certificate beside a packet of sweets and the caption:
apparently algebra gets you jelly snakes.
A photograph of Regulus and his friends crowded around a table in a café, all five laughing at something outside the frame.
Rory stopped on that one.
Regulus looked happy there too.
Not stage-light happy.
Not overwhelmed and disbelieving.
Comfortable.
Safe.
His shoulder pressed against Evan’s. Barty’s arm was stretched behind him. Pandora leaned across the table. Dorcas held one of Regulus’s hands between both of hers, apparently trying to draw on his knuckles.
“You’ve got good friends,” Rory said.
Regulus nodded.
“They’d have come with me if they were allowed.”
“Why weren’t they?”
“Barty’s grounded.”
“For what?”
Regulus paused.
“Which thing?”
Wes laughed loudly.
“Excellent.”
“Evan and Pandora had a family thing. Pandora also wasn’t allowed because she accidentally set fire to part of her garage last week.”
“Accidentally?” Mina asked.
“She says accidentally.”
“And Dorcas?”
“Her parents wouldn’t let her go unless another parent came.”
Rory looked towards the phone on the table.
“So you got stuck with your brother.”
Regulus’s expression dimmed.
“Yeah.”
Rory immediately returned his attention to the account.
He pressed Follow.
Regulus blinked.
“What did you do?”
“Followed you.”
Regulus stared at him.
“With your real account?”
“I only have one.”
“You’ve got millions of followers.”
“That isn’t a question.”
“You can’t follow me.”
“I just did.”
Regulus looked at Mina.
She pressed Follow too.
“Done.”
Noah followed.
Then Callum.
Then Wes, who turned his screen towards Regulus dramatically.
A row of notifications appeared on Regulus’s account.
roryvex started following you.
minahart started following you.
noahpike started following you.
callumvale started following you.
wesdrums started following you.
Regulus stared at their phones.
“All of you?”
“All of us,” Mina said.
“You don’t have to.”
“We know.”
“People are going to see.”
Rory sat beside him.
“That’s generally how following works.”
“My friends are going to lose their minds.”
“Good.”
“Barty’s going to think I’m lying.”
“Show him the notifications.”
“He’ll say I edited them.”
“Show him the photographs.”
“He’ll say they’re fake.”
Rory looked deeply offended.
“Does your friend think my face is that easy to fake?”
“He thinks everything is fake until he’s personally touched it.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
Wes leaned over the back of the sofa.
“We can comment.”
Regulus turned sharply.
“No.”
Wes had already opened the newest post.
“What should I say?”
“Nothing.”
“Great guitarist. Terrible height.”
“I’ll block you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
Rory laughed.
Wes lifted both hands.
“Fine. No comments.”
Mina sent the photographs to Regulus through direct message.
Then Rory sent the ones from his phone.
Noah and Callum added theirs.
Wes sent eight photographs, three of which were blurred and one of which appeared to be a close-up of his own thumb.
Regulus watched the message thread build on their screens.
“When you get home,” Mina said, “they’ll all be waiting.”
Regulus nodded.
“And tomorrow the official account should have footage.”
“The whole song?”
“Probably clips first.”
“Can I get the whole thing?”
“We’ll make sure you do.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Rory tilted his phone towards him.
“Our social team have already messaged me.”
The message showed a still image from the performance.
Regulus stood under white lights with Rory beside him, guitar strapped across his body, mouth open as he sang towards the microphone.
The words beneath it read:
WHO IS REGULUS AND WHY DID HE JUST STEAL THE SHOW?
Regulus covered his mouth.
“They’re posting that?”
“Looks like it.”
“Oh my God.”
“That good or bad?”
“I don’t know.”
Rory grinned.
“Excellent.”
Regulus leaned closer to the screen.
“Can I see the other clips?”
“They’re editing them.”
“What if they choose the part where I nearly missed the chord?”
“You didn’t miss it.”
“What if they choose the part where my voice cracked?”
“That sounded brilliant.”
“It cracked.”
“You were singing at a rock concert. It’s allowed.”
Regulus continued staring at the still image.
His eyes shone again.
This time, he did not cry.
He looked amazed.
The next forty minutes passed in fragments.
