𝑩𝒖𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒚 - [ 𝑻𝑨𝑺𝑴 𝑿 𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑶𝑪]

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆

━━━━ ‧ ༻✩༺ ‧ ━━━━

Regulus's ring adorned hands twisted the metal knob of the door and pushed it open. The second a gap into the hallway appeared, all eyes snapped to the intruder. Regulus could feel the eyes on him, surveying him and whispering to each other about the 'hot' new kid. Reg tried his best to not make eye contact with anyone and just stared at his worn, black shoes.

"Ah- you must be Regulus Lupin, correct?"

The teacher at the front of the class asked. Reg nodded at her, just wanting to sit down, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the students.

"I'm Mrs Johnson, I'll be your maths teacher. Why don't you sit over there?"

The seat she pointed to was in the middle, on the far left. Next to the window that had a view of a field (Which he assumed was an american football field).

He walked over the desk and set down his bag, getting out a book to take notes. Within ten minutes of the lesson he realised it was the same topic that he did two years ago at Blackthorn and just decided to draw on the paper for the next hour.

Regulus could feel the hatred for this place already.

━━━━ ‧ ༻✩༺ ‧ ━━━━

Once the class was over Regulus chose to visit the art room. He recalled the steps he took when he was with Gwen and eventually got to the room. When he got inside he saw what looked like a typical high school art room, he would think. His old one was beautiful. Meticulously made painting and expensive equipment, all held in the stone carved walls.

But obviously the school didn't have the budget for that.

He sat at one of the easels and pulled out a blank canvas he found and started sketching in charcoal, which he had in his bag. The second a mark was etched onto the paper he felt the world fall away. As if it was just him and the lines on the canvas.

━━━━ ‧ ༻✩༺ ‧ ━━━━

Peter was still thinking of the boy.

Still reciting his name in his mind.

Regulus Lupin.

He didn't know why he couldn't get the boy of his mind.

Maybe it was his myth- like beauty. His cold yet loving aura. His fantastic brain that caused him to mouth the correct answer to every question the teacher asked. Or maybe it was just... him.

Peter tried to shake the thoughts out of his head, not wanting to sound completely obsessed with a person who he hasn't even heard the voice of. He continues to walk down the corridor, trying to mind own business, when he gets slammed into a locker.

"Ha, watch it Parker."

Peter's eyes roll at the annoying existence of Flash Thompson. He goes to move away from the blue metal that most likely caused a bruise to form on shoulder, when a certain French- British boy caught his eye.

The golden rays of sunlight that slivered through the gaps of the murky cloud, illuminated him. His hair looked like smooth chocolate in the sun's reflection. His eyes created an intoxicating glow, that caused Peter's soul to get lost into. His brows were frowned in concentration. His tongue skimmed his teeth every few seconds. Peter's gaze drifted to his hand. God his hand. Silver rings placed on every finger, some fused with emerald gems. His bones and veins moved and flexed with every stroke.