1
Regulus stood in front of the long mirror which watched regulus for the 6th time try on a different shirt. Regulus stared at himself in the blue shirt before ripping it off as he felt he didn’t look good.
Regulus had to look good tonight.Not even good he had to look like a muse.A muse someone will spot and think of regulus the whole night.
Aggressively,looking through his wardrobe he had to find the perfect shirt. He went from shirt to shirt but nothing good.This is going to be a disaster
Knock knock,” sang a voice outside his open door.
Regulus didn’t even notice the sing-song tone or the bang on the wood—his head was too deep in the wardrobe, lost in the endless search for perfection.
His hands stilled as his eyes landed on a white button-up, crisp and simple against the sea of colours. You can’t go wrong with a plain white shirt.
“That,” came the familiar drawl, “is a recipe for disaster right there in your hand.”
Regulus turned, and there was Sirius, arms crossed, a wide grin plastered across his face, the kind that practically screamed You know I’m right.
Regulus exhaled sharply, turning back to the wardrobe. “It’s a shirt, Sirius. Not a cursed object.”
Sirius wandered further into the room, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. “No, but it’s white.” He leaned against the wardrobe like he belonged there, tilting his head. “The most tragically optimistic colour to wear to a date. The universe sees a white shirt and conspires.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, tugging the shirt off the hanger. “I think I’ll survive.”
“Will you?” Sirius countered. “Because all I’m saying is, somewhere out there, a glass of wine is teetering on the edge of a table, waiting for the perfect moment. A pasta fork is spinning just a little too fast. Your date might be one of those enthusiastic talkers.”
Regulus gave him a flat look. “Enthusiastic talkers?”
Sirius flailed his hands dramatically. “The kind who talk with their hands. One wrong move, and boom—your crisp white perfection is a modern art piece.” He smirked. “Could be a metaphor, actually. Very deep. Very tragic.”
Regulus sighed and turned toward the mirror, holding the shirt up against himself. “I happen to like white.”
“I know you do,” Sirius said, a little too easily. “It’s safe. Controlled. No risk.” He plopped onto the edge of the bed, watching as Regulus unbuttoned the shirt with careful precision. “Bit ironic, though.”
Regulus arched an eyebrow in the mirror. “How so?”
Sirius stretched out, arms behind his head. “Because nothing about a date is safe, dear brother.” He waggled his fingers ominously. “It’s an experience. A gamble. A wild, unpredictable journey where you could end up hopelessly in love—”
Regulus scoffed.
“—or,” Sirius continued, grinning, “trapped in a two-hour conversation about someone’s childhood pet hamster.”
Regulus sighed through his nose, slipping his arms into the sleeves and fastening the buttons slowly, methodically. “It’s dinner, Sirius. Not an epic saga.”
Sirius hummed, unconvinced. “And you want to go?”
That gave Regulus pause. His fingers hesitated for a fraction of a second at the last button, barely perceptible, but Sirius caught it.
“It’s one dinner,” Regulus muttered, adjusting the cuffs.
Sirius watched him through narrowed eyes, like he was solving a puzzle. Then, he smirked. “Well. If it all goes wrong, you know where to find me.”
Regulus turned, expression guarded. “And where would that be?”
“Here, obviously. Ready to say ‘I told you so’ at a moment’s notice.” Sirius grinned, standing up and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “But hey, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’ll be perfect. Maybe your white shirt will survive the evening, and you’ll come home glowing and in love.”
Regulus gave him a pointed look. “I doubt it.”
Sirius grinned, stepping back toward the door. “Then again, you’re wearing white.” He wiggled his fingers once more. “And the universe loves irony.”
Sirius’s grin softened slightly as he leaned against the doorframe again, arms folded. “So… Ryan is the lucky guy, right?”
Regulus froze, his fingers hovering over the last button. He met Sirius’s gaze in the mirror, the words tasting strange on his tongue. “What about him?”
