Chapter Text
As it was on every other important day of Regulus Black’s life, it was snowing.
A thick blanket of snow over the world proved that it hadn’t ended when his older brother left years ago.
Biting chill from an icy blast refused to let him die when his best friend dragged him out of the lake he’d tried to make a coffin.
The snow soaked up large amounts of his blood when his parents left him for dead just a couple years earlier.
So as Regulus Black stood outside The Three Broomsticks coffee shop, he wasn’t surprised that the freezing temperatures had given way to a steady flurry of snow.
It was a cute shop, he had always thought so.
Frozen branches of ivey framed a large glass window that displayed the warmth and soft glow of the cafe to the frigid London streets in the winter and an air conditioned interior in the heat of the summer.
Even as the frost crept along the edges of the window, the sight of the tall shelves of second-hand books that lined the whole store just were enough to keep the spark of desire alive in his chest—a chest that was currently home to a heart trying to run away from him.
When he got up that morning, Regulus hadn’t really thought this would be such a problem.
He had fought and fought to be able to have this.
And yet, he couldn’t stop feeling like he was doing something wrong.
All the people bustling past him on the street didn’t pay a second thought to the dark-haired man bundled up in his all-black attire, trying not to have a panic attack. Regulus couldn’t blame them. They were real people—he was not.
Real people have jobs they’re longing to go to. Real people have dreams and aspirations. Real people have the ability to go through everyday life without having to relearn how to breathe. Real people don’t stand outside their new place of employment on their first day of work and think about throwing themselves into oncoming traffic.
With freezing fingers, Regulus pulled his phone out of his coat pocket.
7:21 a.m.
He still had about 10 minutes until Evan told him to be inside and ready to work. 10 minutes to decide if he could really do this—if he could really be Regulus Black, just a random barista behind the counter. A normal person. A real person.
“Fuck,” he swore quietly to himself.
Deciding there was a solution to this, Regulus stuffed his phone back in his pocket and replaced its place in his hand with a pack of cigarettes.
Click.
Click.
Click.
“Fuck.”
No matter what angle Regulus moved, his lighter was no match against the wind tearing down the streets.
“Hey stranger. Besoin d'une lumière?” Need a light?
In response to the question, Regulus groaned and threw a crude hand sign at the person he could see standing under the awning of the cafe in his peripheral vision.
The laugh that followed was so warm and certain that it shook the ice off Regulus’ bones.
“Come on,” Evan’s signature cologne filled his space as the larger man crowded him in an attempt to give him enough cover to light the cigarette.
Click.
“Thanks,” Regulus exhaled a shaky breath of smoke opposite Evan’s direction.
Just because his best friend didn’t berate him for his habit, didn’t mean he wanted to encourage it or smell like it.
Evan didn’t say anything.
It was one of the things Regulus had always loved about him.
He was always there, always knew what Regulus needed, and was always right.
Evan just slid in place next to Regulus under the lamppost he had been practically clinging to for dear life and let Regulus smoke in silence.
Only when he’d reached the filter and stomped it out with his boot, did Evan speak.
“He give you any problems?”
“Ev,” Regulus shot back in a warning tone.
He didn’t want to talk about Tom.
Not just because Evan hated him, but because Evan was always right. Tom had, in fact, given Regulus a whole lotta grief that morning about his first day of work. It had been the centre of countless fights. Several panicked phone calls to Evan. And one sleepless night on Pandora’s couch.
Swallowing the response that would’ve restarted the fight they’d been having for the past two years, Evan scoffed a little and pushed off the lamppost he was leaning on.
“Allez, Reg,” he rubbed his hands together in an attempt to unfreeze them. “Can’t sulk forever.”
“Shut up,” Regulus grumbled, successfully dodging Evan’s attempt to ruffle his hair.
Evan’s laugh, once again, was the jolt of warmth Regulus needed to unglue himself from the pavement and follow his best friend’s broad back into the coffee shop he had been in at least a hundred times.
Even at 7:30 in the morning, the shop was filled with light chatter.
People were picking up their coffees on the way to work.
A couple students had already taken up residence in the corner tables near the outlets.
The smell of coffee was so thick in the air, it was already waking Regulus up without him drinking a single drop.
“Reg!” a beautiful woman handing a latte to a customer was waving to get his attention.
Her smile was absolutely infectious. If Regulus were a different person, he probably would’ve been able to smile back. Nobody failed to crack at least a tiny smile in response to Dorcas’ eyes on them. Regulus always assured her he was smiling on the inside and for some reason, she never doubted him.
Evan led Regulus over to the counter and played his usual role of social buffer.
“Morning, Dorcas,” Evan said, easily crouching under the counter to be on the same side as her.
He gave the woman a gentle peck on the cheek.
In response, she playfully smacked him on the arm and tossed her long locs behind her shoulder so they would whack him in the face when he passed.
“Bonjour,” Regulus mumbled under his breath, following Evan’s lead and ducking under the counter.
“Was he outside smoking or sulking?” a light and airy voice drifted in from the back room.
“Both,” Evan smiled, gesturing for Regulus to hand him the slightly damp coat he was still wearing.
“Ahh,” the voice sighed a little sadly. “Bonjour, Reg.”
“Morning, Dora,” he responded a little more enthusiastically than he had to Dorcas.
If the other girl took offense to his responses, she didn’t show it. Regulus had known Evan and Pandora much longer than he had known Dorcas. She knew that. Dorcas responded by handing him an apron, a blank name tag, and a chalk pen.
“Come on. It’s bad enough you smell like smoke. Write your name on the tag, get the apron on, and you can shadow Evan for the day,” Dorcas smiled at him but Regulus recognised the tone of voice. There were two versions of Dorcas: friend and manager. This was manager.
“Shadow Evan?” Regulus tried not to sound as irritated as he actually was. He realised a little too late that he had only succeeded in making himself sound like he was a whining brat. “Dorcas, I’ve practically worked here as long as Ev has.”
“Key word being practically,” she hummed.
If Regulus hadn’t been raised by Walburga Black, he would’ve pouted.
Instead, he settled for a clenched jaw and crossed his arms across his chest.
Evan had worked at the shop for almost three years now. Pandora, his twin sister, had started as a night cleaner but over the course of almost six years, had worked herself into the small bakery at the back of the store. One of the things Rosmerta, the owner of the store, prided herself on was their in-house baked goods.
Pandora, with all her whimsy and creativity, had proven to be her best investment so far. The cafe had gotten several rave reviews in magazines largely in part to their “distinctly unique and charming selection of scones, muffins, and croissants.”
Of the three years Evan had worked at the shop, Regulus had essentially followed him around like a shadow.
At first, he would sit in the corner of the shop with a book and try his best to not disturb his best friend or draw attention to himself. Turns out, Regulus was not as good at “blending in” as he thought he was. Apparently half the staff had asked who the “hot French guy” in the corner was by the end of Evan’s first week and by the end of the second, everyone somehow knew his name and his order.
He didn’t want to follow Evan around like a lost puppy. The pair just had the type of bond that going through years and years of shit together brings. It’s a bond that can’t be broken no matter what each other did. Seeing another person at their absolute worst so many times may have broken a friendship. For Evan and Regulus, it just made them stronger.
Besides, those early days of Evan working at the shop were hazy and confusing for Regulus to begin with.
He had just been disowned, his world had been turned upside down, and his only sense of direction was the north star that was his best friend. So when Evan told him to sit in the corner of the shop when he worked, stay out of the way, and not run away, Regulus couldn’t say no.
He would’ve come back with a biting and sarcastic reply to Dorcas’ sass had she not started to serve a new customer.
“Write your name, mon étoile,” Evan smiled, gesturing to the name tag and pen.
If they weren’t in their new work setting, Regulus would’ve flipped him off. Ever since he told Evan his name all those years ago, the other boy had never stopped taking every opportunity to make as many star-related nicknames or jokes as he could.
No matter how many times Regulus groaned and complained about it, they both knew he never wanted Evan to stop.
So, Regulus wrote his name, put the apron on, and got to work.
By the end of his shift, he felt drained in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was tired from standing on his feet making coffee, greeting guests, and learning so much more than he ever realised he would need to know to be a barista. At the same time, a small piece of his heart was fluttering with anxiety. Despite how tired he was, it was satisfying to be doing something with his life…which felt terrifyingly wrong.
When Regulus moved in with Tom two years ago, he made it very clear that Regulus would never have to work a menial job or do anything he didn’t want to.
Aside from the protection from his family that staying out of public sight gave him, Tom didn’t want Regulus to work because technically, he shouldn’t have to.
Regulus was independently wealthy from his inheritance and Tom was a very successful and very influential antiquities dealer who just wanted Regulus to be happy. In Tom’s perfect world, Regulus would be free to read and write and engage in all the beautiful things he wanted to do because he didn’t have to work or really leave the flat for anything other than the shopping. In reality, Regulus ended up being something a little closer to a housewife. But he didn’t mind too much because he knew it kept him safe from his parents and their hounds. At least, he didn’t until a couple months ago after a really bad fight when he slept at Pandora’s and realised he needed something of his own.
While Evan, Dorcas, and Pandora were busy fawning over their other baker Molly’s new baby that she had brought in just to say hi to everyone, Regulus slipped out the back door into the alley behind the shop.
The snow had mostly stopped, leaving a slushy, frozen coat over everything. It was the type of ice that would promise to send someone to A&E if they took one wrong step.
Shivering a little, Regulus pulled out his pack and with more success than that morning, lit a cigarette. With each inhale and long exhale, he felt the smoke starting to dull the edges of the usual ache in his chest.
Every hour of every day, Regulus felt like he was fighting for his life against an invisible entity inside of him that was trying over and over again to strangle him out. It hadn’t always been this bad. At the same time, it hadn’t always been this good.
He remembered the days where the weight of his existence, his soul, was too heavy for his frame that he had no option other than to crumble or hope that Evan could hold him up one more time.
It had been years since things were that bad. That didn’t mean that his neutral state of misery was much better. Things were supposed to be better. Yet, in many ways, everything felt the same.
The slam of the strong metal door behind him startled Regulus out of his thoughts. It might as well have been a gunshot. He dropped his cigarette.
“Shit,” he cursed himself for both dropping the smoke and not controlling his shitty reactions better.
“Oh sorry, Reggie,” Pandora floated into the alley, smiling up at him sweetly.
“It’s alright, my fault,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets in an attempt to hide the shake of his hands from her.
“Mmm, no. I don’t think so,” she mused, hitting him with her usual piercing stare that often left him feeling exposed and unsettled. He had known Pandora since he was 12 and that look never stopped making him squirm a little.
That first night at Beauxbatons, Regulus didn’t know a soul.
A transfer in, he had missed the critical first year of getting to know yous and awkward introductions. His big brother and his whole world had just left, leaving him alone for the first time ever. Sirius’ departure resulted in him getting pulled from Hogwarts and enrolled at its French counterpart in his parents’ desperate attempt to stomp out any lingering “foolish notions” he had gotten from Sirius.
It didn’t help that Beauxbatons itself was completely different from the warm, lived-in feeling of Hogwarts. The French academy was a palace made of marble, glass, and high expectations.
Regulus had positioned himself at the end of one of the long tables in the dining hall. Everyone at the table was wearing the same year colours as he was, dark green, so he assumed they were his class. He hadn’t expected to be noticed, much less singled out by the strangest girl he had ever met.
At 12, Pandora had long blonde curls that stood in stark contrast to her dark skin. The combination of almost white hair, darker skin, and hazel eyes should’ve made her look rather mismatched. Instead, it made her look completely otherworldly—like she was a fairy that had drifted in from another realm and decided to stay.
Of course contributing to her odd demeanor was the way she seemed to know things.
“Hello! I’m Panda!” She scooted herself all the way down the long bench to stick her hand over the book Regulus had been pretending to read in the hopes nobody would talk to him.
“Or Dora. Or Pandora. Either work!”
When Regulus didn’t immediately shake her hand, she did something unbelievable: she grabbed Regulus’ limp wrist and shook it herself.
“Je parle français,” I speak French, he had whispered in response, taking her English to be an insult. He was at a French academy. Obviously he spoke French, even if she sounded just as English as he was.
“Oui, je sais,” Yes, I know, she smiled, finally letting go of his hand. “But I’m more comfortable in English and you speak it.”
“How did you know-”
“Panda!” a larger boy who looked almost exactly like her slid down the bench behind her, wrapping arm around her shoulders with an easy smile. “Panda, laisse la nouvelle fille tranquille.” Leave the new girl alone.