Regulus remained on the call with his parents while the band showed him photographs, argued about captions and took several more pictures because Rory decided the lighting near the dressing-room mirror was better.
Walburga periodically asked how he was feeling.
“Tired.”
“Have you eaten more?”
“A bit.”
“How much is a bit?”
“A hot dog.”
“One hot dog?”
“And chips.”
“How many chips?”
“Mum.”
“I am asking.”
“And half a burger.”
“That’s better.”
“And hot chocolate.”
“Good.”
“And juice.”
“Very good.”
Rory leaned towards the speaker.
“He’s been fed.”
Walburga’s voice softened.
“Thank you.”
“Course.”
“How far away are you?” Regulus asked.
Orion answered from the driver’s seat.
“Twenty-seven minutes.”
“That’s still long.”
“I’ve already shortened it.”
Walburga turned towards him.
“You promised to drive carefully.”
“I am.”
“The navigation said thirty-three minutes two minutes ago.”
“There was a faster route.”
“There was a faster right foot.”
“Road was empty.”
Regulus whispered, “Dad.”
Orion sighed.
“I’ll slow down.”
“You better.”
“Yes, sir.”
Regulus relaxed into the sofa.
Rory glanced sideways at him.
“You order your dad around?”
“He listens.”
“Powerful.”
“He only listens when Mum or I say it.”
Walburga replied, “That is not true.”
Orion said, “It is slightly true.”
Regulus smiled.
The venue had nearly shut down entirely by the time the navigation announced that Orion and Walburga were five minutes away.
Everything changed again.
Regulus stood.
Then sat.
Then stood once more.
His hands began to shake.
Rory noticed immediately.
“They’re nearly here.”
“I know.”
“That’s good.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you look terrified?”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
Regulus paced towards the table.
“What if they’re angry?”
Walburga’s voice came sharply through the phone.
“We are not angry with you.”
Regulus stopped.
“I know.”
“No, listen to me. We are not angry with you.”
“I should’ve charged my phone before.”
“That is not why this happened.”
“I should know your numbers.”
“That is not why this happened either.”
“I should’ve—”
“Regulus.”
He went silent.
“You are fourteen years old. You went to a concert with your older brother because your father and I trusted him to remain with you and bring you home. You do not need to explain or apologise for anything.”
Regulus looked down at the floor.
“Okay.”
“We are nearly there.”
“Okay.”
“Put your own jacket beneath Rory’s. It will be cold outside.”
Regulus looked towards the folded jacket.
Mina immediately retrieved it.
“I can help.”
Regulus allowed her to hold Rory’s leather jacket while he put his own on. Then the larger jacket went back over the top, making him look even smaller beneath the layers.
Rory adjusted the collar.
“Warm enough?”
Regulus nodded.
The backstage door opened.
Every head turned.
A security guard stepped in.
“The parents have arrived at the front entrance.”
Regulus froze.
Walburga heard him inhale through the phone.
“We’re here, darling.”
“Mum?”
“We’re inside.”
Regulus rushed towards the door.
Rory caught him lightly by the shoulder before he could run straight into the guard.
“Easy.”
“I need to go.”
“You’re going. Don’t break your neck in the final ten metres.”
Regulus pulled free and hurried into the corridor.
The band followed.
Claire and two security guards came with them, guiding the group through the backstage hall and towards a side entrance near the main venue floor.
Regulus walked faster with every step.
Then the door at the far end opened.
Walburga entered first.
She still had her coat half open and her handbag hanging crookedly from one shoulder. Her hair had come loose around her face, and her eyes were red with fear and lack of blinking.
Orion came directly behind her, pale and rigid, scanning the corridor until he saw Regulus.
For one second, no one moved.
Regulus made a broken sound.
“Mum.”
Then he ran.
Walburga barely had time to open her arms before he crashed into her.
She caught him around the shoulders.
Regulus buried his face against her chest and began crying again, the sobs immediate and helpless, all the fear he had managed to contain during the last hour breaking loose the moment she touched him.
“Mum.”
“I’ve got you.”
“I wanted you.”
“I know. I know, my baby.”
“I wanted to go home.”
“You’re going home.”
He clung to the back of her coat.
Walburga held him so tightly that Rory’s jacket creaked beneath her arms.
She pressed her face into his hair.
Her whole body shook.
