At twenty-seven Regulus Black has fallen to his knees for a second time, tears gleaming down his cheeks, his frame withered and weary. He lay his forehead on the dirt beneath him, mumbling incoherently asking for a sign. Smelling of booze and grime, praying to God for the first time since his youth, asking him to step forward now. He’d put it all behind him, he’d fix the brokenness inside him. He’d fill the black hole eating away at his chest if only if only if only.
It was not any God that came forward. With all the cheering fans he’d gained in his youthful foolishness, not one God knew his name. Hidden beneath a cloak even he wasn’t certain was there at all. No God came forward. That’s not to say something didn’t.
“You’ve fallen farther than I thought, Regulus,” the familiar voice pressed into his mind, and for a moment Regulus thought it a dream. He’s thought of the voice over the years. It burrowed its way into his head and surrounded his entire chest. It is always and forever wrapped around his ribs pulling tight enough until it snaps. The ticking of a doomsday clock, or the silent yet heavy fall of sand.
Regulus looked up, his eyes strained red, “You promised me—“
The figure shook, “I made no promises,” he said, “If you wanted promises you should’ve gone to an angel.” It was not spoken roughly, it was almost kind, filled with pity. Regulus' head was too heavy to truly figure out what it meant.
“You said I could have anything I wanted,” Regulus spat. “This isn’t what I wanted.”
The Devil looked like a man. There was probably something to say there, though Regulus was all out of poetic queries to truly do it justice. He almost took the shape of Regulus’ father, a big man, standing above him with broad shoulders. There was something just not right, though, it wasn’t a perfect replica. The man bent down, tilting his head at the sight, “I never said you’d get everything you want.”
“You said…”
“I told you I’d give you fame,” The devil picked himself back up. “That’s nothing of what you want.”
Regulus swallows thickly, managing to sit up to knees with shaking arms, “I take it back.”
“Take it back?” The Devil questioned.
Regulus nodded quickly, “All of it. The fame, the fortune. You can have it.”
“I don’t have any need for it,” The Devil told him. “Why do you think I gave it so willingly in the first place?”
Regulus whines, the noise escapes the back of his throat, like a wounded dog waiting outside his owner's house for her return. “Please,” he begs, “Please, please, please, please. You can have everything.”
“You are nothing, Regulus Black,” The Devil said simply. “You have nothing to give.”
“Just give her back,” Regulus whimpered, he sounded almost like a child. His voice shaking with every syllable, he couldn’t even say her name. He hasn’t said it since it happened.
The gentle burning ember in the palm of his hand. The beautiful soul gracing every room he entered, setting him under a gentle melody. The reason for the rising of the sun and the setting of the moon. Icarus’ wings, and the reason he took that very flight. The reason for it all. There was nothing without her then, and there’s nothing without her now.
At twenty-one, Regulus was in a similar position. Kneeling in front of a man he thought a God, asking—begging for something to be changed. He begged for the fame. He begged for lights. He begged for people to finally notice him, to see him as he is. He spent his entire childhood in the shadow of his older brother, cowering in closets and praying his parents would finally let him go a night without new bruises. He thought it would change his life. He thought it was what he wanted, and he would give anything to give it back. The Devil asked for his soul, he scoffed and thought to himself he didn’t have one to begin with. He handed it over, his hands bloody and weak. It took a week—no more. His name was in the lights. It took three years until she came along. He never knew he was sinking until she showed him what it felt like to be alive. He never knew the feeling of fire against his skin until her.
He would give it all up. He would get up off his knees. He would throw away the fame. He would become a nobody. He would cast himself into shadows again. Hide in closets and cowered when voices got too loud. He would be weak. He would be nothing. If only he knew she would be around. If only he knew the feeling of holding his burning matching soul between his teeth. If only if only if only.
“She’s gone.”
“No,” Regulus clenched his teeth. “Give. Her. Back.”
The Devil shook his head with a sigh, “I don’t have her.”
