- ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜs ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
"You. Me. Hogsmeade. Tomorrow" Romie demands, leaving no room for objection.
Regulus slowly lifts his head from his book, briefly wondering if he's managed to land himself into a similar alternate dimension,
"Come again...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
꧁✧✧✧꧂
𝕿here wasn't.
Not just later, hardly at all. Since returning to school, Regulus has exchanged a total of twenty words, the majority out of need, not out of want. He didn't want to talk to Romie and that was fine, for the first few days, understanding that adjusting, settling in, turning off the self preservation mode is mandatory. Except the first few days progressed into a week and a week progressed into a week and a half.
10 days.
10 days of clutching at straws, impatiently anticipating for the moment everything changes and the boy she's finally accepting she wants to find her, from behind, hook his arms around her and kiss the skin that's not quite cheek or lips, somewhere quite nice in between. A taunting remark, a bitter scoff, at this rate, Romie will gladly take anything. Anything he has to offer except this avoidance that's slowly killing her inside.
She's aware she's not one to talk about avoidance, having done her fair share, but this was different. She had given nothing, steering clear of anything and everything, feeling terribly guilty afterwards. Regulus was there, almost dangling himself in front of her face, something she wants but can't have. Untouchable. The exception of being the only one able to reach him is gone, demoted to the bracket holding everyone else. And he doesn't seem to give two fucks about that.
The polar opposite to the best part of the gossiping forest that is Hogwarts School. Like a wildfire rumours had spread, some the most absurd things Romie's ever heard, some not too far fetched from the current situation. Or atleast she thinks, the root cause a mystery to her too. They had gone from hot topic, all eyes on them every corner, every corridor, every room because of their unlikely yet sought-after relationship launch to hot topic, all eyes on them every corner, every corridor, every room because there's obvious trouble in paradise.
Little by little, her friends swept her off to the side, asking questions that Romie didn't have the answers to. At a loss, she brushed off their concerns, joking that it's his time of the month or simply the understandable stress of school or anything made up on the spot. They didn't push, but they knew, she could tell. Sirius especially. Because he'd practically given his blessing, the seal of approval and she was ready to properly, fully commit and 10 days.
10 days.
10 days of being unconditionally and tremendously furious with him.
On the chair to his right, furthest from the window, Romie sits, her neat notes from Mcgonagall's lecture unfinished. Notes could be caught up on later, scoffing tacitly every time Regulus' chest inflates for breath couldn't be. Who knows when she'll have such close proximity again, not using the position wisely would be a terrible waste.
When he slouches against the rail support of his chair, sweeping back the dangling curls obscuring his vision, Romie does an eye roll deserving of its own article in the Witch Weekly Magazine. Any other day of the week, she'd have been all over that, potentially assuming the role as handsome hair adjuster herself. Not today, today the mere action irks her. Every action irks her. Because none involve Romie.
