Regulus stumbles out of the large townhouse; the crisp winter air clouds his breath and doesn't help ease his already trembling body.
He shuts the front door as quietly as he can and trips down the front steps, dropping the half-full bottle of his father's expensive wine.
It shatters and paints the steps a deep maroon red.
A laugh escapes his paling lips as he clumsily hoists himself up from the pavement, reaching for his skates that he had dropped during his fall.
He staggers drunkenly through the neighborhood; his eyes drift toward the clear night sky above. He swears the stars seem twice as bright tonight. His own star, especially, flickers above him with its blue hue.
Behind a layer of tall white birch trees, he can see the dark expanse of the lake. Beneath his feet, frozen leaves crunch with each step he takes toward it, as though something were calling upon him from within the inky black waters.
A wooden bench sits by the shore, an old and frankly ugly thing that's covered in graffiti and a thin layer of frost. When he was twelve years old, his brother took him here and engraved two stars into the backrest of the bench with a stolen pocketknife.
"It'll be like we're sitting here, on this bench, even when we're not."
Twelve-year-old Regulus had laughed at his older brother. Fourteen-year-old Regulus took a knife to the stars and swore never to come back. Sixteen-year-old Regulus is lacing up his skates with numb and shaking fingers.
He has always had a passion for ice skating; it was one of the few things that could quiet his racing thoughts. It made him feel like he could be more than just a perfect son and a fucked-up brother. He could be weightless, beautiful, and free.
With a shaky breath, he steps onto the ice.
He moves slowly at first, but as he falls into rhythm, he picks up the familiar motions and glides across the lake with ease.
In these moments, he feels alive with the cold wind rushing past him. His last dance better be a good one.
He almost feels like a boy again. He had almost forgotten why he had come here tonight.
He skates toward the middle of the lake, the ice creaking and groaning beneath him as a useless warning. His heart hammers against his ribs as he completes jump after spin. With each landing, he ignores the sickening crackles underneath his blades.
With a deep breath, he pulls off a triple axel. As his body twists in the air, time seems to slow down. He opens his eyes and looks up at the rapidly spinning sky, the glittering stars spinning above him like a carousel.
The ice beneath him shatters like glass as he lands. The deafening crack echoes through the night as his body falls through the ice.
For a brief moment, there's only the rush of water surrounding him before he comes to his senses and feels his body stiffening as he's submerged in the icy water.
A deep sense of regret fills him as he fights and flails, but to no use—the ice has trapped him inside.
He kicks wildly, making the blade of his skate slice through his calf. He gasps, and icy water fills his lungs, burning him from the inside.
It's too late now; he's losing blood, and his lungs are filled with the water of the lake.
With darkening vision, he instinctively breathes in once again and feels himself become lighter as he gets dragged into the darkness. Before he closes his eyes, he prays the letters will arrive in time before they find him at the bottom of the lake.
Darkness surrounds him.
He feels warm again.