Regulus took a breath, his chest shaking with it. He felt water covering his lungs, it carried a sharp burning. It surrounded his throat and emptied into his stomach. There should’ve been a relief at the idea of her being away from the Devil’s grasp. There should be a soft settling in his chest at the thought of her still holding their soul in her chest. There should be something other than the overwhelming dread of never being able to find her again. Only one’s with a soul can enter the gates above. Regulus was young, he was stupid, he didn’t understand. Not then. He falls again resting his forehead in the dirt, spreading it across his skin, “Please.” His voice breaks, and his throat cracks in two with the word.
The Devil sighed again, “Get up.”
Regulus didn’t move at first, not hearing the words, his mind too full and his chest empty. When he did move it was slow and shakily, not having much more skin on his bones. It had been too long without the warmth of a fire beside him, and he’d been lost to the snow. He scrambled to his feet, swaying with the slightest breeze. Trying to salvage any sort of dignity he lifted his chin and rolled his shoulders back, like his mother taught him before all of this.
“You used to be a man, Regulus Black,” The Devil sneered.
Regulus shrugged weakly, “I used to have a soul.”
The Devil hummed, pausing for a moment of contemplation. Regulus wished he could tell what was happening in his brain… if he had one. He really wasn’t sure. He’s not sure how all of that works. He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t dead, or at least in a dream, one he prayed he wouldn’t wake from. “Walk with me.” He said it as if he were any mortal. As if he wasn’t a collection of the Gods. As if he wasn’t a walking death surrounded by fires and screams.
Regulus did as he was told, there wasn’t anything in his head. He was long passed questioning the authority of those who came before him. He was small again. Only a child looking for his parents for all the answers. Standing in their doorway and swaying digging the heels of his hands into his legs, waiting until they noticed him and told him exactly where to place himself. His parents were long dead by now. He could no longer look to them for guidance. Sirius left a few years ago too. He only stayed along that long for L—her. Regulus was too far gone to save, even then. Sirius saw one glimpse of him and he knew it. He knew he could do nothing to turn Regulus back into his baby brother. There’s not much he could do without a soul. Regulus’ friends aren’t ones to look up to. They’re around all the time, and they’re someone to fuck around with scales and riffs, but they’re not people to ask for. They’re not people to wait for. So this is all he has left. He’ll look to the Devil like he did his father. He’ll look to the Devil with wide eyes and comfort like he did his big brother. He’ll look to the Devil because he has no one left. He’ll look to the Devil in hopes it’ll bring his beautiful ember back to his chest.
The Devil moved slowly, waltzing through the street, ducking under street lights paying no mind to the collection of moths attacking the light. Regulus walked with him. They passed his hotel, it wasn’t very far. Inside Barty and Evan slept in his hotel room. He didn’t like sleeping alone, especially after it happened. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the roaring tide. He tasted salt along his lungs, so he invited them in. There was never anything more. He did not stop for them, much like they did not stop for him. They passed the venue next, a large stadium just to his right across the water. He’d be there in the morning, wordlessly walking across the halls. Searching every empty room if only to find someone who may have never been there at all. He’d step up to the mic, feeling the black hole grow inside him. He’d scream the words from memorization and nothing else. Pick up the check. Avoid the eyes of the fans in the stands. Move on from here. Going forward for the very act of moving forward. There is no direction to follow, or hands to collect. There is nothing. Not even the idea of more money being added to his pockets was enough for him to keep going.
No one stopped them as they walked. No one asked for an autograph, or a photo of Regulus looking down on his luck. He’d seen the magazines in the gas stations, he saw how badly bruised his under-eyes had gotten. He’d seen the pictures of her right beside him. Dazzling and stunning as she’d always been. He’d seen the side-by-side comparison, of himself and her. He’d seen the headline. He saw it all. He turned away from it as quickly as he could. He bought all of the ones he could find. Pouring his eyes over the images. Losing the idea of happiness and love with every passing day. He wasn’t sure what it meant anymore. He’s not sure of the meaning of any of it. He’d lay pictures of her on the pillow beside him, as if it was any sort of replacement for the real thing. He’d close his eyes and pray to dream of her back in his arms, or her warm embrace dragging him in. He’d dream of nothing. Silent darkness and the flickering of a fire in the corner of his eyes. Not her fire, he knew that much. It was one of another.
