CANNONBALL ⇒ jegulus

PROLOGUE

The sounds of the crowd seem to drown out the echoing voice of Sirius Black as he shouts, "Thank you and goodnight, London!" He swings backwards, very narrowly missing James Potter and his black electric guitar.

Their microphones disconnect and the crowd screams even louder as the old raggedy curtain falls, the sounds of the four boys exiting the stage can be heard.

Regulus sits at the bar, leaning on his elbow and nursing a vodka mixed with something fruity.

"Good show!" A bubbly girl with glitter scattered all over her face cries, approaching him. "You were amazing!"

"Thanks," Regulus drawls, too acquitted with being mistaken for his older brother by the floaty girls and boys who seem to follow the band's every move.

He's had to switch, no longer Regulus and instead throws on a haughty, teasing grin; his act as Sirius only continues when the girl gleefully begs for his autograph, handing him a pink sharpie.

Sirius. O. Black

Regulus scribbles his brother's name down on her chest, his penmanship identical to Sirius', this poor, tipsy girl couldn't possibly have been able to tell the difference. Regulus sighs as he hands back the sharpie with a wink. "Thanks for comin', love," He winks. God, acting as Sirius is degrading. But Sirius encourages, he thinks it's funny. So Regulus obliges.

Besides; it's much easier to be dashingly gorgeous Sirius with his grins and winks and smirks than Sirius' little brother who's mindset is so screwed up he's been working himself through therapy for as long as he can remember.

It is much easier to pretend to be your older brother, a man who everyone adores and screams for every single time he steps under the faintly pink stage lighting.

Sirius seems to have turned his pain into power, parading around stages in leather pants and silky button downs, his long hair swinging and stuck to his makeup smeared face as he clutches a microphone; the frontman of the band while Remus and James strum their electric guitars and Peter bashes sway at the drums.

All the while Regulus just bites his lips and tries not to let his scatteredly closed off emotions push anymore people away from him.

Either way; they're both disappointing their parents, whether they are sullen or destined for stardom. Nobody is ever a winner, especially not anyone cursed with the surname Black.

Regulus has never been sure just how he is mistaken for a twenty three year old Sirius when he's a year his brother's junior, but still he finds himself pulling on that slick face to imitate Sirius. It comes effortlessly to him now, he simply raises his eyebrows and erases his frown and suddenly he's happy-go-lucky Sirius.

The girl giggles before departing, leaving her sequined top lowered for all to see her branded chest. Lily approaches him, her red hair tied into a low, loose bun, strands framing her face wildly.

She's alone.

It is a rare occurrence to spot Lily Evans simply by herself. Her greasy highschool boyfriend is usually by her side all of the time. Even at the thought of Severus Snape, Regulus is repulsed. Surely somebody as florally graceful as Lily deserves much better than a lazy doucebag, at least Regulus and many others think so.

But alas, it seems Lily is tied, essentially. Snape has been her boyfriend since she was fourteen and at twenty five, not much was going to be changing anytime soon. She has grown far too used to their odd routine to fly the nest.

"Hey, you coming back stage? Sirius has been looking for you,"

Regulus nods curtly. "Be back there in a minute," Regulus swigs the rest of his vodka, washing it down with an abandoned water that he had bought at the beginning of the night. "What'd you think? They're getting bigger, aren't they," He muses.