Did you come?

The wire dug into my fingers. As a kid, the feeling felt like the worst thing in the world, it made me hate the cello. But over the years, I’ve learnt to deal with it, alongside the other instruments I’ve spent half my life learning. I remember my brother hated when we practiced, while I was never around for private lessons, I could just feel the defiance radiating from the other end of the house.

I slowly moved the bow against the strings, right above the bridge. Switching my fingers, going from note to note, a simple warm up. Switching between notes, going back to crescendo each one, change the key, repeat. I’m in what should be our family lesson, when Mother comes and listens to me and Sirius play. Mother sits in her normal chair, tea in her cup, eyes watching and I’m sitting in my normal spot, cello in front of me, bow in hand, playing my first warm-up that transfers to all my string instruments. Cello was the first after the piano. Mother always preached of musical skill, she grew up learning 2 but believed the men in the family should play as well. She said after I learned the piano in “ground-breaking” time I simply must learn cello. I hated piano and I found cello to be better. I found my true love in the viola.

Our family lessons go through every instrument we know, 2 warm-ups, traditional and specialized, and 3-8 musical pieces we’ve performed in competition previously, and 1 maybe 2 new pieces that Mother found she liked. In all, this would take hours. Me and Sirius would play together, our music mixing in a beautiful way. We played as polar opposites, his notes were shorter and fast while mine were long and sharp. Even though we were on the same instrument, mine were always somehow lower, his feeling so much higher. He was the heart and I was the mind, together our music created a soul.

Now I sit here, playing, with half a soul, talent with no passion, a mind without a heart. Mother says I play better without him as a distraction…I play better, but my music has lost its love.

I switch to the piano, not Mother’s favorite but she says it’s a classic. I go from the keys back to stings, this time on a violin, Mother’s absolute favorite. I always play the most during these sessions, it was fine, but violin was just a ‘fine’ instrument. Then was the flute, followed by the saxophone, then my final wind instrument, the alto clarinet. Finally, my favorite, the viola.

The viola was my first love, the first music I found myself adoring instead of my normal tolerance. I’ve won the most awards, given the most feedback on my soulful sound. Sirius hated the viola, more of a flute and sometimes a violin person. But the viola’s sound, it was breathtaking, the most wonderful thing I’d ever heard. It’s truly a gift to be able to help create something so world-changing.

“You must work on the cello and flute within your private lessons,” Mother stated, finishing her tea and placing the cup upside down on the saucer. Private lessons were slightly better, mostly because I could pick which music I focused on the most.

I gently ran my fingers over her, my viola. She was the only one to enter my room, the others stayed in this one, carefully put away by our maids and butlers.

We had a party later, no doubt Mother will expect me to perform. I hate performing for Mother’s guests, we hire live performances of all kinds, so me performing is simply her showing off her prodigy son. I hated party’s it were too many people, too loud, too stuffy, and they lasted forever. The only bright side was when Mother invited the Rosier or Crouch Household. Evan Rosier had been forced to dance alongside his sister Pandora, many times I would play live while they danced when I was younger. He was a beautiful dancer, graceful and strong. He made it seem easy and difficult all at the same time. Our talents matched perfectly, fit together perfectly. He was like me, a mind, his sister was his heart. When Sirius left, I often felt jealous of him, he never knew what it felt like to dance as half a person, a talent with no passion.

Barty came from the Crouch house, he was an…interesting person. His dad hated the arts, said it was all for house women when they were bored, or for skank whores to cover their prostitution. But Barty, his paintings were magnificent. His portraits looked more human than humans, his landscapes were more real than nature, and his true love was anything other than those. He loved mixing realism with the abnormal. He was lucky. He didn’t need another mind to his heart, hearts can always go without a mind and still be great. He was a wild boy. He doesn’t want to be in his household anymore, never really did in the first place. It was comforting finding someone who was more sarcastic, witty, and smart as hell than me. He was a close friend.

My room was small, at least compared to Sirius’. He had the bigger room, that was until he left. Father offered for my things to be moved, but standing in that room was too much. I don't think I could sleep peacefully. Sirius would take me in his room when Mother hit me or Father hit or ‘lectured’ me. His room was like a nursing room, he would take care of me there. But, it was also his hospital as much as it was mine. I remember being small, walking to his room, about to knock. I heard him scream, it was bloody and loud, I thought he was dying…I think he thought that too. I walked in, to see snot and tears covering his face and shirt collar. Blood was on his knees, running from his nose, his body trembled. For some reason I expected more blood. “Siri-” His head snapped, eyes wide, I’ve never seen him that terrified. “Lu-” He mumbled through cries. I was instructed by him to never try and help directly after Mothers episodes, he always got it worse.

