Sanglant
“I’ll be your mirror
Reflect what you are in case you don’t know
I’ll be the wind, the rain and the sunset
The light on your door to show that you’re home
When you think the night has seen your mind
That inside you’re twisted and unkind
Let me stand to show that you are blind
Please put down your hands, ‘cause I see you”
…
“Hi, Regulus.”
“Good to see you, Regulus!”
“Where have you been?”
“Regulus, what’s wrong?”
Regulus didn’t answer anyone as he walked through the hallway. As he passed, students either stared, tried to talk to him, or turned and whispered to whoever was around them. Regulus’ skin was crawling, and he couldn’t walk fast enough – he just needed to get away.
After falling back asleep that early morning, Regulus had woken up in the late afternoon, and gotten rather sick once again. He stayed for another few hours, before Madam Pomfrey finally let him go. Still with no answer for him, she seemed sad. And worried.
He had looked pale in the bathroom before he left. His hair was a wreck, he longed for the gel more than ever, and he felt uncomfortable. Tired and in need to feel any source of comfort he had. But the problem was that he didn’t have any. His eyes were sunken, he looked hollow, and that’s how he felt.
The worst part of it was that he couldn’t even remember that beautiful feeling he had felt the night before. When he walked and spoke to the portrait, and lived in the halls alone where he had always known. Maybe that was all of the comfort he was ever going to get.
Once he reached the common room, he walked especially faster, ignoring everyone as he tried to make his way to the stairs as quickly as he could.
As he stepped onto the first step, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He sighed, feeling defeated and without the strength to fight any further, and he turned around. Standing a step down was Elena, her arms crossed sassily.
“What?” Regulus asked coldly.
“Where have you been?!” Elena had the same flavor of ice in her voice, “I’ve been worried about you.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, looking and seeing all of the Slytherins staring at the two of them from their places in the common room. He looked back, and felt even more fiery. “If you were worried, you’d know,” He looked right into her eyes, so suddenly angry and stubborn to back down, “we’re done, Elena.”
Elena’s expression changed, “What did you just say?” When Regulus tried to speak, she quickly cut him off, “We’re not fucking boyfriend and girlfriend, Regulus.” The common room was listening, oh were they listening, as Regulus’ cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “So if we’re done, I want you to know that I will make you regret this for the rest of your life,” She stared daggers into his chest, “so, say that one more time, you prick.”
Regulus swallowed, looking at her and then looking around at all of his classmates either laughing or trying to hide it. He felt like he was going to crumble to the ground, the weight of their eyes and her words weighing down on him as he felt so sick all over again. He felt a flood coming down on him, and he didn’t know what to do with it.
His veins were pumping nervously, and he looked back to Elena. His eyes were wide and wet, scared, and for a moment, he saw a sympathetic look in her eyes. He couldn’t imagine how childish he looked then, standing before her with tears in his eyes, looking terrified and mortified and and panicked and pathetically sad. “I’m,” He tried to hush his voice, trying to speak to her so everyone wouldn’t hear, “I’m sorry.”
Elena tried to say something, but before Regulus knew it he was cutting away from her and running up the stairs. He pushed past a boy who had stopped to ask him something, and he ran right up to his room, before forcing the door open and falling inside practically.
To his shock: Ben, Tarquin, Mason, and Clement were all sitting about, smoking cigarettes and staring at him in shock as well. He stood there, and they all looked at each other for a moment, trying to understand what was going on.
“Mate,” Tarquin spoke carefully, “are you all right?”
“No!” Regulus cried, unsure of what was happening or what he felt but needing to speak, “No, I’m not! I can’t not give a damn! I can’t keep fucking living like this! All everybody does is stare at me and talk about me and, and… and I want to get out of this fucking school and never come fucking back! I hate all the girls, and I hate Elena, and I don’t even like any of you! Please,” Regulus felt ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop his mouth, he was hysterical almost, “one of you. Just fucking hit me. Or kill me. I don’t want to,” He shook his head, breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath, “everything is so terrible.”
Once he finished, he stood in front of them, panting and holding his own hands like a madman as he tried to stop his crying and tried to relax the rapping in his chest. He felt unbelievably panicked as he couldn’t find it in himself to breathe, and his roommates could not take their eyes off of him. Regulus was only looking at Tarquin, who had been keeping eye contact, and had a look in his eyes that Regulus couldn’t understand.