Orion reached them a second later.
One hand cupped the back of Regulus’s head. The other closed around both Walburga and their son, pulling them against him.
Regulus turned without releasing his mother and reached blindly for his father.
Orion caught his wrist and guided Regulus’s hand around his waist.
“Dad.”
“I’m here.”
“You came.”
“Of course we came.”
“It took ages.”
“I know.”
“I thought—”
“Don’t.”
Orion’s voice broke.
He swallowed and tried again.
“Don’t think about that now. We’re here.”
Regulus pressed himself between them.
His parents closed around him from both sides, enclosing their youngest completely.
Walburga kissed his temple.
Then his hair.
Then his forehead when he lifted his face.
She touched his cheeks with both hands as if she needed to confirm every part of him was still there.
“Let me see you.”
Regulus tried to look down.
Walburga gently lifted his chin.
“You’re safe?”
He nodded.
“No one hurt you?”
“No.”
“You’ve eaten?”
“Yes.”
“Had water?”
“Yes.”
“You’re warm?”
Regulus looked down at the oversized jacket.
“Yes.”
Walburga stared at it.
“That is not the jacket you left home in.”
Rory shifted near the doorway.
Regulus turned, still wrapped in Orion’s arm.
“It’s Rory’s.”
Walburga looked over.
Only then did she seem fully aware that the entire band was standing nearby, along with several members of venue staff.
Rory lifted one hand.
“Hello.”
Walburga stared at him for a second.
Then her expression crumpled with relief.
“Thank you.”
Rory shook his head.
“It’s fine.”
“It is not fine. Thank you for staying with him.”
“We weren’t going to leave him.”
The words were simple.
They still made Orion’s face harden.
Regulus flinched at the silence that followed.
Orion immediately drew him closer.
“Not now,” he murmured.
Regulus nodded against his shoulder.
Walburga looked around at the staff.
“Who found him?”
The first security guard stepped forward.
“We did.”
Walburga crossed the distance between them and took his hand in both of hers.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to—”
“You found my son.”
Her voice shook.
“Thank you.”
The man’s expression softened.
“He was inside. We kept him safe.”
Claire came closer.
“He’s been with us the whole time since security found him.”
Walburga thanked her too.
Orion kept Regulus tucked against his side, one arm around his shoulders while Regulus held onto the front of his coat.
Regulus looked exhausted now that his parents were there.
His eyes were heavy.
His face remained tucked close to Orion’s chest as if he feared being separated again if he moved more than a few inches.
Rory approached carefully.
“You heading home now?”
Regulus nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
Wes opened both arms.
“Do we get goodbye hugs, or are we not at that level?”
Regulus looked at his parents.
Walburga brushed his hair back from his forehead.
“That is up to you.”
Regulus released Orion reluctantly and stepped towards Wes.
The drummer hugged him gently, careful not to squeeze too tightly.
“You were brilliant tonight.”
Regulus’s face disappeared briefly against his shoulder.
“Thank you.”
“Keep playing.”
“I will.”
“And don’t become better than me at drums.”
“I don’t play drums.”
“Keep it that way.”
Regulus pulled back.
Mina hugged him next.
She held him by the shoulders afterwards.
“Message us when you get home.”
Regulus looked startled.
“You mean that?”
“We followed you, didn’t we?”
“Yes.”
“So message.”
“Okay.”
Noah embraced him and patted the back of Rory’s jacket.
“Look after this.”
“I will.”
“Better than he did.”
Rory looked offended.
“I looked after it.”
“You left it on every dirty sofa in Europe.”
“That is looking after it.”
Callum hugged Regulus last before Rory.
“Learn another song before the next show,” Callum said.
“I know all of them.”
“Then learn one of mine better than I play it.”
“I already—”
Callum pointed at him.
“Don’t.”
Regulus smiled.
Then Rory stepped forward.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Rory opened his arms.
Regulus moved into them immediately.
Rory held him close, one hand at the back of his head.
The hug lasted longer than the others.
“You did good tonight,” Rory said quietly.
Regulus tightened his grip.
“Even after?”
“Especially after.”
“I cried loads.”
“Doesn’t mean you didn’t do good.”
“I got scared.”
“You still asked for help.”
“Security found me.”