He did not stop to ask the Devil where they were going. He did not know either. He didn’t know anything. He walked, and he kept going, keeping his shoulders held firm. He didn’t question the lateness of the hour. He didn’t feel any tiredness pulling down on his body. He didn’t feel the weight of anything. He only felt grief coating his mind in a firm shield. Nothing to escape. Nothing to rescue him from the ocean waves.
The Devil stopped a mile out. They were by the sea. The sand crawling into Regulus’ shows and itching at his skin. His heart—the one that didn’t exist—fell in his chest. He felt it in his feet. “Why?” He asked numbly.
The Devil went quiet, for a moment, then another, “I can’t bring her to you.”
Regulus looked at him, then the ocean, “Are you telling me to kill myself?” Surprised at the sound of his voice, there was no fear. He would do it. He would leap forward, diving to the depths of the ocean floor.
“That wouldn’t bring you to her,” The Devil said. “You know that.”
It was almost like speaking to an old friend, one he hadn’t seen in a while. There weren’t many rules spoken the first time they talked, all those years ago. Regulus didn’t ask. He had no reason to. He wouldn’t care anyway. He would’ve given anything. Though he’s learned a few things over the years. He’s learned many things. The taking of a soul, for example, is nothing but a bargaining chip. A placeholder as it will. The Devil will take whoever’s soul he has when the time is near. Regulus told her this. He told her everything. She told him they could share the same soul. That the gates had to let them in together, they were a pair the two of them. Without him, she wouldn’t have a soul herself. Regulus nodded along, he allowed himself to believe her gestures. Now he stood at the ocean, far away from the gates, and he knew she was wrong. He hates that she was wrong. He wanted to hold her face in his hands and bring her near. He wanted to kiss the words from her mouth before she could release them into the world. He wanted to swallow the hope before it could rot his mind. He wanted to remove the idea of a happy ending when he stopped believing in them long before he could even speak.
Regulus nodded, “So there’s nothing?” His words trail off at the end. He might lay in the ocean, even without a promise of another. He might lay down his arms.
“Walk into the ocean and go underneath,” The Devil said.
Regulus hesitated, for only a breath, “I don’t understand.”
The Devil looked towards him and repeated, “Walk into the ocean, and go underneath.”
Regulus looked back at him, trying to see any glimmer of a trick lying beneath his eyes. He found none. Though he truly wasn’t looking too hard. He was tired. He was over the mortal world, he wanted his ember. He walked into the ocean. Feeling as the water climbed his legs and stuck his pant legs to his flesh. He didn’t turn back to the shore. He didn’t check to see if the figure was still watching him, he steadied his shoulders one more time instead before tipping his head back. Falling into the brink of the ocean, covering himself with the waves and their power. There was a shrieking in his ear, and yet a gentle hum in his chest. He wonders if she felt the same. Were her lungs covered in the same essence as his? Did she hear the gentle hum of a guitar string or the song brought by Regulus’ voice pulling her home? He heard her. He heard her soft humming against his shoulders, lying in the early morning light. He heard her shouting from the front row of the crowd, and her gentle laughter as she threw her head back in the kitchen. He heard her. He kept the sound so close to his chest that he feared it might break his ribs clean in two. He opened his eyes. They burned. They cried. He saw no light, no flicker of a fire. He took a breath and it shook his chest. He was everything, and he was nothing at the same time.
He could not stop for death—death did not stop for him. He kept breathing. He kept living. He did not find the gates, no matter which he’d find himself at. He rolled over to a new.
He saw her, and for a moment he felt his soul back inside his chest. It’s not something to feel—not really, for it isn’t a heart. It’s an ember. It’s a fire. It’s the soft mellow feeling of fresh bedsheets in the spring, and it’s the whispering wind just outside the window.
Music blasted on both of his sides, and he had a guitar in his hands. It’s one he never played, not anymore, he kept it perched on a shelf in his home instead. Watching over the living room, perfectly intact and protected. His hands moved against it with muscle memory, gliding over the strings and it felt right. Sparks—the ones he didn’t know even existed anymore, flew passed his chest as he looked over at her. She sat by the bar, barely paying attention to the band. She was with one of her friends, Regulus would learn her name to be Marlene weeks after. She threw her head back at a joke being said, and called over the bartender to fix her another drink. Regulus forgot to step forward to the mic, he left the guitar going off far too long. He never stumbled on stage, not once, not until her anyway.