Sirius shrugged, a nonchalant grin curling at his lips, though his eyes were calculating. “I mean, you’re putting a lot of effort into this whole ‘perfect dinner’ thing. I take it he’s worth the extra fuss?”
Regulus swallowed, a slight flush creeping up his neck, though he quickly masked it with a cool expression. “It’s not like that.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Right. Sure it isn’t. Because nothing says ‘casual’ like a white shirt that screams disaster waiting to happen.”
Regulus shot him a sharp look. “I’m not trying to impress him, Sirius.”
“Really?” Sirius pressed. “Because I can’t think of a better way to impress someone than showing up looking like you’ve been prepped for a formal dinner, down to the last detail.” He gave Regulus a pointed glance. “You know, the kind of dinner where someone might—oh, I don’t know—realize you’re trying way too hard.”
Regulus let out a breath, staring at himself in the mirror. “I’m not trying too hard.”
Sirius smirked. “Whatever you say. But hey, if it does go horribly wrong, you’ll know you’ve still got me. And I’ll be there to say, ‘I told you so,’ and remind you that you’ve always got a better option than whatever Ryan is. No white shirt required.”
~~~~~
Laughter echoed around the room, filling the air with a warmth that seemed entirely out of place for Regulus. Children’s crayons clattered onto the floor, while parents’ smiles remained glued to their faces, all too absorbed in their own little worlds. At least they were enjoying themselves.
Regulus wished he could say the same.
His foot tapped incessantly against the floor, the repetitive beat like a ticking clock counting down the minutes of his misery. Seven taps in this second alone, as though his foot had taken on a life of its own, desperate to leave. His hand hovered near his face, struggling to hold up his head as his eyelids drooped. He’d tried, really tried, to stifle the yawns, but it was becoming nearly impossible. His eyes darted everywhere except the face of the man sitting across from him. Ryan, the charming disaster.
Regulus picked up his glass of wine, hoping the smooth liquid would ease his irritation and, perhaps, help time pass just a little faster. But the clock on the wall remained stubbornly still. He took a sip, feeling the coolness spread through him, wishing he could just stay quiet for the rest of the night—if only Ryan would stop talking.
“So, you get my point of view, right?” Ryan’s voice sliced through the quiet hum of the room, his smug smile stretched wider than Regulus had ever thought humanly possible. He was convinced he was always right, and Regulus couldn’t bring himself to care.
Regulus nodded, his mouth occupied with the wine, but he tried to mutter a response. Unfortunately, as he did, a careless motion sent the glass tilting just enough to spill a little of the wine out and onto his pristine white shirt.
The man across from him didn’t need to look to know what had happened. The sharp intake of breath and the dismissive scoff spoke volumes. Regulus could feel the disappointment radiating from him, even without meeting his eyes. He didn’t need to see Ryan’s face to know the judgement was already there.
“When the food arrives, try not to ruin your shirt again,” Ryan muttered, eyes narrowing as he took another sip of his own drink, clearly irritated by Regulus’s clumsiness.
Regulus had a thousand things he could say to him—most of them incredibly rude—but he bit his tongue. There was no point in giving Ryan the satisfaction of a fight. Instead, he slapped his hand down onto the table with a loud thwack. The noise made a few heads turn, but Regulus didn’t care. He was past caring.
“You ruined my plan, Ryan,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I really, really wanted to drop food down my white shirt. That’s exactly what I was aiming for tonight.” He said it with all the fake sincerity he could muster.
The room went quiet for a beat, and a few people glanced between him and Ryan, some raising eyebrows, but Regulus didn’t care. His friends would’ve laughed, maybe even slapped their knees at how dramatically he was delivering the line, but Ryan was no friend.
Ryan tutted, shaking his head in disdain. “Unbelievable. How old are you again?” He pointed an accusatory finger at Regulus, as if the whole situation were somehow Regulus’s fault.
Regulus was about to respond, but just then, the smell of fresh Italian pizza wafted through the air. His stomach grumbled, but before he could speak up and praise how wonderful the scent was, Ryan opened his mouth first.