“And you told them what happened. That counts.”
Regulus swallowed.
“Will you really send the whole video?”
“Yes.”
“And the pictures are on Instagram?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not going to unfollow me tomorrow?”
Rory pulled back just enough to look at him.
“No.”
“You might.”
“I won’t.”
“You follow hardly anyone.”
“And now I follow you.”
Regulus searched his face.
Rory tapped the tip of his nose.
“Stop looking for the trick. There isn’t one.”
Regulus nodded.
“Okay.”
Rory hugged him once more.
“Get home safe, rock star.”
Walburga’s eyes filled again at the words.
Regulus returned to Orion’s side and immediately wrapped one arm around his father’s waist.
Orion drew him close.
“Ready?”
Regulus nodded.
Then he looked towards the backstage room.
“My stuff.”
Everyone turned.
The bags of merchandise required three people.
Two staff members carried the largest bags. Wes brought the box. Mina carried the bag packed with smaller items.
Claire appeared with another large paper bag folded closed at the top.
“This is food for the journey.”
Walburga blinked.
“You’ve already fed him.”
“He might get hungry again.”
Regulus looked inside.
There were wrapped hot dogs, two burgers, several portions of chips, packets of crisps, chocolate bars, biscuits, fruit, bottles of water, cartons of juice and two fizzy drinks.
Regulus’s eyes widened.
“That’s loads.”
Claire smiled.
“Share with your parents.”
Regulus looked at Orion.
“Can I have another hot dog now?”
“You can have whatever you want.”
Claire handed one over before closing the bag again.
Regulus held it carefully in one hand while the other remained fisted in Orion’s coat.
The sight was almost absurd: a small, exhausted boy wrapped in a rock star’s oversized leather jacket, clutching a hot dog and hanging onto his father while half the venue carried presents behind him.
Rory looked at Mina.
“We’ve spoiled him.”
Mina nodded.
“Good.”
Orion heard.
His expression softened for the first time since arriving.
“Thank you,” he said.
Rory nodded.
“Look after him.”
Orion’s arm tightened around Regulus.
“Always.”
Regulus took a bite of the hot dog as they walked.
The staff escorted them through the side corridors and out towards the private entrance near the car park.
Regulus remained pressed to Orion’s side the entire way.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“I played guitar onstage.”
“I heard.”
“With Rory.”
“I heard that too.”
“There were thousands of people.”
Orion looked down at him.
“Thousands?”
Regulus nodded, chewing quickly before speaking again.
“They all shouted my name.”
Orion stopped walking for half a second.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
Rory, following behind with the band, called out, “Every single one.”
Regulus smiled.
“I played the whole song.”
“Which one?”
“‘Matchstick Heart.’”
Orion’s eyebrows rose.
“The difficult one?”
Regulus looked pleased that he knew.
“Yes.”
“You played that live?”
“Yes.”
“Without practising with them?”
“Yes.”
“He nailed it,” Callum said.
Regulus immediately corrected him.
“I almost missed one chord.”
“You did not miss it.”
“I almost did.”
Orion looked at his son in astonishment.
“You went onto a stage in front of thousands of people, took a guitar you had never used before and played a full song with the band?”
Regulus nodded, mouth full of hot dog.
Orion’s face changed.
Pride overtook the fear for one bright second.
“That’s my boy.”
Regulus ducked his head.
“I was really good.”
“I have no doubt.”
“Rory said my name was the most rock-star name he’d ever heard.”
Orion glanced at Walburga.
“I did choose well.”
Walburga stared at him.
“We chose.”
“I suggested it.”
“You suggested six names.”
“And Regulus was one.”
“You also suggested Corvus.”
“Good name.”
“No.”
Regulus looked between them.
“Corvus?”
Walburga touched his hair.
“You were never going to be Corvus.”
“I like Regulus.”
“So do I.”
“It sounded good when everyone shouted it.”
“I imagine it did.”
The venue staff loaded the merchandise into the boot.
One bag went in.
Then another.
Then the box.
Then two more bags.
Orion stared at the growing pile.
“This is all his?”
Rory nodded.
“Most of what didn’t sell.”
Regulus took another bite.
“And his jacket.”
Orion looked down at the leather wrapped around his youngest.
“The one you’re wearing?”
“Yes.”
“The one he wore onstage?”
“Yes.”
“It’s signed inside,” Regulus added.
“By all of them?,” Walburga said, sounding awed despite everything.
Rory leaned against the wall.
“He wanted a hoodie.”
Orion looked at the mountain of merchandise.
“I think he has one.”
“Three,” Regulus said.
“Three?”
“And shirts and caps and a scarf and a blanket.”
“There wasn’t a blanket,” Mina called.
Regulus paused.
“Oh. What was it then?.”
Rory turned towards her.
“Why wasn’t there a blanket?”
“We don’t sell one.”
“We should.”
Regulus looked at Orion.
“They gave me a plush mouth.”
Orion stared.
“A what?”
“It’s the logo.”
“That did not clarify anything.”
Regulus smiled around another bite.
The final bag of food was placed carefully in the back seat.
Walburga opened the rear passenger door.
Regulus looked towards the front.
“I can sit beside Dad.”
“No,” Walburga said.
He blinked.
“I always sit in front.”
“Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because I am sitting with you.”
Regulus’s expression softened.
“Oh.”
Orion brushed his hand over the back of Regulus’s head.
“Get in, sweetheart.”
Regulus hesitated before releasing him.
Orion noticed.
“I’m only walking around to the driver’s side.”
Regulus’s fingers remained curled in the fabric of his coat.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Walburga held out her hand.
“Come here.”
Regulus finally released Orion and climbed into the back seat.
Walburga entered after him.
The moment the door shut, Regulus moved into her side.
She opened her arms.
He curled against her, still holding the hot dog in one hand, his head resting on her shoulder and his legs folded beneath Rory’s enormous jacket.
Walburga wrapped both arms around him.
Orion opened the driver’s door less than ten seconds later.
Regulus looked up immediately.
“I’m here.”
Regulus settled again.
The band and venue staff stood near the entrance.
Rory lifted his hand.
Regulus waved from behind the glass.
Walburga lowered the window.
“Thank you,” she called once more.
Rory nodded.
“Message when he’s home.”
Regulus leaned across her.
“I will!”
Wes shouted, “Don’t eat all the crisps at once!”
“I won’t!”
“Eat the chocolate first!”
Mina shoved him.
“That is terrible advice.”
Regulus laughed.
Orion started the engine.
As the car pulled away, Regulus twisted in Walburga’s arms to watch through the rear window.
The band remained beneath the venue lights, waving until the car turned out of the entrance and they disappeared from view.
Regulus watched the empty road behind them for another few seconds.
Then he sank back against his mother.
Walburga raised the window.
The car became warm and quiet.
Only the navigation spoke, announcing the first turn towards London.
Regulus ate another bite.
Walburga looked at the hot dog.
“Is that your second?”
“Yes.”
“Slowly.”
“I am.”
“You’re eating as though someone might take it.”
Regulus stopped chewing.
Walburga’s face changed instantly.
She drew him closer.
“No one is taking it.”
Regulus looked down.
“I know.”
“Everything in that bag is yours.”
“And the merch?”
“Yours.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
“What if I don’t finish the food?”
“Then we take it home.”
“It won’t get thrown away?”
“No.”
“I can have it tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Or for lunch?”
“Yes.”
“What about the chips?”
“We can warm them.”
“They won’t be as good.”
“Then eat some now.”
Regulus reached towards the large paper bag.
Walburga pulled it closer and opened it for him.
He selected a small carton of chips.
“You don’t have to eat everything,” she reminded him.
“I’m hungry.”
“Then eat until you are not hungry.”
“I might save the burger.”
“We will save it.”
“And the chocolate.”
“We will save that too.”
“And one of the juices.”
Walburga kissed his hair.
“We are taking the entire bag home. You can decide later.”
Regulus relaxed.
He placed the half-eaten hot dog carefully on its wrapper and started on the chips.
Orion watched them through the rear-view mirror.
“You played in front of thousands of people.”
Regulus’s head lifted.
“Yes.”
“Tell us everything.”
Walburga looked at him.
“From the beginning.”
Regulus swallowed a chip.
“The beginning of the concert or when I went onstage?”
“The concert.”
His face brightened.
It happened gradually.
First in his eyes.