Suddenly, Ben stood up. He looked like he was being careful, or at least that was what Regulus had thought. He walked to Regulus slowly, and Regulus stood his ground, looking at Ben then and wondering what he would do or say.
And some weak voice, a weak, puny voice in Regulus’ head thought he knew. Touch. Comfort. Hold me. Hold me. Hold Me. Hold me.
Hold me.
Regulus recoiled, falling hard onto the wood floor and shouting as he covered his face for his life. Breathing even harder, he held onto his gushing nose, the blood pouring onto his hands and shirt as he rocked on the ground, trying to control the splitting pain. He couldn’t hear what they were saying. But he could see. And soon, Ben was pulling him back up by the collar of his shirt, winding back, and punching him again. Regulus’ head flung back, as he tried to center himself, and felt another blow. And another. And another.
Eventually, Ben let him go, and Regulus fell back onto the ground with a loud THUMP. His head ached, his nose burned, his mouth tasted like metal, and he couldn’t open his eyes any more. He laid in anguish on the hardwood floor, unable to understand or comprehend what had happened to him, or how he could get back up, or how he could, he could…
He heard their footsteps. Leaving. He felt alone, and so cold, and so bloody, and so bruised. And deserving, somehow.
Why did I do that?
He heard breathing.
It was loud.
“Please,” He heard himself speak, “don’t hit me again.”
…
“Please, don’t hit me again.”
Screaming.
“Let me go!”
Noise.
“Please!”
Breathe, breathe.
“Stop it, stop it!”
Help.
“MOTHER, PLEASE!”
Hands over ears. Breathe heavy. Eyes closed. He’s okay.
“Stop! Please!”
Crying.
Is it me?
“Regulus!”
…
“I’m not going to hit you.”
Regulus breathed harshly through his nose that was clogged, which made it rather hard to gather air. “Okay,” He whispered, not wanting to open his eyes and see himself or the world around him. He felt tired. And somewhat betrayed.
Deserving.
“Let me help you up,” The voice said, and Regulus knew who it was, he just couldn’t face it himself. He felt a hand take his, and help him to his feet. As Regulus stood, he opened his eyes, and felt woozy where he was standing. The world seemed to sway. “Are you okay?” Tarquin asked, somehow not looking squeamish at the sight of him.
“Does it look like I am?” Regulus asked back, coughing slightly and feeling like the air was punched out of him. He couldn’t believe it.
Tarquin shook his head, “No. It doesn’t.” He stared at Regulus sympathetically, or maybe with pity, Regulus couldn’t tell. Regulus stood in front of him, saying nothing, covered in blood and probably looking like hell. “Can you walk to the bathroom? I can help you.”
Regulus nodded, unsure of what that really meant, and he walked past Tarquin to make his way into the bathroom. His head pounded as he sat down on the stool, putting his head into his hands and trying to control the nonstop spinning. Everything felt so dizzy and bright, he hated it. He just wanted to lay down, or go back to the infirmary.
The infirmary.
“Tarquin,” Regulus spoke.
“Yes?” Tarquin responded from inside their dorm, fumbling about.
“Can I just go to the infirmary?”
There was silence, before Tarquin entered the bathroom, holding a small box and looking very determined. He got on his knees in front of Regulus, so he could see him fairly, and shook his head. “No,” Tarquin looked away and started to open his box instead, “I’ll help you.” Regulus was confused. But he didn’t ask further. Tarquin seemed to appreciate his silence, as he put the box onto the floor. First, he took out some sort of bottle that Regulus didn’t recognize – the bottle was white, and on the side in big red letters it said “FIX ’EM UP”. Regulus had never seen it before in his life, but Tarquin squeezed some of the paste onto his fingers, and then moved closer to Regulus. Regulus flinched at the closeness, and Tarquin moved back. “Can I touch you?” He asked, and it was the kindest thing Regulus had heard in some time.
Regulus was at a loss, “I don’t know.” He took another hard breath, “I don’t want this now. I don’t know what you think of me anymore.”
“Why would I think differently of you?” Tarquin asked, genuinely.
“Because,” Regulus shook his head, “because of everything I just said.”
Tarquin stared at Regulus, hard. “Regulus,” He saw through him, “I’m not my friends. I’m not Ben, or Mason, or Clement, or anyone else. I don’t think any differently of you, and I won’t.” Regulus felt hotness in his eyes. He tried to blink it back. “I may not be capable of showing emotion the way you did,” that made Regulus want to throw up, “but I won’t change how I feel about you for it. I can’t excuse or explain anybody’s actions, but I will say, as long as you’re in here, don’t do that again.” Regulus nodded, to show he understood. “You’re my friend,” Tarquin said gently, “and we’ll always be friends.”