Barty pushed against his back, rushing him forward. It was a one-off night, they hardly ever played in venues this small, not at this point anyway. Only a few groups were let in, it was a favor to the owner. They needed some publicity to keep it afloat. Regulus would’ve said no, he almost did, he wasn’t sure what had stopped him. Before the moment he couldn’t be sure what pushed him to say yes. There was no reason for it. No one would know about the good deed he did. No one would cheer his name or ring his praises, there was no reason for it, and yet he said yes anyway. It was something to do, he said. It was a good cause. Then he saw her and he knew. She brought him here to this shitty dive bar just outside of the city. There was no other reason for it. There was no other reason for any of it. It had always been her.
The words came from his mouth but he couldn’t remember singing them, it was like it came from another. He heard his voice in his head, but he only saw her. He cut the song off early, it didn’t matter anymore. He ignored the protests of the band behind him as he quickly set the guitar on the wall behind him, careful to not inflict any scratches. He was just stepping off stage when he was pulled elsewhere, to the darkest part of the bar, with nothing but a flickering light above him. When he tried to leave his arm was held back, the grip tight and harsh.
“Let me go to her," Regulus pleaded.
“That’s not how history works,” The Devil told him.
“I don’t care,” Regulus said.
The Devil sighed, “You have to let it play out exactly as it happened.”
Regulus looked over at her again, the lights golden against her cheek. They didn’t speak this night. They didn’t speak for many nights. He kept seeing her everywhere but he never went up to her. He had to wait for her. “I don’t want to wait again,” he confessed. “I want to see her now.”
“Then you’ll lose her,” The Devil told him. “Wait.”
Regulus' chest ached. What was left of his heart began to rot the longer he stood there unable to do anything, unable to say anything, he could have so much time left. He could be with her for longer if only he could. If only if only if only.
“Okay,” He ended up whispering taking a step back. He went back on stage and threw his guitar strap over his shoulder. He stepped up to the mic, singing words never meant to be about her. He kept his eyes distant, hanging onto every glimpse he could take of her. He watched as she looked back over at him, her eyes widening only slightly but he saw it. He could almost fall inside of them, collapse into her body, and stay forever. He watched as she got up to leave, following Marlene out of the bar. He watched as her red hair disappeared from the confines of the room. He watched her.
He felt himself fall away from the memory in time. He felt himself tip back as if the ocean would catch him from behind. The guitar slipped from his hands, and the music from his ears. He heard nothing for a moment. He felt nothing either. He took a breath and tasted salt, and the power of the tides rushing to bring him home. He allowed the water to rush into his mouth, swallowing it as it came.
Then she was in front of him again, bending down to pick up her clothes out of the dryer. They are at an old laundromat. Regulus hadn’t done his own clothes in years, he had assistants for that, and yet that night he went out there anyway. With an old basket, he found in his room under the cloak of the night. No one else was in the room, he made sure it was that way. He had Barty and Evan posted in the front, they told everyone it was closed. They only let her in.
She didn’t pay him any mind, not at first anyway. When she did her eyes were filled with questions and confusion. She looked back at her warm clothes, then back at him, “Have I seen you before?”
It was the first time Regulus heard her voice—really heard her voice. It infected his brain and curled around his heart like a purring thing. It would become his undoing though he didn’t know that at the time. The words left his mouth like they belonged to another, after all, they did. “Have you?”
She shrugged, picking up another shirt, “You look familiar.”
“I’m in a band,” Regulus said.
“Oh?” She replied, a slight glint in her voice. Later she would tell him that she knew exactly who he was. She just liked watching him act all sheepish. “What’s your name?”
“Regulus,” he told her, “Black. Regulus Black.”
She hummed, “Lily.” She paused, just like him, “Evans. Lily Evans. If we’re being all formal.”
