golden boy //Jegulus//

1. (R.A.B.)

{AN: tw for abusive families and eating disorders}

I hate first days. I hate starting over. I hate transferring. I hate starting a school in the middle of the year, behind behind on everything, not being in on all the friend groups and the ins and outs of the school culture. Still, there I am, starting my first day at St. Godrics in the middle of January. The building towers over me like a big, evil shadow even though this was my dream school, had been ever since I was little. I did the regular admissions, got through the first selection round, then the second and then the third and then got told there were no spaces left. I gave up on my dreams, fought with my mother. Or, she fought with me. She yelled and yelled and then the first blow hit, something she had never done to me before, only to my brother, who left me when I was 14. I envy him for it, the running away. I hate him for leaving me behind, for never turning back around. For never checking up on me ever again. For starting over with a new family. I didn't even know where he was staying now. Never left me an address, send me a letter. Nothing.
Then, half a year later, I got a letter from St. Godrics. A  spot had come free and I was on top of the list. I took the chance immediately.

I take a deep breath and clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms, leaving little moon shaped marks in my skin. I can do this. The duffel bag on my shoulder is heavy, I fit all my belongings in there. I'm scared to enter the building, scared someone will flag me as an intruder. What if I arrive at the desk and the lady tells me there has been a mistake. They sent the letter to the wrong person. I don't have the talent for this school. I'm an imposter.

The inside of the building looks exactly like I remember it. I revisit the day of my audition in my head. Around twenty other people around my age. The shiny white tiles on the wall. The wooden dance floor. The stares when I pulled out my pointe shoes. Men can do pointe, it is just not as common. The sound of the music flowing through the studio. The big mirror along the walls. My hair, pulled back into a bun, lots longer than it is now.

The ceiling is so high, I have trouble focusing on the paintings decorating it. My vision is blurred and I feel I need to sit down. I don't. It's all in my head anyway.

Put one foot in front of the other. Take a deep breath. Another step. I know the way to the office, I have memorised the map of the building. I know exactly where everything is. I also know the name of every single person attending the school. Thats how I know my brother goes here too. He's changed, a lot. I have too. I don't think he knows I'm here. What if he gets mad when he sees me? What if he thinks I stalked him here?

Another step.

"Good afternoon, mister...." the lady behind the desk looks at me over her glasses. Her name tag reads 'Pince'. She also works at the library on campus.

"Black. Regulus Black" I say.

"Mmm" she hums. Her long nails make funny noises on the keyboard. Her actual fingers don't touch the keys, she is just typing with her long, pink nails. She turns her seat around and ducks to grab something out of a bottom drawer. She has a run in her tights and her black kittenheels are not on her feet, but next to her chair. She turns back to me, holding up a set of rusty keys.

"Dorm room C23" she says, pointing at the printed out map in front of her. The C-wing. I nod and take the keys.

"Your account should be activated, so you can log into your school mail and view your schedule online. If there's anything else you need, just let me know" she says. I don't think she means it. When people say "just let me know" or "no problem", they usually don't mean it. I won't be asking her for help. I give her a nod and leave. My footsteps make a loud noise in the big, empty hallway. I wonder where everyone is, but it is school hours. Everyone must be in their classes.