Then, to Regulus, the boy extended his hand and introduced himself as Evan Rosier.
“Désolé. Ma sœur est excitée. C'est la seule fille de notre année. Maintenant, elle a un colocataire!” Sorry. My sister is excited. She's the only girl in our year. Now she has a roommate!
Before Regulus could even decide what he was going to say about being a “girl” and potentially sharing a room with Pandora, she made a humming noise that caught the attention of both boys.
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t think what, Panda?” Evan’s easy smile immediately dropped. He was suddenly very serious, as if the next words out of her mouth might be nuclear codes.
“I don’t think he’s going to be my roommate for long. Are you?”
“I- I-”
“Right…” Evan nodded slowly, clearly understanding what she was saying without needing to ask. “So, what’s your name?”
They both looked back at Regulus with their hazel eyes and such a kind and curious look that made him want to hide under the table.
“Je suis-” I’m-
“No, I don’t think so,” Pandora interrupted him.
Evan gave her a brief quizzical look before deciding to roll with it and not say anything.
Regulus started to get quite hot. Something inside his chest that was a lot like a cornered stray animal was starting to scratch and scream at the look they were giving him.
Yet, for the first time, he wasn’t afraid.
“Regulus. Je suis Regulus.” Regulus. I’m Regulus.
Both twins’ faces split into matching easy smiles.
“Ravi de te rencontrer, Regulus,” Nice to meet you, Regulus, Evan stuck his hand back out. And for the first time, Regulus shook it. As himself.
“Reggie!”
“Hmm? Sorry, what?”
Pandora’s voice snapped him out of his trip down memory lane.
He wasn’t in the high-vaulted hall of Beauxbatons, he was in the icy alley behind the coffee shop. Pandora, at age 24, was standing next to him with that knowing look that he hated.
“I was talking to you,” she said in a sing-song voice that didn’t sound at all like she was offended by him zoning out.
“Oh, sorry,” he fished around in his pocket for another cigarette.
She waited to speak to him until he lit the new one and had taken two deep drags.
“Didn’t mean to startle you. This door slams if you don’t hold onto it. The walk-in in the back also slams if you don’t hold it,” she was counting these on her bejeweled fingers. “Marlene also has a habit of knocking things over, but I think you’ve met her before. And Molly slams things when she’s frustrated. Oh and if you ever need to hide just come on back and you can scream in the walk-in. Or cry. Or do that thing you do where you sort of go silent and stare.”
Regulus coughed a little, choking on smoke at the mention of what his meltdowns look like from an outside perspective.
“Erm, thanks Dora.”
The pair stood in silence for a little longer while Regulus finished his smoke.
He didn’t know what she wanted from him. Though in truth, only Evan ever seemed to know what she really wanted. Even then, they weren’t as connected as they were when he had met them. Time tends to do that.
“We were thinking of grabbing some food. Ev and I were gonna go to the Pret down the street?”
Regulus was hungry. Just not hungry enough to sit between the twins’ tense glances and definitely not hungry enough to eat a questionable sandwich at Pret.
“I’m alright. Thanks Dora. Enjoy some time with Ev.”
A normal person would’ve recognised that as a dismissal.
Not Pandora.
“Are you gonna go home?”
“Don’t know where else I would go,” he said with an edge he hoped she’d understand.
“It’s just past noon, Reggie. Tom doesn’t get off work until 5.”
“Dora,” Regulus said in the same warning tone he gave Evan that morning.
She didn't care.
“What are you gonna do when you get home?”
“I dunno! Eat. Hang out with Nyx. Do the dishes. Clean up. Not be pestered by people constantly asking about Tom!”
“Regulus,” Pandora’s eyes started to water. She never did well with anyone yelling, let alone yelling at her. “I was just asking what you were gonna do if you didn’t go with us. There’s no need to-”
“You lot keep going on and on about me being my own person. Fine! I have a job! Just leave it at that and leave me alone!” Regulus, with a sudden burning anger inside of him, turned on his heel and walked back into the cafe. He didn’t bother holding onto the handle as the door slammed behind him.
Not talking to Dorcas as he clocked out or even acknowledging Molly and her baby, Regulus grabbed his coat and made his way out onto the high street.