“Of course that’s your pizza. It fits your personality—dull and boring.” Ryan smirked, settling back in his chair with that irritating grin that made Regulus’s blood boil. It was one of those smug smiles that made you wonder if he actually thought he was clever, or if he was just blind to how utterly ridiculous he looked.
Regulus blinked, his patience running out. “Well, at least I won’t be wet like you,” he shot back before he could stop himself.
Without thinking, he grabbed his glass of white wine and, with all the precision of a man who had finally had enough, flung it toward Ryan’s chest. The wine splashed across his shirt, leaving a stark contrast against the fabric, and Ryan jumped back, hands raised in shock.
For a moment, there was a stunned silence. Ryan’s face turned beet red, his lips parting in an incredulous gape. He wiped his face frantically, trying to clean up the mess with his hands, but the damage was done. He looked absolutely furious, but Regulus didn’t care. He had reached his breaking point.
Before Ryan could even open his mouth to say anything, Regulus stood up. His chair scraped loudly against the floor, drawing attention from a few tables nearby, but Regulus barely noticed. He placed the napkin on the table, his movements slow and deliberate.
“Don’t embarrass yourself, Ryan,” he said coolly, eyes locking with the man across from him. “Don’t spill food down your shirt, okay?”
And with that, Regulus turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Ryan sputtering behind him. He could hear the man muttering under his breath, but it didn’t matter anymore. Regulus had made his point.
~~~~
Regulus stood outside the restaurant, the cool night air brushing against his face as he slowly walked down the street. He could still feel the awkward tension from the evening, the clink of glasses, and Ryan’s obnoxious smirk echoing in his mind. The date had been a disaster, but as he moved farther away from it, Regulus found himself almost amused by the whole thing.
He wasn’t desperate for love. He didn’t need it to feel whole. It was an idea that never quite resonated with him. People like Ryan, with their grand ideas of romance and expectations, seemed to think that love was some kind of treasure to be sought after, as if it could be the answer to every problem. Regulus didn’t have those illusions. He didn’t need someone to complete him, to make him feel valid. He was fine on his own.
But dates? Dates were different. Dates didn’t need to be anything monumental. They didn’t need to involve declarations of love or long-term commitment. They were just… fleeting experiences. A chance to fill the empty moments of his week, a break from the usual routine, a distraction when life got dull. A bit of fun.
Regulus had never been one to take things too seriously, especially not when it came to people he barely knew. Tonight had been proof of that. Ryan had been irritating, sure, but he hadn’t ruined Regulus’s night. Regulus had learned long ago not to put too much weight on the outcome of something like a date. If it didn’t work out, it didn’t work out. No big deal.
In the end, he thought with a small smile, at least he could say he wasn’t wet from spilling food down his shirt. The evening had its moments, even if they weren’t what he’d hoped for.
But love? Regulus wasn’t chasing it. He didn’t need to. Maybe it would come one day, maybe not. It didn’t matter. He had enough to focus on in his life—his work, his own happiness. And he liked it that way.
The occasional date was just a small way to break up the monotony, a brief distraction to remind him that life could be a little unpredictable, a little exciting, even if only for a short while.
So, he wasn’t upset. He wasn’t disappointed. He had expected nothing from Ryan—and got exactly that. And honestly? He couldn’t have asked for anything more.
Regulus slipped his hands into his pockets, his pace slowing as he felt the weight of the night lift off his shoulders. No expectations, no pressure. Just a simple moment in time that was now behind him.
A date? It was fun, but not something to live for.
And that was exactly how he liked it.
~~~~~
Regulus stepped through the door of the flat, the quiet hum of the evening surrounding him. The day had been long, and after the disaster of his date with Ryan, he was looking forward to some peace and quiet. However, as soon as he stepped inside, he was immediately hit with the smell of bacon. His stomach grumbled in protest as he followed the scent down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Regulus took a step forward and froze.
