ciel

“Yess-sss-sss, like that- Gods, how did I let you slip out of here yesterday…?”

The hiss was unmistakable, as was the loud groan that followed. Regulus padded down the hall, the voices slowly becoming clearer as he forced himself back into the present.

I’m not going crazy. Not this time. Good.

Without much thought at all, Regulus pushed open the door to Barty’s room, arms folded neatly against his chest. “I'm home.”

It was, in fact, Barty’s hiss. Good. It was also the same Kingsley- Regulus should’ve expected that much. The boy’s hands squeezed around Barty’s hips, stilling him. His face went pale.

“What the fuck, don’t stop!” Barty whined, pathetically throwing himself down over and over onto Kingsley’s stone-still lap.

Evan merely glanced up from where he was smoking in the armchair, raising an eyebrow. Regulus couldn’t tell if it was in question or in taunt.

He didn't bother shielding his eyes. He stood unchanged against the door frame, staring back at the scene before him. “Right. I’m going to bed.”

Barty pouted, his head whipping around. “Reggg-ggieee! You said you’d watch Dateline tonight!”

Regulus shrugged, his head tilting. “You seem occupied enough.”

Evan snorted, earning him an even deeper pout from the mid-mount boy. “Ros-ieee!”

“I’ll watch the show, don’t worry,” Evan retorted calmly, rolling his eyes back over to meet Reg’s. “You should go before he starts again.”

Regulus groaned and spun, shutting the door on his way out and trodding down the hall to his own room. The static started again when his foot hit the door, his chest tight-filled with flame. 

This body wasn’t his own. The skin fit too awkwardly, like a hand-me-down sweater, itchy and wrong.

He needed to sleep, before the static got loud again, before he could think too hard about any of it at all.

He stepped against the wall beside the door, sliding himself down it with a loud thud. His hands worked before his mind had time to process, not even bothering to unbutton his work trousers before they were stuffed into them, his cold fingers pressing into the warm skin of his stomach. He sighed, his head resting against the slots of his closet door.

He thought about waiting it out, about snagging Kingsley on his way out, leaving his back arched and his legs draped over the side of the couch and asking him to stay. But that would destroy it, all the carefully constructed planning he’d made himself agree to to make it all work. He'd have to start over, find somewhere else where no one knew his name.

He huffed, frigid fingertips pressing into the edge of his thigh.

No, of course he couldn’t bring Kingsley in. That would defeat the purpose.

The underside of his skin itched, crawling with something, infested. He would be fine, he’d always been fine, he just…. needed a clearer head. He needed the relief, then he could sleep. Tomorrow, he’d be fine. He’d get up, he’d shower, he’d…

Ohhh. Regulus’ head pressed back into the closet hard enough to bruise, a long, relieved sigh pulling from his lips as his hands move mindlessly to their known routine. Reg's back arches up into it, putting on a little show for only himself, gasping and closing his eyes and insisting to himself the cold hands were anyone else's. 

He rolled his hips against his hand, testing. His chest eased as he struck, sucking air in before immediately tightening back around it. Right. Good.

His finger curled, the hard, flat surface rubbing against himself relentlessly. His lungs gasped in the little bits of air they could manage and immediately huffed them back out, slowly loosening in the process. 

He groaned, rolling forward onto his knees and pressing his hand down into the warmth until his fingers were surrounded by soft walls. He needed this. He needed the day over.

Regulus let out a small sigh, his shoulders going lax. His mind poured out until nothing remained. The tightness in his chest was gone, at least for now.

He didn’t leave himself time to recover after that. He stood, hips trembling, and lowered himself down into his bedsheets, not even bothering to turn out his light.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He was fine again when he woke, albeit many hours earlier than intended. The patient’s hollow expression finally cleared from behind his eyelids, he’d only had whatever nightmare that woke him, and he couldn’t quite remember any of it except for a pale blue light. This would be good enough.

He’d ignore the clump of rot in his stomach.

He winced at the light, silently cursing himself for leaving it on. He craned his neck- 3:25- before shutting it off and grumbling his way into his robe.

He pulled himself to his window, retrieving a joint that a very drunk Barty had “hidden from himself for later” in the hinge. He himself never found the appeal at parties, but he had found that the smoke itself gave his mind something to focus on until it knocked him enough to not focus at all. 

He brought his elbows to the windowsill as he lit it, watching the way the smoke went from big fuzzy clouds to long, winding ribbons as it burned, almost tranceful. Slowly, he brought it to his lips, letting the smoke pool in his mouth, watching carefully as the wisps stretched out into the night sky. He envied the weightlessness of it all. 

Halfway through the joint, Regulus realized he was now stoned but still not sleepy, and with a groan, he stubbed it against the windowsill’s white paint and sighed his way down the stairs. 

He listened as he passed Barty and Evan’s room without trying to, a leftover from Grimmauld, and found no sounds at all besides Barty’s fan. Whatever had happened earlier, it was over now, and Regulus was certain Evan wouldn’t share Barty for anything more than the sex he didn’t provide himself. The pretty boy from the bar was somewhere else now, probably asleep, forgetting about Regulus and, Godrick help him if not, about Barty, too.

Good. Fine. Great. It’s not like he’d ever been sentimental about these sorts of things. If anything, seeing Kingsley again had only given him a proper fright that he’d messed about far too much and ran out of the ones willing to leave him alone after.

“Can’t sleep, Princess?”

Evan’s voice was softer than usual, grumbly from sleep, but it made Regulus startle nonetheless.

Evan chuckled. “Fuck off, I live here.”

Regulus groaned. “I’m aware.”

“Is it so surprising for me to be in my own home, Reg?”