Then in the corners of his mouth.
Then all at once as the memory broke through the fear.
“The lights went out first, and everybody screamed. It was so loud you could feel it in your chest. Not just hear it. It was like the floor moved.”
Walburga stroked his hair.
“That loud?”
“Louder. And then the drummer came out first, and there were red lights behind him, but you could only see his outline. Then he hit the cymbals, and the others ran out.”
“And Rory?”
“He came out last.”
“Dramatically?”
“Very.”
Orion smiled at the road.
“I expected nothing less.”
“He jumped onto the stage and shouted, ‘Are you alive?’ And everyone screamed, but he said it wasn’t loud enough.”
Regulus demonstrated, raising his voice.
“‘I said, are you fucking alive?’”
Walburga lifted an eyebrow.
Regulus froze.
“Sorry.”
She kissed his temple.
“I shall survive.”
“He swears loads.”
“I gathered.”
“Not in a bad way.”
“There is a good way?”
“Yes.”
Walburga looked amused.
“Explain.”
Regulus considered it.
“It makes the songs feel bigger.”
“That is not an explanation.”
“It is to me.”
“Then continue.”
Regulus leaned more comfortably against her.
“They started with ‘City Teeth.’ I thought they might because they’ve been opening with it all tour, but sometimes they use ‘Little Riot’ instead.”
“Which would you have preferred?” Orion asked.
“‘City Teeth.’ It starts louder.”
“Of course.”
“And then they did ‘No Saints Here,’ but they changed the bridge.”
“How?”
“The guitars dropped out and the crowd sang without them.”
Regulus sang a few words under his breath, then immediately began explaining the arrangement, using one hand to tap the rhythm against Walburga’s sleeve.
She listened to every word.
Asked which song came next.
Asked which one had been his favourite.
Asked whether the lights changed with the chorus.
Orion joined in whenever the road allowed him to divide his attention.
“Was the sound good?”
“Yes. Really good. Better from where I stood.”
“Where were you?”
“Near the side.”
“Could you see?”
“Perfectly.”
“Were you crushed?”
“No. People made space.”
Walburga brushed her thumb along his cheek.
“And then?”
“There was confetti in the fourth song.”
“Did you get any?”
Regulus nodded.
“It’s in one of the bags.”
“What colour?”
“Silver.”
“Of course it was.”
“Why of course?”
“Because you would have refused to keep it if it were orange.”
“I would’ve kept it.”
“You dislike orange.”
“I dislike bad orange.”
Walburga smiled.
“Forgive me.”
He continued.
He told them about Rory climbing the drum platform.
About the crowd singing.
About the microphone being passed towards the audience.
About catching the confetti.
About the song during which everyone held up phone lights until the entire hall looked like a sky filled with stars.
He told them how Rory had stopped before “Matchstick Heart.”
How he had asked whether anyone could play.
How people around Regulus had raised his hand.
Walburga’s eyes widened.
“You did not volunteer?”
“I sort of did.”
“Sort of?”
“I put my hand up and then took it down.”
“Why?”
“I got nervous.”
“You?”
Regulus looked offended.
“I can get nervous.”
“You went onstage anyway.”
“He saw me.”
“And spoke to you?”
“Through the microphone.”
“In front of everyone?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“He asked if I could play.”
“And?”
“I said yes.”
Orion glanced at him in the mirror.
“Confident.”
“I can play.”
“You certainly can.”
“He asked if I knew the whole song.”
“And you did.”
“Obviously.”
Regulus’s voice carried a touch of wounded dignity.
Walburga smiled.
“Obviously.”
“Then security pulled me over the barricade.”
Walburga’s hand paused in his hair.
“They pulled you?”
“They helped.”
“Carefully?”
“Yes, Mum.”
“You did not hit your head?”
“No.”
“Or fall?”
Regulus hesitated.
Orion noticed.
“What happened?”
“I nearly tripped on the steps.”
Walburga sat straighter.
“Nearly?”
“Rory caught me.”
“He caught you.”
“Yes.”
“You were not hurt?”
“No.”
She inspected him anyway, as though an injury might have remained hidden for the past hour.
Regulus laughed softly.
“I’m fine.”
“Continue.”
“He asked my name.”
“What did he say?”
Regulus grinned.