He didn’t mean to snap at Pandora like that. She was always off limits when it came to their tempers or anger. Hell, Regulus and Evan had both punched people for talking to Pandora the way he had just snapped at her. But he couldn’t control it. He warned her to stop pushing.
His head was getting crowded again. All the warmth from the cafe and the pride of finishing his first day of work was draining out of him. The already darkening edges of his head were starting to narrow in.
“Fuck,” he swore to himself, stopping again at the lamppost he had hovered by that morning.
Click.
He lit another cigarette.
Allowing the smoke to act as an anchor, Regulus made his way back down the street, tracing the path he had taken a hundred times before—tracing the path home.
Tom’s flat was on the top floor of one of the new high rises downtown. It was a 55-story architectural marvel and Regulus hated it with every fibre of his being. The lobby was largely “artistic” concrete with strange geometric modern art pieces everywhere.
Sometimes, on his bad days, he fantasised about taking a sledgehammer to it all.
“Afternoon, Otto,” Regulus greeted the doorman.
An elderly man who probably would’ve been a wonderful father, Otto seemed to like Regulus more than the other residents. Sometimes, even more than Tom. He supposed being paid a little extra to forget about Regulus’ existence if anyone asked for him would do that.
“Afternoon, Mr. Regulus,” he tipped his hat. “You’ve got a couple letters today. Just giving you the heads up.”
His stomach dropped to his feet like lead.
“Thanks, Otto,” he sighed. “Always appreciate it.”
Per usual, Otto was right.
Sitting in the mailbox mixed with some bills and promotional stuff, were three crisp letters. The stationery was heavy and expensive. His real name wasn’t on them, but he knew they were for him.
Today was supposed to be the first day of a new chapter for him. But damp from the snow, his curls hanging limply around his face, and an ever-increasing feeling of dread, Regulus was painfully reminded that nothing ever does change. He can turn over as many chapters as he wants, but nothing was ever going to change this book—his book.
“Hi Tom, I’m home,” he muttered dismally to the doorbell camera outside their door. He was pretty sure Tom wasn’t watching at that very moment. At 1:30 he usually had business meetings and whatnot. But out of habit, he let him know.
The minute the door softly shut behind him, Regulus let out a heavy sigh. Leaning his whole body against the door, he let himself sink all the way down to the floor—leaving damp streaks from his coat behind. Squeezing his eyes shut, Regulus tried to push out the dark thoughts starting to cloud his mind.
Everyone was right. He was foolish to think things would change. Tom told him he would always fuck things up. His mother had told him years ago that he was nothing more than a weak, spoiled brat. Even Sirius before he left had told Regulus that he wasn’t ready for the real world. They were all right.
Regulus dropped the mail in a pile next to him. Shifting so he could pull his knees up into his chest, he buried his head of curly black hair into them. Ever since he was a child, this was how Regulus felt comfortable—because it felt like somebody, anybody, was giving him a hug. He was jolted out of his pitiful attempts to not cry by an aggressive buzzing in his pocket.
“Ev?” his voice came out as a whisper. He hated it. He hated how weak he sounded.
“Regulus! Don’t you dare snap at Pandora like that again! She was only asking-”
A sniff from Regulus’ end of the line stopped Evan in his tracks.
“Reg. Are you okay?”
The tone shift was immediate. All anger and annoyance had completely fallen out of his voice.
“Fine.”
“Reg. How’s the weather?” Evan said with a little more force.
Questions like “are you okay,” “what’s wrong,” and “how are you,” were often unhelpful for people like them. Okay is easy to dismiss, wrong is relative, and asking people like the Rosier twins, Regulus, and Barty “how are you” was often laughable. So they came up with a new system: the weather.
He answered his best friend’s tone with silence. The weather was getting stormy. Regulus could feel the hum of dangerous lighting setting his hair on edge, but he couldn’t say that to Evan. On the other end of the line, the only thing Evan could hear was breathing and the distant meows of Nyx suddenly realising her father was home.
“Tom doesn’t come home ‘till 5:15 at the earliest and the snow will slow him down. Do you need me to come over? I can be out by 4, he won’t know,” Evan broke the silence after Regulus sniffed again. He didn’t know about the cameras. Regulus didn’t think he could handle Evan’s reaction if he told him about the cameras. It might be the final straw.