Regulus didn’t know what he meant, then. But he looked back at him, and he felt there was another kind of understanding happening between the two of them. Regulus felt close to him, and felt okay somehow, and said, “You can touch me.”
Tarquin smiled softly, before he leaned up and started to apply the paste onto Regulus’ nose. Regulus felt the tears in his eyes again, because it hurt so badly, but he tried to keep it together. He didn’t know how Tarquin was so good at this – he didn’t know how he knew how to handle things. But Regulus let him. Soon, the paste was fully applied, and Tarquin sighed, “That’s going to really hurt. But it’ll be worth it.” He then took out of his box a strange rubber ball, “hold this if it hurts too much.”
Regulus took the ball and raised an eyebrow, “This makes me feel like a child.”
“Are you one of those people who don’t miss childhood?” Tarquin asked, still smiling as he took out a rag.
“No,” Regulus said honestly, “I don’t.”
Moving past, Tarquin leaned into him again and started to gently rub his face with the rag. Regulus tried to remain calm, he didn’t like anyone being this close or touching him this way, but he… Well, it was all right. He knew it was all right. They sat there for a while as Tarquin wiped the blood off of his face, and Regulus remained patient. He just tried to be as patient as Tarquin was.
Eventually, Tarquin finished, and pulled away with an entirely clean and white rag. Regulus stared at it with wonder, “How is it still clean?”
“Magic,” Tarquin smiled again, which made Regulus laugh. When he laughed, his ribs seemed to hurt, and he started to cough more. “God, is this your first time getting your shit kicked?”
“Yes.”
Tarquin shook his head, “You’re being dramatic, then. You’re fine.” Regulus wondered if Tarquin had ever been beaten up like that, but he didn’t want to ask. “You know,” He smiled again, “you look wicked cool with a black eye.”
“I have a black eye?!” Regulus touched his face, “Fix it!”
“I don’t know if I want to,” Tarquin started to laugh, “you look good.” Regulus didn’t ask for him to fix it again. He just tried not to laugh himself and didn’t know why he was laughing, or why he felt better. “Besides,” Tarquin shrugged, “I don’t really know any healing spells for black eyes.”
“How do you know all of this stuff?” Regulus asked, beginning to squeeze the ball as a sharp pain seared through his face. It hurt, badly, but having Tarquin there helped.
Tarquin began to pack his things, “I have a little sister, who’s a squib.” Regulus felt his stomach settle when he said that, and tried to hold back all the things he was urged to say. “She has a lot of… well, issues, I’d say,” Tarquin shrugged, “my parents aren’t really around much– they work at the ministry. So I always took care of her.” He looked up at Regulus from the floor, “I’ve never told anyone this, but I’d like to be a healer.”
“A healer? Like, at St. Mungos?” He raised his eyebrows, “Ambitious.”
“Well, it’s what I like doing,” Tarquin seemed very certain, and Regulus held himself back again. He didn’t really think being a healer was a suitable job for anyone – it didn’t pay well at all. And there were enough of them already. “You know, you hear so many stories of siblings who nearly kill each other over magical superiority or whatever. But Sadie,” He sighed, “Sadie’s never been jealous of me. I think she’s loved me more for it.”
“You love her?” Regulus asked, “Your sister?”
“Of course,” Tarquin said absent-mindedly, “I mean, when I’m home, everything I do is for her.” He sat on the floor and looked up at Regulus having finished packing. “And I mean, she’s brilliant – she’s hilarious, and smart, and she teaches me more than this school does sometimes.” He laughed, “For a person who has as many issues as she does, she loves her life more than anyone I’ve ever met. I admire that in a person.”
Regulus let the conversation hold, before asking, “Do you love your life?”
Tarquin shrugged again, “Not really. I mean, I’m learning to. I think some people are born with the ability to always be happy, you know? I’m not one of those people. I don’t think you are, either.” Regulus tried to look offended, but Tarquin smiled. “And I think that sometimes, for people like us, learning to enjoy being alive is so much more of a feat than for people who are born with that.” Regulus listened closely. “Because we’re born to be sad, and yet we learn to fall in love anyway.”
Regulus laughed and rolled his eyes a little, “I think that’s rubbish.”