“He thought it was fake.”
Orion laughed.
Walburga looked affronted.
“It is a perfectly respectable name.”
“He said it was the most rock-star name he’d ever heard.”
Orion gave Walburga a triumphant look through the mirror.
“I told you.”
“You suggested Corvus.”
“That does not alter the quality of Regulus.”
“The crowd shouted it.”
Walburga’s attention returned entirely to her son.
“Your name?”
“Yes.”
“How many people?”
“All of them.”
“Thousands of people shouted your name?”
Regulus nodded.
“Like this.”
He clapped the rhythm against his knee.
“Reg-u-lus. Reg-u-lus. Reg-u-lus.”
Walburga stared at him with open wonder.
“My baby.”
Regulus’s cheeks reddened.
“I’m not a baby.”
“You are my baby.”
“I’m fourteen.”
“You can be fourteen and my baby.”
Orion nodded.
“She is correct.”
“You always agree with her.”
“It improves my life.”
Walburga ignored him.
“And then he gave you the guitar?”
“Yes. He asked me to demonstrate the beginning.”
“Were you frightened?”
“A bit.”
“A bit?”
“A lot.”
“But you did it.”
Regulus nodded.
“I played the riff, and then I did the transition too.”
“Was that showing off?” Orion asked.
“Maybe.”
“That’s my boy.”
Walburga laughed.
Regulus beamed.
“And Rory shouted, ‘Fuck yes!’”
“Language,” Walburga said automatically.
“That’s what he said.”
“Then it may remain within the quotation.”
“He got really excited because I knew it.”
“I imagine he did.”
“And then the drummer counted us in.”
Regulus’s hands moved as he spoke.
His fingers shaped invisible chords in the air. His foot tapped against the floor of the car. His eyes were no longer heavy.
He described the sound of the guitar through the stage amplifiers.
How different it felt from playing at home.
How the stage vibrated beneath his boots.
How the lights made it difficult to see the crowd beyond the first few rows, which somehow made it easier.
How Rory stood beside him during the verse.
How the bassist came over.
How the drummer nodded at him.
How the microphone appeared in front of his face during the chorus.
“You sang too?” Walburga asked.
“Only some lines.”
“Into Rory’s microphone?”
“Yes.”
“In front of thousands of people.”
“Yes.”
“And you did not faint.”
Regulus laughed.
“No.”
“I might have.”
“You can’t sing.”
Walburga looked scandalised.
“I can sing.”
Orion coughed.
She looked towards the front.
“Do you have something to say?”
“No.”
“You made a noise.”
“Road dust.”
“The windows are closed.”
“Still dust.”
Regulus giggled.
Walburga squeezed him.
“What was it like when they cheered?”
Regulus went quiet.
His expression softened.
“Really loud.”
“That is not what I meant.”
He looked down at the carton of chips in his hands.
“I don’t know.”
Walburga waited.
Regulus leaned farther into her side.
“It felt like they wanted me there.”
Her arm tightened around him.
Orion’s eyes flicked towards the mirror.
Regulus stared at the chips.
“When I was playing, no one was annoyed that I was there. They wanted me to keep going.”
Walburga rested her cheek against his hair.
“Of course they did.”
“They all knew my name.”
“Yes.”
“They didn’t know me, but they were happy.”
“You gave them something to be happy about.”
Regulus swallowed.
“Rory said I belonged on the stage.”
“He was right.”
“You haven’t seen the video yet.”
“I do not need a video to know.”
“But you’ll watch it?”
“Repeatedly.”
“How many times?”
“Until you beg me to stop.”
Regulus smiled.
“Good.”
Orion spoke quietly.
“We will watch it on the television when we get home.”
“The whole thing?”
“The whole thing.”
“The official video isn’t ready.”
“Then whatever clips you have.”
“They sent pictures to my Instagram.”
“You exchanged Instagram accounts with the band?” Walburga asked.
“They followed me.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
Rory’s jacket creaked as Regulus sat straighter.
“They found my account and looked through everything.”
Walburga raised an eyebrow.
“Everything?”
“My art and my awards and the guitar videos and pictures with Barty and Evan and Pandora and Dorcas.”
“What did they say?”
“They liked them.”
“Of course they did.”