“Just… Not at three AM…?” He stumbled to the kitchen, sighing as he rummaged through the fridge.

“You smell like London. D’you want help?”

Regulus scoffed. “Help? With what?”

Evan tapped the end of his cigarette out in an old cereal bowl. “Whatever the fuck you think you’re managing in there. Move, before you wake B up.”

Regulus pouted, but scooted back from the fridge. “Kingston wear him out?”

“Kingsley,” Evan corrected, then paused. “Does it bother you?”

“Not particularly,” Regulus stated plainly, his shoulders lifting and falling. He himself still couldn’t entirely tell if he was lying or not. “Just think it’s a waste of good resources.”

“Kingsley?”

“Merlin, no. Batty.” He shook his head, taking the lemonade Evan offered him and gratefully chugging a quarter of it before continuing. “There's gotta be better to bother about when you actually care about what you’re doing.”

Evan’s eyes squint in thought.  “This one was a bit sleazy, I guess-”

Regulus glared. Evan snorted.

“- but who of us isn’t?” Evan shrugged, the whole thing rather mundane to him. “He was enjoyable enough for B. It’s not like you’d use him again anyways, right? Kingsley needed to be fucked. You don’t fuck.”

“I do fuck,” Regulus retorted, his brows furrowing.

“Your hand doesn't count, Reggie.”

Regulus’ mouth closed around something sour, refusing to spit it back out. 

“‘m not being mean, Reg, it’s the God-honest truth. When’s the last time you let yourself enjoy it instead of just getting off?”

Regulus’ arms folded defiantly, his voice snapping before his brain could respond. “What the fuck do you know?”

“Enough.” Evan said smoothly. He was used to Regulus with his buttons pushed. He knew by now exactly when someone needed to push them. “‘m not scared of it, you know.”

“Oh, clearly,” Reg snapped again, the image of Evan watching so carefully still fresh in his mind.

Evan felt himself bristle. “... Fuck you, Reg. I want him happy.”

Regulus turned, fully facing him for the first time. His head cocked like a dog. “... Happy?”

“Doesn’t it make you happy?” Evan asked, the question sinking into the floor to haunt Regulus later. “It makes him happy. That’s fine. Different people like different shit. My point is, I let him do this shit, because I know he’d be unsatisfied.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” 

“Bother me? What the fuck, no, obviously not. You think I’d sit there and watch him fuck other people if it bothered me?”

Regulus paused. He’d never really thought about it that much, if he was honest. It’s Evan and Barty’s business, not his own, and either way, they’ve always been strange.“I don’t know, maybe it was self-destructive.”

“That’s Batty’s shit, not mine,” Evan corrected, “I find life self-destructive enough.”

Regulus nodded, his head finally tilting back straight.

“So I let him, because it’s something he wants, but he can’t get it from me. I don’t know these people, not well, but I… I’m there.”  His eyes were suddenly serious. “I’m there, and I make sure he’s safe and happy and okay. And I trust that B wants the same for me.”

Regulus nodded slowly, the pieces slowly sliding back into place. “... Okay.”

“Right.” Evan’s hand traced the line of his brow. “... I’m just saying, maybe that’s your fucking problem, Regulus.”

“That I fuck my hand?”

“No, dumbass.” He scoffed. “That you aren’t fucking. Maybe you should, I don’t know… Just fucking try it. You don’t want to fuck one of the random bar guys? Fine, I don’t blame you. But find someone you do.”

Regulus scoffed back, but Evan could see the gears slowly turning in his head. Eventually, he asked, “... Who?”

“Salazar, how would I know? Just… Someone you trust?”

Regulus raised a brow. Yeah. Right. One of those.

Evan smirked. “You’re a Black. Maybe a cousin.”

Regulus’ entire face instantly fell into a dreadfully dry glare. “Oh, ha-ha.”

“I’m just saying,” Evan shrugged, “might be good for you. And if it’s shit, well, then you know, but if it’s not?”

Regulus sighed, his hands pressing into his temples like a punishment would make the thoughts snap into place.

It was a bad idea. A terrible one, even for Evan. Regulus knew that. As much as he asked the gods to give him a bit more spontaneity, this felt fully reckless. 

And even if he did get some strange hex that broke his brain enough to go through with it, the only people he knew and trusted were Evan and Barty. 

There was Riddle, his boss, and even if not, Regulus didn’t trust a hair on his head (though, he supposed he might be good at it). There was Severus, who somehow occasionally ghosted the halls that Riddle walked down despite not actually working at the laboratory. But Severus was oddly attached to Riddle after all, right at the hip, and Godrick help him if his little experiment ended up in some estranged triangle. Everyone he’d met since they’d moved were simple nobodies he’d already spent his time with.

It simply wouldn’t do.

His lips pursed again, the entire conversation leaving his insides itchy again. “Perhaps. I don’t think it would help much, honestly.”

Evan rolled his eyes, relighting his cigarette. “Perhaps,” he echoed in the poshest accent he could muster. “Then get a better toy, Reg. I don’t know, clearly you're unhappy, something's wrong with you, whatever. It's not good enough? Then fix it.”

Regulus shook his head. “It’s plenty good enough, I just…”

His voice trailed off, his words dying under the weight of whatever he just. Ever a Black, seeing he’d backed himself into a corner that might force him to be vulnerable, Regulus scoffed and straightened instead. “... But, thanks.”

Evan only rolled his eyes again, waving his hand, smoke trailing ghosts behind his fingers. “Yeah, whatever, anytime. Go to bed, Reg. It’s late.”

He nodded, lingering in the doorway for a moment more in a silent show of appreciation before disappearing back up the steps. His head was spinning with even more thoughts than before, the high doing the exact opposite of clearing them out.