So here I am, in my room. It’s dark, full of journal entries, poetry, and music for my love. I hope my name will be known, known longer than him. He wants to run away and be some famous shit on a stage? Fine. But me? My name will live on long after I die and so much longer than him.

I look in the mirror way too large, many call it beautiful, but I hate looking in it. It shows me the reality, and reality is scary sometimes. I had my white undershirt, sleeve rolled up sitting just above my elbows, my favorite suit vest on top. It was black, tight, and had the most beautiful fabric. Dress slacks buttoned over my shirt, three silver rings decorate my fingers. And finally, the Black family necklace, worn by the heir of the Black Household, gifted to me during our last winter gala, the second since Sirius was disowned and three since he left.

“Regulus!” I hear Mother’s voice yell, “Come in,” I respond. She walks in, in her new black dress, drowned in silver jewelry with green gems. “I wish for you to showcase your clarinet, as well as the cello tonight,” She had her hands on my shoulders, “Of course, Mother,” I responded, staring at her in the mirror, her staring back. “My favorite pieces on each,” She smiled, signaling for Marie to bring them in. She placed the two cases down, gently smiling to me before excusing herself. “Rendez la famille fière. N’oubliez pas : toujours pur,” She gripped my shoulders before letting go and leaving to greet the first few families that had arrived. The two phrases I’ve always heard: Make the family proud. Always pure.

Whatever I do will be for my family, and my music must always be pure.

I meet my father at the top of the stairs, his arms behind his back, “Son,” He spat sternly, I gently bowed my head, “Father,” I muttered as I came to his side. He was to present me as his official heir. He started walking, letting me follow 2 steps away. When he met my mother at the bottom of the stairs he took her hand, bowing, gently kissing her hand before allowing her to wrap her arm between his, walking as Lord and Lady of the house. When I reached the bottom it was horrible, fathers and brothers, sometimes mothers trying to show off their daughters. They practically begged me to sign their dance cards. “Master Black it’s wonderful to see you again,” I heard the daughter of the Avery House. “The pleasure is mine my dear,” I gave a polite smile, watching her swoon. I took two steps, but that was the most I could, being stopped by more families. I was speaking to the father and exchanging a few words to the daughter of the Perwett House.

“Black.” I heard a gentle voice sternly call for me. I smiled, turning, already knowing who was about to scold me. “You owe me a dance, you promised. You know how I feel about promises.” Her hair was longer than last time I saw her, ending right under her behind. Her pure white hair contrasted her tan skin, she had gold jewelry dripping from her hair and neck, her black silk dress making the metal and hair pop. “Ms. Rosier,” I grinned, taking her gloved hand in mine, bowing to her. She giggled, “I expect you’ve bettered your skills on the floor?” I smiled, gently taking the small pad that hung around her wrist, taking the pen in my pocket and signed my name on the third slot. “You’ll have to judge, however you know my skills will never compare to yours,” She laughed at me, “Reg, I’ve missed you,” She muttered. “I’ve missed you too. Tell your brother I wish to see him, yeah?” She gave me a nod before waving slightly and walking away to congregate with others.

I pushed through the crowd, giving sweet and polite words when needed. That’s when I saw him. Short and choppy hair, probably cut by himself, but he dressed up beautifully. He wore all black, a tight dress shirt, silky smooth pants that covered the top of his black boots. He wore big chunky rings, all of different metals. It made his hands look absolutely stunning. I watched as he adjusted his tie, the one I gave him last year. “Reg-” I heard him, he finally looked over at me, “You're staring-” He pointed out. I smiled, “You’re so full of yourself-” I remarked.

He let out a chuckle, walking over to me, “If you looked like me Reg, your ego would be through the roof as well,” I jokingly smacked him on the shoulder, “Shut up.” I spat, a moment later adding, “You look…nice,” I said in a small mumble. I watched him grin ear to ear, “I thought you’d like-” I quickly cut him off, “Barty-” I said, a warning. He was cocky and arrogant, but to be honest it was one of the things that made him so attractive. “Reg, come on, after your dance with Panda?” I knew what he was asking, “God, Barty, your so fucking desperate-” I spat, watching his smile turn into something more. “That’s a….?” I rolled my eyes, “If you're lucky,” I whispered, before walking to find Pandora, and take her to the middle of the floor.

I laid my arm straight, allowing her to rest hers on mine as we walked to the floor. She smiled, “Evan wishes to speak before you run off with Barty-” She said as she turned in her heels, draping an arm on my shoulder, allowing me to hug her waist. “Who said I’d run off with him tonight?” She tilted her head, “So you're not?”