“I’m okay, Ev. I’m sorry about Dora. I got overwhelmed. I told Tom I’d make his favourite so I gotta do the shopping. And I got…”
His eyes landed on the three beautiful envelopes sitting at his feet. One was a beautiful crimson, from his mother. Another was a polished silver, from his father. And the third was completely black with white ink, from Lucius.
It had been weeks since he’d gotten even one letter. Must be his lucky day for him to get the jackpot of all three. He wondered if they coordinated it.
“Reg.”
Evan’s voice in the distance was pulling him out of his own head.
“Regulus.”
“Sorry,” he cleared his throat. “Got a letter. Three actually.” His eyes landed again on the heavy stationary. It looked expensive. He had no doubt it actually was.
“Reg,” the noise behind Evan in the background stilled. If he had been walking, he had clearly stopped. “Throw them out. We’ve been through this. Just throw them out.”
Regulus ran his thumb over the envelopes. The truth was, they had been over this. They had been over this many, many times since they were kids. And each time, Regulus lied. He opened every. single. one.
“I know Ev,” his voice slipped into a practiced calmness. “I know. Sorry about Dora. I just got overwhelmed and then she was pushing and- it’s no excuse. I’m sorry. I’ll apologise tomorrow.”
Evan exhaled and continued walking wherever he was headed, believing Regulus—as he usually did.
“It’s alright. Just- if Tom gives you any grief about work… You’ll text me?”
The anxiety in his best friend’s voice made his chest tighten uncomfortably. Nobody liked Tom. At first, Evan and Barty had been just as enthralled with him as Regulus was. Then things shifted and suddenly Regulus found himself defending him for everything.
“Yeah, Ev. It’ll be fine. We talked it all out.”
Lie.
“And I’m gonna make the roast he likes.”
Truth.
“Really, I’ll text or call if he gets…you know…”
Lie.
“But you know how it is…he doesn’t mean to get all…you know he just worries…”
Truth? Lie?
Evan sighed again. He had heard every version of this speech for the past four years. “Okay, Reg. Bee and I are going to the cinema, but I’ll have my phone on.”
“Jesus, Ev. Tout ira bien. Tu connais Tom.” Everything will be fine. You know Tom.
Evan sighed. This time, he sounded much more resigned.
“Yeah, Reg. I know Tom. That’s why I’m telling you. I’m telling you because I know him.”
Nyx chose that exact moment to make an appearance.
The small black cat trotted up to Regulus' leg and gave him several headbutts before crawling into the small space between his chest and his thighs. Her two very soft meows contributed to the conversation.
“Nice to hear from you too, Nyx,” Evan’s grin could be heard on the other end of the phone. “Ciao, Reg. I’m here if you need. If not, I’ll see you at work in the morning.”
Nyx let out another soft meow as Regulus gave in and started to scratch the spot behind her ear that she likes.
“Ciao, Ev. See you tomorrow. Tell Bee I say ‘hi.’”
When he hung up the phone Regulus decided to do what he always did: count to five and keep moving. When he hit five, he was either going to get up, put the letters somewhere to read later, and make a list for the shopping. Or he was going to read the letters, make a drink, and end up ordering dinner for the two of them.
One.
Nyx started to purr.
Two.
His stomach growled.
Three.
He looked at the letters one more time.
Four.
Regulus took a deep breath.
Five.
Regulus stood up.
He collected the mail, shoved it in the junk drawer, and pulled out a post-it to write his grocery list on.
When the door to the flat swung open at 5:17 p.m. that evening, Tom Riddle was greeted by the warm and savoury aroma of his favourite roast. A light humming was coming from the kitchen.
Regulus was leaning over the stove tasting a bit of the potatoes with a spoon. A couple curls had broken loose and were dangling over his eyes. The steam from the pot made his pale skin momentarily shine. He was wearing a black turtleneck and black trousers. It was nothing special but the snatch of Regulus’ waist was enough to make the outfit look runway ready.
“Hello, darling.”
His voice pulled Regulus out of his internal debate about more salt on the potatoes. “Oh!” he jumped a little, seeing the other man in the kitchen. He really hadn’t heard him come in. “Hi! I made your favourite!”
