eweexiy

sirius: no, i sit up gay

regulus: rem, I think that the house should be divided into two parts. given their hyperemotionality and our autistic tendencies, it turns out that we won't be able to take them out 24/7, especially the two of them, so you and I will be assigned a separate part of the house where we can sit in silence.

james: ...

sirius: ...

remus: you forgot about a shared library, reggie.

guys its regulus

can I consider myself a god if people don’t believe in me either?

sirius: who's the hottest guy in school?

regulus: my james, of course.

sirius: no, you're dating him, it doesn't count-

regulus: your boyfriend.

sirius: WHAT-

*regulus looks slyly at lupin and grins*

*remus and james, who don't speak french, look at each other nervously and uncomprehendingly*

despite the fact that barty had non-traditional friends, he had an inner homophobia towards himself.

he reacted sharply to all the "gay jokes" and excessive tactility, because of his father's upbringing.

but at night, locked in the bathroom, he cried self-loathing on the cold floor, trying to figure out why he couldn't get the damn evan rosier out of his head and what was wrong with him.

sirius' letter to regulus

"but were things different: had I not a friend left in the world; were there not a single house open to me in pity; had I to accept the wallet and ragged cloak of sheer penury: as long as I am free from all resentment, hardness and scorn, I would be able to face the life with much more calm and confidence than I would were my body in purple and fine linen, and the soul within me sick with hate.

and I really shall have no difficulty. when you really want love you will find it waiting for you".

"de profundis" by oscar wilde

JEGULUS

he waited for him all night, smoking cigarette after cigarette, and regulus appears on his doorstep with the first rays of the sun, symbolically drowning in them. a saint — no other way.

james grins as the younger black gently runs his fingers through his unruly hair, leaving photons of dawn on them, which seemed to have frozen forever on the pads of the boy's fingers.

"I like your hair, james". he whispered, twisting the ends of his hair around his index finger, focusing on it as if it were a potions test. potter likes it. he likes being regulus black's secret.

he doesn't apologize for the hours of waiting, but pulls james possessively into a dimly lit room. his touch, as always barely perceptible, causing goosebumps and an attack of incomprehensible tenderness. he's wearing a worn t-shirt three sizes bigger and stupid pajama pants in the hated slytherin colors. he smells like wood and tobacco. nobody knew this regulus, except potter.

whether it was a privilege or a curse, he couldn't figure out yet, but he definitely liked it. he liked sharing a secret with this boy.

regulus always wanted to be the guy in the corner. it's his way of hiding from the world.

he did it at family balls, while sirius kindly took over all the small talks, knowing that regulus couldn't stand it. he did this at school when he, barty and evan were being scolded, crouch took all the attention on himself, being rude and arguing with teachers. he did this at death eaters' meetings, taking a less active role, keeping silent. some people thought that perhaps regulus was offended by being in the shadow of his older brother, but this only calmed the younger one.

he loved being in the corner. he loved being in the shadow. he loved not to be.

regulus black;

"you're a suspiciously cheerful for the morning, reggie", he said skeptically. regulus smirked slightly and lazily handed him a flask under the desk.

*james and remus stare blankly the entire lesson at the laughing and friendly chatting black brothers, who have hated each other for several years*

sirius has curly hair. james, his new brother, has curly hair. regulus, sitting on the cold bathroom floor, desperately tried to curl his hair more with all the permanent spells he had read about, to at least be somewhat like sirius

"care to explain yourself, rosier?"

evan was kicking old cigarette butts on the ground, let out a strangled breath. he was rarely this tense around barty. he looked at him — the way crouch styled his hair, his indecent tight black jeans, a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. his gaze lingered on his hand, to which barty raised an eyebrow skeptically. evan immediately looked away, muttering:

"you don't even get out of my head for a smoke".

regulus: Mike is such a blind asshole.

james: ???wdym???

regulus: oh my God, Potter, you too? I spent the entire night arguing with Remus about Wheeler's internalized homophobia and Will's obvious attraction to him, and how Mike himself doesn't realize that his feelings are reciprocated.

they were leaking ink, discarded cigarette butts, destroyed works of art, cracks on the walls, just like on hearts. they were hatred and passion, burning the soul and releasing all the air from the lungs. three broken traumatised teenagers. they were there, and it felt like life;