I rolled my eyes, “I have to play for Mother before I go, she’ll have an aneurysm is I don’t play soon,”

She shook her head slightly, “You and Barty are gonna break each others hearts-’ She muttered, “Panda, we’re two traumatized friends who would be murdered for being gay,” I whispered, “We’re simply…supporting each others needs,”

“Both of you have said that phrase practically a million times-” She pointed out. She spun out of my arms, bringing both arms out, before twirling. As she spun once again, her hands went to accentuate her breast. She was a beautiful woman, but far from my type. I walked towards her, hands spinning her back to me, continuing to dance as a pair, “You’ve gotten better, but I must say, I prefer dancing with Hailey,” Hailey was her girlfriend, a wonderful dancer as well, and the two could captivate you instantly. “And I prefer not dancing at all-” I said, giggling as she shook her head.

As we walked off the floor, I passed Barty, smirking. “I’ll meet you-” I whispered as I passed him, walking too fast to truly see his reaction. I had an idea of it though. He would be smirking, eyes wide with excitement, maybe a little flustered. Fuck. I smiled, picturing him in my head.

I picked up my clarinet, clicking the pieces together before stepping onto the stage, the orchestra we hired momentarily left. I gently put my mouth on the piece, beginning to play.

I played two songs, Mother’s two favorites before switching to the cello. I always liked string instruments more. And after five songs, Marie finally came up to pack the instruments up. “You did wonderful, Master Black,” She said with a polite smile, not looking me in the eyes. I bent down to see her face, “You do wonderful, Marie,” I muttered, “And thank you,” I added before walking out, thanking everyone who clapped and praised me. Praise me for talent with no passion, music that’s only half a soul. Idiots.

“Took you long enough-” I heard Barty spat as I walked in one of the breakfast nooks. “Don’t talk like that, it was 30 min,” I muttered as I locked the door, “I performed you know Mother always-” I turn to see his hand at his crotch, feeling himself up. I grinned walking towards him, pulling my vest off and throwing it on the chair. “30 minutes is a long time when I expected 10 at the max-” He said, eyes looking me up and down.

I watched him grind against his own hand, “Couldn’t wait could we?” I mumbled, watching him twitch under my gaze. “Come on Reg, don’t be a tease-” He mumbled as I bent down to kiss his exposed neck. “How I wish I could take you apart right now…” I whispered into his skin. Fuck, he smelled beautiful. “Reggie~” I smiled, hearing him whimper for me. I let my breath slow, truly taking in this moment, taking in him. “Mmm~ Not too loud, baby~” I whispered, capturing his lips in mine. I slowly crept my hand down, smiling as he bit my lip when he trembled as he moved his hand, letting mine replace his.

I smiled, hearing his breath come out jagged and shallow. I felt his dick twitch in his pants, I chuckled, pulling back to get a good look at him. “Poor Barty…all needy,” I paused, smiling, “For me.”

“Regulus…” He barely was able to spit the word out.

I slowly let my hand trail upwards, listening to him whine at the loss of contact. But oh, the look in his eyes when my hand went under his pants and around his cock. Wide eyed and completely flushed in the face. He looked magnificent, like an art piece. Barty, Evan, and Pandora were like that, Barty always looked like a painting and the twins always were always making a dance out of everything they did. “Shit, Reg~” He whined out. I smiled, gently pushing down his pants and boxers. “You know all I want?” I asked, a whisper in his ears. He looked up at me, sweating and panting. “Hmm?” I giggled at him, he just looked so whiny. “All I want…is to feel that pretty little mouth around my dick,” Oh how his eyes widened, how his demure changed. I watched the very little hold he had on his dignity leave his body, only a needy little man who will do anything for some cock. I loved it.

“All I want…” I said slowly, “Is to watch you choke and sob on my dick…would you like that, Barty?” I smirked, watching him slowly nod his head, grinding hard into my hand. I loved feeling him in my hand, I was always shorter with smaller hands, so I adored seeing my hand barely fit around his cock. I desired seeing how my fingers couldn’t meet my thumb. “Now baby, I wanna feel you cum, okay?” I asked, watching him nod, stretching to be closer to me, “So pretty like this-” I mumbled, taking his lips with mine. I speed my movements, feeling his body tremble under my hands. “Such a good boy~” I breathed into his mouth, feeling his horny breath on mine. “Fuck~” He moaned, his hands gripped my biceps, leaving nail indents in my skin, shaking as white cum squirted on my shirt.