“Aww,” Tom smiled, setting his briefcase and coat down in the hall. “Come here.”
He held out his arms for Regulus to slide himself into, as he always did.
Just for a moment, a split second, Regulus hesitated.
When Regulus had left the flat that morning, he could still hear Tom yelling all the way down at the lift. Now, he was home and acting as if nothing happened. Getting within striking distance of someone when you have no idea how they’re feeling was a recipe for a bad night.
But, Regulus reminded himself.
Tom was not his father.
Tom was not his mother.
Tom loved him.
“There you are,” Tom smiled down at Regulus. He took one hand to cup the back of his curly hair while the other wandered down to the small of his back. Regulus was a head shorter than Tom, but it was the size difference between the two that mattered.
Where Regulus was all sharp angles and thin edges, Tom was lean muscle and firm strength.
Resting his cheek on Regulus’ head, Tom took a deep breath.
“You smell like coffee,” he said quietly.
Every muscle in Regulus’ body froze. It wasn’t what he said. It was how he said it. Because Tom was nothing if not very intentional. He didn’t need to see Tom’s face to know that the smile behind his open arms had vanished.
“I’m sorry,” Regulus lightly tried to pull away.
The hands on his head and back were unmoving.
“I can change. Or shower. Or…”
Tom’s grip tightened just enough to make Regulus uncomfortable before he let go. Hesitantly, Regulus took a step back. He was scanning Tom’s face to see what he might be feeling but he found…nothing. It was blank. He was so controlled that something primal inside Regulus sprang to life and told him to run.
“It’s okay, darling,” his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s eat dinner.”
Dinner was a tense affair for Regulus. Tom prattled on and on about a new merger he was dealing with at his firm, Borgin and Burkes. He gave Regulus a run down on the new art they were trying to acquire and all the roadblocks they’d been running into. Apparently Mr. Burke was caught having an affair with the young secretary and his fourth wife had made a scene in the lobby. He told Regulus about every minute of his day. Regulus, on the other hand, didn’t say anything other than “can you pass the potatoes?” and “would you like more wine?”
After the meal, Tom settled down on the sofa while Regulus cleaned up the table and kitchen. He knew that some people would frown on their distribution of labour in the household, but Regulus always liked doing it all. It gave him something to do instead of thinking and made Tom happy. He needed to be useful. Regulus owed Tom everything. The least he could do is wash up.
“Come here,” Tom patted the spot on the black leather sofa next to him.
Again, hesitating for a split second first, Regulus did as he was told.
Tom wrapped his arm around Regulus and pulled his shoulders close so he could lean on the larger man. His hand was gripping his shoulder rather tight, but it wasn’t enough to be uncomfortable so Regulus didn’t say anything. They sat in silence as Tom flipped through the channels. He landed on a rerun of one of those ridiculous real estate shows.
“So, how was work?” Once again, Regulus froze. His tone was not warm.
“It was good. First day, hard to judge. But it was good.”
The other man nodded, allowing them to lapse into a brief silence. “You looked tired on the camera.” Now Tom’s voice was not only not warm, but downright cold. Regulus tried to pull away. Tom’s firm had just gripped his shoulder tighter.
“Well you know, the snow…And my parents sent another letter…”
“Hmmm.” Another silence spread between them as they watched Sandra and Connell fight over their dream home in Cardiff. “Is that why you curled up in front of the door when you came home? Just the letters?”
Regulus angled his head up to try and see Tom’s face. It was hard to get a read on what he was feeling if he couldn’t even see him. From his spot, all Regulus could see were long lashes and dark brown eyes.
“Yeah…I thought you weren’t watching the cameras in here anymore.”
“I was worried,” Tom responded quickly.
“Worried…worried that I’d be, what? Tired?”
“I don’t appreciate your tone, Regulus.”
A hot anger was roaring to life in his chest. It was the same anger that led him to snap at Pandora—to yell before thinking. This anger had been there his whole life. When he was a kid it was wild and unruly before his parents taught him better. Still, now 24, Regulus lost his leash on it frequently. Using all his force, Regulus pushed up and against Tom’s grip. He let go.
“My tone?”
Tom turned slowly to face him, face still expressionless.