Regulus paused, he could do nothing but look at her, and for once she was looking back at him. He could reach out and touch her now, he could tell her everything he knows. He could warn her of everything that would come to pass. Drop to his knees and beg her to walk out of the door right now and forget this ever happened. To move far from here, somewhere in the woods, far from any sign of water or oceans. She could move on from this, but that’s not how this works. History is a tape forever made to skip and replay. It’s a record to be spun until the end of time. History is forever, and those who belong to it are simple pawns. It’s all but a game.
“Would I know any of your songs?” Lily goes on. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. The words roll around in his mind, they’re tattooed on his skin. If only he were to lift up his shirt he’d find it. Even lost to time itself. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily.
“Maybe,” Regulus said.
She looked back at him, her gaze jumping over his face. She saw it even then, “Can I make you a deal?”
“Yes,” Regulus said without hesitation. He didn’t before and he doesn’t know. He knows how this ends.
She smiled, it covered her entire face, and he’d say yes dozens of times after. Hundreds of times even just to see it again, “You write me a song,” She said, “So at least I’ll know one of them.”
“That’s not a deal,” Regulus said, “I wouldn’t get anything out of it.”
“Wouldn’t you?” She questioned, throwing her last bit of clothes into her basket.
Regulus bit the inside of his cheek, wanting nothing more than to reach for her again, but he shook his head instead, “Alright, I’ll write you a song.”
She nodded, taking a step back, “Make it good, won’t you?”
He couldn’t reply before she was gone again, it lingered on his tongue and down his throat. It became him. When she was gone he was gone too. There is no him without her, he had no soul without hers. So he’ll become nothing at all. He’ll become every star in the sky coated by her. He’ll sink into the ocean if only to find a piece of her down at the bottom. Running his fingertips in the sand trying to cling to a lock of her hair, or her beating heart buried beneath the floor. He’ll find her one way or another, or he’ll stay at the bottom of the sea and wait. He’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes. He’ll crawl on bloodied knees and stained palms to find her.
The next time he woke she was already standing in front of him, and he had his guitar in his lap. The first time he played her the song they were alone, just the two of them. It wasn’t hard finding her. Regulus’ heart beat for her and her only. She was everyone he was and nowhere he was not. She went to one of his shows, a few days later. He already had a dozen songs for her. He had more. He had lyrics on the inside of his brain and tattoos on his skin. Melodies sunk in his eyes and they all called out her name.
“It’s alright,” she told him.
“Just alright?” Regulus questioned, plucking the guitar strap from his shoulder to place it on the couch next to him. It was the same as the one in the bar. It was the same he played on the day of their wedding. It was the same hanging up in their living room back home.
Lily shrugged, “There can always be room for improvement.” She leaned forward, “I might need another.”
Regulus was pulled towards her, there was no other way to put it. He was stuck to a string wrapped around her finger, and he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. “I can write another.”
Lily’s eyes moved to his lips, just a second, just a moment, and Regulus couldn’t bring her forward. He couldn’t be the one to do it, that’s not how history goes. It’s not how it went. “Who are you?” She asked, it wasn’t the first time he heard the question, and yet it still put him back.
All the fame. All the glory. It was nothing. It meant nothing. He was never anything unless Lily Evans was looking at him.
“Do you know who you are?” Lily asked after he didn’t reply.
He was Lily’s. He was always Lily’s.
“Does it matter?” Regulus asked, with the same brokenness and fever of the first time.
Lily’s gaze flickered around him, she saw everything and she didn’t spook, not even for a second. She didn’t say another word. She didn’t ask him another question. She grabbed the front of his shirt instead, her fingers laced with the silk of it. Her lips were warm as embers and the kiss breathed life back into Regulus’ lungs. He was whole. He had a soul once more. He was Lily’s. Oh, Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily.
It only lasted a moment. Half of it. It lasted no time at all and he was in the gone again. Just like that. He wasn’t in an ocean. He was in a dark room, pushed to the ground with the force of it. Reaching forward trying to grasp onto little flickers of light and fire. He found nothing in his palm. He was met with nothing at all.
He turned around swiftly, to be met with the same dark eyes, “Why did you take me out?” He cried, his voice rough and throat raw.
The Devil did nothing but sigh, “This isn’t what you’re here for.”
“I’m here for her,” Regulus told him. That’s the only reason why he’s here. He’s come to take her back. That’s all he wants. For her soul to be in his chest. For her heart to be beating and true.