Regulus took a step forward and froze.
In front of him stood a shirtless man, his toned body moving rhythmically to the beat of the radio as he expertly worked with a pizza dough. His brown, curly hair fell messily around his face, and a pair of glasses perched casually on his nose. His grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, and he seemed completely at ease, humming along as he spun the dough in the air.
Regulus blinked, his voice coming out slower than usual. “Uh… who are you? And I think you’re cooking in the wrong kitchen.”
The man glanced over his shoulder, a wide grin spreading across his face as he expertly flipped the dough. “Wrong kitchen? Nah, I’m pretty sure I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” he said, raising an eyebrow and giving Regulus a once-over. “Sirius didn’t mention you were home, but hey, don’t let me stop you. Pizza’s almost ready, if you’re hungry.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow, eyeing the pizza on the counter with suspicion. “How do I know it’s not poisoned?” he asked, his arms crossed and a skeptical smile tugging at his lips.
“Well, have a bite and find out,” the man said, holding the pizza slice in front of Regulus’ mouth, a playful gleam in his eyes. Without waiting for a reply, he nudged the slice closer, teasingly. Regulus hesitated for a moment, then, curiosity winning over, he took the cheesy bite.
The flavors exploded in his mouth—rich and savory, with just the right amount of crisp to the crust. His eyes widened, slightly surprised. He looked back at the man in front of him, who was casually chewing on his own slice. The contrast between Regulus’ skeptical frown and the man’s easy grin only added to the absurdity of the situation.
Regulus, trying to hide his enjoyment, raised an eyebrow and looked back at him. “Pizza gone funny?” he joked, trying to keep his voice light, though he was still a little on edge from the earlier suspicion.
The man paused mid-chew, his brow furrowing as if he were genuinely confused. He looked down at his pizza, then back up at Regulus with an exaggerated expression of horror. “I ate the wrong one,” he said, as if struck by some sudden, terrible realization. “This wasn’t the one I meant to give you.”
Regulus blinked, suddenly feeling a twinge of unease. “What do you—?”
Before he could finish his question, the man clutched his throat dramatically, eyes going wide in mock panic. His body froze, and his mouth opened, but no sound came out. Regulus stood stock-still, his heart lurching in his chest. The man’s face contorted as if he was struggling to breathe. He stumbled backward, his hands clutching at his throat, and then—just like that—he collapsed to the floor with a loud thud.
Regulus froze for a second, his mind racing as he tried to process what was happening. “Oh my god—!” he rushed forward, his hand hovering in the air. “What—what the hell?!” His voice trembled as he knelt beside him, unsure whether he should try to help or scream for assistance.
The man lay on the floor, his limbs flopping loosely, his eyes rolling up as though he were on the verge of passing out. He groaned, an exaggerated sound of distress, and Regulus felt his heart race in panic. He desperately glanced around, unsure of what to do, feeling completely out of his depth.
And then—
The man let out a loud, almost theatrical gasp, his body jerking as he suddenly rolled over and sat up, grinning widely.
“Gotcha,” he said through a burst of laughter, wiping fake tears from his eyes.
Regulus blinked, his confusion giving way to a mixture of relief and frustration. “You absolute prat,” he muttered, his breath still heavy in his chest as his heart gradually slowed. “I thought you—”
The man chuckled again, his grin wide and utterly unrepentant. “You should’ve seen your face! You actually thought I’d poisoned you! You looked ready to call an ambulance!” He stood up, brushing himself off as if nothing had happened, clearly enjoying the chaos he’d caused. “I’ve got to admit, you looked way more worried than I expected.”
Regulus narrowed his eyes, his face flushed with both embarrassment and irritation. “That was not funny,” he said through gritted teeth. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
The man just shrugged, casually taking another bite of pizza as if nothing had occurred. “Yeah, well, all part of the experience, mate.” He gave him a mischievous wink. “Besides, I had to make sure you trusted the pizza. Nothing says ‘I’m not poisoning you’ like a good scare, right?”