“Yes, Regulus. Calm down. I was worried about you. The coffee shop is a more public setting, where-”
“It’s been years and my parents still haven’t jumped me at Tesco. They know where I live. They send letters. How does me having a job change anything?”
“Don’t interrupt me,” Tom warned. “I’m not being unreasonable, Regulus. Your parents are dangerous people. Powerful people. I just want you to be safe. I almost lost you the last time you-”
“But it’s just a job, Tom! You still see them for work stuff sometimes and everything is fine! You’re being controlling and you-”
The smack echoed through the apartment.
“Regulus. I wouldn’t have to be controlling if you stopped acting like an insolent child and just did what I told you to do,” he hissed dangerously.
With a slowly reddening cheek, Regulus didn’t dare say another word.
“You are wasting your potential in a fucking coffee shop. I will not have my boyfriend handing people their coffees and shitty pastries like you serve them. I am the only reason you’re alive and haven’t been gutted by your bitch cousin yet. You owe me everything. You understand that?”
Tom’s face was less than an inch away from Regulus’. Their noses were practically touching.
“I’m sorry,” Regulus muttered. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, pet,” Regulus flinched as Tom gently caressed his stinging cheek. “I’m glad you understand. Maybe tomorrow you can start revising the project. With the whole day free you-”
“What? I’m not quitting.”
The second smack was harder than the first. Regulus’ ear was momentarily ringing.
“Did you not just fucking listen to me?” Tom’s voice was getting louder. He was losing his patience. On instinct, Regulus brought his hand to his cheek as if he could undo the pain by covering it.
“I did listen. I just-” he was cut off by Tom’s firm hand circling his thin wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. His fingers were digging in so deep, he was bound to have bruises tomorrow.
“You just think you know better than me? You?”
Despite still sitting on the couch, Tom was crowding Regulus’ space close enough for him to feel like the larger man was towering over him.
“It’s not that. I just- I’m not…happy!”
Abruptly, Tom stood up, wrenching Regulus to his feet.
“Is it your little gang of idiotic friends? Are they telling you you have to do this? Because last time I checked, they’re the definition of wasted potential…”
“What?”
“I mean, Evan could’ve done great things. Could’ve been an amazing architect or a designer if he didn’t have that whore sister. Barty, genius! Could’ve been a fucking solicitor or fucking PhD by now if he wasn’t so fucked in the head. These are the people you’re taking advice from? I’m sure they want you to leave me, too.”
Regulus could feel his heart starting to pound out a furious rhythm. Barty and Evan were often a key issue in their fights. Tom would never understand the bond between the three of them.
“Jesus, Tom. No! You know I’m yours! I’m not leaving and leave them out of this!” Regulus could feel his body getting warm with anger. “I just want to be a normal person! I want to be more than a Black and more than your’s and-”
“Oh so you want more than me?” Tom cocked his head at Regulus, who groaned in frustration.
Everything he currently had, he owed to Tom. When he was in sixth year, Tom was the first person to tell him his silly dreams weren’t silly. He took Regulus in when he had nowhere else to turn and offered him protection. Tom was responsible for getting his surgery and hormones. He owed Tom everything. All he wanted was to be able to repay that debt. But it was getting harder and harder to keep having this fight.
“That’s not what I said!” Regulus was yelling now. “I just want to be a normal person, Tom! I don’t want to spend all day in here doing nothing with my life other than cleaning and cooking and writing books I’ll never publish!”
“Regulus, you aren’t a normal person!” Tom’s grip, if possible, tightened. “You are the heir to the Black empire. You know family secrets nobody else does. You’re marked as theirs. And on top of that, you’re not even a normal man! So to think you can have anything normal is just-”
This time, Tom didn’t get to finish his sentence.
A fist made contact with his sharp cheekbones and forced his mouth shut.
“Don’t say that about me,” Regulus was breathing like he had just run a marathon. The anger lapping at his chest was demanding action.
Getting over his momentary shock, Tom righted himself to smile down at Regulus. The smile was enough to send ice rushing through Regulus’ veins.
“After everything I’ve done for you?” a glint of something almost red flashed in Tom’s eyes. “That’s how you wanna treat me? Fine.”
There was no time for Regulus to defend himself or come up with a good argument before he felt the pressure on his wrist disappear and a shooting pain erupt in his thigh.
Shit.