“You’re not here to be loved by her,” The Devil corrected.
Regulus took a breath, his chest heaving, “What do you want?”
“What do you want?”
Regulus did not hesitate, “Lily.”
“Then find her,” The Devil said.
That’s all he said, before Regulus was thrown back into the ocean again, back into the unknown and the end of the earth. Back to find his missing soul.
Bedsheets wrapped around him, placing him in a place warmer than he’d been in a long time. There was no more tossing of the ocean, or a rough hand. His eyelids fluttered open to reveal the white light, and Lily’s red hair coating the pillow. He didn't have to have sight to reach for her, he recognized her in total darkness. His arms wrapped around her waist to pull her in. She hummed, still lost in sleep pressing her back into his chest. He was not there for this. He was not here to hold her, and yet he lost himself in the picture. He burrowed his face into her neck, leaving kisses on her neck and shoulders. He felt her skin underneath the pad of his thumb, and held her tighter than he should’ve.
He couldn’t say it. Not yet, it wasn’t time, but the words sat on the tip of his lips anyway. He’d paint her skin with them. He’d write it on her back for her to find in the upcoming months and years. He’d show her forever. No matter the cost.
“Regulus,” she murmured, sleep pulling her down again. "What are you doing?"
“Go back to sleep,” he called back, kissing the freckles lining her shoulders.
To which she did not before long, to wrestle with the tide outside her open window. Regulus kept himself awake, feeling the Devil resting behind his back. Watching and waiting. He could stay here forever. Beside her resting form, protecting her from all the violence just outside their bedroom window. He’d write songs for her in bed, singing them under a gentle memory and she would smile. She’d pull him in again. They could be happy—the two of them. If the world was kind and fate was in their favor. If Regulus still had his soul in the middle of his chest. Maybe. If only.
He sees their wedding next. Quick glimpses of it underneath his palm. Lily’s beautiful, more so than ever. Wearing a white dress that was held in the back of their closet. They had no guests lining the church. Neither had anyone to invite, no one was as important as each other. He felt her hands in his, and the cold ring around his finger. He felt tears on his cheek, and hers on his palm. He felt it all. Every emotion careening and resting in the middle of his chest. It was unholy. He was coming undone.
He glanced down the aisle, and saw the Devil resting in one of the pews. A bored expression lying plainly on his face. There wasn’t time.
Regulus looked back at Lily, her happiness outpouring from her eyes. He brought his hands up to collect her face in his, “I love you,” he told her.
She rolled her eyes, “I assumed.”
He was already gone before he could hear the rest. He couldn’t hear her say it one last time. He saw nothing. He was in the ocean and she was already away from his grasp. The ocean wasn’t a very kind place. It wasn’t a peaceful one either. It was dark and cold and confusing in all the same ways. He was not sure where he was going towards. He thought he saw a flicker of light far beneath it all. He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t easy to tell.
Lily was in their kitchen. He couldn’t remember what she was doing, or where they were. They skipped too much time. He was at the piano. His hands lingered over the keys. They shook as he placed them on the scale. He could hear her humming from in front of the sink. He could feel the cold keys branch the pads of his fingers. He played the only song he could remember. He played the song for her. It came from his hands without him having to recall any of the notes. It was above him. It was buried in the middle of his chest.
Lily came out of the kitchen, her hands in a towel. She leaned on the doorway. He looked up to find her there. I love you, he said, but the words didn’t sound so right. She didn’t seem to hear him. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you. I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you.I love you. I love-
“When we die,” she said, “They’ll have to let us in together.”
“They won’t let me in at all,” he said.
“My soul is yours,” she said.
“They wouldn’t listen,” he said.
“I’ll make them,” she said.
He went quiet.
“I’m not going in without you,” she said. “They can’t make me.”
He was sat coughing up salt water. Drenched from head to toe and shivering in his skin. He wanted to tell her to go in without him. He wanted to put it all behind him. He wanted to push her through the gates and watch her go. He wanted her soul to be hers and for her to be happy. Even if he wasn’t there to see it. He wanted to love her forever. He wanted to beg her to not forget him. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to be back in the bedsheets, pulling her waist towards his. He wanted to be hers forever. He wasn’t asking for a lot, not really, not a lot; just forever.