He slumped down, “Damn Reg-” He mumbled, wiping his hand down his face. I frowned, “Liked you better when you could barely talk-” I mumbled, sitting down next to him. He smirked, “I like you better when you're staring at my dick like it’s the best thing since sliced bread,” I rolled my eyes, grabbing some cloth napkin from the table and wiping the liquid off my skirt. “Mother finds this she’ll kill me,” I mumbled. He grinned, “I’d offer to lick it off, but it might leave a bigger stain-”

I huffed, “Whatever, you whore-” I mumbled, glancing up to see him stripping his shirt. “Bartemius-” I warned. “Chill,” He spat, throwing his shirt in my face, “Now give me yours-”

I scoffed at him, buttoned the first few on the shirt, listening to Barty talk about some shit when I practically jumped 10 feet. Someone banged on the door, it didn’t sound like Mother or Father, so I looked to Barty who just shrugged.

The banging continued, pausing a short time when I heard fricking Evan Rosier, “Regulus Black! I told you to see me before running off with dickface!” Before the banging continued. Barty gasped at the insult and ran over to open the door. He frowned as Evan tilted his head, “Hi, dickface,” He smiled before pushing past to get to me. “Regulus.” He stated, he had that disappointed look on his face. Evan always looked disappointed, like you slept with his best friend kinda look. “I got carried away-” I said, crossing my arms. His eyebrows raised, scrunching his forehead. “Whatever Reg, just say you're a whore and move on,” He spat, “Ow Evan, that hurt,” I mocked. He rolled his eyes, “I was trying to be nice but guess not-” He muttered, turning to Barty. “Your father is looking for you,”

I scoffed, grabbing his shoulder, “What are you trying to be nice about?” He smiled, “Wanted to check up on you,” The smile dropped instantly, “What did someone die?” I joked, my smile failing as they gave each other glances…glances only given when we talked about genuinely shitty shit. Like our parents. Fuck, I just got ungrounded, I better not hear another single fucking thing about them and their stupid fucking- “About…” Evan started, looking at Barty, encouraging him to take over. “About your brother,” He mumbled. I stared at him, feeling my eyes become stiff, my body ridged, like my soul was half out of my body, half my brain turned off. It always happened during Father’s lectures, when I heard Mother and Father fight, when Father got mad and hit Mother or broke shit, when Mother beat Sirius half to death. I barely remember those moments, I know vaguely they happened, over time I remember more and more. Pandora says it’s a way for my brain to protect myself, but I think it’s a load of bull.

I watch Evan and Barty share a nervous look, Barty shakes his head, and Evan gently says, “Nevermind, we don’t have to talk about it, yeah?” I glanced at both of them, tilting my head slightly, confused. It was fine if they talked about him, I couldn’t care any less about him. “Ce n’est pas grave si vous parlez de mon frère…” I muttered, throwing a hand. “T’es sûr? Ce n’est pas grave sinon, nous savons que c’est un sujet,” Evan mumbled. Barty looked between us as we talked, waiting for someone to give a simple explanation. Soon Evan turned to face him, giving me these stupid worried glances.

“He says it’s fine,” I knew he was talking, I was watching him talk but it was muffled. Not quiet or whisper, more like he was 30 feet away and not 2. I felt myself still, my brain felt fuzzy, all I could do now was focus on the feeling in my entire body. Fuck. I’m doing it again.

I’m doing it again. My brain can’t even handle the mention of my goddamn brother without fucking filtering it out. He had to leave and make everything so much more difficult for me. Leave me in this god awful place with two people who hate everything in the goddamn world. But that wasn’t the worst part, the worst part was I missed him. I fucking missed him, my mind greives for his heart, my soul wants it’s other half back.

I felt warm, wet shit on my face. I went to wipe it off, who the fuck put this on my face, it was disgusting. I was sitting down on the floor, legs out in front of me. Evan was sitting on his knees and I couldn’t see Barty. The room was blurry, and this horrible sound made me want to rip my ears off. It sounded choked, horse, like an ugly cry from a dying cat. I looked up at Evan, seeing the pity in his face. I tried to spit out words but nothing came out but louder cries.

Fuck. I was the dying cat, I was the fucking idiot crying at just the mention of his brother. I couldn’t even remember anything inbetween him mentioning him, not even his fucking name, and now. It was pathetic. I watched Barty walk back in with a small blanket. Fuck these assholes. I sobbed as he placed it over my legs, the top at my waist, the bottom going a couple inches past my knees. Sirius’ first gift to me, when I was born. I choked, feeling the gross wetness on my face grow. “Sirius, mon cœur est revenu!” I yelled.

Barty moved to lay on my shoulder, Evan laying on my legs. Their weight is comforting. I had a headache, throbbing, taking up most of my attention. My sobs went down to sniffles and foolish crying, that’s when I just barely heard Barty mumble to Evan, “We should have known better,”

This was pathetic. I was pathetic.