“Rory listened to one of my original songs.”
Orion glanced back through the mirror.
“What did he think?”
“He said it was good.”
“Only good?”
Regulus’s pride emerged immediately.
“He said properly good.”
“Much better.”
“Mina said it too.”
“And they all followed you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you following them?”
“I already was.”
Walburga laughed.
“Obviously.”
“My friends are going to go insane.”
“Will they be awake?”
“They’ll stay awake until I tell them.”
“Not on a school night.”
“It’s not a school night.”
Walburga paused.
“Fair.”
“Barty will ring me.”
“Not tonight.”
“Mum.”
“You need sleep.”
“I need to tell them.”
“You can send them one message when we arrive home.”
“One?”
“One sensible message.”
“What counts as sensible?”
“Not forty-seven separate notifications.”
“That’s Barty, not me.”
“You are friends for a reason.”
Regulus looked thoughtful.
“What if I send the pictures in one group?”
“That is acceptable.”
“And a voice note?”
“One.”
“And the video tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“And I can post tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Regulus relaxed once more.
The adrenaline drained out of him as they moved farther from the venue.
His voice became softer.
His pauses longer.
The carton of chips gradually tipped against his lap.
Walburga took it before it spilled.
“You have had enough?”
“I’m still eating.”
“You were holding one chip for two minutes.”
“I was talking.”
“You can keep them.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
“And the hot dog?”
“You can finish it or keep it.”
Regulus considered the half-eaten food resting on the wrapper.
“Keep it.”
Walburga folded the wrapper securely.
“Done.”
“And the burger.”
“Also done.”
“And the juice.”
“We are not throwing anything away.”
Regulus nodded.
“Okay.”
She placed the food into the bag at her feet.
Regulus immediately curled closer, sliding down until his head rested against her chest.
Walburga arranged Rory’s jacket around him like a blanket.
His eyes closed.
Then opened again.
“Mum?”
“I’m here.”
“Are we nearly home?”
“Forty minutes.”
“That’s long.”
“You may sleep.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why?”
Regulus’s fingers curled into her coat.
“What if I wake up somewhere else?”
Walburga’s heart seemed to stop.
She took his face gently between her hands.
“You will wake up with me.”
Regulus looked at her.
“And Dad?”
“Your father will be in the front seat until we reach home.”
Orion raised one hand from the wheel briefly so Regulus could see it.
“I’m here.”
“And then?”
“Then I will carry everything inside.”
Regulus’s voice grew smaller.
“Me too?”
Orion’s eyes met his in the mirror.
“If you want.”
“I’m too old.”
“You are tired.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Regulus looked at Walburga.
She smoothed his hair away from his face.
“Your father can carry you if you ask him.”
Regulus hesitated.
“Maybe.”
Orion nodded.
“Maybe.”
Walburga guided Regulus’s head back to her shoulder.
“You are in the car with us. We are driving home. You are not going anywhere else.”
Regulus’s eyelids lowered.
“You’ll wake me when we get there?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
He lay still for a while.
The navigation spoke.
The tires hummed over the road.
Orion drove more carefully now, his anger held behind a rigid jaw and both hands fixed upon the wheel.
Walburga kept one arm around Regulus and used the other to stroke his hair.
A few minutes passed.
Regulus’s breathing began to even out.
Then he stirred.
“Mum?”
“I’m here.”
“I was really good onstage.”
Walburga smiled into his hair.
“I know you were.”
“You haven’t seen it.”
“I know anyway.”
“Rory said I was brilliant.”
“He has excellent judgement.”
“And the crowd shouted my name.”
“So you told me.”
“Thousands of people.”
“Thousands.”
Regulus’s lips curved faintly.
“Reg-u-lus.”
Walburga tapped the rhythm against his shoulder.
“Reg-u-lus.”
His smile deepened.
Orion joined quietly from the front.
“Reg-u-lus.”
Regulus opened one eye.
“You’re both embarrassing.”
Walburga kissed his forehead.
“You adore us.”
“Sometimes.”
“Tonight?”
Regulus tucked his face beneath her chin.
“Tonight.”
His eyes closed again.
This time, they stayed shut.
Walburga continued holding him as London drew nearer, keeping their youngest wrapped safely against her while Orion drove them home.