“Maybe,” Tarquin didn't seem bothered by that, which was maybe what Regulus had been hoping for, “I think we’re all a part of an epic plan. And that everything that happens to us is supposed to.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow, “So your sister being sick is a part of an epic plan?”
Tarquin’s face fell a little, he didn’t say anything for a moment. “No,” Tarquin shook his head, “no, that’s not what I meant.”
“Well, what do you mean?”
“Those thoughts just get me through the day,” Tarquin tried to explain.
Regulus shook his head, “It’s wishful thinking.”
“It’s what I believe,” Tarquin shot back.
“Well, it’s wrong.”
They sat in silence.
Until, “I think you’re someone who is never going to like being alive, Regulus,” Tarquin said quietly, “you never see the good side, in anything.”
“Because there isn’t one,” Regulus answered without a thought, “and you don’t know me.”
“I do know you,” Tarquin shook his head, tired.
“You don’t,” Regulus said icily.
“Yes, I do, Regulus,” Tarquin looked up, “you think nobody sees you. But I do.”
“How much bullshit do you believe?” Regulus hated this conversation, and felt more pain in his nose than ever, “You’re fucking delusional.”
Tarquin looked back at him, “I could say the same to you. We just don’t agree.”
“God,” Regulus sighed, “I can’t have conversations about this with people like you.”
“Who else is like me?” Tarquin asked.
“My brother,” Regulus rolled his eyes, “you both think everything is going to end in some magical fucking way, all the time. Well, it doesn’t. There’s no plan, there’s no story, nobody deserves anything and the only people who get it are the people who work hard.”
“I disagree,” Tarquin shrugged.
“I don’t know what kind of happy fucking life you’ve lifed,” Reguus sighed.
Tarquin looked distant, “My life isn’t happy.”
“It seems to be,” Regulus didn’t believe him, “you only think like that if it is.”
“I know why you got moved out of your dorm, Regulus.”
Those words lingered in the room for as long as Regulus spent staring at Tarquin. He felt sick again, he felt so sick, and very cold, and clammy, and white hot at the same time. “What?”
Tarquin didn’t break his eye contact, “I know.”
“What,” Regulus’ throat felt dry, “what do you know?”
“All of it,” Tarquin looked guilty.
“Who told you?” Regulus didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer.
“Mulciber. Warned me in the first week of school.”
Regulus shook his head, “It’s not true.” Regulus was frantic, “He’s lying. They were probably just playing some kind of joke on–”
“I don’t think any differently of you,” Tarquin repeated, “and I won’t.”
“It’s not true, Tarquin,” Regulus said heatedly, “it’s not. They’re fucking lying, all right? I’d never– I’m not– It’s not true.” Regulus also knew that there was a chance they weren’t talking about the same thing. Maybe Mulciber told Tarquin something entirely different, and Regulus would never know. But somehow he knew that they were talking about the same thing, he could see it on Tarquin’s face.
Tarquin sighed, “You don’t need to–”
“Fuck off,” Regulus was beyond angry, “if you’re about to preach to me again, shut up. I don’t want to hear it.”
Tarquin blinked, “Okay.”
“Okay.”
Regulus suddenly felt very guilty as Tarquin got up with his box and walked out of the bathroom, leaving Regulus in there alone. Regulus sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at the door and wondered if Tarquin would come back. He was terrified, and worried, and unsure of what Tarquin would do next or say. But he didn’t do anything. He didn’t come back.
Later, the pain subsided enough for Regulus to get up and walk into their dorm room. Tarquin was sitting on his bed and drinking a beer, looking deep in thought as Regulus walked over to him and reached into the suitcase to grab one himself. He sat on Tarquin’s bed, and leaned against the bedpost as he began to sip his beer. They both sat in silence for a very long time, and Regulus felt very tired.
“I’m sorry,” Regulus rushed out, breathing quickly after saying that. He had been holding it in his mouth for so long.
“It’s all right,” Tarquin nodded, taking another sip, “I forgive you.”
Regulus looked at Tarquin, and Tarquin smiled at him somehow. He just had to say it. “It isn’t true, I swear,” Regulus tried again.
“Okay,” Tarquin shrugged, unable to fight any longer seemingly.
“Do you think Ben is going to beat me up again?” Regulus asked.
Tarquin laughed, “No. He got all of it out. He’ll be right back to normal.”
“All right,” Regulus sighed.
All right.
…