Regulus stood there for a moment, staring at the man who was now casually chewing another slice of pizza as though nothing had happened. His heart was still racing, the panic that had gripped him only a few moments ago now giving way to a boiling frustration. He couldn’t believe he had almost fallen for it—he’d been ready to help the man, for Merlin’s sake.
“You’re insufferable,” Regulus muttered under his breath, turning back to face the kitchen counter, trying to compose himself. But the frustration wasn’t quite gone. His fingers clenched at his sides, his jaw tight with irritation.
The man, clearly unbothered, was grinning like he’d just won a prize. He raised an eyebrow, that same playful gleam never leaving his eyes. “Oh, come on,” he said with a smirk, clearly enjoying himself. “You should’ve seen your face. You thought I was done for!”
Regulus glared at him, his patience wearing thin. “If you think that’s funny,” he said, his voice low, “you’ve got a strange sense of humor.”
The man shrugged nonchalantly, finishing his slice. “What can I say? It was a great joke. And look—you’re still here, aren’t you? Means I haven’t scared you off yet.”
Regulus took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He could feel his irritation growing, but he wasn’t going to let this person think he’d gotten to him that easily. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” Regulus said, his voice biting. “I thought you were actually dying.”
The man shrugged again, still too calm for Regulus’ liking. “You’re the one who fell for it, mate. I can’t be blamed for how gullible you are.”
Regulus stared at him for a moment, then crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “I’ll admit,” he said, his voice colder now, “you did manage to get me for a second. But you won’t find me this easy to fool again.”
The man grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Well, I’m glad to know I’ve got your attention at least.”
The silence stretched on between them, the air heavy with tension. Regulus could feel the anger still simmering beneath the surface, but he wasn’t about to let this guy get under his skin anymore.
Just then, the kitchen door swung open, and Sirius strolled in, his hands in his pockets and a casual grin on his face. He glanced between Regulus and the man on the floor, clearly noticing the charged atmosphere. “What’s all this, then?” he asked, sounding more curious than concerned.
Regulus turned to face Sirius, his annoyance spilling over. “This idiot thought it would be funny to fake dying and scare the hell out of me,” he said, gesturing sharply to the man, who was still lounging on the floor like he hadn’t a care in the world.
Sirius raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, he did, did he?” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “I warned you, Reg. That’s just how James is.”
Regulus blinked, his head snapping towards the man on the floor. “James?” he repeated, his tone skeptical, his annoyance thick in his voice. “So that’s what we’re calling him now?”
Sirius nodded, his grin widening. “Yep. Good old James Potter. Terrible sense of humor, but somehow, he always gets away with it. Don’t take it personally, though. He does this to everyone.”
Regulus scowled, feeling like he might snap at any moment. “I’ll remember that next time,” he muttered, his voice tight.
James, still casually munching his pizza, looked up at Regulus with a playful grin. “Look, mate,” he said between bites, “if you’re still angry about it, we can always redo the whole ‘dying’ thing. I’ll make sure I fall a little harder next time.” He winked exaggeratedly, clearly finding the situation amusing.
Regulus’ eyes narrowed. “You can keep your dramatics to yourself,” he snapped, his voice barely above a growl. “I’m not interested in your games.”
Sirius chuckled, clearly enjoying the exchange. With a sharp exhale, Regulus turned away from both of them, heading for the counter. He grabbed a slice of pizza, not quite hungry but needing to regain some composure. He glanced back at Sirius, his frustration still apparent. “Tell him I’m not staying for the next act.”
Sirius just grinned wider. “Sure thing, little brother. But I think you’ll find it hard to escape this circus.”
Regulus shot a glare over his shoulder at both of them before sinking his teeth into the pizza. As irritated as he was, part of him couldn’t help but feel a strange curiosity about this James Potter. Whatever his intentions were, it was clear he wasn’t going to make it easy to avoid him.
