Backstory
Pandora’s first thought, when she saw Regulus at the station at eleven years old, was What a sad looking boy. The second one was I’m going to fix that.
So she did.
But Regulus was much more resistant than she anticipated.
They only had two classes together, and he made sure to stay next to Evan Rosier at all times. Pandora hadn’t liked Evan very much at first. Embarrassing though it was, she’d been jealous. As much as she’d like to pretend that befriending Regulus was a purely empathetic endeavour, the fact of it was that she didn’t have many options.
Pandora was weird.
In the first week of school, she’d already scared off her dormmates, through a particularly unfortunate disaster involving string, some marbles and a small mouse. That’s not to say they hated her, but they kept their distance after that, not straying past casual conversations or the occasional late night game.
Pandora’s classmates were nice, for the most part, but none of them seemed particularly interested in what she had to say. She knew that she had a tendency to ramble when excited, but she’d never realised quite how overwhelming she seemed to others until she exhausted nearly all her options for friendship.
While she hadn’t spoken to Regulus much, she had seen him in the grounds. It was rare, but sometimes, when he was talking to Evan Rosier, he would start to trip over his words as he spoke, the information knotting itself up in its eagerness to escape. More often than not he would slip into French and his friend would laugh and gently remind him to slow down, listening to every word with an engaged fondness and asking intermittent questions.
The only people who’d ever been willing to sit through Pandora’s ramblings had been her parents and although she loved them, the opportunity to have a proper friend her own age was simply too good to pass up. Sometimes she thought it would crack her open, the longing for a friend with whom she wouldn’t have to hold back.
Pandora knew she didn’t have to pretend to be something she wasn’t. Growing up with the most supportive, loving and open adults she knew and an autism diagnosis at eight years old, Pandora had been told her whole life that she never needed to be someone else for other people. If a person was worth it, then they wouldn’t need her to suppress herself for them. She believed that wholeheartedly.
But sometimes it just wasn’t worth it.
Pandora got tired of the curious stares and the hurried excuses. She knew that she didn’t need to change for the people who loved her, but sometimes it just wasn’t worth the effort of having to explain her actions to every single person she spoke to. And there were the bullies as well. As much as she wanted to stand up to them, explain to them exactly how they were wrong or even sometimes just fling herself at them and let the frustration take over, she knew that it wouldn’t fix anything.
She knew that the people who mattered would never judge her for who she was but fucking hell, where were those people?
So instead; Regulus Black.
-
Pandora: Italics
“Hey, Reggie, just wondering if you could call me back and let me know where you are. No pressure or anything, just let me know when you see this, please. No one knows where you are.”
-
The first time Pandora approached Regulus, he was in the library. He had been curled up in an armchair hidden in the non fiction section, where no other student had ever dared to venture. He hadn’t looked up from his book when she sat down–there were no other seats and so she arranged herself on the floor nearby–but he stiffened slightly, so she knew her presence hadn’t gone unnoticed.
She hadn’t said anything that first day, just pulled out a book of her own and started reading. She waited for him to tell her to leave. He didn’t. He didn’t speak, either. Neither one of them acknowledged the other and they sat together in a silent stalemate, both too distracted from their books to glean much meaning. At the bell, Pandora stood up, brushed herself off and walked away, ignoring Regulus entirely.
She went back the next day.
-
Pandora: Italics
“No one has heard from you in almost five hours and we’re all getting worried. Can you text someone, please? If we did something, you can tell us. We won’t be mad, we’re just a little scared.”
-
It took fifteen days before Regulus acknowledged Pandora. She’d finished her book, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and had been getting up to fetch another one when he asked what she’d thought. He didn’t look up from his own book and Pandora had hesitated for a couple seconds, trying to determine whether he wanted her real answer or a short, one word response.
“It was…good. Yeah, I liked the writing style. It felt a bit like crawling through my brain.”
“How so?”
Regulus put down his book, slipping what looked like a handmade bookmark inside and turning to face her properly. Pandora hesitantly sat back down, fumbling to grab the words racing through her head.
“Like–the character sounds like me. How I think. It’s rambly and drifts between subjects all the time and he spends a lot of time watching how other people behave and analysing it–I mean, obviously he does, he’s a wallflower, hence the title, but I haven’t read a lot of books where the main character observes people in the same way I do. And when I do they’re never well written, like this is. And the characters were interesting, especially because we know that we are getting a biassed view of them, so Sam has very little flaws, or if she does, they’re hidden because Charlie thinks of her so highly and I’m sure you see what I mean about being rambly now,” she finished with a weak laugh.
Regulus didn’t bother to acknowledge her feeble joke, but he nodded slowly, seemingly thinking through everything she had just told him as if it was worth pondering over.
“I liked how varied the characters were. I thought it was interesting that the author didn’t really discuss the way Charlie himself struggled with his best friend’s death. Instead, he would say, his mother held him back a year or how Michael’s girlfriend became a different person, while barely touching on how he himself thought except to vaguely allude to his depression or say he was sad that Michael was no longer around. I thought that the way they created that defence mechanism was beautifully written. And yes, I suppose I agree with you about relating to his writing style.”
Now Pandora, at eleven years old, was by no means skilled in the art of book analysis and these observations just about blew her away. In fact, she decided, this was all she needed from a friendship. She would happily talk to Regulus about the book for hours. She sat back down and began to speak more excitedly now, feeling less cautious already. Regulus warmed up slower but gradually he began to nod along with more vigour.
Once they had exhausted every thought they had ever had about Perks of Being a Wallflower, they moved onto Regulus’ book. What was it about? How was the writing? Would he recommend it? After that they started listing some of their favourites, chattering excitedly if the other recognised one of them.
That became their new routine.
-
Pandora: Italics
“Regulus, if you’re mad at me, please just come home and we can talk about it. I’m sorry for whatever I did. Mum and Dad are freaking out. We’ve called everyone we can think of and we don’t know what else to do.”
-
Pandora was thirteen when she first saw Regulus’ bruises. He hadn’t spoken much that day and she knew by now how to act when he had these bad days. She’d been mostly silent, focussing on her book, The Golden Compass, waiting for him to lead the conversation. Lunch was nearly over when he finally spoke.
“I think…I’ve gotten sunburnt.”
Pandora didn’t know what to say to that. She watched as he shifted in his seat, dropping his book in his lap in a careless manner not synonymous with his regular behaviour. He pulled up one of his sleeves and Pandora didn’t manage to stifle her gasp. Green and purple splotches stained his skin, climbing all the way down his pale and decidedly not sunburnt arm. Regulus’ face was burning and he quickly yanked the sleeve back down.
“Just a bit of sunburn.”
He grabbed his book and left without another word. Looking back, Pandora still wanted to kick herself for not recognising his first cry for help.
-
Pandora: Italics
Regulus: Plain
“Regulus? Where are you? Where have you been? Why weren’t you picking you? Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry. I…went on a walk. I didn’t mean to scare you. I lost track of time.”
“That’s okay. That’s okay. As long as you’re safe. Where are you? We’ll pick you up.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m sorry I worried you guys. I can walk back.”
“Hey, that’s fine. Don’t apologise. Just tell us where you are, please.”
“I’m in a park. I don’t–you don’t need to come get me.”
“Shit, are you crying? Don’t cry. We’re coming okay, just tell us the name of the park. It’s going to be okay, Reggie. Whatever it is, you can talk to us, you know?”
“I know, I’m sorry.”