He looked back up, “Take me back to her.”
“You’ve found her,” The Devil told him.
Regulus froze, warmth flooding his body as he turned around. He found nothing. He found no one. His ember wasn’t in his hands, and she was too far from his grip. “Where—“
“Get up.”
Regulus scrambled to his feet, no longer worried about pride or fever, he brushed down his clothes, and took a breath. “Give her to me.”
The Devil shook his head, “Did you really think it would be that easy?”
Regulus’ heart—the one that doesn’t exist, dropped in his chest. “I’ll do anything.”
“Don’t look behind you.”
Regulus bit his cheek and kept himself standing forward.
“Reg?” A voice came from behind him. Her. An embers touch. A light in the empty darkness. His soul standing so close, and yet she’s so far. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily.
“Don’t, Regulus,” The Devil warned him.
He pinched his side, “Why?” He whined.
“You’ll run,” The Devil said. “She’ll follow.”
Regulus didn’t understand.
“Run from this place,” The Devil went on. “Run until you find the light. Don’t look at her until she’s in the light too. Once she’s in the light you’ll have her.”
Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever.
Regulus wanted to ask why. He wanted to question the Devil and his ways. He wanted to ask why the Devil was doing all of this for him. He was nothing. A mere mortal without a soul. He had nothing to give and yet everything to take. He didn’t ask. He couldn’t, he ran.
His wet feet slipped across the pavement as he ran forward. He heard Lily behind him, her shoes pounding on the floor. He almost looked back. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. He wanted to look at her, really look at her, not just their history. He wanted to be wrapped in her forever. He wanted to grab her heart only to hold it and know it was true, but he kept running, he kept moving. He felt a melody holding his head. He felt a song. He felt her. She was everything. She was everywhere.
He stumbled, falling into the ocean just to see her there too. Her body was limp and sinking away from the light and into the hurried darkness of the tide. He stood on the shore, too far from her to save her. He felt Evan’s arms around his own, holding him back, he felt the tears as they ran down his face, and the endless grief clinging to his bones.
He kept running. He was never changing. He loved her. God did he love her.
The light came shimmering into the passageway. Beautiful as ever and covered with a golden light that only comes with embers to a flame. It was warm against his skin. He was laughing. He was young again. He had a soul. His foot broke into the light and he turned around. Just like he was told he could. He reached out to grab her hand and tug her back to shore. Just as he saw her meet his eye, he saw her leave again. Falling back into the darkness, and the sea took hold of her body again.
“No.” He fell forward to follow her, to run with the darkness with her, but he only fell back to the sand again without a flower in his hand. “No. No. No. No. No. No.”
It was just like that. No goodbye. No nothing. One second she was running behind him. The next second she was gone. Too far he couldn’t reach her. One second he had her. The next he held nothing besides a ringing in his ears.
Tears were already on his cheeks. He couldn’t remember ever crying. He couldn’t remember the last time he told her he loved her. Truly loved her. He can’t remember if she said anything to him before the same took her away. He can’t remember anything.
He turned back around upwards towards the beach but the Devil wasn’t there. There was no one he was alone. “Come back!” He called out, “Give her back to me!”
His words echoed across the beach. He called out again and again until his throat was bleeding and it was slipping from his mouth. “Give her back!”
No one came. No one showed up. The Devil didn’t lend out another hand, and Regulus Black was once again seen by no one. Without a soul, no God would ever find him. Without a soul, no God would ever want him in their gates or holding their angel’s wings. He would give anything. He would give up the rest of his body. He’d give them his heart, his lungs, his liver. He’d peel the skin from his bones just to please them. If only to bring her home. If only if only if only. He’d crawl home to her.
Swallowing back he looked over at the sea. It nipped at his toes and brought him forward. He crawled to the sea, his knees bloodied and bruised. He felt himself fall into the endless being of it. He let it overtake him. He became the foam placed on top of the sea. He became nothing. He fell to the bottom, for his bones would tangle with hers forever.
He saw no gate—he saw no Devil.
He only saw a single ember—one he would recognize by touch alone.