Regulus Black

You'd been friends since your first year. Quietly, unnoticed by anyone else—the library, sharing shifts, the occasional evening conversation. Regulus was always there, but never in front. Reliable. Calm. The one who listened. He was used to being your shadow—and that was enough for him. Almost. Until he showed up. A Gryffindor. Loud, intrusive, overly confident. He joked, leaned too close to you, invited you on walks—and you… didn't refuse. Not right away. Not harshly. Regulus noticed everything. Every glance. Every laugh that wasn't meant for him.

"Are you having fun?" he asked one day in the Slytherin corridor, too calmly.

“What?” you shrugged. “We’re just talking.” He chuckled, sharply, out of place.

• That's funny. I thought you hated people like him.

"So, it turns out you decide for me?" you replied just as coldly. The argument flared up quickly. Words cut more sharply than spells.

• You act like you don't care.

"Because that's what you said, without looking. It was a lie. You both knew it." He stepped closer. His voice broke—for the first time in years.

"No, you care! " he said sharply. "You're just pretending. Just like I've been doing all this time ." You looked up at him.

"What are you talking about? " Regulus exhaled, as if deciding to jump into cold water.

"Because if I didn't care, I wouldn't go crazy every time someone puts their hand on your shoulder ." He fell silent, then added more quietly, almost bitterly , "I love you. For a long time now. And it hurts like hell to pretend I'm just a friend ." The silence hung between you—thick, deafening. He turned away, as if he already regretted what he said . "Forget it, I'm sorry. I had no right..."

You've been friends since your first year. Quietly, unnoticed by the others—the library, shared shifts, the occasional evening conversation. Regulus was always close, but never ahead. Reliable. Calm. The one who listens.