microfic: sirius & family trauma, 950 words
cw: death and implied abuse
idk what came over me. i wrote this mostly to project onto sirius and i dont even know if it’s supposed to be set in canon or in a modern au. enjoy i guess !
Sirius’ father dies on a regular tuesday. He hasn’t heard from him in several months before that, but his brother had called him from the hospital.
So here he was, sitting in an impersonal waiting room, his brother half asleep on his shoulder, staring at an ugly painting on the wall in front of him. It was a little crooked, Sirius thought. It was driving him a bit mad, and he wanted to correct it, but he didn’t want to wake Regulus.
Their mother was in the hospital room with their father— with her husband. The thought made Sirius feel strange, almost sick. Sirius’ mother was his devil, and she had always been the very picture of evil to him. It was easier to cope that way, thinking there was no good in the woman that had spat him out into the world against his will. It had shaken him to the very core of his bones to learn that his mother had refused to let Orion be alone when he died.
His mother had been at her husband's side for ten hours now, sitting by his bed, waiting for him to stop breathing. Every once in a while she came to speak to Regulus, sometimes glancing at Sirius. She had even touched Sirius’ shoulder and given him a gentle squeeze. Something he did not think her capable of.
Sirius’ father dies on a regular tuesday, which feels comically underwhelming and anti-climactic, all things considered. He had been such a large presence that even his absence had felt suffocating. He had been something Sirius couldn’t get rid of even even if tried. Always looming like a shadow in every corner of Sirius’ life.
Sirius had wished him dead more times than he could count, and now that he was he realised how unnerving it was. It was a lot more fun having a complicated relationship with your father when he was alive for it. It felt a little too final, a little too scary, now that he was a corpse a few doors down the hall and not someone Sirius could pick a fight with just for kicks.
Regulus had mostly been quiet, not really saying much. It had all been a little too surreal, too big for both of them. His brother had cried and made himself small against Sirius like when they were kids, getting snot and tears on Sirius shirt. Sirius had teased him for it, Christ, Regulus, you’re such a baby, and Regulus had laughed into his shoulder. Sirius had laughed too– until it escalated, and then they were both laughing. Sirius didn’t know why they were laughing, or why it was so funny, only that it was.
It went on like that the entire night, until morning, until their father had taken his last breath and his heart stopped. They were laughing hysterically about nothing in particular, and a moment later they were both so quiet it felt like the world around them had melted away or narrowed down to nothing but these four walls. Nurses came and went, offered them drinks or snacks, and two of them sat down and gave them a talk about grief. They were both biting their tongues trying not to burst out laughing again when one of the nurses said: At least you have all these wonderful memories with him.
It’s difficult being an older brother to someone whose father has died. Almost to the point where you forget that your father died, too. It’s hard watching Regulus mourn him and know he’s going to carry this with him for the rest of his life. Sirius would take the burden from him if he could. He’d do anything if it meant his little brother didn’t have to go through this, not even having a choice. It feels desperately unfair and cruel that Sirius can’t protect him from this.
Sirius had left home, almost cutting all his ties to his family. Regulus was the only reason he never managed to cut them all. He’d tried to get Regulus to come with him— to move on with him. Had told him that blood isn’t what makes a family, and Regulus had said No? What about you and me?
So he hadn’t cut all his ties with his family— continued to stick it out for his little brother who refused to let go. He suffered through the occasional family dinner or social function, but at least he had his own apartment to go back home to.
He knew Regulus would mourn differently than Sirius would. Knew that Regulus thought that their father had done unspeakable things to them, but maybe he’ll make a good grandfather one day when I have children. Sirius didn’t think so, but he never said.
Not like it mattered anymore, anyway.
Sirius had always been more like Orion than Regulus. Both his mother and his brother had told him so more than once. Sirius despised the very idea, the very thought that he would one day grow into becoming his father. Had fought violently to refuse his legacy. Had fought harder to stop his father looking back at him through the mirror.
Strange, now, how he’d never see his father again if he wasn’t looking in the mirror. Regulus had mostly taken after their mother.
Sirius’ father dies on a regular tuesday. The view from the tenth floor is beautiful, the sun just starting to come up, another day coming alive. The painting is still askew, and still will be when they leave this room.
How strange that a day, a night, like this can end. That this room will be the same, only empty of two brothers holding onto each other the best they can waiting for their father to die.
Sirius’ father dies on a regular tuesday.
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I've decided to make my own post because I am not an idiot, but full disclosure that this post is 50% based on thoughts I was having while I was driving home from the auto repair shop yesterday and 50% a response to a post I saw just now that conflated "redemption arcs" (things fictional characters go through in fictional stories) with "community support" (things real life people offer to other real life people in real life) and how this relates to "fixing people" (making someone who mistreats or abuses themself or others not mistreat or abuse themself or others anymore).
