i had a dream i was seven
Regulus swore he was going to hang himself.
He won’t be falling in love. He can't be. He’s a Black. Blacks do not “fall in love,” especially with James Potter, of all people. He was going to bring down the name of his family.
And the worst part?
Regulus didn’t care. He was in love with his brother’s best friend, and he had been since he was fifteen. His messy, brown, curly hair. His deep brown eyes. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. He loved everything about him.
I need to write a song.
Regulus thought. He needed to get his mind off things. But he couldn’t. It was 3 in the morning and he would surely get yelled at if Barty found out he was up so early.
So Regulus rolled over and closed his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, but it was worth a try.
He would figure it out in the morning.
~~~~~~~~~
He did not in fact figure it out in the morning. He slept for a solid 4 hours. And he also woke up late.
Because of course Regulus had to wake up late for his first gig of the month.
Then he had another realization. It was the first day of fall.
James loves fall
He thought.
Regulus gave himself a slap out of sheer idiocrasy. Stop thinking about him.
He got ready for his gig and rushed out the door to start driving, only to find none other than James Potter standing outside his front door.
“What are you doing here, Potter?”
James grins at Regulus. “I’m here to drive you to your gig.”
Merde.
Then,
How does he know I have a gig today?
“And why is that?”
James puts his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a typical red and white jock jacket over blue jeans and a Spiderman shirt. He shrugs
“I’m bored.”
Regulus sighs and pushes past James.
“If you're going to drop me off, you better get on with it. I’m late.”
James and Regulus enter the car and James starts driving.
“Hold on. How do you know where we’re going? And how did you know I had a gig today?”
“If you didn't know, you're something of a celebrity, Mr. Black.”
Regulus chooses to ignore this and looks out the window. It's a gloomy day, but the sun peeks through the clouds at some points, looking like an angel decided to bless the spots where the rays hit.
He tried to pretend that it didn't bother him, but he hates it when people call him by his last name. It brings up too many memories. But before he knows it, he’s spiraling again.
“You want to… sing?” Walburga asks him. “Yes, maman.” He says quietly. Suddenly, he feels her strike him in the face. It stings, and soon enough his cheek is flushed crimson red.
“Singing is not a profession. You will be a disgrace to the family name. It is not possible. You must uphold the prestigious name of Black. You will not be a singer. Now go. I want you out of my sight. Faites quelque chose qui vaut votre temps.”
Regulus was in pain, but he wouldn't dare cry in front of his mother. She would surely scold him.
“Blacks don’t cry. We do not succumb to emotions. Emotions signify weakness. If you can’t control your foolish emotions, you are not a Black.” She had once told him.
Her cold voice was always in the back of his head, telling him he wasn’t good enough. Her nails digging into the back of his neck. Her piercing gray eyes watching his every move. He could never escape.
Never escape. Never escape. Never escape never escape never escape never esca-
“ Hey! Hey, Regulus. Are you okay?”
Regulus heard James’s voice and suddenly remembered where he was. He had a gig. He was a singer. That life was behind him now. Right.
“I’m fine, Potter.”
Then,
“Thanks.” He mumbled.
“What was that?” James grinned
“Nothing.” Regulus snapped.
James smirked, but didn't say anything.
“Go on, celebridad. You have a show to put on.”