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His thoughts were barely coherent, and pounded along in time with his feet slapping the pavement. He didn't have an actual destination in mind, more worried about getting away, but he knew where he'd end up.
It was where he always ended up. The place that felt more like home than his actual house had ever felt. In times past, he'd left because of Reggie. Somebody had to be there to protect him. He'd had to get home to his little brother, be there for him like nobody had been for Sirius. But now…
Sirius cut off the train of thought. His father had made it quite clear that he wasn't allowed, let alone welcomed, back and if a certain little traitor wasn't willing to speak up on his brother's behalf, maybe he didn't need protecting anyway. He could see how he liked it when their father drew his fists, when their mother pointed her wand with that cruel smirk.
Sirius' feet slowed as a terrible thought entered his head. What if it is something about me that makes them treat me like that? What if the Potters do it as well? Effie had been a Slytherin herself. What if she still has that prejudice and only doesn't harm James because he's her son? That same protection won't apply to me! And he's always talking about Lily so they probably don't even know he's bi! And if it's as obvious as Orion said then they'll know instantly!
Sirius gave a twitch of his head. He could feel the blood pooling between his worry-formed wrinkles swiftly change course briefly. He'd long since stopped noticing the metallic taste in his mouth, though if he cared to investigate he'd likely still find quite a bit. He wasn't even sure where all he was hurt, his whole body felt like a fresh bruise. All he was confident in was if the Potters were to treat him like that, he might not survive.
Logically, Sirius knew that the Potters weren't prejudiced against Gryffindors, nor against the fact that his surname was (or was it had been, now that he'd been disowned?) Black. Logically he knew that they probably wouldn't care if he was gay, they'd made jokes about similar things before. But Sirius was in a lot of pain. His thoughts were spiraling, his heart racing. Logic wasn't part of the equation anymore.
Moony had said this feeling, this process, these symptoms, all of it, was called anxiety. He said that Sirius seemed predisposed to have "anxiety attacks" because of his "PTSD", whatever that was. He had helped compile methods to calm down from it, to be able to be logical once again.
The methods worked. He'd used them during the school year, following Moony's coaching and quickly coming back to himself. They had worked on the train when James stepped in, letting Moony get back to his prefect duties. They had worked earlier this summer, back when Reggie was still on his side and had been willing to whisper the steps to the older boy. Sirius knew the methods worked.
But…
He didn't know the methods. His thoughts were flying too fast for him to remember what they were. He couldn't figure out the steps. And this time, there was no outside voice. There was no person that somehow hadn't been caught up in the thought tornado. There were no whispered instructions. There was just Sirius. Sirius who couldn't do anything right. Sirius who was a freak. Sirius who didn't have a home to his name; didn't even have a name, not anymore.
Sirius finally stopped running. He collapsed to the ground and curled himself into a ball. Then, he ducked his head, as if hiding from the world. And, in the dark of night, on a street generic enough nobody would recognize it, a nameless boy, a mere child, sat alone. And Sirius cried.