Read my words very carefully.
In fiction, it is more than okay to like whatever type of toxic or fantastical relationship you want. If you like to read stories about toxic, codependent people who are absolutely horrible to one another and will never, ever change, you read those stories. If you like to read stories about a tortured man who just needs The Right Person to teach him to be better, and then he is, sometimes exclusively only to them though, then you read those stories. Sometimes you want to read stories where the main character says "I can fix him" and fails spectacularly, and sometimes you want to read stories where the main character says "I can fix him" and succeeds spectacularly, and either way, you read whatever stories you want, whatever makes you happy, I'm sure it's somewhere in this vast Archive that we call Our Own.
However, in real life?
First of all, "arcs" aren't things real life people have. An arc is something that has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Real life people don't have those, because our stories don't end until we die. Unlike a character, whose life presumably continues even after their story ends (except in circumstances where they die at the end but you know what I mean), we have to keep living day by day, with all the rises and falls that come with it. Now, this does not mean that a person cannot change, or that a person can't get better and learn from their mistakes; but it DOES mean that we can't have a "redemption arc" where we complete a checklist of story beats and then suddenly we're a better person who has experienced the necessary growth to be forgiven. First off, no amount of growth or change ever requires any victims to forgive. And second, that's just not how life works. That's not how change works. Change and growth are baby steps taken each day, and sometimes you go backwards, and you get angry with yourself, but then you pick yourself up and you try again the next day, and the next, and the next. It's an ongoing journey that does not end until you die. That's life.
But second and more importantly, the real idea that I think the original post was trying to get at, but missing the mark on was . . . okay.
So, the original OP of the post (and the person who replied to OP) got angry at the idea that the strawman they had invented (the person who had theoretically said "you can't fix him!") would deny support to someone who needs that help to grow and change as a person. The person who had replied in support of OP added that the strawman clearly believed in punitive justice over rehabilitative justice as well. On the surface, I can see where they are coming from. After all, on the whole humans are a social species and do need support networks in order to not only thrive, but survive. People such as drug addicts need support and assistance in order to get into better places in their lives, and the prison system has been proven to be far less effective at preventing repeated offenses than rehabilitative programs. This is all true.
However.
The reason why "you can't fix them" is still true, and needs to be said and understood particularly by those who are susceptible to falling into abusive relationships (e.g. people who have been abused before, particularly in childhood or adolescence) is because of free will. Specifically, the free will that each of us has, but specifically the other person. Person A can want so, so, so badly to "fix" Person B so that they stop being an abusive alcoholic 75% of the time. But if Person B doesn't actually want to stop being an abusive alcoholic (even if they say they do during the 25% of the time they aren't smacking Person A around), and refuses to put in the work that it takes to become sober and be a better person, then guess what? Nothing Person A does will ever make them be a sober, non-abusive partner. They will be unable to fix Person B. It doesn't matter how much time, energy, money, or commitment they pour into that person. It doesn't matter how much they genuinely, honestly, earnestly love them. Because unless Person B wants to change, and will put the work into doing so, then they will not change, and Person A, for their own health, safety, and sanity, needs to exit that relationship.
Now, does that mean that if, ten years down the line, Person B decides they are ready to put in the work to get their alcoholism under control, no one should help them? Of course not! They should absolutely be put in touch with sober counselors, support groups, medical professionals, friends and family who can help them. Person A could potentially forgive them, if Person A chooses. But that willingness to change and put in the work has to come from within Person B first.
I've been in the position where I've seen people in awful situations just tanking their lives, people I loved and cared about, people I begged to just listen to me and get help, only for them to not . . . and ultimately I had to accept that I couldn't fix them. I could be there to offer support when they were ready to fix themselves, but the core work that needed to be done had to come from within themselves. I couldn't provide that. Not because I was inadequate, not because I didn't love them, but because I couldn't force them to do anything they didn't want, or weren't ready, to do.
So at the end of the day, "you can't fix them" isn't about not giving support. It's about recognizing your limitations as a human being. It's about knowing that:
You cannot force someone to do something they do not want to do.
You cannot force someone to do something they are not ready to do.
Not being able to help or save someone is not a moral failing of yours.
Not being able to help or save someone does not mean you do not love or care about them.
Providing support should never come at risk of your own health and safety, physical or otherwise.
When you love someone, it can be really hard to accept this. You think, "I know I can make them want to try. I know I can inspire them to want to change. I know they love me, so if I just love them a little harder, they will want to change." Nine times out of ten, though, that is just not true. And if someone is abusing you, it is not worth the literal risk to your life to keep trying. You are worth more than that. You are more than just someone else's band-aid.
Keep yourselves safe in 2024.
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