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The sound of a locking latch filled the room. Regulus just finished packing up the rest of his room in Blackthorn Academy and the worn brown leather suitcases were piled near the door. To be honest he never really thought about leaving this place. Sure he dreamed of univercity, moving to Paris, being away from the snobby rich kids who had ridiculous names like Digby (but then again REGULUS couldn't criticizes). I guess the reality of leaving the place he spent his entire childhood in never really, came to place. Now he had to go to America.
America. Just the thought of it made Regulus cringe in disgust (like it did to everyone who isn't American). A place with fast food around every corner, gun violence and non-free healthcare. It made matters worse he had to go to New York. Crime-ridden, filthy New York. Regulus faintly remembers going there before to visit his Uncle Teddy's lab at Oscorp when he was younger. Reg hasn't seen him in years and now he has to stay in his care until he finishes... High school. Regulus shook his head, not wanting to think about the more hormonal version of hell that awaited him and picked his luggage. He swung his ageing, leather satchel around his shoulder and closed the door to his room.
His boots slammed against the cobblestone floor, the echo fading as he came outside. Reg looked back at his home to say goodbye to the centuries old building. He remembered when he first arrived. He always thought the magnificent structure reminded him of Hogwarts, the bright red steam train he was about to get on didn't help either. When he boarded he nestled his bags into the overhead shelf and sinked into the plush seats of the train. The warmth of the compartment comforted him as he started reading his book ' J.M.W Turner's work and life by Graham Reynolds' and sipped his tea in his travel mug preparing for the long journey.
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After the hour long train ride, then the forty minute car journey, straight to the eight hour plane ride, Regulus was exhausted. His head was resting on the cold glass of the window of the expensive car he had been sat in for half an hour. Smooth jazz played through the speakers of the car, as his new driver tapped the steering wheel. His foggy head tried to send him to a peaceful sleep but he forced his eyes open, determined to keep himself awake to lessen the jetlag.
Trying to keep his mind busy, he thought of what his life might be like in the city. What his life might be like at school. An American Public school, Bloody hell, what was his parents thinking. When he asked they said it will be good for ordinary people to know they weren't ignorant rich people (which they were). Really it was just a publicity stunt. 'The heir to the Lupin family goes to a public high school! They're just like us! Let's give all our money to the already billionaires.' He was so sick of it.
Before he knew it he was at his uncle's place. A large, penthouse flat (apartment), that overlooked the city. A big change to his smallish, classically rustic room, that overlooked the academy courtyard and the mountains in the distance.
The staff of the building rushed out to the car and grabbed his bags from the boot car, rushing back into the building. He thanked his driver in a horse voice, it was the first word he has said all day and got out of the car.
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Once Regulus opened the door to his uncle's place, he was met with the fire alarm blaring in his ears. He looked around to what seemed to be the kitchen and saw his uncle panicking. Several pots and pans were scattered around the counter, all had something very burnt inside them. Inky smoke was billowing from the current pan that was on the stove, spreading the cloud across the room. His uncle stood in front of it, frantically trying to swat away the smoke. He had numerous stains on his poorly knit, yellow jumper and messy hair, which looked like hands have been constantly run through it.
Regulus turned his head to the alarm, that was currently releasing a deafening siren to his already dizzy head. A lander had been placed under it, probably from the amount of times it had have to of been turned off. Reg dropped his satchel and climbed up the ladder, pressing the button to turn it off.
His uncle turned and looked at him, most of the smoke already out the window. A bright smile spread across Theodore Lupin's face as he saw his lanky, curly-haired nephew before him. Arms circled around Reg's legs, as he was picked up off the ladder and spun around the room.
"Reggie, oh, I haven't seen you in years" Laughter was laced through Teddy's word as, he twirls around the room. Regulus, who was quickly becoming more and more nauseous, was shocked at the abrupt physical affection. It wasn't anything he was used to. The last time his parent hugged him was when he was four and tripped over a rock. Since then, it had just been brief pats on the shoulder in mocking comfort.
When he was put down, his head started to spin more, causing him to trip on the sofa leg and fall back onto the velvet cushions.
"Careful there." Teddy steadied him back on the ground, making sure he was okay.
"I'm fine." Reg's voice was still croaky from the lack of use and tiredness of the long journey, so the words barley made it pass his lips. Regulus's eyes moved to focus on the horrid mess in the kitchen. Teddy moved his head to the kitchen as well, internally cringing at the blackening mess.
"Oh, right. That." Teddy laughed nervously and started to walk toward the (if you can call it that) food. "As you can see I'm not really a great cook...ha." An awkward silence encased the room. Regulus nervously playing with his satchel strap and his uncle going back and forth on the balls of his feet. "So, um... Takeout?"
"Sure."
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Regulus's head laid on the soft pillow, his body cocooned in the warm covers. He looked over and out of the window wall next to him, seeing the bright, never-sleeping city.
What was he doing here? Why couldn't he be back in England? In his small cozy room, able to get up in the middle of the night and read the beautiful literature in the vast, old library of the academy. Why did he have to be here? In this over-crowded city, with annoying accents and people, who didn't give two shits about Romantic literature or Impressionism art.
Why?
The answer, his parents. The same parents who only acknowledge his existence when their is money or press involved. It just made him hate them more.
Just endure it, he told himself. Reciting in his head 'two more years' , as a mantra to calm in pain. His eyes grew heavy with each passing moment. Reg grabbed the cover closer to his bare chest and let himself finally sleep.
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A/N: Short Chapter just to start of with. They will get longer once he starts school, which might be the next chapter. If there are any spell or grammar mistakes I'm sorry. Dyslexia makes it very hard to write. I hope you enjoyed this and please comment your thoughts, any feedback will be really helpful.
- 𝕮𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖆𝖓