"Fine!" Sirius snaps. "Throw your bloody life away. But don't you dare come running to me when you realize you're an idiot!"
Regulus stares at his arm, the very place the Dark Mark will soon be. He's listened to his brother's rants and pleas in silence, but he can't take it anymore. "I hate you," he whispers, lifting his gaze to see the hurt in Sirius' eyes.
"You don't mean that."
"I do."
OoOoO
Why is Regulus thinking about that now as dead hands drag him beneath the surface? Your life is supposed to flash before your eyes, but all he sees is his brother the day Sirius had tried to talk him out following Bellatrix.
I hate you.
But he doesn't. He never did. He'd only wanted to hurt Sirius. Sirius, who Regulus had adored. Sirius, who'd been ashamed of him in the end. But it's too late to tell him.
His chest aches, and it has nothing to do with the water that fills his lungs. He'd done his job. He'd hurt Sirius, and now all he wants is to take it back.
Death is approaching, and Regulus is afraid. He wishes Sirius could hold his hand now as he'd done when they were kids.