With a sharp exhale, Regulus turned away from both of them, heading for the counter. He grabbed a slice of pizza, not quite hungry but needing to regain some composure. He glanced back at Sirius, his frustration still apparent. “Whatever. I’m going to sleep.”
Sirius, who had been watching the entire exchange with an amused expression, grinned and waved at Regulus. “Night, Reg.”
Without missing a beat, James, still lounging on the floor, called out with a mock-innocent tone, “Goodnight, Reg. Sweet dreams.”
Regulus paused, his brow furrowing in annoyance. He turned just enough to shoot them both a look, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, I’ll sleep really well after that,” he muttered, under his breath, “assholes.”
~~~~
Regulus sighed as he stepped into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. The room was dim, lit only by the streetlamp outside his window casting a dull glow through the blinds. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the chair in the corner before running a hand through his hair. The evening had been exhausting—not in any particularly meaningful way, but in the way that made his bones feel heavy, his mind restless. He hated that he could still hear his stupid voice in the back of his head.
Regulus sat on the edge of his bed and reached for his phone. The screen lit up as soon as he picked it up, and a notification from Romance & Roses—the dating app he barely used—blinked at him. He squinted at the name.
Alfie sent you a message.
He hesitated for half a second before tapping it.
Alfie, 25, 6’3
“Blonde hair, big muscles, and a love for good food—what more could you ask for?”
Regulus rolled his eyes at the bio but clicked on the chat anyway.
Alfie: You’re even better looking than your pictures. I almost didn’t believe you were real.
Regulus exhaled sharply through his nose. Flattery. Predictable, but effective enough to keep him from immediately exiting the app. He typed back:
Regulus: That’s the first time I’ve heard that today.
Alfie: What, people aren’t complimenting you every hour? Criminal. You should be worshipped.
Regulus smirked slightly at the dramatics but didn’t reply immediately. He stretched out on the bed, resting his head against the pillow, fingers idly scrolling through Alfie’s profile pictures. Beach pictures, gym selfies, one with a dog. Alfie had a confident grin in every single one.
Alfie: So, what’s someone like you doing on here? You seem like the kind of guy who could have people lining up for a date.
Regulus arched a brow. Alfie was good at this—charming in a way that wasn’t subtle but wasn’t unbearable either.
Regulus: You assume I don’t just like to watch people embarrass themselves in my messages.
Alfie: And am I embarrassing myself?
Regulus: You’re dangerously close.
Alfie: Damn. Better turn on the charm, then. What’s the best way to impress you?
Regulus let his head fall to the side against the pillow, considering. The conversation wasn’t terrible. Alfie was attractive, at least, and clearly knew how to hold a conversation. That was more than could be said for half the people he’d matched with before.
Regulus: Know any good pizza places?
Alfie: Now we’re talking. There’s this place near me that does the best deep-dish. Or are you one of those thin-crust purists?
Regulus rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow.
Regulus: Neither. You’re not a real pizza person unless you’ve been to Braithewaites.
There was a pause before Alfie responded.
Alfie: Never heard of it. That’s not some sketchy hole-in-the-wall, is it?
Regulus: The opposite. Best pizza in the city.
Alfie: Bold claim. Guess you’ll have to prove it to me sometime.
Regulus hummed, dragging his finger over the screen. The idea of actually meeting Alfie in person wasn’t unappealing, but there was no real excitement at the thought either. He wasn’t exactly bored—not in the way that made him desperate for plans—but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.
Regulus: We’ll see.
Alfie sent a winking emoji, followed by, I’ll hold you to that.
Regulus stared at the screen for a second before locking his phone and tossing it onto the bedside table. The glow disappeared, leaving him in darkness, but his mind didn’t quiet. He turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
For some reason, he wasn’t thinking about Alfie anymore. Instead, he was back in the kitchen, watching some idiot fake his own death over a slice of pizza.
Regulus exhaled sharply, rolling onto his stomach and shoving his face into the pillow. He was not thinking about that.
Not at all.